Optimus and Megatron were still sitting in their battlefield, clutching their wounds. Megatron finally broke the silence. “Why DID you say ‘Jolan tru’ anyways?”
“It was all I could come up with in the heat of the moment,” replied Optimus. Megatron nodded. Just then, he looked over Optimus’ head.
“…Odd portals there.” Optimus turned as best he could to see two portals in the sky.
“…The Goddesses?”
“Maybe.” The Ark, Nemesis, and Blue Typhoon then left the portals. The portals closed behind them and Sonic, Amy, Tails, Shadow, Maria, Thundercracker, Knock-out, Ratchet, Goldbug, Treadshot, and Windblade shimmered into view thanks to teleporters.
“You two look like scrap!” grunted Ratchet.
“We feel like it,” chuckled Optimus. Ratchet turned to Knock-out.
“Ark’s Repair Bay or Nemesis’?” he asked.
“Ark,” replied Knock-out. Ratchet then activated his comms.
“Ratchet to Ark. Beam me, Optimus, Megatron, and Knock-out directly to the Repair Bay.”
“Acknowledged,” replied Cliffjumper’s voice. The four then vanished in a teleport beam.
The two medics stabilized their respective factions’ leaders and got to work repairing them. “Spark rate on Megatron?” Knock-out asked Swoop.
“Climbing back to normal,” reported Swoop.
“Energon levels on Optimus?” asked Ratchet.
“Still steady.”
“All right then, let’s wake them up.” Ratchet then keyed in a command and Optimus and Megatron’s optics flickered on. They groaned as they came out of stasis lock. “How are you feeling?” asked Ratchet.
“…Bit of a processor-ache,” replied Optimus.
“Same,” remarked Megatron.
“You boys are confined here until you’re fully recovered,” declared Ratchet. “We can’t have you aggravating your wounds now.”
“…Very well,” answered Megatron.
“Ratchet, could Megatron and I have some time alone?” asked Optimus. Ratchet looked to Megatron. The Decepticon Lord nodded, and Ratchet motioned for his fellow medics to leave. Once they were alone, Optimus looked to Megatron. “…You WERE right in a small capacity on that day,” he muttered.
“…What day?” asked Megatron.
“That day on Mobius. The day you told me that you took command of the Decepticons. You mentioned that I ignored the Empties. I won’t make that mistake again.” Megatron allowed a small smirk on his face.
“What’s this? A concession?” His smirk then vanished. “That’s a difficult admission to make. Primes before you would have been humiliated to say that. Other Primes preferred to die than to address the problems that plagued Cybertron. Primes LESSER than you would rather have burned Cybertron before giving a Decepticon any concession.”
“I understand what you were trying to do…but I think the lesson could have been learned without the use of guns, bombs, warships-!”
“Optimus, if you can’t keep that option open, perhaps you ought to go back to the estate you were raised on. How did Q put it? Ah, yes, ‘It’s not safe out there. It’s wonderous with treasures to satiate desires both subtle and gross…but it’s NOT for the timid.’ …When’s my trial?”
“…A week after we’re cleared. Your charges are that you incited the Decepticons into war, you betrayed the Autobots, and you harmed alien worlds.”
“I abandoned the Autobots.”
“You still had bots among us that considered you a friend. Now they’re baying for your blood. …I’m moving for a prison sentence.”
“You won’t be presiding over my trial?”
“I’m not impartial in this instance. No, I’m a witness.”
“Who’s the judge, then?”
“…Someone from Dendron Beta, that’s all I know. You DO have a defense attorney, and you’re not under any obligation to say anything you think would implicate yourself or others-”
“Optimus, hold on. I want to make sure I heard that right. An ALIEN is going to be presiding over my trial?”
“Our war went beyond Cybertron and her colonies. There’s too much of the galaxy that hates us. They want some closure.”
“And you agreed to that?!”
“It was the price I had to pay to get the Transformers a permanent seat on the Galactic Council and to pick my successor.” Megatron arched an eyebrow.
“Successor?”
“I’m stepping down as the Galaxy Convoy. It’s someone else’s turn.”
“Who are you picking?”
“I was thinking…Earthia. She runs things unofficially, why not make it official?”
“In that case, I wish her luck.”
The trial for Megatron was a rapid one. His defense attorney deliberated well, but, ultimately, the judge deemed him guilty and order Cybertron to keep him under house arrest until he was deemed well enough to rejoin society. During the trial, the Goddesses kept themselves abreast of Cybertron’s bloody history. Vector Sigma spoke with Optimus once the trial ended. “While his actions were deplorable,” he remarked, “Megatron set a series of events into motion, bringing your people’s awareness of your origins to light much sooner than I calculated. Now, perhaps, when Cybertron’s fully fixed up, it might be possible to melt down your weapons. But, for now, for RIGHT now…there’s a lot of angry people out there. Since they’re aware of your attempts to patch things up with one another…” Optimus realized the implications.
“They’re after our heads,” he guessed.
“You can bet on it.” Optimus stood up and looked around the room.
“…Maybe Megatron did the right thing for the wrong reasons.”
“How so?”
Perhaps what the Autobots most needed, what I most needed…was a kick in our arrogance. I thought that, once I became Prime, all the problems would be solved. …But that’s just ignoring the problem in the first place.” The door chime then rang. “Come in.” Prowl poked his head into the room.
“We’re ready,” he reported.
“…Pax Galactica, here we come,” declared Optimus. He and Vector Sigma then left the room and entered the Council Chambers. There were now new delegations from Cybertron, Mobius, and Voksphere. Optimus saw a pad sitting in front of his seat. It was the treaty awaiting his signature.
“Under the terms of this, the Pax Galactica,” it read, “we, the people of Cybertron and all related colonies, hereby agree to make reparations to the worlds and people we have harmed during our war. In return, we will have our seat on the Galactic Council and help guide the galaxy to a brighter future.” Optimus looked at it, then took up the stylus and signed his name. He then held up the pad.
“Let this mark the end of the Cybertronian Wars,” he proclaimed to the Council, “as we march forward to a new age of peace and happiness! ‘Til all are one!”
“‘Til all are one!” chanted the Council. They then applauded for Optimus. Optimus then raised his hand for quiet.
“There IS one thing I need to do first,” he called, “and that is to step down as the Galaxy Convoy. I only took up the mantle during the Primacron Battles. Now, it’s time for me to pass the torch. Given that’s been the unofficial head of the Council so far, I’d say it’s time to make it official. Earthia of Greengate, I hereby name you the new Galaxy Convoy!” Earthia goggled at the proclamation.
“Hold on a minute!” she protested. “That’s too much power, even for me!”
“You’ve held that kind of power in an unofficial capacity,” sang Basso Profundo. “You are the logical choice.”
“Besides,” continued Optimus, “I need to focus on my people, and I can’t do that as the Galaxy Convoy.” Earthia looked around, hoping for some form of dissent. No one said anything.
“…Very well, I accept. But I would like Ultra Magnus to continue his duties as the Enforcer of the Tyrest Accords.”
“I see no issue with that,” replied Optimus. “Congratulations, Earthia, the new Galaxy Convoy!” Everyone clapped at that. Thus began a new age for the galaxy!
