Chapter Text
Arcee left soon after they conversed with her, leaving west through Polyhex. Starscream wanted to send someone to follow her, but Optimus insisted that they not break her trust, especially since they now have an open line of communication.
That left them to continue to stew on what they’ll say and what they’ll do. It’s not exactly a comforting thought, going in blind. Especially since Optimus has a tendency to overthink.
However, being the Prime, he won’t admit to this, so Prowl is forced to watch him pace scuff marks into the floor. He feels bad for whatever poor bot is left polishing it. Actually, no, he doesn’t. Whoever is polishing the floor is doing it for a reason.
Approximately thirty-two kliks into their chat with Arcee, Ironhide had commed him about the… ‘Detectitron.’ There’s no doubt in Prowl’s processor that it was Jazz’s idea to name it that. Apparently the ‘Detectitron’ had picked up large amounts of radiation, so Elita One and Megatron took some of the gestalts to follow it.
Prowl decided to strategically omit this from Optimus to prevent any further stress.
It takes twenty more kliks before Optimus finally comes to a halt; luckily, it’s before he wears in the floor to the lower deck. His finial antennas extend, and Prowl can tell he’s receiving a transmission. It makes his lips quirk up for a moment. Sometimes Prowl forgets that Optimus used to be a dock worker. Most bots have long-range transmission tech built into their audials; Optimus is the only bot he can name that still has the old tech, the tech that was readily available to lower-middle caste workers.
“Well?” Starscream asks petulantly, stepping up to the Prime with his arms crossed. For a few blissful kliks, Prowl forgot he existed.
“Do they program all seekers with impatience?” Prowl scoffs, giving Starscream a stern look.
“Do they program all traffic enforcers with a sense of superiority?” Starscream snipes right back. It seemed to be more of a subconscious reaction than a real dig, so Prowl lets it slide.
Optimus gives them both a knowing look; his optics squint in a way that betrays a smile. It’s gone as quickly as it came, however, and the Prime turns to Starscream with a more serious expression. “The council has accepted an audience with us.” He alerts, crossing his arms to stop his servos from fidgeting.
“Where?” is Prowl’s first question.
“When?” Starscream asks, just to be annoying. Prowl shoots him a glare for it.
Optimus looks increasingly amused by this before his expression turns solemn once more. “Iacon, at the Hall of Records. In exactly one mega-klik.” The Prime says, letting his antennas retract. It’s a very familiar place, and the irony is not lost on him. Not that the council would know that little Orion Pax frequented the Hall like a second home.
“Do you think they’re based anywhere near there?” Starscream inquires, mostly rhetorically; it’s very unlikely.
“Doubtful.” Prowl grumbles his agreement; it’s very unlikely. Still, “that being said, this also means that there’s a very small chance that they’re based in the southern hemisphere. Unless all the members are fliers, that is.” He tacks on that last part, as it's more of an afterthought.
“Or if one of them is a shuttle.” The seeker adds, holding optic contact with Prowl in a silent conversation. “Doubtful.” He parrots before taking Optimus’ place in pacing.
“They explicitly stated that we should not arrive any earlier than requested.” The Prime states, only after he’s sure that they’re not going to devolve into arguing.
“How fast can a non-jet flier even make it across the planet?” Starscream asks suddenly, halting his pacing before it really began. Then, without warning, he moves to Teletraan 1. Optimus would disapprove of this course of action, but the Decepticon SIC is not Optimus Prime.
So instead of doing anything particularly useful, Starscream stood at the supercomputer for ten whole kliks and ran the calculations. And yes, unless they’re all fliers or one of them is a shuttle, there’s no conceivable way that they could make it from anywhere in the southern hemisphere—let alone the Hydrax Plateau—to the northern hemisphere in a mega-klik. That’s ignoring the unstable conditions of the bridges connecting these places.
Optimus had tuned them out to go over updated maps of Cybertron, instead of being nosy. However, he made no attempt to stop them from being nosy.
“So… unless they have access to groundbridge technology…” The rest is left unsaid, but the Decepticon clearly understands what Prowl is implying.
“I’ve narrowed it down to the Praetorus Wharf and some of the surrounding areas.” Starscream gestures to the map displayed on Teletraan’s screen. In just those ten kilks Starscream has proven that he’s at least capable of basic math, and that’s all Prowl will concede.
“You’re forgetting about Tagan Heights...” Prowl corrects, but their words blur together as Optimus actively turns down his audials. He’s still communicating with Arcee through his internal comms, getting her personal opinion on the council and the recent decisions they’ve made in their little colony.
The government system is fairly simple; there are five core council members and three periphery members. The core members are mostly among the oldest in the colony. Despite this implying a gerontocracy, they’re all elected and can be impeached should their integrity be called into question.
However, they’re only actually removed from the council if they’re impeached or if they retire, since their service is not limited.
