Chapter Two - Adjustment of Plans


Soundwave woke after an indeterminate amount of time, roused by the faint noise of the opening door. It was nearly soundless, but he was very lightly recharging. He was too miserable to really rest.

The medic padded in, and approached him with an almost soundless tread. Soundwave again contemplated trying to escape, but he still wasn't sure what would happen when he tried to stand up. He felt ... strange ... and it was more than just the lack of language. His sensory circuits had been slagged to the Pit and back.

Ratchet had a datapad in one hand. He handed it to Soundwave, and Soundwave propped himself up on one elbow in order to more easily read it. As he did, he jostled Frenzy, who woke with a very un-Frenzy like whimper. Frenzy's emotions immediately raced across the connection to him with almost overwhelming intensity: loss, fear, grief, anger, denial.

He was very worried about the kid, but he responded to Frenzy with miserable agreement. He'd take Frenzy's emotions and match them with equal levels of searing agony, even if he was keeping his expression impassive. He would not show weakness to this Autobot, but Frenzy knew.

There was comfort in sharing his grief ... though it felt wrong to feel any sort of comfort. He'd failed his charges. He was responsible for them, had vowed to keep them safe in exchange for their servitude and the bond they shared, and he had failed.

He would let the Autobot know none of those feelings. It wasn't the other mech's business, and to openly grieve would be to give Ratchet an opening to hurt him. While Frenzy buried his face in Soundwave's shoulder, Soundwave calmly looked at the datapad and stopped petting Frenzy - he didn't want to look like he cared too much. Yesterday night he'd been beyond rational thought, but he managed to look cool and emotionless now.

The datapad had a picture of a human clock, the arms motionless, and Megatron's face printed on it. Next to that clock was a second one with moving arms and, presumably, accurate time. It appeared they had around six human hours until he was to be returned.

He nodded understanding. He also wondered why Ratchet was bothering with this.

The medic reached over the top of the datapad and tapped the screen. It changed to a display of half a dozen pictures. He showed Soundwave how to change the display by dragging a finger across the top, causing the datapad to scroll through a large number of images.

He blinked in surprise. Why was Ratchet doing this?

The first six images were of a cube of energon, a red traffic light, a green traffic light, a smiling face, a scowling face, and a face with one optic ridge quirked questioningly upwards.

He mentally tagged them as meaning fuel, stop, go, happy, unhappy, and 'I don't understand' or just a general 'question?' for the last one. At least, he thought he could use them to express those concepts. Though, again, he just didn't understand what the medic stood to gain.

The next set of six got a little more specific - there was a caricature of a mech with dented plating and a grimace of pain, a little animation of a mech washing himself, a mech painting another, mech in handcuffs, wash racks, and a picture of Ratchet supporting Soundwave.

The third set were six pictures of Ratchet, Soundwave, Frenzy, Optimus, Megatron, and - weirdly - Sunstreaker.

Vocabulary, limited,
Soundwave thought, very darkly amused. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little gratitude that the medic was trying to communicate. He'd never expected to be so kindly treated. His past experiences with Ratchet had generally involved being shot at by a medic who wasn't above killing - and who had the medical knowledge to do so efficiently, and wicked aim with a high powered laser rifle. Ratchet, steady hands, Soundwave thought, precise nature. Traits of good medic. Good marksman, too.

Ratchet almost absently rested a hand on Soundwave's shoulder as he moved closer. Soundwave tensed on pure, irritated reflex. It had nothing to do with Ratchet being an Autobot and everything to do with anyone touching him. Just because he was injured didn't mean he appreciated being fondled by anyone and everyone who thought they had a right to grope his plating ...

He shot Ratchet a dark look of irritation. Frenzy said something that startled him both with its venom and utter unintelligibility. Frenzy was defending him to Ratchet, he realized. Frenzy gesticulated angrily, voice rising in rage.

Ratchet sighed, stepped back, and, with exaggerated motions, slapped himself in the forehead and then shrugged. I'm an idiot, what can you expect? Soundwave translated. Then he said soemthing to Frenzy, who responded with another ticked-off string of syllables. The medic persisted, and Frenzy seemed to reluctantly warm up a little bit.

