Chapter Text
The war was over. The war had been over for nearly 50 vorns. It came surprisingly easily for many mechs - millions of years of hatred and distrust were hard to set aside, but after so long surrounded by constant death, energon shortages and now the threat of planetary destruction - well, even the most steadfast warrior was willing to at least consider a ceasefire before the war completely destroyed their species.
A ceasefire which quickly turned to negotiations, and negotiations which lead to an official treaty as the two faction leaders continued their private meetings with increasing frequency,
and length.
It was eventually agreed power would be split between the two in a way that ensured equal representation of Autobots and Decepticons in government. Both leaders had agreed Cybertron would never return to the old system that had divided and oppressed its people so vehemently and even as Megatron took up the ancient title of Lord High Protector, there was no doubt in anyone's processor that the new Cybertron both sides had fought so hard to achieve was finally turning from a distant concept into a foreseeable future.
No one was surprised when the official announcement of their bonding was made.
The first task of this new utopia was organizing the massive amount of construction work necessary to reconstruct the torn planet. All major cities had been destroyed in the early stages of the war and there was no shortage of jobs for anyone with any engineering or architectural knowledge, but with a constant stream of volunteers willing to pitch in any small way they could nearly all of it had been rebuilt within the first few decivorns.
After that, mechs began searching out new jobs. It was still strange to be free to pursue ones passion without fear of retribution - not that there was a huge market available, but mechs took the chance to create new opportunities that never even existed pre-war - if they could make it work they could do it.
Most of the remaining tension was quick to disappear once mechs began adjusting to each other in an everyday working environment. It was hard to justify worry about your neighbour turning on you when you took your lunch breaks together.
Members of the high command had also chosen to leave government positions to live lives away from the responsibilities and burdens they had carried for the last several millennia. Well, on the Autobot side at least.
Both Prowl and Jazz had settled down together now that they were given the opportunity, with Jazz holding a successful music career while Prowl had chosen to retire handling paperwork and recovering and sorting important government records destroyed during the war. Starscream on the other hand had taken off to aid in the reconstruction of Vos as soon as the project was announced and -only somewhat surprisingly- taking position once again as its elected emirate. Only Megatron's third, Strika continued to advise him, even with the news that her and her consort would be expecting a sparkling of their own.
Speaking of which, the Prime filed away a mental note to send them a congratulatory gift when he got the chance, once he found Hot Rod. The sparkling had been adamantly avoiding both his creators once the news was broken that some of his favourite caretakers would soon be sent off-world.
Far off world.
Optimus had originally held serious reservations about letting any of Megatron's infamous Phase-Sixers anywhere near their creation, but when diplomatic duties took both of them away from Cybertron for extended periods of time, Optimus was loath to admit that the idea of having a virtually indestructible super-weapon on guard was somewhat comforting. Megatron certainly thought it was a good idea, though Optimus still didn't like putting too much thought into what activities mechs like Sixshot and Black Shadow came up with to keep Hot Rod's short attention span occupied. The thought was almost as unsettling as wondering why exactly the bitlet's favourite mechs to be looked after by were the DJD.
The news was delivered almost offhandedly, but rather than the expected response of throwing a fit, being indignant and moving on, he had gone to sulk off in an almost uncharacteristic way. They had told him they wouldn't be gone for long, but that seemed to offer little comfort.
Really, it was ridiculous he hadn't gotten bored with hiding yet. His dismay at his big caretakers' departure was unfortunate, but the decision to send them off was a necessary one. Most mechs by now had settled into the new era of peace with relative ease, but the Warriors Elite -living weapons created for the sole purpose of destruction and conquest- were having a slightly more difficult time adjusting.
They tried, they did, but they needed something to fight. Some kind of target to vent their abilities on safely and away from Cybertron, even for a short period of time.
This mission would be beneficial to everyone.
With a resigned sigh, the Prime decided to do one more quick search of Hot Rod's chambers before giving up and waiting for Megatron to return home from his meeting. The little bitlet would turn up eventually.
