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fandomweekly2019-01-31 11:38 pm
autobotscoutriella) wrote in fandomweekly2019-01-31 11:38 pm
Entry tags:
[005] Needs of the Many (Transformers)
Theme Prompt: #005 - Long Shot
Title: Needs of the Many
Fandom: Transformers
Rating/Warnings: PG / None
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 980
Summary: None of the Autobots are strangers to desperate situations, but when Megatron's forces close in on their only way off a dying planet, there is no avoiding the impossible choice.
Silence fell over the command center at the report, Autobot officers looking from each other to the holographic map or the massive ship still resting on its construction frame outside the windows. Chromia fought the urge to slam her fist against the wall in something between frustration and despair.
The Decepticons are coming. Iacon has fallen.
Optimus Prime broke the silence with a single question. "Can we stop Megatron's forces before they reach the ship?"
"Not easily." Prowl hadn't been asked directly, but Chromia wasn't surprised when he answered. "We have more soldiers injured than not. Meeting them in open combat would be a disaster, even if we could get enough mechs off the ship to form a unit. If the departure wasn't urgent, hit and run tactics might slow them down and distract them—"
"What if we cut off their direct approach?" Almost before Chromia realized she was moving, Elita One was at the map station, tapping halfway between the enemy markers and the command center. "The quickest path forces them into a bottleneck. A small patrol could stop them at the Trion Bridge, temporarily."
"Which might give us time to launch." Prowl picked up the end of her sentence as if he hadn't been cut off in the first place. "One or two mechs could carry enough explosives to destroy that bridge. They could still get the fliers over, but if we can hold those off during the launch, it could work. It's the only thing that might."
Chromia's optics met Ratchet's briefly across the room as the suggestion, and all the possible ways it could go wrong, sunk in. Quiet murmurs broke out around the room before Optimus silenced them with an upraised hand. "Anyone who left to set the charges would not have time to return to the ship before launch. Is there no other way?"
Jazz broke in, voice rising with indignation. "There'd better be. Prime, nobody's gonna volunteer to either get gunned down or be left behind, for something that even you can only say might work, and I dunno about the rest of you, but I won't order anyone to do it."
"Do you have an alternative?" Prowl retorted, tone biting. "We're running out of time. Our options are to stay here and die, or to make the sacrifices we must to save as many as possible."
"Of course you're willing to trade lives," Jazz snapped, whirling on his fellow officer. "That hasn't changed in a while. Listen, you might have turned your spark off at the start of this war, but the rest of us haven't, and I'm not—"
"Stop. Both of you."
Every optic turned to Elita One, still standing at the map. Chromia felt her spark sink, already knowing what her Commander would say before Elita continued, voice too calm and too steady. "We don't have time to come up with something else. Prowl's idea is a long shot, but it's a shot. Jazz is right. We can't ask any soldier to do this. So—"
It sank in before Elita finished the sentence. She couldn't let this happen, she could not—Chromia closed one fist tightly, keeping herself still as Elita continued.
"—I will stay and ensure that the ship takes off safely."
"I cannot allow you to do that." Optimus responded quickly and firmly, before anyone else had a chance. "We will—"
"Find another solution? There is no time, Optimus." Chromia had never heard Elita address the Prime by name rather than title. "There is no more time. I will find my own way off Cybertron, or not, but the Ark must leave and it must leave now. We can afford to lose one soldier to save our people."
"Then we can lose two." The words spilled out before Chromia even realized she was speaking and moving forward to Elita's side. "I’m staying."
Murmurs broke out around the room again, but the only voice Chromia heard was Elita's. "I cannot ask that of you."
"You aren't asking." Their optics met, and Chromia lowered her voice slightly. "Two have a better chance of surviving than one. What kind of second would I be if I failed to watch your back?"
There was a moment of silence before Elita inclined her head in a slight nod. "In that case, I would be honored to have you at my side."
"I cannot talk you out of this?" Optimus's tone was grave, but there was a note of resignation in it. Chromia knew that tone well. The decision was all but made.
"No." Elita's voice took on a note of terrifying finality. "And we are out of time."
Optimus nodded once, and extended a hand to rest briefly on her shoulder. "Until we meet again. Autobots, to your posts and prepare the ship for launch."
As the officers dispersed amid worried murmurs and anxiety-thrumming EM fields, Elita turned to Chromia and said softly, "If this is about duty, feeling that you must follow me, your obligation does not extend that far. You have already done more than I would ever ask. You gave me your word when this war started that you'd back me, but I should have told you a long time ago that you have sacrificed enough. No one will think less of you, me included, if you go."
"Understood, Commander." Such a simple phrase, one that she had said many times over the preceding millennia. "But what kind of friend would I be if I let you do this alone?"
A flash of warmth from Elita's EM field brushed against Chromia's, mingling with a hint of sadness. “If someone has to come with me, there is no one I would rather have at my side.” The moment ended as Elita straightened and squared her shoulders; Chromia mirrored her posture.