It ... worried him. Ratchet was telling Frenzy something and he had no idea what. He couldn't even question Frenzy after the fact. He didn't like other mechs influencing his cassettes. They were his symbiotes, and he was solely responsible for them. He tolerated Megatron working directly with them, but anyone else among the 'cons knew better than to mess with them at all. There were too many ways they might be hurt, both physically and mentally. He counted unwanted influence as harm, too.

Frenzy subsided. The medic sighed again, and - without touching him this time - reached out and started tapping the symbols. When touched, they queued up across the top of the screen.

Mech-in-pain? was the first one he touched, and then he pointed at Soundwave.

Soundwave shook his head in denial of that - he was in no major pain. He didn't think it necessary to tell the medic that he had some minor aches and twinges, and he didn't know how to communicate the dizzy sensation he felt when he moved his head too quickly. Then realized with a bit of surprise that a headshake was communication. Language, of sorts. The medic also clearly caught that, because he smiled in what looked like real pleasure.

Frenzy asked something. Soundwave tried to understand, earnestly hoping he had more function ... he heard nothing but nonsense sounds, and errors streamed across his head's up display. It was frustrating to try, like attempting to decipher a code-scrambled transmission on the fly, without knowing the cipher. Ratchet responded, sounding bright and happy, and he felt a flare of pleasure from Frenzy.

Ratchet continued, pointing to himself, to Soundwave, to Frenzy, and then to the picture of the wash racks and a mech washing himself. This was followed by the picture of Sunstreaker, and a picture of one mech painting the other, and then Ratchet pointed at Soundwave and made painting gestures with his hand, like he was holding a brush.

Soundwave let a small frown appear on his face to communicate his distaste for that idea, and he tapped the red traffic light. No. Stop. He did not want Sunstreaker anywhere near Frenzy, and he wasn't too keen on that mech touching him either. He knew Sunstreaker was an accomplished artist, but why would the Autobots bother to paint him? He could see he was covered in raw welds and even some brand new armor plates covered only in primer, but they did have paint on the Nemesis, and he could get Frenzy to fix his appearance later.

The medic flipped to the page with Megatron's face. He tapped it, then flipped back and tapped the paint.

Ah. Megatron had made his body work part of the deal for the exchange for Jazz. It was a petty demand, on Megatron's part, but he wasn't surprised. He also highly doubted that the Autobots had asked Megatron to paint Jazz! He schooled his expression to neutrality, and touched the green traffic light. He would cooperate.

Ratchet nodded, and took the datapad from Soundwave's hand. He found he was very reluctant to let it go. It meant communication, of a sort. What if they didn't give it back? He wasn't sure he could even make one like it on his own, as he couldn't read text to program one for himself!

The medic was reaching for him again. Frenzy snapped something, even as Soundwave froze in place. Ratchet simply ran a gentle hand over Frenzy's head comfortingly, then put a hand under Soundwave's elbow and tugged.

Soundwave, not invalid! he protested in his own head, shrugging free of his grip. He swung his legs over the edge of the medical berth, and slid off even as Ratchet was moving to lower it.

He expected to land lightly on his feet. However, as soon as he moved quickly, the world spun wildly about. He grabbed desperately for anything to steady himself, frantic not to fall. One of his hands connected with the medic's head as Ratchet was shorter than he was by several feet, and his knuckles rapped Ratchet's cheek arch with enough force that the medic staggered back. He flailed, windmilling his arms and feeling himself falling. Frenzy, no fool, darted across the room and sought shelter on top of a desk. He was going to fall down ...

The medic expertly caught him about the waist, ducked under his arm, put an arm around his back, and steadied him. Ratchet was solid, and stable, and the perfect height to hold on to. The medic stood steady, legs braced wide, while Soundwave clung to him. He couldn't tell up from down. He felt like he was on a wildly spinning spacecraft, tumbling about in free fall.

Belatedly, he realized that amid the errors he couldn't read must be something telling him his directional sensors were offline. It hadn't been an issue while he was sitting, except for the occasional bit of vertigo. Now, however, his processor was pinging that sensor repeatedly for orientation ... and then he couldn't translate the responses into useful data. He swayed in place, trying to stand by sheer willpower. Slag, slag, slag. He couldn't even stay upright, much less walk, without help, if he was like this. Slag.

