Chapter Text
The first time Rodimus died, he was transported a mere 10 hours into the past. He knew about Unicron ahead of time. He had enough time to warn everyone about how the fight would go, enough time to draw up new battle plans, but not enough to realize that Unicron had held onto the same memories that he did until it was too late. Rodimus died again, his crew screaming as their shuttle was ripped open by Unicrons’ lasers, disintegrating where they stood.
The second time it happened, he woke up almost a full day before his death, screaming and reaching out for bots who now jumped to his aid unscathed and ready to help. He touched them all, grabbing plating and squeezing hard enough to dent his digits. He had to reassure himself that they were okay. It was hard to tell them what had happened, the memories still fresh in his mind, but the autobots listened and helped him put a plan in motion to defeat Unicron. They managed to evade Galvatron and the quintessons as they made their way to Junkion to get some allies. However, their luck eventually ran out and they crossed paths with both enemies at once near two weeks later. Rodimus died by missing Springer’s extended servo as he leaped across the growing crack in the quintesson ship. He plummeted to his death before being sent back five days.
The thirteenth time he died, Rodimus lasted a mere ten seconds on a battlefield he hadn’t seen in weeks, Galvatron’s servos wringing his neck before crushing his energon lines and holding him down as he slowly bled out, his HUD full of warnings that only served to obscure his glitching vision.
The fifty second time, Rodimus told himself to quit counting the growing duration he lost between each failure and stormed out of a strategizing meeting with Kup, Elita, Chromia, and Ultra Magnus. They were planning a mission that had gone awry in his previous attempt all because some faulty wires caused their combat ships’ weapons to backfire and blast shrapnel from the walls all over the cockpit and passenger chamber. He ripped those wires right out of the shuttle.
Dying over and over again got really old, really quick.
Rodimus tried not to keep track of it anymore. Tried, and failed. In this current attempt, the autobots have only been Unicrons’ foe for 13 years, but Rodimus has known him longer. Adding up an unbroken chain of events, placing one failure on top of another, he and Unicron have been fighting for well over four hundred years now, almost reaching half a millennium. No matter how many times Rodimus died, he never came back prepared enough. His plans didn't last long enough to actually win, and he couldn’t predict what Unicron would do next, not when the blasted planet-eater could remember everything too. When he’s not up against Unicron, Rodimus is dealing with the quintessons. When it’s not the quintessons, it’s some other threat like cosmic rust outbreaks or scraplets in asteroid fields or something else that’s equally unexpected and just as likely to get him or someone else killed. He’d rather if it was him.
This time is no different. Rodimus knows it’s too late to save this version of the timeline as he pulls the trigger. The weight of the matrix sinks in his chassis. He should have planned for this, for Unicron using his exhaustion and weakness against him, and yet Rodimus didn’t. For all his complaining and dry sarcasm, everyone still expected him to be as indomitable as Optimus Prime. It didn’t matter that his generals knew he failed many, many times before - they always thought that this time would be different. When it came time to plan an attack, rarely did they think about what they would do if the worst came to pass, if they failed. They had evacuation routes drawn up and backup strategies, but all of that felt pointless now, not when he yet again didn’t have a clue what he’d do differently if he died.
Which he did often.
Which he was doing again.
Rodimus felt his helm burst open, blown apart by laser fire that just kept shooting. Unicron’s voice boomed, but despite being loud enough to make his audials ring (that might be from the laser fire), the words were lost on him. Time seems to slow to a stop. Rodimus can still think despite the hole in his helm, despite how the battlefield has gone still, and he knows something is off. Whenever he’s died before, the change has always been instant. It doesn’t matter how long and drawn out the death was, the second he passed away he “woke up” sometime in the past. This time, though, he feels the matrix as it churns in his chassis, the only thing moving within and around him. Then, it rips itself from his spark casing and sends him hurtling backwards through time, flying aimless without a tether, until he suddenly hits a rough surface that shatters like glass.
Optimus sits up in his berth. The room around him is still, and yet the Matrix is calling for him to act, urging him to do something, to find something. He stands and walks across the room, sending a ping for the shutters to fold back towards the ceiling as he approaches the window. He skims the surface of Moon Base One, its silvery ground reflecting the expanse of space beyond them. Their base is on the dark side of the moon, meaning Optimus has nothing to view past it but the distant stars and planets. The matrix twists as he gazes into the darkness. Somewhere far beyond what he can see is something important, something vulnerable, but he doesn’t know what it is.