The periphery members represent the three main professions: energon transporters, merchants, and laborers. These mecha are also elected, but they run on a fifteen vorn cycle—every fifteen vorns a new mech is chosen to represent the given work faction. They can also be impeached; however, it’s more inconvenient because this will exclude said work faction from important assemblies until a new representative is elected.
That being said, the five core members are as follows, in order of importance. Aurelion, the head council member and a ‘paranoid prick who doesn’t know his servo from his-‘ Optimus stops taking mental notes at that particular tangent.
Apparently every fifteen vorns they cut scrappers based on their overall output. This is to replace them with more ambitious mecha, since being a scrapper is heavily reliant on special permission to enter and exit the colony ‘as needed,’ and they have a cap for how many mecha can have this permission. Arcee has been cut twice, which means two times out of a job. It’s certainly a competitive landscape.
Archivus—quite on the olfactory ridge, if you ask Optimus—is easily the oldest. He’s too kind and indecisive to be the head council member, however, so he’s in charge of keeping track of legislation.
Driftline, who is by far the youngest and subsequently the newest, is more servos-on and therefore the most likely to go out and solve a problem personally should enough mecha complain about it.
Solentra, the only femme on the council. She was elected a million or so vorns ago when the femmes of the colony started protesting about their lack of representation. However, Solentra is the kind of bot who wears her spark on her wrist-joint and is easily swayed by a 'sad story.' This aggravates Arcee, as she thinks it makes all femmes look ‘overemotional’ and ‘incapable of making educated decisions.’ Optimus can agree in part—it’s important to make informed decisions—however, there’s nothing wrong with being open about your emotions.
Even so, if everyone shared Acree’s opinion of Solentra, she would’ve been removed from office a long time ago.
And finally, Vex Nocturne, an ex-Decepticon—which also implies that he’s a warframe of some kind. All that Arcee can tell him about the mech is that he joined and deserted the Decepticons very early into the war and went into hiding until about three million vorns ago, when he reappeared to run for council after a previous council member was impeached.
Throughout his run in government, Vex Nocturne has proven himself to be very level-headed. However, he tends to favor long-term reward, even if it means short-term suffering. Because his policies tend to be controversial, only in times of actual hardship or calamity does he propose legislation.
According to Arcee, Vex Nocturne has narrowly avoided impeachment in four of the eight times he’s proposed legislation, but the outcome has swayed the public opinion in his favor each time. It also helps that as a cold construct and former soldier, his vote is respected by the warframe populace, which has also helped him stay in the council for this long.
Optimus uses this information to make a little file on each member, including their temperament and basic beliefs. This doesn’t actually take up all that much time, and by the time he’s done, it’s forty kilks till they need to be there, just enough time for the drive… sort of. They might’ve hauled lugnuts through back alleys so small Optimus could barely fit through, because they overestimated how much of the road was going to be clear.
Starscream taunted and jeered the whole time, talking about how great it is to be a seeker as he watched them take detour after detour.
They do arrive on time and, much to Optimus’ surprise, come to find that the Hall of Records is mostly intact. The top twenty or so stories are completely gone, as if they were never even there, but the other fifty only look mildly ransacked. Which, all things considered, is a miracle in and of itself.
The front entrance is slightly ajar, and there’s light bleeding out from inside. Optimus enters with Prowl and Starscream on either side.
The lobby, which was once shaped like a short ‘U,’ is now completely open-concept, filling out the ‘U’ to look more like a bucket.
There’s a circular table in the middle of the room, seemingly cobbled together with a mixture of actual tables and miscellaneous objects. Aurelion is sitting in the middle of the far side, with the other council members on either side of him.
“So, you’re Optimus Prime.” Aurelion starts, clicking his glossa as he looks the Prime up and down, unimpressed. His accent is noticeably high caste. His optics then flick over to Starscream, and he looks almost irritated for a moment. “All of this trouble, and you could not even be bothered to bring Megatron?” It’s all said in a flat tone, but Optimus can tell that he feels disrespected.
Optimus opens his mouth to speak, but Starscream steps forward with a servo raised towards Optimus, requesting his silence.
“With all due respect,” it’s said in a sickeningly sweet tone, the kind Optimus had heard him use on Megatron when he wanted to get his way. “I am Megatron’s second in command; my interests are his interests.”
Prowl has the sense to not look absolutely appalled by what appears to be a bold-faced lie.
“And our interests seem to be fairly clear.” Starscream dips a leg back and leans forward, doing what could be considered to be a bow as he gestures to Optimus and Prowl. “We’re discussing peace… and Cybertron’s reconstruction.” The seeker's optics glance over the bots in front of him; something he sees causes a sly smirk to curl on his lips. “This would imply creating a tremendous supply of energon… to use towards rebuilding.”
The council members share glances, but Aurelion keeps his gaze forward. He licks his denta, glaring energon-blades into Starscream’s helm. “I’m listening.” He grits out, gesturing for them to take a seat at the other side of the circle.