The medic remained motionless. He expected some sort of negative reaction to the blow he'd given the medic - he'd actually left a mark on Ratchet's face. However, Ratchet didn't retaliate, though his expression was grim when Soundwave looked down at him.

After they'd stood steadily for a minute, the hand wrapped across his back slid down to grasp the edge of his pelvic armor. That felt like it should have been a lover's touch, and he tensed, wondering if he was about to be groped. With sudden, keen, panic he realized that he couldn't even complain to anyone if Ratchet decided to hurt him that way ... and he couldn't exactly defend himself. He had a pretty good idea that Optimus wouldn't approve of a one of his soldiers assaulting an injured enemy soldier, but how would he even communicate that he'd been attacked? Point at his interface panel and draw stick figure cartoons of Ratchet and himself?

Slag, he was just so damned vulnerable. A 'con in this condition on the Nemesis would be victimized at every turn and ...

Slag. He terminated that line of thought ruthlessly.

I am Megatron's valued servant, he reminded himself. Surely, that status would protect him from the worst his fellow mechs could do, just as he'd defended his symbiotes. Surely, Ratchet wouldn't dare do more than cop a feel now.

However, he had sworn to defend his symbiotes and he had failed. What if Megatron failed him?

He won't. Megatron is strong.

That strength - that fierce, uncompromising power - was why Soundwave followed him. That power would be turned to protect him, he told himself. He'd devoted his career, his life, to Megatron because he appreciated working for a strong boss. Surely, he'd earned Megatron's protection - and he firmly believed he deserved the resources that would be spent on assisting him to recover. He could be useful again, very much so. He wasn't stupid. His faculties were intact. He'd contributed so much in the past, and could continue to be useful. He ...

The hand on his hip hadn't moved. Ratchet didn't turn it into a caress. He didn't fondle the wires that were so close to his fingers. He just waited until Soundwave relaxed. It was a medic's professional touch, cool and competent. Soundwave was being supported, not molested.

Soundwave slowly, hesitantly, rested his arm over Ratchet's shoulders, leaning on him for balance. He expected the medic to flinch away from the grip of a dangerous Decepticon, but the body under his touch was sturdy, solid, and unwavering. He felt like a rock. The medic said something in an approving tone, and took a step. Soundwave followed, and the world started wheeling around him again. The medic kept going, though, and Soundwave stared straight ahead, attempting to using his sight to tell up from down, even as his optics attempted to follow the perceived motion.

He didn't want to risk angering the Autobot by not cooperating - while proud of his pride, he wasn't stupid, and he was utterly defenseless. He'd be absolutely as compliant as possible since he couldn't do a slagging thing to defend either himself or Frenzy.

Out in the main med bay, other medical staff - First Aid, Wheeljack - seemed to be doing routine maintenance on one of the minibots. All eyes were on him. Ironhide, who had been guarding the door, trailed after them.

He couldn't stay upright. He kept reeling sideways, staggering, his feet not going where they should. The medic grunted a few times with effort, but he had considerably more mass than his height would imply, and his grip on Soundwave's hip was solid. He manhandled and steered Soundwave across the room, then down a short hall to the entrance to a wash rack at the far end. Soundwave expected him to be frustrated by the extreme difficulty he was having, but the medic was utterly patient. Soundwave concluded he was under orders not to maltreat him; the Nemesis's medics certainly would have become frustrated with the waste of time and effort a long time ago.

Slaggit. Why couldn't he do something so simple as walking?

They were headed towards a wash rack, visible down a short hall on the far side of the med was willing to be that Jazz was currently being interrogated, not bathed.

Soundwave, safe from interrogation, he thought, with the blackest of humor, as he pictured how that would go. Even if he understood the questions and even if for some unknown reason he wanted to tell them information, he couldn't convey anything more complex than "ouch" or "hungry" at the moment.

He couldn't even understand Frenzy's thoughts, beyond shades of emotions ... it felt truly alien not to be able to reach out to his symbiotes in casual conversation. And now, except for Frenzy, they were dead. He longed so badly to just reach out to Frenzy and express his grief, their shared sorrow, to talk. He couldn't even slagging talk to anyone about how badly this hurt, losing all of them. He needed that connection more than he ever would have guessed.

Wait? Where was Frenzy? The kid had been out of squashing range, but in sight, until just a second ago.

