Elita-1 was restless, while the rest of the Autobots in the base were still recharging in their berths. The quiet hum of the base was a stark contrast to the turmoil within her spark. She couldn't shake the gnawing feeling of frustration and guilt for leaving Cybertron behind.

"He won't listen... No matter how many times I tell him... He won't listen..."

Her voice was a whisper, laced with bitterness as she gritted her denta and rubbed her optics. Her vents released a long, weary sigh.

"Freedom is the right of all sentient beings," he says... But we aren't free... We're chained to this war... And he won't do anything about it..."

She glared out at the Earth landscape—the lush trees, the green grass, the towering mountains, and the flowing rivers. It was so alien, so different from the metallic beauty of Cybertron.

"Why does he seem to choose this place... Instead of our home?"

She mumbled to herself, her fingers tracing the dents and cracks on her pink plating—a painful reminder of decades of war against the Decepticons.

The memories of fallen comrades and the ruined cities of Cybertron flashed in her mind. Every scar on her plating told a story of battles fought and friends lost. She felt heavy with sorrow, mingled with anger.

"We left everything behind... for what? A planet that isn't ours?"

Her optics dimmed as she stared into the distance, lost in thought. The weight of leadership and the burden of war pressed heavily on her spark.

"Optimus... Is the Orion in you... Truly gone?"