A Calling

A world never changes, it merely flows in an endless loop.

There are seasons of hardships and seasons of prosperity, then there are moments of transition from one to the other.

Nothing is ever new.

War? Has gone on and off for millennia. Always two major sides. Always some form of Decepticons and Autobots.

Peace? A lie. There is never peace. Only the illusion of such an ideal.

Was Cybertron in a time of either? No. While the war was declared officially over, bots of all shapes and sizes were still taking sides. For as long as a conflict endures, it takes twice as long to heal the wounds.

As far as the optic can see is pain and prejudice. Decepticons are no more free now than when the war began. Hatred still remains in the sparks of every bot. There'd be no peace. Only another war.

What of the Autobots? They suffered too.

Not as much as every con that took up arms.

A common misconception, there are two sides. One bad. The other good. How can one look at the universe with such a narrow idea?

One who looks at another and declares them the villain has not tasted true loss. No Decepticon joined the war to merely wreak havoc. All were victims of a cruel caste system. All wanted freedom and equality. How can one look at another and judge their actions without looking at the reason they acted the way they had?

A muffled sigh left the mech's articulator as he eyed the message sent mere nano clicks before:

By order of the Cybertronian council.

You are required to appear at the next hearing in two solar cycles exactly.

This is not a request.

Be present or we will consider you a hostile.

-High council member Jazz. Delegation, informant.

He closed the message after skimming over it for the hundredth time. Something about it was off. But he was no hostile. Not anymore. What they wanted couldn't be anything he hadn't already dealt with.

He shifted his optics to the bots walking, driving, or flying around him. All, or at least most, had a place. A job. A purpose.

What was his? It had been seven years since his release from that accursed prison… And still he was regarded with hatred and fear.

A split decision. Only one answer.

The black mech moved off the street down a fairly vacant alleyway. He needed more info. And knew only one way to get it. Two if he was willing to look like a helpless fool.

Within an instant a minicon leaped out of a rippling purple vortex before him. The portal closed and the small cat-like bot sat on the ground before his master.

"Ravage, verify and report." He sent a copy of the message to the black minicon. With one last look at his master the feline darted away, leaping between pedestrians and remaining out of sight for the most part.

All he could do was wait. For either the minicon's report or the date of the council hearing. Or revert to plan B. But that was not an option at this time.

He turned, weaving his way back into the traffic of the main street.

Cybertron had grown and changed so much over the few stellar cycles, and not entirely for the better. Other bots were completely blind to it.

The mech moved at a steady pace, one firmly planted ped after the other. Cybertronians parted the way before him, even going as far as to push others to get out of his way themselves. Few sent him looks of fear, more looks of hatred. He could care less. He knew exactly who would win if a fight actually broke out. It wasn't pride, it was fact. Only one could beat him. Only one other came close.

He kept his gaze ahead, not that anyone would guess otherwise with his mask up. His mind still on the council. They only called on bots when there was an issue, and considering the badge he carried and the still prejudice minds of bots, he was more than likely the cause of the issue.

Him or another like him…

He slowed his pace at the new thought. Perhaps he was merely being brought in as a consultant for an old colleague or soldier. He couldn't imagine who would have caused enough trouble for the council to act.

The mech shrugged it off and resumed his original speed. He would know soon enough.

Time passed slowly. He had received word from the minicon the solar cycle prior, but nothing more recent. The information gathered did little to tell him of the council's goals. The only thing remotely intriguing was the presence of an old protege.

He stared at the transmission from the council and the recent update from Ravage. What was the connection? His servos clenched tightly in concentration. Only a few hours remained before he was required to appear, and he refused to show up with no upfront information. Call it a habit, call it obsessive, but the tactic had only served him well over the millennia of war and life.

The black mech's thoughts turned to the option he had yet to use. He tensed at the thought of having to turn to another for facts, yet it was the only thing he had left.

With an audible sigh he opened his comm frequency for the first time in what could only be described as too long, and opened a link with his old protege.

For a long torturous moment the other end remained dead silent, giving him enough time to reconsider the idea.

That's when a familiar voice spoke up. "Soundwave? For the love of energon, I never thought it'd be you. Took me a bit to get over the shock."

He couldn't help but smile ever so slightly beneath his mask at the thought of her with a surprised expression. "Greetings, Eclipse."

The femme snorted quietly on the other end of the link. "You're not one for social calls. What do you need?"

"Information."

"Figures. Should I be honored that you think so highly of me?" Her tone was laced with sarcasm.

He closed his optics a moment. "I received a transmission from the high council."

"Oh that. I got one too. Went in to find out what it was about." She let out half of a laugh. "It's not what you'd expect."

He frowned. "Explain."

"No way. I like being the one with all the cards for once. You'll just have to wait and see with the others." He could clearly imagine the smug grin on her face.

"There are ways of getting cards back."

"Only if you play the game."