He stopped short, and then nearly fell when his momentum threw both of them off balance. Ratchet got in front of him, propped him up, and said something that sounded like a question. The medic tugged at his arm, trying to get him to follow.

Frenzy, where? The kid was blocking even his emotions. He couldn't read him. Why was Frenzy guarding himself like that? Were they doing something to him? Where had he gone? :T3iuKGH!: He spat a frantic query across the quantum bond, hearing even as he did that it was complete and total nonsense.

:dfs!hhth!: Came back a second later. Frenzy at least sounded more indignant than frightened. Soundwave looked around frantically, and now Ratchet and the medics had twigged to Frenzy's disappearance. They all looked concerned, and were also looking about. Unintelligible comments, sharply worried, passed between them. Ratchet sounded downright snarky, and it was the first time he'd heard real irritation from the mech.

Frenzy, in trouble! Soundwave thought with real anger. If Ratchet didn't punish the kid, Soundwave damn well was going to. He hadn't even asked permission for whatever stunt he'd just pulled.

A second later Sunstreaker stomped through the doorway, Frenzy gripped by the neck in one of his hands. Ratchet barked a surprised laugh, and shook his head. Soundwave was far less amused. Panic struck him. Apparently, Frenzy had tried to make a break for it and had been caught before getting out the door.

They'd probably throw Frenzy in the brig now. He was angry. He never would have sanctioned that escape attempt. They were to be returned to Megatron. There was no point in an escape that might have resulted in Frenzy's injury or even outright termination. Sunstreaker - Sunstreaker! - was dangerous, unpredictable, with a hot, violent temper. He had personally taken down seekers in one-on-one combat. He could kill Frenzy as easily as swatting an insect.

And ... and he would be alone. A small, scared part of himself didn't want to be alone. He wanted the primitive comfort that holding Frenzy close brought. And now they'd probably take him away, and perhaps hurt him, and he found he was angrier at Frenzy for being stupid than he was at the Autobots for the perceived threat. How often, how damn often, had he told Frenzy and Rumble to be more careful? To think before they acted? To stop being so cocky? The two of them were going to get themselves killed if ...

Rumble was dead. His thoughts stuttered to a halt. Rumble was dead, and Frenzy was awfully, terribly, completely alone in the world. Frenzy without Rumble was hard to contemplate. The two of them had been inseparable for their entire lives, and now Frenzy was alone, and he was suddenly terrified that when they were separated, Frenzy might just give up. What if he decided to follow his brother?

Soundwave would then be utterly alone in his head, with nobody in the whole universe that he could begin to communicate with.

Frantically, he tried to move towards Sunstreaker and Frenzy, to reclaim his symbiote, his mind on holding him close. Nevermind the unseemly display of emotion, he was going to grab Frenzy and dare the world to take him away. Sunstreaker was vicious, but Soundwave was no slouch in combat himself. He would fight them off if they tried to take Frenzy, or die trying.

The unexpected move he made threw Ratchet off balance. Suddenly, Ratchet's hand was ripped from his hip. The medic grabbed for him, but his hands slid over Soundwave's plating without purchase. Soundwave realized he was going to hit the ground a nanoclick before impact. He'd thrown his hands out to stop his fall, but they'd gone in the wrong direction - sideways to his descent. He couldn't tell up from slagging down! With a horrible crash and clatter he sprawled out on his stomach.

Laughter rang out behind him, from Sunstreaker and a couple other mechs. And then Ratchet barked something that sounded pissed. Soundwave managed not to cringe, though he expected that Ratchet would follow that angry snarl with blows and furious kicks. He'd not done as the medic wanted, and Ratchet was ticked off over it.

Frenzy! He had to get up for Frenzy!

No, he had to lay still. He had to be still, and submissive, and obedient. He didn't want to anger the medic further. If Ratchet lost his temper, Frenzy could get hurt.

The room fell silent, probably waiting for Ratchet's explosion of fury.

The world was still spinning. He didn't move.

He heard the medic's footsteps next to his head. Ratchet crouched.

Soundwave couldn't help it. He flinched, and then cursed himself for that weakness.

The hand that touched him, however, was gentle. Fingers tugged at his shoulder, urging him to roll over. He was helped to sit, and then to stand again. The medic didn't say a word, just guided him with efficient, professional touches.