The first thing Rodimus sees is a fist flying at him through pixels and static. He twists, just barely moving fast enough for the fist to only graze his chassis instead of connecting with him. His spark burns like it never has, and he can’t tell if it’s because of the brief contact or something else. There's a roaring inferno rushing in to fill the gap around his spark where the matrix should be. He doubles forward and clutches himself, choked cries coming out of him as he struggles to get a sense of where he is. His vision is almost useless. Static covers his peripherals, and what's in front of him is a glitching mess of moving shapes. There's voices, but it's too hard to focus on them with how badly he's hurting. Someone grabs his arm and Rodimus lunges, slamming his whole frame into his opponent and knocking them both to the ground.
It’s a flurry of limbs and shouting. He can’t see the attacks coming until they’re right on top of him, and he has to throw his arms up a few times to deflect servos that try to snatch his own. A second person suddenly wraps their arms under Rodimus’ arms and yanks him back as he kicks. He feels his pede clang into something broad and hard, and he feels a small surge of victory at the fact that he’s not making it easy.
A voice shouts in his audials. “Hot Rod, stop it! That’s enough!”
He can’t place the voice and he can barely process the words. His HUD fills with warnings about high system stress right before his spark pulses and it feels like he’s on fire. Rodimus screams and the servos suddenly release him, their restraints and subsequently the support that had been keeping him up disappearing just as fast as they had appeared. He drops back onto his first opponent and they sit up, quickly grabbing onto his frame and sliding an arm around his back to keep him from falling off.
That’s… Not what he expected from someone who just tried to punch him.
Their other servo grabs his shoulder and squeezes, and a voice so familiar and concerned it almost hurts worse than the burn starts shouting. “Roddy! What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?!”
Rodimus clenches his jaw and fights back the urge to shove away from them. Even if they're the reason he's in pain, it doesn’t seem like they meant to cause any damage. Ergo, they’re probably not an enemy. Rodimus dismisses the warning alerts and checks his internal chronometer, but it’s rapidly cycling through different dates. Well that's never happened before. He still can’t see right, but through swimming and glitching visuals, Rodimus makes out a bold green helm around a white faceplate. He grips his chassis and squints.
“Springer?”
“Is it your chassis? I barely touched you!” Springer’s voice is incredulous, and yet he leans closer for a better look and tries to pull Rodimus’ servo away from the area.
Rodimus looks around, but he can barely make out the general shape of whoever is standing beside them, much less where they are. Springer’s servo taps his chassis and Rodimus yelps, a spark of energy zapping Springer’s servo as Rodimus’ frame goes stiff and his vision glitches out entirely. He’s left blind for a couple seconds before his optics reboot, but things aren’t looking any better.
“Silverbolt! Go get a medic!” Springer carefully pushes Rodimus off and lays him on the ground as the figure beside them takes off. He avoids touching Rodimus’ chassis entirely, which Roddy is grateful for because that area still hurts, but still places servos on his shoulders. “Hot Rod, you still with me? Come on, buddy, tell me something here.”
“Where are we?” Rodimus squints harder as Springer leans back, struggling to keep his friend's helm from blending into the static everywhere else. He hears Springer mumble something that he can’t quite hear, but it sounds stunned, so Rodimus repeats himself slower this time. “Springer, this is really important; where are we currently?”
“We’re- Frag, Roddy, we’re in the training grounds.” Springer vents out and shakes his helm, the movement stuttering in Rodimus’ vision as if someone downgraded the FPS in his optics.
Helpful, but not there yet. Rodimus vents out. “What planet?”
Springer’s engine makes a spluttering noise, and then he looks up. “Where’s that medic at?!”
“Springer!” Rodimus grips Springer’s shoulder and yanks him down. “What planet are we on? And what outpost or base?”
“Earth, on Autobot City.” Springer puts his servo over Rodimus’ and squeezes it. “Roddy, do you remember what we were doing?”
“I’m assuming training.” Rodimus must have given the wrong answer, or maybe it’s the way he said it, because Springer cringes and grips his servo even tighter. Rodimus hasn’t spent a lot of time on earth since becoming a prime, and Springer should have known Rodimus died again when he asked where they were, unless… This is before all that. Come to think of it, he’s pretty sure Springer called him Hot Rod earlier. It’s not uncommon for Springer to slip up and use Rodimus’ old name, but it’s in a pile of too many coincidences to ignore.