He rubbed his visor. This was exactly why he never went to her for information. She always found some way to get under his plating and threaten to expose his emotions. "You will tell me nothing then?"

There was a pause. "Well, since you're obviously dying to know… They sent the transmission to all former Decepticons living on Cybertron and the moons."

"For what purpose?" He could probably figure it out on his own, but there was a chance now that she would give up all her cards.

"Guess. You're a smart mech." The link clicked and buzzed as it was severed.

He stared at his Habitation Suite wall for a long while, simply replaying the conversation over in his mind. A new transmission sent by Ravage interrupted with a soft buzz before it appeared on his internal screen.

He frowned, reading it three times over before leaning back against a wall.

A starship was being prepared by order of the council. Quite large from what the minicon could apparently see.

The pieces began to fit together.

All the former cons.

A large star cruiser.

And a council ready to turn hostile if any should protest.

Were they really going to try such a task?

Considering the makeup of the council it wasn't a completely surprising idea. But to expect all ex-cons to act willingly was a bit optimistic. Surely this ordeal would break out in a small fist fight... or worse.

Why on Cybertron would they test the delicate balance of peace? Were they really that stupid? Who walks out with long proud strides onto thin ice? Who leaps onto shifting ground?

No… There was a piece he was missing. He recalled the conversation he had had. 'It's not what you'd expect.' The words of his former student filled his processor.

Was this the unexpected conclusion, or was it beyond his own reasoning so far?

The chime of his timepiece grabbed his attention. It was nearly time for the hearing, and he was no more prepared than when he had first received the message.

Reluctantly he stood and strode out through the door, down the corridor and elevator shaft, and out onto the street.

No more could be done. It was time to face his fate… whatever that entailed.

The fading light of the star above filtered through the floor to ceiling windows, leaving orange stripes along the reflective metal floor. The ceiling was domed, its highest point in the center. Chandeliers of glass and metal dangled from above, scattering the light even more.

Several bots, large and small, stood within the large chamber. None of which moved forward into the actual council room.

Odd.

Soundwave weaved his way through the crowd, determined to find out what exactly was going on. Glancing at the others faces he saw just as much confusion and annoyance as he felt.

A loud screech filled the room, causing many to groan and wince. He moved his gaze to locate the source and found the council member Windblade standing erect on an elevated platform. "Welcome all. We are grateful to you for heeding our message. In a few moments the hearing will begin. As not all of you will fit in the chamber, we request your patience as a few of you are allowed in. The others may watch on the monitor we have set up. Thank you." Her gaze swept the room as the news hit the ex-cons within, and settled on him momentarily. She gave a nod in greeting then gestured toward the entrance.

He frowned in confusion, but moved as directed. Where guards held others at bay, they readily let him pass. Yet another mystery.

The hearing chamber was not as decorated as the lobby. It was a simple rectangle, with risers on either side and a high platform with a wall going half up on the far end. Upon this platform stood the three other council members: Ratchet, Bulkhead, and Jazz.

All looked very serious, a couple even eyed him with irritation. He dropped his optics to the floor. Too often had he seen hatred and anger toward him, he would not allow himself to look intimidated by ducking his helm, but avoiding optic contact was appropriate.

As he moved closer he was only somewhat surprised to notice two other figures on the same level as himself. His pace slowed as he eyed the tall, robust, silver mech. With long curled spikes reaching the air well over his helm, each a bronze color near the tips.

The mech stood erect, probably knowing his strength and skill surpassed every other in the chamber. Though his face revealed a passive look, as if he'd completely changed his outlook on life.

It was Soundwave's first time seeing the mech he had once called master since the day he was trapped. He had seen the warlord die and fall to earth, unable to do anything but follow in that accursed dimension.

What else had changed?

"And here I thought you wouldn't come." He turned to the speaker, a medium blue femme, short as far as aerial bots were concerned. Her face conveyed a smug grin, but optics showed she was grateful to see him. When had that changed? Last he saw her, his apprentice of old, she had convinced the high council to release him from the Shadowzone - which had also been unexpected.

He moved forward, now standing between them with a small nod of acknowledgement.

Above them the council sat, not intimidating as one would expect bots in power to be, although it was somewhat hard to take such familiar old enemy faces seriously.

Windblade slipped in quietly after letting the stands lining the rooms be filled with curious ex-cons.

"I suppose there's a lot of questions circling around the building right now." Jazz stood, addressing the room in as formal a way he could. "One, I'm sure everyone has asked… what's the intent here? You've probably seen that the entire room is filled with fellow, old Decepticons. Rest at ease when I say this is not an interrogation, nor is it to condemn or accuse you of wrong done."

"We have been observing the population since the war was declared over." Windblade stood, giving Jazz a look of apology. "There still is a lot of hostility… from both former sides. As a result, we, the high council, have decided to create space between the two factions of old for a time until things become quieter."

