Chapter Text
Chapter one Stray Tyro
Tyro
A beginner or novice.
There exists a myth, one most have forgotten.
Of an ancient artefact from when Primus had just made us, one he created to be our beacon of hope and power.
An artefact that would help protect our people by granting abilities and knowledge beyond that of our mortal comprehension to the one who would use it.
With it our people lived in a golden era, one of prosperity and peace.
But with power comes greed, there were those who sought out this artefact, to have it for themselves, to use for their own selfish purposes. And when one has power, one easily corrupts.
The countless battles for its power ended in more loss than gain. And as a final attempt at ending the war, Primus took The Matrix, casting it into the stars.
Forever making sure that only when there was one with a good spark, one he himself deemed worthy and capable of protecting all children of the stars, could ever find it once more.
Time is not kind to tales from before the Great War. They get twisted and warped into whatever the one who tells it wants. There was always those who would claim to have found it, each time it was revealed false, each time the people grew more and more sceptical.
When all you have is the story of something, the belief of its existence becomes vague. As less and less people believed those stories, less and less people looked for The Matrix.
Sentinel, in his honest opinion, was not one of those fools.
He knew it existed. There were too many stories in the archives for it not to have.
And, while a tedious process, he had managed to cross reference and compare enough ridiculous numbers of stories, to the point he was lead here.
Saveron 6, (also said as VI, depending on who you ask, Sentinel could not give a slag on his end.)
A forgotten planet in a forgotten solar system. It’s two stars blaring hot where they circled around each other.
Didn’t even deserve its own name, just a number for which planet it was in its twin star system.
But there is one good thing about a nowhere planet in a nowhere solar system.
It’s a very good place to hide something you don’t want found.
Saveron 6 is a jungle-like wasteland, full of big organic organisms that want to eat you, plants that want to eat you and it’s as if the planet itself wants you dead. Also, it’s huge. Mecha huge. (This is accentuated by the large purple leaf that smacks him in the face.)
It’s a colourful, toxic, wet, loud, muddy wasteland.
With all its tall trees and sticky bushes, it smelled like hell with amphibians.
And when a very large, and long (Primus why is it so long ew) organic thing falls right in front of him and immediately gets blasted into smithereens, flesh bits going in fifteen different directions, that he is glad he brought Arachnid, a pessimistic (and frankly aggressive) guard he’d found while working at the palace.
The palace. Home to the mighty primes and their tyros included. Though Sentinel would rather call himself a pupil, mentee maybe even protégé, if he’s feeling quite good that cycle. (He is far from inexperienced he’ll have you know.) What he wouldn’t give to be back at the palace, in his nice, comfy, silky berth right now.
And as much as it feels like they’re walking around with no sense of direction, and he wishes it was in the case of his olfactory senses, they are going somewhere.
According to a bounty hunter on Domala, a natural planet a 100 light years from here, he had seen some sort of temple when chasing a… stray cargo, in the warmer jungles.
Though there is no landing areas on the planet, a bigger sum got more than enough information about the fact it was stable enough to ground bridge. Then they just had to follow the river to find the temple. (Though based on the amount of money it took, there better be a room full of shanix there at the very least even if they were wrong about The Matrix.)
One thing about very tall trees, is that it’s not easy to see stuff below them. And when you’re an important mecha like Sentinel, that’s bad.
So it way have cost a guard or two, but they found an area that didn’t have a lava pool for floor.
Bounty hunters, complete lack of loyalty.
The temple was said to be big and golden, with spires and a stone door with engravings. When asked what they said the bounty hunters only said some colourful words about aristocracy and nepotism. Waste of a question really.
“You’re sure that this is the way Sir?” The question was laced with doubts, followed by an expression that was a mix between utter disappointment and annoyance, but in a way that was too much of a bother to express verbally.
He let out a scoff, rolling his eyes. “Yes, Arachnid. I may not be a hermit as they say, but I can read a map just fine. It should be right ahead.”
Arachnid only scowled, her multitude of optics shuttering around. Pedes tapping and making the fauna covered ground below her make wet crunching noises with each step.
In her mind, this was all a waste of time, there is no Matrix of Leadership, even if there ever had been, it sure as pit doesn’t now.
However, the pay was good and if this whole charade ended with Sentinel in power, then that was a much better future in her optics than if that glitch of a charity case Megatronus had become so fond of did. Waltzing around talking about equality and waxing poetics about freedom. It was pathetic to watch. And there was no way the black drone was letting some nobody they plucked of the street be the new Lord Prime or Lord High Protector.
No way.
“Aha!” He pointed abruptly forward, confidence flowing through him once more. Making way to the object of his attention by cutting down another leaf.
At the end of the river, right next to the waterfall, stood a, rather run down, golden temple. Two tall spires, a golden dome embedded into the cliff it rested under, big walls keeping all out and a very large body of water between them and it.
“Frag.” He scowled, then turned to Arachnid, who was using her many legs to cut her way out of the jungle side, smacking away some organic creature that had hid on one of the branches. “You think you can fly us over there?”
Arachnid turned to him, then looked back at the large container they had been carrying with them. “Depends if you want to leave things behind on the way back.” She said with a sigh.
