Complete Synopsis: [Canon Divergence from MTMTE and exRID #54] The legacy of the Primes has had a tainted past, one that weighs heavily on Optimus, his supporters, and those who seek the legacy for the future. But as they look forward for themselves and for Cybertron, a darkness looms that threatens to further corrupt the unsteady peace of their planet with its curious claim to be the Hand of Primus himself.
It's up to Optimus, Windblade, Rodimus, and their teams to try and save all Cybertronians from this mysterious threat and, perhaps, change the future for the better if they can.

So I have had plans for this story since at least April and continued to put it off because it was never quite fitting up with the way canon lined up. But I got to a point where I was pretty proud of what the idea grew into an decided it was more of a Now or Never thing! So, after promising crim-bat that I'd get around to doing this for forever, I'm finally going to start actually publishing this sucker.

Just for clarification, this is going to be diverging from the events of MTMTE and exRID #54 on, where in this world (as the story will clear up later), Perceptor and a group of other crewmembers took back the ship from Getaway and came back for the Lost Light crew, and Optimus and Jetfire came to Cybertron after seeing the messages the Lost Lighters on the Necrobot's planet sent.

I hope you all enjoy!

Transformers, Beast Wars, and related properties © Hasbro
story © RenaRoo

Twisted Legacy
Part I: Mask of the Red Death
Chapter 1.1: The Draw of the Light

The messages had been hard to overlook in the weeks of travel between Ark-7 and Cybertron. Seeing friends, new and old and unmet, lined up in a macabre display, leaving final requests with somber seeming acceptance.

Optimus reflected on them as Cybertron drew near because they were the only things that kept him locked on his destination. Certainly not Cybertron itself after the ruling against him with regards to bringing Earth into the Council of Worlds.

He was going for answers, and if he could do so without having to learn them from a single member of the Council then it would all be for the better.

Though Optimus doubted that any trip to Cybertron could be so simple after all that had happened.

The fear and apprehension of friends – speaking of funeral requests and burials and things that so many good mechs should never have had to record in such an invasive and openly hurting way – helped drown out the accusations that had him leave Cybertron for Earth again in the first place. Claims of tainted Primal legacies and abuses of power.

And the disappointment he had seen clearly on so many faces that had dug deep into his spark most of all.

Unable to take the silence much more, Optimus stepped closer to Jetfire's side and watched over him carefully.

"Try hailing again," he ordered, his voice still harsher and more strained than he meant.

"Cybertron or the Lost Light?" Jetfire asked, his voice doing a much better job of hiding aggravation or annoyance than Optimus' lately.

"Both," Optimus said, watching carefully as his orders were followed through to the letter.

He tried to make note for later, to thank Jetfire for showing patience with him in his current frame of mind. But it was hard to make note of much of anything outside of those faces.

After another long but anticipated pause from the ship's communication channel, the light changed.

Optimus felt his spark leap with surprise and hope. "Jetfire, is it…?"

"It's Cybertron," the jet replied, pulling up the screen. They watched as the static dissolved into an image of Ironhide.

"Prime!" Ironhide greeted over the line.

"Hello, old friend," Optimus said, leaning over Jetfire's shoulder to look more intently into their own viewscreen. "Myself and Jetfire are currently inbound for Cybertron."

There was a noticeable grimace to the old truck's face. "I am betting I could wager why."

"Do you have any news about the situation?" Jetfire interrupted. "By the time we got the transmission on Earth, three weeks had passed. And we've been unable to hail the Lost Light or any of the crew since then."

"It was our hope that Cybertron could provide answers about Rodimus and his crew that were inaccessible to us," Optimus continued, his grip on the panel of the ship tightening. "Do we know if it was Megatron?"

While Optimus' suspicions about what had caused such messages to be sent out had been burned into his frame from the first moments of watching the transmission, he had not dared give them voice before then. And given Jetfire's appraisal of him, Optimus' fellow Autobot had carried similar fears.

The guilt had been crushing – the idea that as questionable of a decision as it had been for the Prime to place an admitted war criminal in charge of an entire ship of former soldiers, of old friends and trusted peers, it would have gone as poorly as this.

