Another Planet | Transformers |

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 • 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐀𝐭 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞𝐬

For what feels like eternity, we go through metal doors, which are opened by two mechs whom I've meet a couple of times, Cliffjumper and Brawn. Both give me sympathetic smiles as I fix my eyes on the renewed space shuttle that awaits propped up on the launcher.

I try to contain myself at the sight.

The Triplets are standing beside each other, Arcee, being the sensitive one, crying her Energon out in the arms of Elita-1 while Chromia rubs her back.

Crosshairs' optics have a dark hue as he stares into the shuttle.

Jolts arms are crossed, a sympathetic and sad look on him.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are behind Crosshairs, the former looking straight up like he was beaten to the pulp, while the latter looks unusually bothered by his surroundings.

Jazz is looking at Optimus, maybe trying to understand what is going on by staring into his leaders spark.

Ratchet, in all the years that I've known him, has never looked this uncomfortable, bothered and sad.

Optimus stands tall beside the shuttle, a small gleam of frustration in his rigid stance. I know that he doesn't want me to go either, regardless from who the order comes from.

And as if it's an apparition, Ironhide is standing at the other side of the shuttle, not once looking up from his steady stare at the ground. I scowl a bit, half knowing and half not of what he thinks.

Like Bee, he wants to accompany me. But he can't. None of them can.

I'm settled on the ground by my son, his servo lightly shaking as he does so. I stare up into the Primes big optics, these ones immediately showing me how much he despises what he's doing. But then again, he can't do anything.

He places a knee on the ground, slightly bowing his head.

"It's time, my friend. Do take your time with your farewells."

I turn and walk over to the first mech I see close by.

"Be a good Lieutenant, will you Jazz? I don't want to hear Optimus complain about you slacking on the job."

He chuckles, a glimpse of a smile on his dermas.

"Will do, 'lil lady. Will do."

I walk over to the next.

"Come on Ars, Doc Bot will have your aft if you run out of fuel."

She clean her faceplate as best as possible, Elita, sensing her sisters distress, perks up with a small smile.

"We'll make sure that won't happen, dear."

I pass over to the next, the three mechs keeping their optics glued on me.

"Crosshairs, for the love of Primus, regardless of what you see, do not shoot them. Sides and Sunny might not be the brightest duo, but they're my little mischievous brothers."

Sunstreaker rolls his optics while giving a sad scoff, his twin places his servo on his shoulder, a wide smile taking place.

"We promise to not get our sparks ripped out by this one, sis."

The Autobot Sharpshooter glares at the young mech, this one cowering behind his brother.

I walk up to Jolt next, the big mech going down on one knee and looking over to me.

"Jolt, I owe you, big time. You were more than a teacher, but a friend. Thank you, truly."

He grins widely at my fluent Cybertronian, his ego probably getting a bit to high.