He heard nothing, but Orion knew he was no longer alone. He could not be surprised either.
The Council no more liked their new Prime than Orion enjoyed becoming one. Perhaps they thought if they failed to protect him, it would give them an excuse to try again.
“I suppose I should be grateful,” Orion murmured. “He ignores my private messages, but sends his most trusted companion in his stead.”
Silence. Orion had not expected anything less.
He turned to see Soundwave standing behind him, the once bulky gladiator now sadly lithe.
“He should know I did not ask for this, and I don’t want it,” Orion said.
Soundwave approached him and one hand lifted, a slim finger tapping on Orion’s chestplate, right along the central seam.
“I cannot surrender it,” Orion admitted as his armor slid aside and the glow of the matrix filled the space between them. “I tried.”
One thin finger explored without touching, almost as if Soundwave were afraid. He made no attempt to harm Orion, instead drawing back and giving Orion one of his infamously inscrutable looks.
Orion closed his armor and offered a wan smile. “He’ll never forgive me, I know.”
Soundwave’s helm tilted. His visor displayed static. “Traitor,” Megatron’s voice hissed, filling all the empty spaces of the Prime Suite.
Orion sighed. “Yes, I know. And it’s too late now.”
Soundwave’s visor cleared. He turned to go, message delivered, but Orion felt he owed one more truth. And even, perhaps, a warning.
“Tell him… goodbye,” Orion said, his spark aching, and it was not entirely from the Matrix. “The next time we meet, Orion will be dead. Do you understand?”
Soundwave nodded and then, he was gone, back to the shadows from whence he came, and no doubt, back to Megatron’s side. Where Orion could no longer be.
Optimus was, once again, alone.