He didn't understand.

They made it the rest of the way into the wash rack without incident. Frenzy had been released, to his absolute immense relief. Ratchet said something tartly angry to him, but neither struck him nor ordered him away.

There was a chair in the wash rack. Ratchet lowered him into it, then stepped back, and just looked at him. There was something in the medic's expression that he couldn't identify.

He just didn't understand this at all.

He wished he had a way say, Thank you.


"Frenzy," Ratchet said, halfway between amusement and irritation, as the cassette added degreaser to a bucket of water at his direction, "where did you think you were going, anyway?"

"C'mon, an escape attempt is required," was the cheeky reply.

Ratchet wasn't fooled. Frenzy didn't feel nearly as good as his demeanor suggested. There were deep, dark shadows lurking in the optics of the symbiote. However, he was putting on a good show for the moment. Ratchet responded with a snort, acknowledging the truth of that - and glad to hear that the kid had some spunk left in him. "I suppose. You had to know there was a guard in the hall, though."

"Yeah, but I made him run pretty hard to catch me."

"Well, take it under advisement that I do not recommend that you provoke Sunstreaker."

"Yeah? Who do you recommend I provoke?"

He let his lips twitch into a smile, annoyance disappearing. He'd never had a chance to talk to the cassette other than to occasionally exchange insults during combat. Frenzy was proving to be genuinely likable, and he truly felt bad about kid's situation. "Well, Prowl's always a good choice."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Can he be provoked?"

"If you're Sunstreaker." Ratchet smiled. "Or his brother - the twins have raised Prowl-provoking to a fine art ..."

The smile vanished off Frenzy's face. In a small voice he said, "Rumble 'n I used to pick on Starscream. He made the best noises if you got him mad enough, but he didn't dare hurt us because ..." he glanced over at Soundwave. "Soundwave could kick his aft. Soundwave isn't going to be kicking any afts now, is he?"

"Not for awhile," Ratchet sighed.

Frenzy's voice got even smaller. "I don't want to go home."

Soundwave made a staticky, consonant-laden noise that lacked all intelligibility. However, his optics were narrowed in what - to Ratchet - looked like a clear display of aggression. Soundwave was very good at hiding his emotions, and his injury hadn't impacted that. Once calm, after he had initially woken and oriented himself, he'd become extremely reserved in demeanor. However, Ratchet was very good at reading people - a necessary skill for his job. That was definitely aggression.

This was confirmed by Frenzy's reaction, which was to give Soundwave a worried look. Ratchet didn't think that Frenzy looked at all frightened of Soundwave, but he didn't like to see Soundwave's disapproval. "He doesn't like you talking to me."

Ratchet frowned. "Is he worried I'll hurt you?"

Frenzy shrugged. "Mebbe."

"I don't make a practice of hurting my patients," Ratchet said, for Frenzy's benefit. He sighed, then added, "You want to help me get him clean? If we're going to paint him we need all the dirt off."

"How come ya gonna paint him, anyway?" Frenzy said, though he willingly grabbed a rag. "I don't get it."

"Oh, that's simple." Ratchet smirked. "Megatron demanded that we repair him, including all body work and paint, before we swap him for Jazz."

Frenzy said, with a snort of laughter, "I hope you're not expecting them to do the same for Jazz."

"We'll just be happy to have Jazz back."

"... Soundwave does all our detailing." Frenzy looked up at his master, and pressed his lipplates together in a thin line. "Did, I guess."

Ratchet gave Soundwave a look - the mech sat very still, hands gripping the edge of the armless chair. Soundwave had severe vertigo, and until he figured out how to compensate for his slagged up circuits he was going to be pretty unstable when he tried to move around. He wasn't reading the data from his positional sensors.

He said comfortingly, "If he did your paint before, he can still do it, you know."

"... He's pretty messed up." Frenzy sounded dubious.

"He's not as bad as some. Seriously, Frenzy, it looks bad now, but give him a couple of months. He'll be much better." Ratchet glanced up at Soundwave. Those glittering red optics watched him keenly. Without his visor and blast mask, Soundwave looked far less forbidding. Really, he was a good looking mech, with aristocratic features that seemed surprisingly noble to Ratchet.

