"Redemption"  Part 10
by Ivy Bohnlein

     Rodimus looked at the closed door and released a long sigh of breath.  
  Over.  After so many years wondering, never knowing - it was over.  Of 
  course, now a whole new process was just beginning.... 
       He stepped over to the forcefield and rested his fingers against it, 
  studying the face there before him.  Rodimus Prime.  It was still his face, 
  though strangely different from the reflection he had grown used to.  The 
  Matrix had added more bulk than he remembered, and had carved lines of 
  responsibility into a face that still looked to young to bear them. 
       Rubbing his cheek reflectively, he thought, No danger of that now.  
  There was an aura of untested power surrounding his past self; a sense of 
  potential. You could almost see the lines of history weaving themselves 
  around him, ensuring that he would always be in the middle of something. So 
  much had changed.  Potential had been transformed into power, gradually 
  reshaping this smaller body through continual trials.  He had *earned* the 
  name Rodimus, forging each letter with loss and suffering.  Instead of 
  resting in the embrace of history, he had grabbed it by the throat and shaped 
  it himself. 
       And now he was here to change that. 
       After the life that he had endured, it was clear to Rodimus that history 
  had to be changed.  His course was set - too many ghosts urged him onward.  
  But he had always been so focused on The Plan that he had given only cursory 
  attention to all of the ramifications. 
       If Sky Lynx was stopped, the Autobots and Decepticons might never be 
  united by a common enemy.  Galvatron would live on to perpetuate the 
  interminable civil war, and the slow slaughter would continue.  This Rodimus 
  would never know Cyclonus as a trusted friend and advisor, and Firestar might 
  never overcome her anger at all Decepticons and find love in the process.  
  And yet, Cyclonus and Firestar both were focused on ending the Primitives' 
  threat. 
       The same was true of Outrun and Flamediver.  They must have considered 
  the possibility that they were erasing their own existence by altering the 
  timeline.  They were both created because of the war, their lives joined by 
  it.  Even if they were built in this timeline, their allegiances would 
  probably be to opposing sides.  In a way, imagining a future where Outrun and 
  Flamediver were enemies was worse than imagining one where they didn't exist 
  at all. 
       Rodimus' participation seemed simple, by contrast.  Save all of those 
  lost lives by eliminating the threat at its roots.  He had so little to lose, 
  and all of Cybertron had so much to gain. If their interference left the 
  civil war intact, so be it.  As Whiz had said, it was better to alter the 
  future in unknown ways than to allow it to continue along the path that was 
  all too familiar to him. 
       Of course, there was always the risk.... 
       He considered the warnings that his scientists had given to him.  There 
  could be no guarantees about what would happen to him and his followers once 
  the timeline had been irrevocably changed.  They might continue to exist in 
  this timeline until their buffer rings failed, throwing them all into the 
  same comas that affected their present-day selves.  He glanced at Rodimus 
  Prime's relaxed face.  Unfair to you, he thought.  You shouldn't have to 
  lose so much time, just because I wish to remain.  The alternative, 
  sacrificing themselves to bring their past selves back online, was no more 
  attractive. 
       By contrast, the outcome he desired most was a displacement back to 
  their own time, but in a universe shaped by the history they were about to 
  create.  Gradually, they would just become a part of that timeline, 
  remembering their history as a prolonged nightmare.  In his dreams, he led 
  the Autobots in an idyll of peace and friendship.  No death, no rebellions, 
  no civil war. 
       But Whiz didn't seem to think that would happen.  He wasn't sure if that 
  was her scientific opinion or just her natural pessimism.  According to her 
  dire predictions, the fluctuations caused by tampering with the timeline 
  would kill them, tearing them apart as they negated their own existence.  
  They might simply cease to exist, even as memories. 
       Or... 
       He stopped.  No fate could be so cruel.  Their own timeline and history 
  had to be destroyed.  Their efforts had to achieve something.  But, according 
  to his science team, the existence of alternate timelines might mean that 
  they would be drawn back into their own future, no matter what they managed 
  to accomplish.  Pak-Gor had tried to explain the theory behind alternate 
  universes to him once, and though the lesson had been laced with references 
  to Star Trek and other science fiction, it had eventually started to make 
  sense. 
       All outcomes to a certain event exist, according to Pak, but in 
  different, parallel worlds.  These timelines run alongside each other, 
  branching as different decisions are made.  Most of the branches are short, 
  rejoining the main body of history after a nearly imperceptible divergence.  
  Most events don't have much significance in the cosmic scheme of things. 
       But every so often, something would happen to cause an irrevocable 
  branching of the timeline.  The event might seem trivial at first, then 
  snowball into something life-affecting.  Somewhere, there could be a world 
  where Unicron wasn't destroyed.  In another timeline, Optimus Prime might 
  never have left Cybertron for Earth.  All of those possibilities existed, for 
  someone who knew how to find them.  They were just new branches, growing each 
  time a major event transformed history. 
       The Primitives' rebellion was one of those events.  The timeline that he 
  and the Cybertronians had experienced represented just one of the outcomes - 
  where the Primitives had succeeded beyond even Sky Lynx's greatest 
  expectations.  If that course of events was changed, the effects might only 
  be felt in a new, but parallel universe.  One where he and his troops didn't 
  belong.  
       And all this effort to change history; to save Cybertron, would be of no 
  use to them.  They'd create a better future but never see it.  Instead, 
  they'd return to their own history and their own future.  Where the 
  Primitives would be waiting. 
       His Cybertronians would be annihilated. 
       With a pained grimace, he turned and studied the restful face of Rodimus 
  Prime.  Slowly, as he traced its contours with his gaze, his expression 
  unconsciously changed to a reflective smile.  "A pouncing fight," he 
  murmured, remembering the shock on Certiorarius' faces. 
       "No matter what happens to me, Rodimus Prime," he whispered, "Your life 
  will be different.  I'll protect you from the Primitives.  After that..." He 
  stopped, thinking of Galvatron and Cyclonus; of Whiz and Arcee.  Smiling 
  ruefully, he finished, "After that, you're on your own." 
       Silence fell over the repair bay as the leader of the Cybertronians, 
  squaring his shoulders against a sudden weight of years and responsibility, 
  turned and strode purposefully out of the room. 

    
[TBC]


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