The matrix has finally done it. Hot Rod shuts his optics. It’s brought me back to before I was a prime.
“Hey, hey!” Springer smacks Hot Rod’s cheeks. “Stay online, Roddy! Stay awake!”
“Springer,” Hot Rod winces and opens his optics again. He doesn’t have time to explain everything, not when it feels like his spark is guttering out and when the Decepticons' plans could already be in motion. “You gotta get a message to Optimus Prime.”
“What?” Springer blinks a couple times.
Other people rush into the room, hastily taking up spots around Rodimus and trying to usher Springer off to the side, but Hot Rod hangs onto him as tight as he can. He sees Springer wince, but he doesn’t let go. He can apologize about dented plating later.
“Make sure someone tells Optimus not to send the shuttle to Autobot City. The cons already know about it, and they’re gonna- Agh!” Hot Rod’s spark surges again, sending white hot pain spreading through his wires before it rapidly weakens and he falls back against the ground. He hadn’t realized he was arching his back.
“Hot Rod!” Springer shouts.
“I need you to move back, give him space!” Someone pulls Springer aside and the bots around Hot Rod lift him, moving him onto a softer surface for transport.
“Wait, wait!” Hot Rod grasps his chassis plating as he looks around for Springer, trying to find him in the static walls that are obscuring his vision. “Springer, you gotta tell him! Or get someone who can! The decepticons know about the shuttle, they’re gonna-! Hhf, they’re gonna attack it and-!”
As Hot Rod’s systems crash and he’s plunged into unconsciousness, the last thing he sees is Springer’s face get obscured by a swarm of HUD warnings.
Springer bounces his leg up and down, his aft planted on a bench in the hall outside of the infirmary. Hot Rod’s warning plays on repeat in his mind, as do his screams. The pain seemed to come in waves, hitting Hot Rod hard for several seconds before easing up enough for him to talk. Springer looks down at his servos and then shakes them out. He doubts the glancing blow he gave Roddy could have damaged him enough to cause this, and yet he can’t help but feel responsible. Maybe Springer pushed him too far while sparring, but they weren’t doing anything they didn’t usually do. Whatever caused it, he just hopes Hot Rod will be okay.
“Springer!” Arcee calls out to him as she runs down the hallway, Daniel and Kup coming around the corner behind her.
“We came as quickly as we could.” Kup looks at the infirmary doors as he approaches, then back to Springer. “Any word from the medics?”
“Nothing yet.” Springer puts his helm in his palms and sighs. “All we were doing was sparring. I don’t know what happened.”
“It probably wasn’t anything you did.” Arcee takes a seat beside him. “From what I heard, there was something going wrong internally.”
“But Hot Rod’s gonna be okay, right?” Daniel’s voice wavers as he looks around the group. “He’ll be okay?”
“Of course he will be.” Arcee offers him a smile and sits up straighter, her voice holding more confidence than Springer can muster right now. She picks up Daniel and sets him in the space between her and Springer. “Hot Rod’s a tough bot, you know that.”
“He’s resilient.” Kup sighs and shakes his helm, pausing a moment with something unsaid before he moves on. “We’ve also got some of the best medical minds this side of the galaxy. The lad’s in good servos.”
The four of them fall into silence as they wait. Without conversation to distract him, Springer begins replaying the incident in his processor again. Hot Rod’s pain disturbs him the most, but the urgency in Roddy’s voice when begging Springer to warn Optimus about an impending decepticon attack also alarms him.
“Hey Kup,” Springer looks over at him. “When’s the next shuttle to Autobot City supposed to arrive?”
“I don’t have a clue.” Kup shakes his helm as if to clear it, then he raises his brow. “Why do you want to know?”
“When the medics arrived, Hot Rod told me that I needed to tell Optimus not to launch a shuttle because the decepticons were planning an attack on it.” Springer rubs his face, then he groans. “I don’t know anything more than that. He passed out right after.”
Arcee frowns and looks at the infirmary doors. “If Hot Rod knew about an attack, why didn’t he tell anyone about it before now?”
“Who knows.” Springer shrugs. “It’s not like we can ask him.”
“Maybe he couldn’t tell us.” Daniel stands up on the bench.
“What do you mean, lad?” Kup asks, his helm tilting slightly to the side.
“I don’t know what could’ve stopped him from saying anything, but I know Hot Rod.” Daniel places his fist in the upturned palm of his hand. “If there was anything he could do to help the autobots, he’d do it! Especially if he could mess with the decepticons in the process.”
