Yeager Chronicles: After Extinction

13: Optimus

There was a cursed day to be had. It wouldn't be long before they would land and be departing, mere hours away. Though the ship was stacked and everything put away, Optimus still felt a bit of apprehension build in his frame. He tried to hide the trepidation build a knot in his tanks, Optimus did not want Nightblade to know.

He wasn't sure if he would fit in along with the band of mecha going down to the Martian surface. Optimus remembered how Screwloose reacted to the knowledge of his existence. Even though he seemed jovial and fearful himself with how he may be received by the last Prime.

He has been in his present suite on the ship, sitting and wondering whether or not he should go. If he didn't go, those down on the surface would find it rude or perhaps they would believe that he thought higher of himself. Which is not true, he barely believes himself equal to other mecha, especially those who have given so much in the war effort. He did not have a family since Alpha Trion's murder in the attacks at Iacon. Optimus didn't have much to fight for after that, no mate,
no creations, no grandsire; but he could not allow his misgivings of the world to cloud his judgment. He needed to keep fighting, to keep the morale of his still functioning soldiers alive, unlike his grandsire.

That is what hurt him most. How could he have not saved his grandsire? He was only mere feet away from his body. Optimus could have saved him.

A couple of days before, when Nightblade asked for him to come and find her, she really didn't do anything too spectacular. Just gave him a datapad to read and told him to relax. He was sure he had forgotten what it is like to be relaxed. Though he has been with friends, he could never and would never be able to shake the feeling that he was being a burden to them. Optimus was not used to the routine on board the ship. Nor would he allow himself to forget that he had left soldiers on Earth, family. He left Cade.

That feeling of arrogant shame would take hold of him, every single time his systems would attempt to relax. That feeling that would paralyze his thoughts from anything that could do anything good for anyone. He'd be stuck.

"Hello! You still here?" however, Nightblade often dragged him verbally back to reality. "I've been talking to you and you've kind of zoned," her silver servo landed on his shoulder, shaking it slightly. "What have you got in your head that's got you so..."

"Nothing," he answered quickly. She removed her servo and stood akimbo, "Glitch, don't be lying to me. Something is pushing your buttons." Nightblade never liked taking 'no' for an answer. His frame did a sigh for him and he shrugged. The data pad in his hand hadn't changed pages since she gave it to him, he'd mindlessly read the same paragraph over and over with no retention. But she was right (begrudgingly so,) and him not being able to concentrate on the simple text was not exactly the thing that was bothering him.

He was more concerned about how others on the surface would take to him. Nightblade knew that but still told him they'd receive him well, somehow he did not believe that. He still bore the title Prime and with that came a lot of hatred. A large amount of mecha (especially those who are still functioning) despised the Primes. Ancient history Night would say, though it was in most everyone's mind. Even she had her grievances over the Primes and she was not afraid to say so. Though she seemed to only have any kind of resentment towards Sentinel, Night still seemed like she kept what she felt a minimum.

Optimus sighed. "You already know what's wrong, Night. It's exactly the same." Her optics danced from his to his servos, kneeling in front, holding his servos. "You've got nothing to worry about, not down there," she spoke softly, running her thumb over his knuckles. "The worst thing that could happen - and it's a strong possibility - that you'll be greeted with more questions than anything. You are not only a Prime, Optimus. You are a mecha yourself. Don't go so hard on yourself," she pulled his servos close to her chest, closer to her spark. "You can trust me."