There had been literal speculation by Autobot intelligence that Soundwave might be a high powered drone, a sparkless AI given mech form. He never showed emotion in public, and he had been believed have one of the biggest processors in existence. Having seen Soundwave's circuits up close, Ratchet could verify that he had the same model of processor as Prowl and at least half a dozen other Autobots Ratchet could name. And even if he hadn't repaired Soundwave's damaged spark chamber with his own two hands, he would not have believed the mech to be sparkless. Not after seeing him cradle his only surviving cassette in his hands with grief written across every line of that handsome face. Not after watching him now, as he tried to hide his fear and worry behind an impassive mask. He wasn't quite succeeding in that attempt. There was tension around his optics and mouth.

He sighed, and squirted detergent onto a rag. Normally, bathing a patient would have been First Aid's job, but for safety reasons he'd decided to do Soundwave himself. He didn't trust Soundwave, and Soundwave was, despite his injuries, a big, powerful, wickedly intelligent mech. First Aid was young, inexperienced, and not as heavily armored as Ratchet.

The mech tensed up as he started scrubbing. He wasn't cringing, but he was definitely unhappy about contact with Ratchet. Ratchet didn't stop washing Soundwave's arm, but he asked Frenzy, "Is there any particular reason why he hates being touched?"

"Aside from a fear of getting cooties from an Autobot?" Frenzy replied.

"Yes." It went beyond that. Perhaps it was just his damaged neural circuits making him wary, but Soundwave immediately reacted with tension whenever Ratchet touched him. Ratchet had worked on his share of enemy soldiers and they generally settled down pretty quickly once they realized that he was a professional, and was not going to abuse his patients in any way.

Frenzy pressed his lipplates together for a second. "No. I don't know."

An honest answer, Ratchet thought. He sighed, and dangled the rag in front of Soundwave's optics. Soundwave grabbed it and started washing himself as much as he could reach, though when he bent forward to scrub at his knees he begant to topple over.

Ratchet grabbed him by the shoulder, righted him, and sighed again when Soundwave went rigid, freezing in place.

"You know," Ratchet experimentally turned the grip on Soundwave's shoulder into a squeeze. "I'm not going to hurt you. It's okay. To tell the truth, you've got my respect for the way you care for Frenzy ..."

Soundwave couldn't understand the words, but Ratchet hoped his tone, along with the brief massage of Soundwave's tight neck cables, would convey his lack of threat. Instead, Soundwave brushed his hand off and fixed Ratchet with a deadly glare, both hands coming up defensively.

Frenzy explained, "He probably thinks you're about to frag him."

"Oh, Primus." Ratchet covered his face with his hand and shook his head. "Do Decepticon medics do that?"

"If the patient was incapacitated and a prisoner or something, and nobody would bother to defend him?" Frenzy shrugged. "Half the army would take advantage. Particularly if he couldn't tell anyone."

Ratchet's tank churned at that casual explanation.

"It's not like he could tell anyone," Frenzy repeated, sounding truly frightened.

"But you could."

"Tell who? I'm a prisoner. Who cares what prisoners say?" Frenzy's face turned sullen. "Tattling is a good way to get yourself fragged too."

Very clearly, very precisely, and with cold fury boiling in his tank, Ratchet said, "If anyone touches you while you're here in any way that is inappropriate, tell me. If I am not available, tell Optimus, or Prowl. I can promise you that it will be dealt with, swiftly and severely. The last time an Autobot committed such a crime, and what you imply is a crime that violates the laws of Primus, that mech was banished and shunned after forced restrictive coding was installed. I installed it."

Frenzy blinked, and stared at him.

He had a very bad feeling about sending Soundwave home in this condition - particularly since the deal was that he would be repaired before the exchange for Jazz. Technically, he was 'repaired' in that Ratchet had fixed everything that he could. He still wasn't functional.

He just didn't like it. To Frenzy, Ratchet added, "Look, I'll give you my comm frequency. If you need it, use it."

"Going home later today," Frenzy shrugged.

"Well, you can comm me from the Nemesis, too." Ratchet crouched down, to look Frenzy in the optics. Behind him Soundwave made a protesting noise, and Ratchet ignored that. He needed to talk to the mech who could understand him. "Frenzy, look. Your boss's gonna be vulnerable for a long time. