Summer Job: Prime Quality
by K. Stonham
first released 8th March 2010

May 21st, 2010

The classroom door didn't bang closed behind the three of them only because there were still students inside finishing their own exams.

"God," Leo moaned, one hand massaging the back of his neck, "after that I could really go for some pizza."

"Sure, I'm game," Sam said, shrugging and pulling out his cellphone to send a quick text to his guardian. "Mirage?"

"Hound will be done soon," the Pretender replied. "He will meet us there."

"Excellent," Leo declared, and forged the way toward the nearest pizza parlor.

When they got to the parking lot, though, the trio stopped.

The golden Camaro they were expecting was indeed waiting there for them, but was dwarfed by the bulk of the Peterbilt truck parked three spaces away.

Sam breathed out a long, slow sigh.

"Sam?" Leo asked.

"You guys go ahead," Sam said, shifting the weight of his backpack, never looking away from the flame-painted big rig. "I'll catch up."

"You're sure?" Mirage inquired.

"Yeah. Optimus and I have some stuff to talk about." His fingers trailed across the Camaro's hood, which earned him a slight vibration from that vehicle and a chirped text message offering moral support.

Not looking back, Sam clambered up the passenger side of the truck and swung himself inside the cab, shutting the door behind himself.

"Has it ever occurred to you," he asked after a moment's silence, "that you're something of a literalist?"

"My timing is actually not intentional," the Cybertronian Prime replied. "How did your exams go?"

Sam shrugged, setting his backpack at his feet and leaning back against Optimus' upholstery. "Not bad. Though it's really fun when the stuff in my head tells me that the stuff in the textbook is all wrong."

"Human science is not that poor, surely."

"Not mostly," Sam admitted. "Just lacking info sometimes. You know we used to think the world was flat just because we'd never gone around it? Like that. We can only work with what we have," he said pointedly.

Optimus was silent for a moment, then gave something that sounded like a sigh. "You're right; I should not have kept it from you. I apologize."

"Apology accepted," Sam replied. "So, if you're not here just because my finals are over, what brings you to Princeton?"

"...Jetstorm is requiring me to refine my use of space bridges," Optimus admitted, sounding reluctant. "As with many things, practice is apparently required for improvement."

Sam stared at his dashboard. "You're telling me you're in remedial lessons?" he asked incredulously.

"I would not have put it that way." Optimus sounded mildly affronted.

"You totally are," Sam said, grinning.

"And how have you been managing your telekinesis?" Optimus asked, changing the subject.

Sam fell back against the seat, smile vanishing. "Okay, point."

"Are you free for a while, Sam?"

Sam shrugged. "Sure. Where we going?"

"For a drive." And there was a shimmer and then suddenly someone was sitting in Prime's driver's seat. The dark-haired man was of middling age and athletic build, wearing blue jeans, a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a blue t-shirt peeking out from beneath its open collar, and a white Stetson.

Sam once-overed the hologram and rolled his eyes as the mock-Peterbilt's engine roared to life, sounding for all the world like the real thing. "Just so you know, that's stereotypical, Prime-the flannel shirt thing."

"I like it," Optimus replied mildly, sounding stung. Bumblebee's horn beeped cheerily at them as the yellow 'bot left the parking lot, bearing Leo and Mirage toward the pizza parlor.

"Yeah, well, you also did yourself up painted with flames," Sam bitched as the hologram-quite convincingly-backed the big rig out of the parking space and set out for parts unknown. "How does no one in the government twig onto the fact that you're not actually this conservative leader they think you are? I mean, come on, flames!"

"I can be conservative," Optimus protested.

Yeah, Sam wanted to reply, but you're also a bad-ass battle 'bot. The words died unspoken in his throat at the memories of Mission City and that forest in the New Jersey countryside, Optimus first trying to sacrifice himself to save Sam, then succeeding as he took on three mechs at once, destroying the helicopter, tearing Starscream limb from limb, only to be run through from behind, impaled by Megatron's blade...

Sam had been absolved by the other Primes, but he could never forget what he had allowed to happen because of his own willful stupidity. And he could never let it happen again.

"Sam?" Optimus asked, hologram looking concernedly at him.

"Sorry," he apologized, sitting up straighter and finally buckling his seat belt. "I have been practicing the TK thing some. I just haven't had much time or room to work with it yet. I kinda didn't want Leo finding out. He'd spaz."

If Optimus was surprised by Sam's change in direction, he didn't show it, the hologram returning its fictional attention to the road. "It's good that you've been practicing. It may be a skill you'll need."

"Mmm." Sam shifted in his seat a little. "I guess I can understand why I've got it-snag the Matrix, prove I'm worthy of it, get dubbed a Prime by the old Primes, etcetera-but what I don't get is why you don't have it. And you didn't have the teleportation thing either until Jetfire gave you his module. I mean, the Fallen used to be a Prime, once upon a time, right? And he had both those skills. So why didn't you?"

There was a moment's silence before Optimus responded, "That's actually part of what I wanted to speak with you about, Sam."

"How so?" Outside the windows the city's gray steel and concrete had turned into green and brown.

"Until you and I met the other Primes, we never had proof that I was one," Optimus said softly.

"What?" Sam demanded.

The truck shuddered slightly as the Prime braked and pulled over onto the dirt and gravel shoulder of the road. A car which had been behind them, nearly tailgating, whizzed past and around a bend into the distance. "The Primes were destroyed almost before I was brought online, Sam," Optimus explained quietly. "The creche where the newest and youngest of the Primes were being created was destroyed by the Fallen even before he battled those of his brothers who had remained on Cybertron. With them, it was thought, the line of the Primes ended." With a soft click, a cable unfolded from under the dash, reaching toward Sam.

"Um," Sam hesitated, eyes on the silvery plug.

"Data transfer is not always about the expression of one's feelings for one another," Optimus said, sounding amused. "I promise you, this is not 'cheating' on Bumblebee or Mikaela. And it is significantly simpler than holographic immersion."

"Oh God." Sam, mortified, wanted something to thump his head against. "You remember that we're not bringing up me and 'Bee and Mikaela in mixed company, right? Like, ever?" Mixed meaning anyone else.

"Of course." And if Optimus' hologram showed a too-human glint of amusement, that was just because he was a very good mimic. Sam huffed a sigh and grabbed the offered cable.

He remembered this place, except for him the wind-carved figures and canyon had been made of stone, not metal. And the Primes standing before him, dwarfing him even still, even in Optimus' memories not his own, were a different set of half-a-dozen than the ones Sam had briefly met in his own after-death experience, though how he could tell that he didn't know.

"Optimus Prime," one of them said, stepping forward, almost but not quite brushing a hand against Optimus' face.

"Our last descendant," another said, voice similarly affectionate. They clustered around him, never quite touching, but so clearly wanting to.

He found his voice. "Who are you?" he asked. "Where am I?"

"This is the gateway to the Well of Allsparks," one answered his second question, voice quite clearly that of a femme though her frame bore as little resemblance to that model as any of the others' did to his own protoform.

"And we are some of the original Primes," the first spoke again. "You are our brother. And we are yours."

Something shifted inside him then, something old and almost forgotten. The despair of not being what his creator had ordered, of somehow being defective and wanting, of being let go to find his own place. Of wandering orphaned until he'd found a place among the meanest of the mean in the docks. Of slowly finding his way there, building rapport and friendships, rising through the ranks over the vorns until he'd ended up head of the civilian side of their world.

"It has never been easy for you," another spoke, digits almost brushing against where the glyph for "Prime" had always been carved below his audial fin. "Never believe you were unwanted."

Memory flashed, suddenly, of an elderly caretaker hurriedly switching the spark chambers of two tiny protoforms, placing the Prime's form bearing the spark of a worker back into its proper creche, and stealing away with the Prime spark in the body of a worker mere minutes before the creche was destroyed. Injured by the blast, dying, the caretaker had returned the tiny, hidden Prime to the workers' creche, engraving the marking of Prime onto his helm with the last of his strength before he died, hoping that someday someone would understand the hint left there and guide the child to his destiny.

"What were their names?" Optimus asked suddenly.

"The child who died for you, and whose frame houses you, Ultra Magnus," the femme Prime told him. "Your caretaker and savior was A-3, also known as Alpha Trion."

One looked away into the distance. "Ah, he comes, your human brother."

"Human brother...?" Optimus asked, confused.

"Primes can be made only by the Allspark," he was told. "And it will only work with appropriate material. Your young human friend has been found... sufficient."