“You're right, he wouldn’t have kept an incoming attack a secret if it was real, but the truth is Hot Rod was probably just having memory fluxes as his system crashed out.” Kup waves a servo as he speaks. “His system was stressed with what was going on internally, and so his processor was firing on all pistons before going on standby. Optimus is always in danger, and the decepticons attacked our ships plenty of times when we were transporting people to Autobot City back when it was first being established. Piece those two problems together, and you’ve got a plot to attack a shuttle Optimus sent our way. It’s nothing more than that.”
“I don’t know, Kup.” Springer’s frown deepens as he mulls everything over. “Something about it just feels off. He didn’t know where we were.”
Kup sighs. “Like I said, his systems were crashing. It happened all the time at the start of the war before bots adjusted to the constant barrage of fights and losses. A lot of people struggled to keep things straight back then, and a few of them mistook memory fluxes for reality when in distress.”
“This was more than that. Hot Rod asked what planet we were on.” Springer insists, leaning forward so he’s barely sitting on the bench. “And what outpost.”
Kup rubs his chin, then he vents out heavily and acquiesces. “The only person I can think of who’d know about a secret shuttle coming to Autobot City would be Ultra Magnus.”
Arcee quickly stands. “You think Hot Rod was onto something?”
“I think that a fellow soldier warned us about an attack, and we ought to talk with the person in charge to cross our T’s and dot our I’s.” Kup starts to walk down the hall. “I doubt it’ll turn out to be anything, but let's go have ourselves a talk with Ultra Magnus just in case.”
“I’m coming too!” Daniel slides off the bench and hurries after them, but Springer puts a servo in his way.
“Hold it,” Springer sets Daniel back into his seat and stands up. “We need somebody to stay here in case anything else happens with Hot Rod. Think you can handle being our liaison with the medics?”
Springer feels a little guilty as he watches Daniel stare at them, but Daniel sucks it up and nods. He even smiles. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Thank you,” Arcee quickly turns and starts quickly walking down the hall towards Ultra Magnus’ office. “We’ll be back as quick as we can.”
Ultra Magnus sits at his desk with his servos steepled in front of him. He takes only a moment to deliberate over how much he should reveal before deciding to be mostly open. After all, they're the ones who came to him with possibly vital information and are some of his most loyal soldiers, if somewhat inexperienced in Arcee and Springer’s case. They're owed honesty.
“A few breems before you came in and told me about Hot Rod's warning, I received a call from Optimus that he was about to launch a shuttle from Moon Base One carrying several of our top generals and advisors aboard it. I barely ended the call and began preparations when you all came in. If I didn't know better, I might believe you three bugged my office and overheard the call.”
“We couldn't have, sir.” Arcee stands with a respectful and alert posture, though her brows are furrowed. “And Hot Rod absolutely couldn't have. He warned Springer about the attack before you even got the call. You can ask any of the medics who came to help him, they must have overheard him say it too.”
“But how can that be?” Ultra Magnus sits back in his chair and rubs down his faceplate. “Optimus called me immediately after deciding to send the shuttle. He hadn't even planned to launch it when you claim that Hot Rod said it would be attacked. Are you saying he has foreknowledge of events? That he somehow saw into the future?”
“Honestly, I came here expecting it to be bad intel sparked from a medical emergency that overrode his logical thinking.” Kup leans forward, emphasizing his words as he speaks. “But the lad somehow knew! Not only that, but he was able to warn us. I say we take his warning seriously and then investigate how he knew later on.”
“Yeah,” Springer nods. “We can ask him once he's awake.”
Ultra Magnus tries not to grimace. He read the reports sent by First Aid nearly a joor ago. Total spontaneous spark failure. It's a miracle he survived long enough for medics to intervene, but they're struggling to keep him stable. It's unlikely Hot Rod will wake up any time soon, or even survive. He keeps those thoughts to himself, of course. Maybe if it was just him and Kup, he'd tell what's going on, but he can't say anything about the situation with two cadets in the room.
He stands, addressing the three of them. “We're going to Blaster immediately. He'll patch us through to Moon Base One.”
Springer's optics flash brighter and he nods, a smile gracing his features. “Yes, sir. Thank you for listening!”
Ultra Magnus nods and gestures them into the hall. “The consequences are too dire for me not to.”