Sentinel frowned, then turned towards the lake again.
“Carry us over,” He ordered, stern and annoyed.
Arachnid cycled her optics, then nodded. She transformed and began attaching herself around him, getting a good grip and taking off.
There’s a certain fear when above a large body of water, what if I fall in? What if Arachnid decides I’m not needed anymore and drops me so I fall in? What if she lets go on accident and I fall in? What if—
They land on the ground before he can spiral more.
In front of them there rests a large stone door. It’s withered and plants grow across it. Behind he could make out the carvings of symbols he cannot read, but can recognise.
With a nod towards Arachnid she used her limbs to cut down the vines, ripping them from where their roots had burned through the stone.
He put his servo up, tracing along the cracks and patterns. Some seem too damaged to interpret into modern. But some are obvious.
SILA LODAN
HITOLA
SETOLA
TINTOLA
The language is definitely old, possibly older then the planet he stands on. There’s too many options for him to recognise its meaning straight away. Sentinel has no time to sit and decipher specifics, had he been here in his younger cycles, he’d have taken all the joy in the world analysing and making sense of its true meaning.
It’s not the only language on the door, he sees now, it’s covered in engraving of other languages lost to time as well.
Perhaps once this is all over, he can return here to try and see what they all say. But that is a nice little thing for another time, he has things to do.
Next to him there sprouts up a small pillar, it has what looks like the imprint of a servo on it.
Seems simple enough.
He puts his hand on the pillar, ignoring the odd look he gets from Arachnid and resets his vox.
He chants the words, loud and clear.
As the last light of the two stars drip from the horizon, they both feel a rumble in the ground. The vines growing once more as they covered the door. A sharp and searing pain shoots through his hand and his body from where the pillar retracts into the ground.
It feels like it has been dipped in the pits of Unicrons spark, burning and devouring him whole. It burns and burns until there is no more air in his vents.
In a fit of rage he aims his blaster at the door, firing and watching as the vines burn and twitch. Withering away.
The words have changed under them. By the gasp next to him, he is sure that Arachnid sees them too.
“You who feel only greed, shall not enter this holy land. He whose knowledge he bleeds, hold his spark in his aching hand.”
“Sentinel! Are you alright?!” Servos come to hold him, he swats them away, not taking his eyes off the words. Even as the vines cover them once more and the ground no longer shakes. As the moon stands high and casts shadows down on where he lay.
He lets out a yell of fury, thrashing and throwing himself around. That cursed door! How dare it! Not worthy his aft! He has worked cycle after cycle, thrown his energon and coolant into this! And it just throws him away!?
What does that even mean!? You can’t bleed knowledge! That’s ridiculous!
He let out a scream of rage. Helm in his servos.
He’s back to square one. At this point he’s walking in circles. But he will get that Primusforsaken Matrix.
One way or another.
/.\
You’d think that people wouldn’t care that much for a cube or two of energon. It’s so small! You have so much! Share a little, you know?
Well, that’s what Orion thought too. But now look where he is, vaulting and jumping from spire to spire, jumping through a window—
“Morning Orion, they after you again?”
Say hello to the usuals—
“You’d think they’d care less for two cubes!”
The pink and yellow femme let out a laugh, moving her curtains to let him jump out that window as well.
“Appreciated!” He exclaimed, laughing as he fell.
Landing on the top of a stall and bouncing over to the next building, grabbing onto the ledge to hoist himself up.
“Is he at it again?”
Listening to the usual comments of the mecha walking and conversing in the market, using an empty sign post to swing up on the roof again.
“Definitely Orion, kid’s always up to trouble. Almost feel bad for him.” A cerulean blue mech said.
Running down the stairs only to be met with more guards.
“Hey!”
Wait no—
“Oh slag—“
He turned heel, sprinting in the opposite direction.
“Get back here!” They exclaimed after him, launching into a chase.
He jumped another building, grabbing onto a large pole and bending it as he landed on the other side, before letting go and seeing it smack the enforcers.
“Oh…. That looked like it hurt. Welp, can’t help it, I’ll have to see you all later, fun game—“ his body met with a wall. “Though…” he trailed off.
Turning around he was met with the frowning expression of another enforcer, the dark navy frame very familiar to his dismay, huffing and puffing as he glared down at him.
“Darkwing! Heeeyyy! Funny—“ he reset his voice-box. “Funny bumping into you here..” he tried to give him a pat on the shoulder, not completely reaching it.
“Well, this was fun, but I should really… go…. Now.” The angry enforcer didn’t seem in the mood for his jokes today, must have woken up on the wrong side of the berth.
“What’s with the long face? We’re both pals are we no— OH MY PRIMUS WHATS THAT!?” He exclaimed, pointing in a random direction before booking it as fast as he could.
It went a minute before he heard the telltale shout as Darkwing realised he got tricked again. But it was enough time for Orion to slip away into a crowd and make his escape. Slipping between two pipes and into the lower levels.
Making his way down the corridor before slowing down, leaning against the wall to let his vents cycle.
Once he was more stable, he began moving downward. Passing a few corners and hidden pathways.
The smell of rot starts to dissipate the further he gets, and a warm feeling crawls up his struts. The cozy feeling of home welcoming him with an embrace that feels so real— oh.
“Hey, B,” He said softly, patting the younger’s helm.
B smiled up at him, wrapping his arms tighter around him, warm giddy excitement beaming in his field.
He felt his smile falter a little.
“Your voice not good today?” He tried as hard as he could to not let his tone falter.
B frowned, then shook his head. But his smile quickly recovered as he pulled Orion into their little home.
Makeshift furniture and stacks of soft pillows and blankets, a lot of lights of different shades of yellow and one blue one they had in the corner for movie night.
B pulled him quickly down to sit in their makeshift sofa, running off to grab something.
Orion took the time to put the two cubes on the metal B had wielded together as a makeshift table, wondering for a second if he should read a little more of his data pad or not, before B returned.
He stretched out his servos proudly, displaying its contents to him with confidence.
A flower, made of different coloured metals and solder. It was beautiful.
“Wow! B, it’s stunning! You made this?” He leaned himself slightly forward, trying to get a better look.
The yellow mech proudly nodded, puffing out his chassis and beaming. He shook his servos in the blue and red mech’s direction.
“It’s for me?” He pointed at himself, shock all over his face.
He was immediately met with a series of happy beeps.
He grabbed the flower with as much care as he could, placing it in his subspace for safe keeping. Smiling as he did so.
He grabbed the smaller and yanked him into an embrace, hugging him tightly to the yellow mech’s protest. The smaller flailing with his limbs before giving up and going slack.
“I love it! Thanks you, B! You’re the best!” He praised.
B made a series of beeps in return along the lines of what he guessed ment “*of course I am!*”
“Now eat! I got us some energon.” He pulled them apart and pointed at said cubes.
Another beep, one of excitement, before they started to eat.
/.\
The archive is a big library in the middle of Iacon, open to anyone at anytime, by rule of Alpha Trion. The Prime of knowledge. As he stated that no child of Primus should be deprived of the opportunity to learn.
The library itself is quite large, both in height and width. It has towers and even a basement. It’s shiny and yellow, not like a bright yellow but calm and clean.
Orion likes the archive, the Royal Archivist is really nice to him and lets him borrow datapads all the time. He’s not judged when in the archive.
It also holds a lot of history and information, as well as fiction and other things.
The specific thing Orion wants is medical textbooks.
“Back again, Orion?”
The archivist would say, blinking shiny blue optics down at him.
Then he would smile and lead him to the book he thinks would help. Leaving Orion to his own devices once he’s done.
“I was wondering if I could borrow a data pad?” He inquired over the desk.
He laughed, and grabbed the one he’s returned to put back in the system.
“You ask that each time as if you’re suddenly banned, Orion. Of course you can borrow another.” He reassured, though that did not stop the hint of tease from entering his voice.
He felt himself smile, waddling after the mech as he got up and walked down the hallway.
“How’s your brother doing?” The taller inquired, taking a second to pick up a stray data pad and putting it in its rightful spot.
Orion’s step faltered slightly.
“B’s doing ok, he couldn’t talk yesterday, but said it didn’t hurt as much.” He tried to play of his falter in speed as a skip in his step.
“That’s good.” The blue mech smiled.
Down another hall, they stopped by one of the shelves.
“He thinks I’m spending too much time here.” Which didn’t really make sense.
The taller mech raised a brow, “Really? I rather think it’s good, even if it seems you devour data pads with how fast you finish them.” He gave Orion a slight nudge at the last statement, swaying slightly with his tall wings.
He chuckled. “Maybe if I eat enough I’ll know so much the knowledge will bleed out of me, organic style? Can organics bleed knowledge? Can we bleed knowledge?” He zoned out.
A loud clang sounded through the fancy library. Making a lot of meches and femmes jump and startle, some faint shushing noises being made in their direction.
He paused his ranting and turned, worried. “Are you alright Mr. Sentinel?”
The blue and gold mech only turned with a sheepish expression, glancing down at the data pad he dropped. It didn’t look to be damaged, thankfully.
“I’m— I’m alright, Orion. Just.. hurt my servo the other day, and forgot.” Orion glanced down at his left servo, it looked really burnt, as if he had fought a furnace and the furnace won. A gasp left him.
“My Primus! That looks like it hurt! Do I need to get a first aid kit? A medic? Shouldn’t your nanites fix that? What happened?—”
He got a chuckle in return. “It’s quite alright Orion,” he bent down to glide his not injured servo over the mechs helm. “It was due to my own stupidity it happened.”
Orion had to restrain himself from protesting, Sentinel was not stupid! He was the royal archivist! He got to talk with The Primes in person! He was their advisor! He is the sweetest, kindest and most selfless mech you’ll ever meet!
Stupid? Sentinel? Those words don’t go in the same sentence, unless it’s stating thing he most certainly isn’t!
“Here’s your data pad, Orion. Now go home to your brother, it’s getting late.” He said.
Orion reluctantly nodded, grabbing the data pad and running off. Waving to the other archivists he passed on the way. Not noticing the way Sentinels smile strained as he turned the corner.