It had been enough to ignite that long burning emotion that a word like hate was too simple to portray.

"Yeah, we have news," Ironhide said begrudgingly. "Not a huge amount but it's news all the same."

For a moment, Optimus was able to release his grip.

"They're alive?" Jetfire asked brightly, the kind of enthusiasm Optimus wished desperately his own spark still possessed.

"It's hard getting straight answers," Ironhide explained lowly. "From what we've managed to hear there's been a hell of a lot of drama on the ship since it last made contact with anyone. But, yeah, from reports we can get there aresurvivors."

The wording did not escape Optimus. He leaned back, shuttering his optics for just a moment.

Survivors. But not all of them.

Could he have lost Rodimus still? Even amongst the hope of having some of his friends spared by whatever fate the Lost Light had met, could he so soon after losing Bumblebee have handed over another young and promising bot to the Afterspark with his flawed decisions?

"Prime?" Ironhide's voice carried a note of concern.

"I am listening, old friend," Optimus promised. "Can we receive any clarification about the events on the Lost Light?"

"There was a mess of a staged mutiny, a Decepticon attack, then Perceptor says he got control of the ship and circled back for those in the transmission – hard to keep it all straight, to be honest with you," Ironhide continued. "But if you're enroute to Cybertron, you'll likely get to have your questions answered directly for yourself."

Jetfire leaned forward. "What do you mean, Ironhide?"

"The Lost Light is making its way back, too. Fortunately one of the survivors is a quantum mechanic – got their ship to perform a successful jump on low fuel and some damages," Ironhide explained.

"Damages received from the Decepticon encounter?" Optimus hazarded a guess.

"No, from the mutiny and re-mutiny," Ironhide answered.

"Hm," Optimus' engine hummed as he pushed off from the panel and stood back. "I believe you're right, Ironhide. I shall get the answers I seek from the Lost Light itself once we arrive on Cybertron."

"At this rate you'll have gotten to port and had time for a good chat before everything's cleared up here," Ironhide huffed, a tinge of aggravation showing on his face.

"Primus, is something else wrong?" Jetfire asked as he guided their ship into Cybertronian airspace.

"Oh, Starscream, our fearless leader, making everything a hundred times more difficult than necessary," the old mech scoffed. "So the usual. They've been deliberating about letting the Lost Light to port for close to an hour now."

Optimus felt that unyielding anger toward Starscream build yet again – the leader his people chose, and how he continued to abuse that power while accusing the Prime of the same.

"We shall see how quickly that can clear up," Optimus said. "Thank you for the update, Ironhide. It is much appreciated."

"I'll meet you at the shipyard, I'm no help in this political arena that much is for sure. Leave it to Windblade to sort out," he said, hopefully not noticing the squint even mention of Windblade had earned from Optimus. "And thanks for coming back, Optimus."

The Autobot leader watched as the screen flickered off.

He wished for comfort to wash over him, for some sort of relief from the mounting pressure. But the continued lack of full answers, the mounting tension from returning to Cybertron after being twice rejected by it – it didn't go away. It only boiled and festered.

"We're almost home," Jetfire mused, attempting desperately to offer their situation levity that Optimus had long ago stopped being able to afford.

After a moment, watching as the grounds of Cybertron neared them, Optimus looked to the jet again. "Jetfire, make another attempt at hailing the Lost Light."

"But–" he began to protest only to lean back under Optimus' full gaze. He looked to the communication controls. "Attempting to hail. Again."

They both watched as the light blinked, unanswered.

By the time they landed and Optimus released the control panel, it had been crushed beneath the force of his servos.

The fact that Starscream and she shared even the slightest similarities in altmode was enough to make Windblade's protoform crawl at times. Even sitting on opposite sides of the council's meeting chamber was not enough to make her feel any better as they sat deadlocked on this debate.

"These are fellow Cybertronians in need of assistance," she argued for what felt to be the hundredth time. "And with criminals on board in need of proper securing and trial."

"It is a ship of over two hundred trained Autobot soldiers – many of whom do not acknowledge current Cybertronian authority," Starscream argued, optics gleaming. But it was not in his usual confident wiles. Windblade was nearly taken aback by the genuine worry that worked its way into their leader's scowl. "And yes there are criminals on board, criminals who should be tried and dealt with. And the worst among them – the one whose mere presence could incite war yet again – is none other than the captain of that vessel. Former lord of the Decepticons, current Autobot untried for the most heinous of crimes –Megatron. And the idea that this Council, for even a second has thought to give clearance to this vessel tells me what I already know. The colonists do notunderstand the history and concerns that are purely Cybertronian. And you, Windblade, do not have the right to interfere with Cybertonian affairs. This decision is mine. The Lost Light will not be landing on Cybertonian soil."

Frustration seized Windblade once more and she clenched her fists. How one mech could manage to be so unreasonable was truly beyond her.

"Lord Starscream," Strika spoke up, finally putting down the datapad that she had been obscuring her face with since the start of the debate.

Immediately, the rest of the Council delegates sat upright in their seats again and began to look ready for actual delegation. Windblade felt relief come over her again – curious and cautionary as the colonists from Carcer may have been, she could always count on them to be the first to take a firm stand during meetings.

"Legally I would ordinarily agree with you on Cybertronian affairs. I find any time the Council begins to overstep its bounds on any independent government's proceedings to be worriesome," she said. "However, you neglect the personal stake our Camien delegate has in this particular ruling. Had the Lost Light be purely Cybertonian natives, there would be no argument. But there are Camiens listed upon its manifest. And so I agree with Windblade. This deserves a Council of Worlds vote on its proceedings."

With some encouragement, Windblade glanced back to their High Chancellor just in time to see his sputtering.

Always animated, Starscream got to his feet once more, his seat scratching the floor behind him. "None of you can truly be thinking that two Camiens on a manifest of two hundred can be worth both upsetting the delicate balance between those affiliated and nonaffiliated on Cybertron," he reasoned.

Gnashing her denta, Windblade leaned forward against the table. "I assure you, Starscream, for Caminus every mech – every friend – is worthwhile."

"As should be all colonists," Knock Out contributed, steepling his fingers before his face as an easy smirk worked its way onto his intake. As usual, the Velocitronian seemed most involved with the proceedings when presented with drama on the floor.

Realizing his error, Starscream eased back into his seat. "Of course all of our brothers and sisters are of equal concern to the Council and especially myself," he forced out. "But difficult calls must be made in dire situations. And sometimes individuals cannot be weighed against the wellbeing of the masses."

"As a Cybertonian," Rattrap spoke up, putting a hand to his spark, "may I just say I feel concern for my safety if a war criminal like Megatron is allowed free passage whenever he wants. You know. For the general public."

Unimpressed, Windblade crossed her arms and glared at Starscream. "Of course, the general public and no one in particular."

"They have injured on board," one of the Devisiun delegates said.

"And not the supplies to properly aid them," the other added without missing a beat.

"It is Megatron among them, though," Obsidian added, striking Windblade's Carcer support from her confidence.

The debate began to heat up once more when Windblade heard the familiar bing in her audial of a private channel honing her. She turned her shoulders slightly from the table and reached to her head to answer, earning a curious look from Chromia behind her.

"Windblade," a gruff but familiar voice spoke out over the frequency.

With some relief, Windblade dropped the tension in her shoulders. "Ironhide, is everything alright?"

"Good as things can," the old bot replied curtly. "I just met Prime. He wants to know the status of the Lost Light crew yesterday. You bureaucrats made progress yet?"

Humming slightly, Windblade glanced toward the arguing Council and nodded to herself. "No, but I have a plan. Bring the Prime to our chamber."

Ironhide hesitated, a long sigh clear on his end of the communicator. "I'm not so certain he's going to be ecstatic about meetin' with you all again, Windblade. He just got here after last time…"

"Ironhide," Optimus' voice, so deep and commanding to be picked up even on the secure line, "if it is for the safety in regards of my friends on the Lost Light, then I am more than willing to deal with unfavorable politics. Tell Windblade I shall be there shortly."

"Tell Prime he comes in loud and clear," Windblade answered before Ironhide even had the chance. "And ask him to trust me. As hard as that may be right now."

The moment her message was delivered, Windblade dropped the channel and looked back toward the Council.

Starscream's red optics were already fixated on her. "Are we interrupting something more important than your own impromptu meeting, Windblade?" he asked thinly. "I will be happy to adjourn while you sort your affairs."

"No need, Lord Starscream," she fired back, placing her hands on her hips. "And I assure the Council that it was not personal matters but matters which ascertain to the current discussion directly." After a beat, she smiled pleasantly to her fellow councilmechs. "I am bringing forth a character witnessand a relevant Starscream-appointed judge to settle the jurisdiction of the Lost Light."

Settling with a heavy exvent, Airazor of Eukaris seemed more than satisfied with the compromise. "Very well. I am glad to hear an appointed judge of Cybertron's ruling on the matter."

A noise of agreement rang throughout the Council, save for Starscream who had once more gotten up on his pedes.

"What are you playing at, Windblade?" he asked brashly. "I have no appointed judge who could act as a character witness for Cybertron's largest threat!"

"On the contrary, Starscream," Windblade said confidently, just as there was a knock on the chamber door. "This particular judge was appointed even before you helped create this great Council. And most importantly of all, he reigned over the very trial now brought to question."

Most of the Council looked curious if not confused, but there was nothing but haunted clarity on Starscream's face as the door opened and revealed the Prime himself.

Immediately the Council was put back on edge. It had only been just one hearing before the current where they had denied the Prime's request for a seat at their council for Earth.

"You cannot be serious," Starscream scoffed. "Windblade, Prime has no right–"

"He has in this matter. You, after all, had a hand in appointing him after the near destruction of Cybertron at the hands of a former associate of yours," Windblade reminded him sharply.

Optimus never looked less than intimidating and confident, but Windblade had taken the Prime's confidence enough by that point to see an unsettling worry rest on his already burdened shoulders. He looked somewhat lost to her.

"I'm not certain exactly what my presence is to mean for this proceeding," Optimus admitted.

"Not much if I can help it," Starscream grumbled just enough as he plopped back into his seat.

"But I saw for myself that my friends – met and unmet – were suffering, and are now asking for help," the Prime said firmly. "And I would hope, for the sake of all Cybertronians – native to the world or abroad – that this council would surelynot deny that to them."

Windblade watched as the room shifted toward the Prime. It was natural, there were few whose consciences Windblade was not certain of seeing reason. But even in his current scrutiny, the word of a Prime was persuasive.

Especially one who was half the orator that Optimus Prime had proven himself to be in Windblade's presence.

Unfortunately, the Camien could not have predicted how Optimus, in serious and concerned tones, next asked, "Do we know for certain if Megatron was involved?"

Her face falling, Windblade glanced across the table to see the smug look on Starscream's face.

"He claims not, and is currently acting as captain of your Autobranded ship," Starscream responded snidely.

Optimus' servos closed into fists. "He is not sole captain. What of Rodimus?"

"We have mostly been speaking through Perceptor," Windblade answered. "But Rodimus is on the list of those who we have confirmed are onboard."

The Prime eased up in his stance, but Starscream became loose and suave as ever upon the revelations of Optimus' true concerns. He waved to the rest of the Council.

"As you can see by Windblade's aptly provided character witness, there is not much gained by allowing Megatron to step foot onto our uneasy planet," he said simply. "Therefore I think the decision here is simple. The Lost Light will not be allowed to land."

"Nonsense," Optimus spoke out of turn, ruffling more than a few of the delegates in the process. "Have you not seen the transmission? Have you not seen that they need our help?"

Seeing the alarm raised among the Council, Windblade stepped up to the Prime and turned uneasily toward her fellow delegates. She placed a calming servo on Optimus' chest plate subtly enough she hoped it would not be taken as holding him back but rather as the soothing gesture that it was.