They find Blaster at his post, cassettes lingering around his chair or sprawled out on the communications terminal. Rewind quickly sits up and greets them with a salute and a wave, each arm performing a different action. Blaster spins his chair around and grins. “Magnus! Kup! Arcee, and Springer! How can I help all of you?”
“I need to send an urgent message to Optimus Prime.” Ultra Magnus walks up to where he knows the comm station's camera is set to face. He's taken many meetings here. “Connect us directly to him.”
“You got it!” Blaster glances at the others as they take their spots at Ultra Magnus’ sides.
The screen clicks on, displaying Optimus standing on the landing bay of Moon Base One. He's holding up a servo in a “stop” motion to something off screen. He looks over and quirks his helm. “Magnus, we were just about to launch. Is something wrong?”
Springer launches into an explanation before Magnus can say a word. “Hot Rod got hurt while training, and while we waited for help, he told me that the decepticons were going to attack a shuttle and that I needed to warn you. He passed out after that, and as far as I know, he’s still in the infirmary.”
“To clear some things up,” Kup glances at Springer before looking back at Optimus. “Hot Rod is one of the cadets stationed here in Autobot City. We established with Ultra Magnus that you told him you were going to launch the shuttle after Hot Rod collapsed while training. He wasn’t injured, but he was in immense pain and lashed out, confused about who was around him and where he was. However, Springer says he was adamant that we warn you.”
“We don’t know how Hot Rod could have possibly known about the shuttle’s launch.” Ultra Magnus keeps his optics pointed at the screen, but he closely watches the others’ reactions from his periphery. “It’s a security concern, especially if he got the information from direct contact with decepticons.”
Arcee’s posture stiffens as she turns to him. "Hot Rod doesn’t have any contact with the decepticons outside of battles.”
“We don’t know what Hot Rod does or doesn’t do.” Ultra Magnus shakes his helm.
Springer balls his fists. “He’s not a decepticon spy, if that’s what you’re thinking!”
“Springer!” Kup scowls at him. “Watch your tone, Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus don’t need you shouting to get your point across. That being said, I second him; Hot Rod is as loyal as they come.”
“I am sure he is, old friend.” Optimus’ optics crease as he smiles at them.
Ultra Magnus is less certain. All signs point to Hot Rod being compromised somehow. His first instinct is to say Hot Rod was under control of one of Bombshell’s cerebro-shells, and that his sudden collapse and mental confusion was because he somehow broke free from its control. If this is the case, Hot Rod probably overheard the decepticons talking about attacking the shuttle at some point. This version of events is overly optimistic and falls apart at the barest of scrutiny. Firstly, no one has ever overcome Bombshell’s mind control trick without outside help. It’s possible the cerebro-shell was knocked loose while sparring, but unlikely.
Secondly, that still doesn’t explain how Hot Rod would have known Optimus was launching a shuttle before anyone else did. Not even the decepticons should have known about it. Even if they had slipped past Moon Base One’s defenses, Hot Rod gave his warning before Optimus even made the decision to call Ultra Magnus. As Magnus understands it, Hot Rod knew about their plans before the Prime himself did. It just doesn’t make any sense.
“Tell me,” Optimus’ voice pulls Ultra Magnus out of his thoughts. “Around what time did the incident occur?”
“This morning,” Springer looks down. “Hot Rod and I both had the day off and were training.”
Optimus pauses, his brows furrowing in thought. His optics widen with realization. “Hot Rod was what the Matrix woke me up for.”
“What do you mean?” Ultra Magnus asks.
“Earlier, around the time of Hot Rod’s incident, I woke up to the Matrix pulling on my spark. I didn’t know what for, just that it was distant and important.” Optimus sighs and rubs his battlemask in thought. “It had to have been about Hot Rod. Ultra Magnus, please make sure that Autobot City is still prepared for the shuttle’s arrival.”
Arcee frowns. “He warned us it would be attacked. Shouldn’t you cancel the mission?”
Optimus shakes his helm. “No, but I will change the trip’s details. The shuttle will still depart immediately, but it will take a detour to put us well off course so that the decepticons can’t ambush it. Most of our forces on Moon Base One will remain behind in case the decepticons planned to attack the base too. After all, we don't know what all the decepticons know about. I’d rather not leave it unguarded while I’m away.”
Magnus’ optics widen. “You’re returning to earth?”
“Of course.” Optimus’ optics crease as he smiles. “The shuttle will arrive around the same date, and I will be aboard. I want to meet this young Hot Rod in person.”