Jazz nodded and turned back to the crowd gathered. "That being said, let's get down to brass tacks. There's an opportunity to escape all the hate. Both former sides are invited to cruise, although we're encouraging one a bit more."

Sounds of murmurs and angered mumbles filled the room. Soundwave couldn't blame them, he felt the same. These were former Autobots and they wanted a happy peaceful life without trouble-causing ex-cons.

"I think I speak for nearly everybot present…" The booming voice of the former warlord rang throughout the room, proving that the mech had had experience in the area of public speaking. "But you, oh high council, seem to be just as prejudice as anyone else. Why not cast out former Autobots, as they are just as guilty as we of creating conflict, if not more so?"

It was Bulkhead who stood. "Because we won the war, Optimus Prime put us in charge of guarding and caring for this planet. Jazz said the offer was for everyone, that includes Autobots, but some of you still wear your own badge. Why shouldn't we push for all of you to leave?"

Ratchet grabbed Bulkhead's shoulder. "What my colleague means is, we have set rules as Autobots. And we just wish to know for certain if you can be trusted. It's a precaution."

"How much more do we need to prove ourselves before you leave us alone to live on our own planet?" The blue femme, Eclipse, stepped forward with a rather loud stomp. "I know many have already paid for their crimes and yet you still test us with the same reasoning behind it… we're all ex-Decepticons."

Several shouts and calls echoed the room, as well as the ever growing sound of conversation.

Windblade stared at the three before her with a hard look before she raised her arms for silence, which finally came a few nano clicks later. "There is much to clean up after a long war… we are merely asking that you do your part. Hear us out. We are working very hard to make Cybertron a more pleasant and free place to live. But that goal takes time, and is easier to accomplish when there are fewer lives to affect the balance." She swept the room with her gaze. "You have the option to go on this quest of sorts, just as former Autobots do. We are forcing no one. But since the objective of this opportunity is closer to you ex-cons, we're offering this to you first. Not exclusively. First."

Ratchet nodded. "Shortly after this we will be addressing former Autobots with the same option."

"And what does this quest entail?" The silver mech raised an optic ridge.

The council members exchanged looks, each waiting for the other to respond.

The large green ex-wrecker cleared his vocals. "It's a crusade across the stars to tear down the remaining Decepticon outposts. We're worried they'll hear that Cybertron was won by the opposing side and attack us."

"Which is another reason why we think you former cons are best for the job. If need be, you guys could infiltrate their ranks and take them down from within." Jazz smirked.

"So you want us… me, the creator of this cause, the name in which all they do is acted under, the face they follow into battle, the voice they heed… you want me to tear down what took millennia to build?" Megatron frowned, making optic contact with every member on the platform above him.

Jazz shrugged. "You make it sound worse than it is. Those bots are still committing acts of war, we just want you all to stop that violence."

Soundwave turned his gaze to the former warlord. He could see where the council wanted to know whether Megatron had truly changed or not. There was tension, and every other bot seemed to sense it as well. The air was still with anticipation.

Megatron closed his optics, deep in thought for what seemed like eternity. Then, with a calm manner, he raised his helm and looked upon the council members again. "While I hate to see something I worked for taken down… I no longer believe in that cause. If they are oppressing others under my name or the name of the Decepticon cause, I will, without hesitation, put an end to the suffering of innocence."

"Excellent." Windblade gave a nod, then turned to address the crowd gathered. "Now it's your turn, fellow cybertronians. There is a starship at the old Iacon launch pad. If you are willing and ready to go on this quest, please report there for further instruction. You are all dismissed."

A low rumble of voices and movement echoed around as the crowd slowly but surely exited the large council chamber.

"But you three…" The femme called, addressing Soundwave and his two compatriots. They all stopped and turned back to the council. "There will be the issue of a leader for this expedition. And we have discussed the matter thoroughly."

"Like there needs to be discussion." Eclipse snorted, throwing her servo to the left. "All hail Megatron, anyone? He's experienced."

Jazz let out a chuckle. "Experienced, yeah. But not entirely trustworthy… No offense, dude."

"None taken. I understand your wariness."

Windblade straitened. "So it is the council's wish to make you, Eclipse, the captain of the starship."

The blue femme's jaw dropped. "M-me?! What in sparks sake makes you think I would be a better leader than these two?"

Jazz smiled. "Simple. You've shown how well you work with 'bots and 'cons alike. You've demonstrated leadership while on Earth when Bee couldn't. And girl, that argument you pulled earlier, we have noticed how much you've changed. You ain't required to go. We asked you to come here to request you lead it."

((Author's note: Oh boy, starting the first long fanfic... not an easy feat. However, I plan on getting chapters out at a fairly consistent rate. But knowing me that probably won't happen. Anyway, hope you all enjoy! I always love comments and feedback.))

Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers franchies, idea, or any of the canon characters. Only the few OCs to appear.