"I believe there is such a thing as compromise here," Windblade said. "Lord Starscream, the Lost Light must land and be given privileges here. They are our brothers and sisters and the Prime is right, they have had harm befall them someway. We cannot ignore that. But, as the concerns about one of the captains seems truly valid, then he shouldn't be granted access to the planet. He must stay on the ship." She looked around to the others convincingly. "It is a rather large ship."

The Council nodded.

"This is logical, Windblade," Strika agreed.

More nods came from every delegate outside of Cybertron itself, and Starscream visibly boiled with anger, fists clenched on the table before him.

"And yet another chapter of this Council being used to end a petty squabble between its founders comes to an end," Knock Out yawned, a roll given to his optics. "Now can we get this order under way? I have read some fascinating things about the medical staff of this ship that I would like to follow up on. Motion to adjourn?"

"Seconded," Tigatron growled out, rising to his feet as well.

Windblade watched as the Council began to file out, various cliques uniting as they so often did after the meetings, leaving an angered Starscream to march toward his private quarters without so much as another word to either of his objectors.

Then she took a moment and turned just in time to see Optimus heading toward the door and an awaiting Ironhide.

Surprised, Windblade raced after, Chromia at her heels. "Wait! Optimus! We need to talk!"

The Autobot took pause and looked down to Windblade. "Agreed," he said. "And about many things. But what we discuss now will have to be able to be said on the way to the way to the shipyard. There is not much would justify not being there to see the state of the Lost Light for myself."

"I understand," she said, keeping in step with him.

Ironhide and Chromia stayed behind, sharing casual glances of concern the whole way but otherwise silent.

Lost for words, Windblade glanced to Optimus. "Before anything else, I just want to thank you for coming to the meeting when it needed you… When I needed you."

"In times of trouble, even if those times give the appearance of peace on our world," Optimus said lowly, optics glancing back to Windblade softly, "I hope it will always be my call to be steadfast for my friends."

"Thank you, Optimus," Windblade replied gently in turn.

Rodimus inspected every rotation of his servo, every movement of his digits with the sort of attention to detail Ultra Magnus would probably swear he didn't possess. And he waited in brooding silence to the sounds of the frantic work of the medical staff as they triaged the rest of his crew.

Over the sounds of welding and discontented grunts and groans across the medbay, Rodimus clenched his fist.

He had a ship of over two hundred, and the only ones he felt he could trust were in the room with him right then and there. And after what they had all just went through, Rodimus wasn't so certain that they even felt the same.

The thought stung him so deeply Rodimus' world became a blur outside of that shaking servo.

It was the sort of blinding rage that fogged his processor and made him forget where the anger was really directed to begin with. At least until a strong servo grasped his shoulder, pulling Rodimus out of thought and instead to look up at his returned friend.

Drift. Another past mistake, but maybe one that held some hope of being fixed.

"We've got news," Drift said, doing his level best to sound in good spirits. "Can you walk? I know the energon's been low so I didn't know if you've been replenished yet–"

"What kind of news?" Rodimus interrupted, pushing off the berth and onto his pedes.

"The kind from Cybertron that Perceptor wants to tell both captains at the same time," Drift answered, walking in step with Rodimus toward the other side of the medbay where Megatron was still tended. "So either really good, or, well, you know the drill better than most."

It was the sort of gentle dig that at the start of the Lost Light's journey, Rodimus wouldn't have thought twice about from one of his closest friends. But like the thought of his crew's mistrust and of the mutiny, now it only served to sicken Rodimus' fuel tank.

For his part, Drift hadn't brought up anything about their situation since his return. Given, they'd all been rather busy trying not to die.

It was on the list of things Rodimus needed to address as soon as he could tell the rest of his crew was safe and secure. Including his co-captain and the mech responsible for their last minute rescue from mutiny to begin with.

Perceptor stood by Megatron's berth with no less than three datapads and an expectant look on his face as they came up to him. So far he hadn't said even the first word to Rodimus directly about how he hadn't ended up on the Necrobot's planet with them as part of the crew Getaway didn't deem trustworthy, nor had he said anything about how he managed to wrestle back control of the Lost Light.

All Rodimus knew for the time being was that while the rest of them tried to keep their parts in order in the medbay and their lead mutineers stayed under guard in the brig, everyone was answering to Perceptor for the time being.

The situation, at the least, was delicate.

"Is it Starscream again? Can I take a turn yelling at him this time?" Rodimus asked as he finished his approach.

"You will have to stand in line. It appears your co-captain has claimed first right," Ultra Magnus announced – rather, Minimus had, standing alongside the armor of Ultra Magnus.

It always unnerved Rodimus to see the Magnus armor lifeless and to the side, though given its recent damage it couldn't have been helped.

Megatron stared over his own severely damaged lower half to appraise Rodimus. His usual scowl was offset a bit, deep in thought. "Why are you standing around here? You're damaged. Take a seat."

"Someone has to carry your leftover responsibilities," Rodimus dismissed with a wave of his hand. "What's the news Percy?"

"Firstly, no one will be able to scream their grievances at Cybertron's anointed Chosen One," Perceptor responded with a completely straight face which made it impossible for Rodimus to tell whether or not any sarcasm was featured. "He seems to have dignified further correspondence with the ship as beneath him and so we will instead be receiving news through… Rattrap."

For a moment, Rodimus allowed the information to be processed before dropping his shoulders and rolling his optics. "Gee, what an improvement."

"If Starscream is not delivering the address to us then the decision must have been made in our favor," Megatron acknowledged, easing back. "There has not been a time since I have known Starscream where he willingly passed up the opportunity to gloat."

There were at least four cutting remarks Rodimus had prepared for Megatron, but he took a moment to exvent instead. It wasn't the time and, more importantly, he wasn't truly in the mood.

There was still the feeling of us and them that Rodimus had burned into his frame from the mutiny. Megatron was us, as shocking and unexpected as that would have been to Rodimus only a year prior.

"It isn't all good news, though, is it?" Drift asked skeptically, his arms crossing against his newly plated chest.

"We have been granted landing privileges," Perceptor started with.

Rodimus groaned, shuddering his optics as he rubbed at them. "Aw, come on, Percy, you're supposed to give the bad news first."

"We will receive aid, supplies, and transfer of prisoners, however it is under the condition that Megatron himself is not to lay foot upon Cybertronian land. And thus is restricted to only the ship itself throughout the duration," Perceptor explained without pause.

"That's ridiculous," Drift scoffed.

Shocked, Rodimus glanced toward Megatron only to find a completely unreadable expression on his faceplate. He was deep in thought once more, but not disturbed by Perceptor's news.

However, Rodimus was.

"It's outrageous is what it is!" Rodimus snapped, waving his arm to his co-captain. "Percy, whether they like it or not Megatron is also captain of this ship, and he's also the most damaged of all of us who made it out of the Pits half the crew threw us into! Where's it in the Autobot Code that we neglect those who need help among our enemies? Hell, even Ratchet has been responsible for saving Megs' life at this point! And no one takes more gripes with his continued existence than Ratchet." Rodimus paused and glanced to Megatron. "No offense."

"I find the truth to be refreshing, Rodimus," Megatron answered simply.

"It may not be a fair ruling, but ultimately it comes from Cybertron's appointed leader and utmost authority," Minimus reminded them, putting his tiny hands on his hips. "And no matter our feelings, it is important to take care of those we can. Not to mention that if we do not accept the offer, then we cannot get the supplies onboard that we would need to fully repair everyone anyway."

Grinding back on his denta, Rodimus finally waved his hand. "Fine. Let's do this. But I don't promise I won't let Starscream have a piece of my mind for all this hassle."

Then, despite Rodimus' outrage for him, Megatron actually had the gall to roll his own optics at the declaration.

"I would not advise that, Rodimus," Minimus said with a twist of his mustache that Rodimus had slowly come to learn spoke to some egregious displeasure. "That would almost certainly lead to incarceration. On Starscream's Cybertron you are no doubt just one foul word away from it."

"That's because he's a tyrant," Rodimus spat out. He waved to Megatron apologetically. "Again, no offense."

That actually got a rise out of the large gray mech who put a hand over his optics and released a long, tired groan.

"We're already in the process of coming in for a landing," Perceptor explained, flipping to his next datapad. "The situation was extreme and since some of the patients recovered – including Megatron – require immediate servicing I went ahead and approved it."

Finally annoyed, Rodimus turned and leered at Perceptor. "Well then what are we even gathered here for? To let the previous captaincy know that we're going to be dumped from the ship that Drift bought?" he demanded.

Perceptor gave an expectant look at him before glancing instead to Drift for an apparent cooler head.

Drift didn't budge, standing beside Rodimus however coolly instead. And that was just about enough to make Rodimus think that their short talk in the face of eminent death really had been all that was needed.

"It is our understanding about the mutiny that the only ones who remained with the ship were those that agreed to the mutiny entirely," Minimus explained, somewhat curtly even for himself. There were suspicious eyes on Perceptor all around. "Including Getaway's plans to overthrow Rodimus prior to Megatron's addition to the crew, and the ultimate solutions of sacrificing Tailgate, then leaving us to the DJD."

Perceptor's head tilted back in acknowledgement. "Even if a large portion of the crew took back the ship from Getaway and circled back around to assist?" he asked evenly.

"Sorry, but barely more than half is not a large enough portion to leave me at ease," Rodimus said angrily. "Especially since it still leaves the previous two charges unanswered, Perceptor."

The Wrecker scowled before handing over a datapad. "I took charge because I was what was needed. I've served every ridiculous side mission we've been taken on since we launched dutifully, and I not only ensured this entire medbay's rescue but have spent the last several hours negotiating with the homeworld that refused to take us back."

Flinching slightly at the words, Rodimus still took the datapad and looked over the ship mandate.

"So what I brought the captain's command together for here was to ask you to speak to your crew and decide what to do with us now that we've docked," he answered.

Rodimus glanced over the datapad then to Megatron for an answer. The mech answered with a thousand yard stare, looking well past any of them as he was lost in thought again.

Grunting, Rodimus pinched the bridge between his optics. "Damn it," he hissed.

While the others watched him, Rodimus stormed over to the central computers of the medbay and ignored the testy calls of Minimus as he leaned over the dash. He could feel the optics of every bot in the room on him as he pressed the intercom, scanned his thumb, and proceeded to address the entirety of the ship over the messaging system.

"Lost Light, this is Captain Rodimus speaking to you," he said snappishly, earning looks of concerned from what remained of his main command. "It has come to my attention that we are landing on Cybertron. We will be caring for those who have been wounded or damaged in these recent events, and dealing with those most responsible for causing harm to our crewmates. We will also be allowing for the departure of those who have found that the Lost Light is no longer their home, for any reason. We will be staying for quite a while, so it'll be a good time to evaluate whether or not this ship, this crew, is where you find your home."

He shuttered his optics and took a moment before opening them again, determined. "And if this is where we part, then I wish to say that I am grateful to all of you who have journeyed with me. But if you wish to stay, please still take this time to experience our rebuilding planet. Visit Maccadam's. See friends. Stretch your treads. But don't let it be forgotten that only unity will be allowed for on the rest of our mission. We will not waste time and fuel on those who wish to harm that." He took another moment before leaning into the mic one last time. "Captain out."

With his finger off the button, Rodimus headed for the door. Drift came up alongside him.

"Didn't even have to write that one for you," Drift joked. He waited for Rodimus to rib him back before growing tenser. "Where are you going? Velocity and Ratchet still haven't been able to look you over–"

"I'm going to the prisoner exchange," Rodimus said stiffly. "First thing first, I want those bots off our ship."

Drift grew quiet for a moment before nodding. "Then let's do that."

They walked shoulder to shoulder toward the brig and Drift still did not seem to waver by Rodimus' side. And that was almost enough to not make him feel so sick about the state of his ship and the trust of his crew. Almost. It wasn't enough to convince even Rodimus of the state of his leadership or of what would someday be his legacy.

And that was the worst feeling of all.