[personal profile] ante_luce
Title: Other Worlds [Part 15]
'Verse: TF:A and 2007 Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.




//Greetings to the Autobots on Earth, this may sound a little outlandish, but I ask that you please hear us out. We are Autobots from another dimension, trying to return home. We would appreciate any assistance you could render, if possible.//

Ultra Magnus examined the mech who was on the other end of the connection. Another Optimus Prime, and like the one he’d just left, this one was the sole Prime in his universe. Once more the Supreme Commander was struck by the thought that maybe, if he’d been given the chance, his Optimus Prime could have been like this.

A deep, commanding voice replied. //Welcome. We would be happy to offer what help we can. Please make your descent at these coordinates, and ensure you land under cover of darkness. Not many of the humans of this world have learnt about us, and for now, we would like that to remain so.//

//Thank you, Optimus Prime.//

The blue and red mech nodded, then signed off. Ultra Magnus stared at the blank screen for a moment, before coming back to the present and issuing orders to his crew.


= = =


“Yeah. This actually isn’t the first time we’ve gone through this.”

“Whoa. Must’ve been one Pit of an experience.”

“Yep, a little.” Jetfire and Jetstorm were soaking up the attention lavished on them by some of the younger bots on this reality’s Earth. The mechs in charge were off conferring with each other, and they had time to kill.

And there were humans too. Humans who, unlike the majority of the population here, knew about the Cybertronians. They introduced themselves, and Hot Shot perked once he found out the teenaged male’s surname.

“Sam Witwicky? Hey, there were Witwickies on the Earth we left. Spike, he was about your age, and Sparkplug, his male creator. They helped us with the repairs to our ship, and in the med bay as well.”

“Frag, that’s so cool. We’re only allowed to watch right now.”

“Hey, they did it, so I guess you two will get to the hands on stuff, eventually.”

And conversation then moved on to the differences between the world the jet twins had left, and the one they were in now.


= = =


“Sir, you mentioned an urgent matter needing my attention?”

Jazz’s head whipped in the direction of that voice, so familiar and yet different at the same time. He registered Sentinel moving behind him in support, and was glad for it when his optics saw a chevroned and doorwinged mech approach their group. The paintjob was different, but this mech’s stance and movements were the same. Optimus looked up and beckoned him over.

“Ah, yes. I know my data packet was a little unbelievable, but these bots will be able to corroborate what I’ve told you. Everyone, this is our SIC and head tactician-”

“Prowl…” The cyberninja whispered, and the new mech paused, looking at him oddly.

“My apologies, have we met?”

“We haven’t, and in a way, we have.” Realising that they hadn’t really introduced themselves, apart from Ultra Magnus, he did so.

“This is Ultra Magnus, and Sentinel.” He left off the title of Prime, as their crew had agreed to do so while away from their own reality. “And m’name’s Jazz.”

This Prowl flinched, actually taking a step back as the rest of the Autobots of this reality startled. The Prime looked at the surprised Elite Guard mechs sadly, then at the tactician’s pleading gaze, and nodded. The chevroned mech quietly apologised again, then left the room, his steps hurried. Optimus sighed, expression deeply troubled as he watched Prowl retreat.

“Perhaps I should have mentioned this earlier. Our Jazz has passed on, deactivated while going against Megatron, buying time for us in battle.”

He supposed he should have wondered earlier where this reality’s version of him was. But Jazz’s processors went blank at that revelation, and distantly he heard Optimus Prime continue speaking. “We have a chance at reviving him, once certain conditions are met, but the probabilities are never certain. Prowl was… close to him.”

At the Prime’s odd inflection, it was Ultra Magnus’s turn to be given a beseeching look, and he sighed as well. “… Go, Jazz.”

The cyberninja was gone before the mech could even finish his words.


= = =


Jazz found the SIC in a small room off the med bay, standing next to a deactivated frame. Without asking, he knew that this was his counterpart.

“Prowl, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

His intakes skipped, memory banks going back to another doorwinged mech who’d replied in the same manner. This Prowl looked at him, optics slightly dimmed, taking in his forlorn posture.

“… Who did you lose?” Just as insightful as the other Prowls he’d known. There was sympathy in that question, sympathy he did not deserve, considering that he still had the hope that his Prowl was alive.

“My own Prowl. Didn’t tell him when I could have. Didn’t ask him when I should have. He was alive, last I knew, but a lot could happen. Especially since I don’t know when we’ll get home. If we ever get home.”

“Ah.” The tactician turned back to the lifeless form before him, and Jazz couldn’t help his next words, wanting to ease the bereft, sparkaching look he saw in the mech’s optics.

“There were a Prowl and Jazz in the world I last left. They’re together. And happy.”

This Prowl shuttered his optics, intakes cycling quietly. After a while, a faint smile appeared on his faceplates, and he gently traced a finger along dull silver plating.

“That’s good to know. Thank you, Jazz.”

Silence fell once more, and the cyberninja stood there, watching this world’s Prowl keeping vigil over his Jazz. Coming to a decision, he slipped closer, resting a hand on the chevroned mech’s arm. The tactician turned to him with a questioning sound, and he murmured, low and quiet.

“That Prowl, he helped me when I couldn’t keep pretending it was alright, being realities apart from home and the mech I cared about. I can see that you’re not handling this well, and so can your Prime. He’s worried, and I agree. Please, let me help you now.”

Prowl looked at the still chassis beside him for a long moment, then turned back to Jazz in quiet agreement. Gently, the black and white Elite mech held him and this time, was the one to offer solace to another’s broken spark.


= = =


Preparations for their departure were much quicker this time. All the major calculations had long been done in the Ark Autobots’ world, and all that was needed was a fine tuning of the workings using the data generated by the jump that had brought them to this one. This world didn’t have space bridge technology, but Perceptor and Wheeljack had copied all the files they had on the subject and left them with Optimus Prime, in keeping for when the Nevada Autobots’ science bots arrived.

“You sure we’ll be going home this time, Perce’?”

“Quite sure.”

“Cos we didn’t the last time.”

Perceptor either didn’t realise the jet twins were baiting him, or he didn’t particularly care. “With the new data for our calculations, we’ve adjusted the process to be more exact. We should be able to return to our original dimension in this jump.”

“And if we don’t?” There was uncertainty hidden in Jetfire’s tone.

“Then we would have obtained more data to refine the process. And we try again.” Sentinel replied, his words resolute. The microscope’s optics flared in determination as he scribbled across his datapad, nodding in agreement.

“We’ll try as many times as we need to.”


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