~o~o~o~
Tarn was just here to supervise.
The mission itself was fairly simple, but he couldn't blame Lord Megatron or the Prime for not trusting the other three not to frag it up.
U1 was an ancient Cybertronian colony right on the edge of Quintesson space. Though it was really more of a large asteroid than anything. When it was discovered during the war it became an area of high interest for both Autobots and Decepticons for its virtually limitless supply of raw energon which almost completely made up the planet -down to the crystals that composed its core to its liquid form that flowed freely on its surface, covering most of the planet.
An incredible source of power to whomever possessed the ability to harness it, making it just as well that its inhabitants were a primitive race -they looked Cybertronian he supposed, but they lacked sparks and thus lacked the ability to regenerate, summon weapons, transform, or -well, do anything useful really.
Unfortunately, by the time Cybertronians had stumbled across the small world, the Quintessons had already begun using the planet for their own purposes to the misfortune of its inhabitants, simultaneously draining the planet and using it as a field to conduct twisted experiments. Strange creatures would regularly pop up to attack natives and turned out to be a serious problem for posted Cybertronians as well.
Both sides had agreed the risk of leaving U1 in the Quintesson's grasp was too great and had deigned to work together to see them off.
Though the planet's inhabitants leaned towards the Autobots, a treaty was written up that allowed both sides to mine the planet in return for protection from their Quintesson neighbours. During the war several teams from both sides would always be assigned to guard refineries and take care of leftover creatures, but since it ended... well, everyone was busy with other things and the planet was once again forgotten.
Now an extended mission caretaking a planet of weak mechs from a distance with free reign to kill anything that looked hostile or Quintesson? Exactly the kind of outlet the Phase-Sixers had been needing since the war ended.
Well, not Tarn. Tarn was completely fine. Unlike the other brutes classified as Elite, Tarn was fully capable of living civilly. And there was the list -hunting traitors was a perfectly decent activity right there.
Even if it had been... dwindling a bit recently. It was becoming harder to justify traitorous activity in a world where factions no longer technically existed, coupled with a rather heavy amount of disapproval from the Autobots who insisted that trai- criminals had 'rights' and had to be judged by 'a real jury' and confessions couldn't be gotten under 'duress'.
It was ridiculous bureaucracy, but it did result in a lot of,
well,
spare time.
Not that it bothered Tarn, even if the other DJD members had begun appreciating the benefits of peace -well good for them- Kaon and Tesarus had taken second jobs and even though Helix was no longer technically a DJD member, they still all saw each other so frequently the changes were hardly noticeable.
They were still fully dedicated and capable of handling any situation in Tarn's absence, they had his trust on that. So if Lord Megatron needed him to make sure the other three didn't blow up the planet than Tarn would happily accept his mission.
To supervise.
The Guardian was at least a decent ship. Small, but fully equipped with long-range spatial communicators to advanced quantum engines, powerful enough to make the substantial jump from Cybertron to U1 in no time flat.
This mission would go fine.
"You know why you're here." What?
"What?"
It was Overlord who had spoken, sitting down on a crate adjacent to one Tarn was currently taking stock of. "You're sulking, I can see it on your face."
That earned him a frustrated glare that was only received by a smirk in return. "You're here for the same reasons the rest of us are, so stop sulking."
He was not sulking, and even if he was it wasn't like Overlord could see it.
"Is there something you actually need, I didn't think my mood was any of your business."
Overlord actually stood at that -still smirking, moving back towards the door to the cargo hold.
"I suppose not, but if you're ready to climb off that high horse we're set to go down here."
Ah.
The time had come. Inventory still had yet to be finished, but he supposed that could wait until they had arrived at their destination. Nothing seemed to be missing from the hold, in fact there seemed to be a bit of extra supplies.
Setting down the datapad he had been recording on, he followed after Overlord to the bridge.
Everything would be fine.