Yeager Chronicles: After Extinction

17: Optimus

"When do you plan to come back?" The golden mecha – Screwloose, asked. Optimus watched him as Moondancer and Skyblaze went aboard the ship. Nightblade, before answering picked up a decent sized box. "Whenever. Somewhere in the near future. What Screws, are you worried we'll never come back?" She portrayed a look of mock hurt. Screwloose, Optimus saw, smiled with resignation, like she had pointed out exactly what he feared. Even though that was not the case. Optimus did enjoy this kind of humor, little parts sarcastic with a little tease. It reminded him of the good ol' days, back when it was common to even joke. Back in a time when even Optimus could laugh at anything, though that is what war takes, joy.

"You can't blame me for asking, Night," Screwloose said blandly, like he's had this conversation before. She had the box now resting low in her arms, right in front of her chassis. "Yeah, you're right. But can't a femme tease a little? Just a little." Optimus watched the two a moment, then his mind travelled and openly ignored them.

He thought about the trip. No, it's a mission. He's scolded himself enough, reminding himself that this is not some joy ride. It's not like he simply ask to go down to the one place in Texas, to see this one human! It's absolutely absurd that he still thought about this one man, one he wasn't sure how he could face him again. If he did face him. What would Cade think of him? A robot that left, showed minimal feelings and when they were shown; they were primarily negative, blaming his species and how the Autobots had to atone for their mistakes. How could he be able to look at him in the eye?

"Have you got everything?" That pulled Optimus back somehow to reality. Screwloose looked at the pair and with what only Optimus assumed was a nervous glow to his optics. "Optimus?" He added quickly. Optimus nodded, though it was more of an affirmation that Screwlooses question was directed to him. "I do," he rumbled. Grey optics blinked, slowly, pointedly focused at Optimus, seeming to trace the top of his frame. He curtly nodded, stepping closer to the last Prime, extending his hand to him. Only then did Optimus register how short this mech was to either compared to Nightblade or himself. He was only to his elbows however, he still carried himself differently than Optimus would have expected. Tentatively, he did reach out to him and gave a firm shake. One of the few things that anyone could do as a way to show respect was a simple handshake.

"I wish all of you safe travels." Screwloose pulled away, waving them off. Optimus only stood there a moment before Nightblade poked him with her field. He looked at her but moved to ship after her optics pointed to get moving. He did, though much slower than he wanted. Optimus didn't rest well the night prior, too much going through his head and far too little Energon in his tanks. So there was either a knot in his head or in his tanks, always leaving him discomforted. Sadly, he's been too used to that feeling. And oh how he wanted so much to ignore it, not even for his sake. If Skyblaze noticed, Nightblade would surely notice, and she worries. Albeit too much for her own good but that has always been her way to show she cares.

She walked behind him, actually walking up the smooth entrance. He thought that was because she was carrying that box, so he didn't think too much about it. After he walked on, the hatch folded up behind him with a hiss. "Come this way. I ain't leavin ya in the cargo hold." Nightblade intermingled her field with his, he turned his head to her but followed.

The ship wasn't large by any scheme of things, however extremely clean. It even had a smell of fresh cleaning wax. How'd they come across that? Did they make it? It shouldn't surprise him, they managed to make a lot on this little red dust ball. What would stop them from making cleaning products for their ships? Well, he thought of a few things. Time, energy, material, all popped in his head as possible things that could hinder creation. They had all of those things, even the bodies to do the work. The smell of wax died away to a more burned kind of smell, like bad fuel or a bad exhaust system was implemented. More than it should have, the flaw in the system actual relaxed him. Perfection is terrifying and anyone who claims to have found something in the universe that is perfect, they are the worst kind of liars. Nothing is perfect.