And there was something pulling on him, and all he heard was a whisper of "Walk with Primus, brother," before he onlined, hurting everywhere, to find Sam on his chest, hands on something that had rekindled Optimus' extinguished spark.

Sam opened his eyes with a gasp.

It took a moment, but he finally asked "You never knew?"

"Ratchet was the one who suggested the possibility," Optimus answered, "after an archaeological expedition discovered the tombs of the Primes on Cybertron, each marked with the same glyph I bore."

"I still can't believe your planet lost an entire language within one generation," Sam griped, releasing the cable, which slithered home, disappearing again with a soft click. "I know, I know, algorithms that were completely alien to all other Cybertronian CPUs, etcetera."

"So," Optimus said, "would you prefer 'Samuel Prime' or 'Witwicky Prime'?"

Sam stared at the dashboard, then at the gently smiling hologram, unwilling to believe that Optimus Prime, of all people, was teasing him about this.

"I have heard that brothers are supposed to annoy one another," the Prime offered in mollification.

"Are you taking that from the twins?" Sam demanded. "Because I really don't think they're the best example."

"It seems to be the pattern for brothers of your species as well," Optimus observed.

"Yeah, well." Sam slumped back against his seat again. "I've never had a brother, you know, so I wouldn't know. We've both got the only child syndrome going."

Optimus' voice was soft when he spoke again. "I would be honored to have you as a brother, Sam," he said.

Sam sighed. "It's not that I don't appreciate the offer, all right? I do. I really do. It's just, no matter what the other Primes say, I really don't think I'm Prime material, okay? I'm like this horrible person, I'm a jerk to my friends, I got you killed..."

"I have observed that you can be callous toward those you have affection for, and that you sometimes take them for granted," Optimus agreed. "No one is without flaw, Sam."

"Oh, come on, you're practically perfect," Sam argued.

"I have had a lot longer than you to become aware of and try to correct my flaws," the truck replied. "Ask Ratchet or Ironhide if you would like a list of my failings." His tone turned petulant. "Neither of them ever forgets a single one."

That surprised a laugh out of Sam.

"As to getting me killed... I would like to point out that engaging in that battle was my choice, Sam, and also that for the once you've gotten me killed, you've saved my life twice. That would seem to put the balance in your favor."

"Most people only get a once," Sam muttered.

"You and I," Optimus replied, "are not 'most people'."

Sam sighed slowly. "Brothers, huh?" he asked quietly.

"Indeed."

"Fine," Sam agreed. "But," he cautioned sharply, "I'm not going by Samuel Prime, and definitely not by Witwicky Prime! I'm just Sam."

"Of course," Optimus agreed in a pleasant tone that implied he might disagree. "Now, as to the other reason I came to your university... have you considered your situation for the summer yet?"

"I was going to go back home to my parents' and get some kind of job," Sam replied. "Maybe as a waiter or in retail or something. Why?"

"There might be an opening on Diego Garcia for an intern at NEST this summer," Optimus offered. "Perhaps two, if Mikaela would be interested in apprenticing herself to Ratchet..."

"I'd love to, but my mother'd throw a fit," Sam responded automatically. "She wants to see me all day every day during the summer. Only child syndrome, remember?"

"There is, of course, the possibility of commuting via space bridge."

"So you're going to pick me up every day and drop me-and maybe Mikaela-off at the end of it?" Sam asked. "What's the time difference between Diego Garcia and Pasadena again? Come on, Optimus."

"I'm quite serious," Optimus replied. "It would be convenient for us to have you on hand for situations that may arise with Earth's governments, you need a secured space where you can continue to refine your abilities, and I, as Jetstorm has pointed out, need to practice mine."

"Win-win situation, huh?" Sam asked quietly, and thought about it for a minute. "Fine, I'm in. I'll call Mikaela and see how well her dad's doing at the garage, if she can hop off to a tropical island for a summer job or not."

Author's Note: Story edited by OkamiMyrrhibis, MMouse15, Flybystardancer, Hoshikage, Dwimordene, and my Wonderful Husband. A couple lines of dialogue shamelessly stolen from OkamiMyrrhibis. Certain aspects of the background in this story are taken from the Defiance comic, and Optimus' holographic driver is from Alliance, where it was very cleverly decided to have him be Peter Cullen. ^_^