Dream State

by Phantom

This story is actually a dream that I had, where I was Alita One, fleeing the Decepticons. In order to make a story out of it, I had to clear up some foggy details, but it is essentially the same. I guess this fits into the "You know you're obsessed with Transformers when..." list. Anyone care to add it? :) I'm writing it in first person present tense, since that's how I experienced it. I apologize for any improper tense shifts, since I'm used to writing in third person, past tense. Omnicience is great -- I know how everthing will turn out before the characters do! Isn't writing great?

Disclaimer: Hasbro et. al. own the copyrights to Transformers. Other than that, this little tale sprang directly from my (according to Freud, anyway) unconscious mind. First time I actually dreamed up a story... pretty cool. Besides the time that I dreamt I went to Botcon, anyway, months before the actual event. For those who are wondering, my dream Botcon wasn't much fun. The reality was much better than in my dreams (literally). This is the first time that I've actually dreamt that I was a Transformer. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, since I've been busy writing fanfics about Alita. Anyway, I can make no excuses for however it turns out -- I refuse to take responsibility for what my mind does when it's asleep.

* * * * *

I feel the ground below me shake. Alarms begin to wail urgently. With a sense of horror, I realize that we are under attack. Our base has been discovered.

We are not equipped to fend off such a forceful attack. There is only one option left to us. "Evacuate the base!" I order.

My warriors rush out of the crumbling base, the whistle of missiles and the sizzle of laser blasts echoing in the night air. We have no organized escape plan, and we all know that. Right now there is only one thing that we can do -- evade capture.

With this knowledge, the femmes spread out as they flee into the night, using the darkness as cover to hide. I try to follow them, but I am suddenly exhausted, utterly drained. I am unsure of the cause -- perhaps I have not recharged enough, or maybe my physique, outwardly resembling a Playbot pinup but designed to handle intense combat, has finally given out after all these millennia of fighting. All I know is that these old legs of mine refuse to carry me any faster.

I watch as my warriors, my friends, recede before me and blend into the cover of the night. Realizing that I am not beside them, Chromia and Moonracer turn back. "Alita, come on!" they exclaim, coming to my rescue, but I wave them away.

"Go on ahead," I tell them. My sudden lack of energy may have doomed me, but I refuse to risk other lives to save my own. With the others safe, the Autobot resistance will continue to thrive. They look at me uncertainly, but the Decepticons' voices, and the explosions caused their weaponry, growing ever nearer, is the deciding factor. With a last look of farewell, fearing that they will never see me again, they turn and melt into the shadows.
I breathe a mental sign of relief as they go. At least they will be safe. The 'Cons' approach grows even louder, and I know that I am as good as dead if I cannot escape. I am too weak to run after my loyal ladies, but perhaps there is another way....

I look around me, determined to find some way to escape. An old ordinance depot catches my eye. It has been long abandoned, but perhaps it will suit my needs. Moving slowly and stealthily along, using the darkness for cover, I reach the building and slip inside the back entrance.

Safely inside, I slump against the wall, relieved to be out of danger. My fuel pump is pounding wildly from my near escape. After allowing myself several more precious moments of rest, I force myself to stand upright and inspect my surroundings. One can never be too careful, and I want to know exactly what I am sharing my company with.

It is my caution and stealth that saves me from stumbling right into the Decepticon guards at the front entrance. Apparently they think I am foolish enough to waltz right in the main entrance. The worst part was that they aren't that far off the mark -- I'm not stupid enough to use the main entrance, but I've been desperate enough to pick an obvious hiding place. Now what can I do?

I slip out the back way as soundlessly as I entered. I search frantically for another place to conceal myself, feeling an all-encompassing dread settle over me. There are very few places that I could hide, now that the 'Cons are searching for me. I just pray that the others have gotten to safety.

I wander aimlessly for a time, ducking into the shadows whenever a Decepticon patrol passes by. Their endless prattle, mostly about what they would do to me if they ever caught me, alerts me to their presence in time to hide. They are obviously incompetent foot soldiers, unaccustomed to tracking.

I stop short when I see where my seemingly random meandering has taken me. Before me stands the entrance to one of the ancient tunnels that leads deep into Cybertron's interior. Using such tunnels is nothing new to me -- the female Autobots frequently use the winding passageways to lose 'Con pursuers, and we have several weapon caches hidden in their depths -- but this particular tunnel is more decrepit than most, and unfamiliar to me. But it is the only option left. Praying that it would lead to a familiar tunnel at some point, I step inside and walk down the corridor.

Well, as it turns out, I successfully evade the Decepticon patrols. I also manage to get myself helplessly lost. I begin to lose track of the time I spend wandering around -- is it days? Weeks? Even months? My internal chronometer no longer functions properly. Eventually I stop searching for a way out, or at least familiar territory, only moving around to keep my fluids circulating. I am filthy, covered with the ages of dirt and grime in the tunnels. I know that I am low on energon, and I will shut down unless I can refuel. But where can I possibly find an energy source so deep under the surface?

I am so weary that I am almost beyond thought. The need to move, to keep walking, is no longer a conscious decision -- it is more of an automatic response. Every now and then I wonder what has become of my comrades -- hoping that they are safe, and knowing that the resistance must continue without me. For I can be of no use to them now.

It is during one of these semi-coherent episodes that I round a corner and run smack into another robot. At the impact, all the cobwebs are violently banished from my mind as my self-defense programs activate. I know that I am far too weak and tired to defend myself, or even run away, but I must try to escape. I cringe away from the mighty figure before me as he approaches. I see that there other behind him, all ready to drag me to Darkmount, where I will be tortured in many painful ways, each more horrifying than the last. In fact, it is rather a relief to me that I have been discovered -- at least this way I know how my death will come, and maybe one day the Autobots will learn of my fate.

The powerful-looking robot bends over for a closer look at me. I wonder what he is gaping at as I try to edge backwards. Everything is answered when he voices one word.


The voice is the most familiar and comforting to me than any other in the galaxy. In the past, his words have brought me comfort and solace when I needed it most. This time it has brought me no less than salvation.

I look up, trying to focus my blurring optics, to see the owner of that beautiful voice. Struggling against my failing systems, at last I truly see the one that has discovered me. Now I realize why the voice held so much comfort and promise. It is him -- the one who is almost like my second half, the one who has been with me since the beginning of this whole nine-million-year mess. With the last of my strength, I reach out to him.

Uncaring of the grime that covers me from head to foot, Optimus Prime answers my silent plea and scoops me into his powerful arms. I no longer have enough power to keep my optics online, but I can hear the surprised murmurs of his troops. From what I can gather, they have come down here in search of one of our hidden weapons caches, which could bolster their depleted supplies. It has been weeks since the attack on my base, which has been obliterated. All of the other femmes have escaped and made their way to Iacon. They were worried when I didn't show up, and as the weeks passed, had eventually given up hope of my survival.

"She needs immediate care," Ratchet orders. "We must get her back to headquarters." He summons an energon from his emergency stash, which I eagerly drain. But I must wait until we reach the base to recharge fully.

"Agreed," Prime says. I hear the bass rumble of his speech in his chest, and snuggle against him. I allow all other sensory information to fade into the background as I feel him carrying me towards the surface, his soldiers following close behind. After all this time of fear and loneliness, it feels good to be safe. Despite my strong character and self-reliant nature, it is nice to allow myself to be carried.

Leaning over so that his battle mask gently grazes my audio sensor, Prime murmurs, "It's good to have you back, Alita. I was worried about you." While his words might seem matter-of-fact to most, they speak volumes to me. Optimus has never been one for large displays of emotion, especially in front of his underlings, but I hear the undercurrent of relief and caring in what he says. The fact that *he*, not *we*, worried about me, makes all the difference in the world. Such a confession was the equivalent of a bold statement of love from any other male. Not that I didn't like hearing the bold statements too, or that Optimus didn't say them, but for now his simple words were enough.

I lean closer to him as his arms tighten around me. Although I am covered with dirt and nearly drained of energy, I have never felt more content. Being held in Prime's protective embrace is far sweeter than anything I can recall. Basking in our mutual love and caring, I allow my head to slump against his chest as I slip into recharge mode. For this single moment in time, everything is perfect.


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