"I’ll watch your back, Commander.”
Title: Needs of the Many
Fandom: Transformers
Rating/Warnings: PG / None
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 980
Summary: None of the Autobots are strangers to desperate situations, but when Megatron's forces close in on their only way off a dying planet, there is no avoiding the impossible choice.
Silence fell over the command center at the report, Autobot officers looking from each other to the holographic map or the massive ship still resting on its construction frame outside the windows. Chromia fought the urge to slam her fist against the wall in something between frustration and despair.
The Decepticons are coming. Iacon has fallen.
Optimus Prime broke the silence with a single question. "Can we stop Megatron's forces before they reach the ship?"
"Not easily." Prowl hadn't been asked directly, but Chromia wasn't surprised when he answered. "We have more soldiers injured than not. Meeting them in open combat would be a disaster, even if we could get enough mechs off the ship to form a unit. If the departure wasn't urgent, hit and run tactics might slow them down and distract them—"
"What if we cut off their direct approach?" Almost before Chromia realized she was moving, Elita One was at the map station, tapping halfway between the enemy markers and the command center. "The quickest path forces them into a bottleneck. A small patrol could stop them at the Trion Bridge, temporarily."
"Which might give us time to launch." Prowl picked up the end of her sentence as if he hadn't been cut off in the first place. "One or two mechs could carry enough explosives to destroy that bridge. They could still get the fliers over, but if we can hold those off during the launch, it could work. It's the only thing that might."
Chromia's optics met Ratchet's briefly across the room as the suggestion, and all the possible ways it could go wrong, sunk in. Quiet murmurs broke out around the room before Optimus silenced them with an upraised hand. "Anyone who left to set the charges would not have time to return to the ship before launch. Is there no other way?"
Jazz broke in, voice rising with indignation. "There'd better be. Prime, nobody's gonna volunteer to either get gunned down or be left behind, for something that even you can only say might work, and I dunno about the rest of you, but I won't order anyone to do it."
"Do you have an alternative?" Prowl retorted, tone biting. "We're running out of time. Our options are to stay here and die, or to make the sacrifices we must to save as many as possible."
"Of course you're willing to trade lives," Jazz snapped, whirling on his fellow officer. "That hasn't changed in a while. Listen, you might have turned your spark off at the start of this war, but the rest of us haven't, and I'm not—"
"Stop. Both of you."
Every optic turned to Elita One, still standing at the map. Chromia felt her spark sink, already knowing what her Commander would say before Elita continued, voice too calm and too steady. "We don't have time to come up with something else. Prowl's idea is a long shot, but it's a shot. Jazz is right. We can't ask any soldier to do this. So—"
It sank in before Elita finished the sentence. She couldn't let this happen, she could not—Chromia closed one fist tightly, keeping herself still as Elita continued.
"—I will stay and ensure that the ship takes off safely."
"I cannot allow you to do that." Optimus responded quickly and firmly, before anyone else had a chance. "We will—"
"Find another solution? There is no time, Optimus." Chromia had never heard Elita address the Prime by name rather than title. "There is no more time. I will find my own way off Cybertron, or not, but the Ark must leave and it must leave now. We can afford to lose one soldier to save our people."
"Then we can lose two." The words spilled out before Chromia even realized she was speaking and moving forward to Elita's side. "I’m staying."
Murmurs broke out around the room again, but the only voice Chromia heard was Elita's. "I cannot ask that of you."
"You aren't asking." Their optics met, and Chromia lowered her voice slightly. "Two have a better chance of surviving than one. What kind of second would I be if I failed to watch your back?"
There was a moment of silence before Elita inclined her head in a slight nod. "In that case, I would be honored to have you at my side."
"I cannot talk you out of this?" Optimus's tone was grave, but there was a note of resignation in it. Chromia knew that tone well. The decision was all but made.
"No." Elita's voice took on a note of terrifying finality. "And we are out of time."
Optimus nodded once, and extended a hand to rest briefly on her shoulder. "Until we meet again. Autobots, to your posts and prepare the ship for launch."
As the officers dispersed amid worried murmurs and anxiety-thrumming EM fields, Elita turned to Chromia and said softly, "If this is about duty, feeling that you must follow me, your obligation does not extend that far. You have already done more than I would ever ask. You gave me your word when this war started that you'd back me, but I should have told you a long time ago that you have sacrificed enough. No one will think less of you, me included, if you go."
"Understood, Commander." Such a simple phrase, one that she had said many times over the preceding millennia. "But what kind of friend would I be if I let you do this alone?"
A flash of warmth from Elita's EM field brushed against Chromia's, mingling with a hint of sadness. “If someone has to come with me, there is no one I would rather have at my side.” The moment ended as Elita straightened and squared her shoulders; Chromia mirrored her posture.
"I’ll watch your back, Commander.”
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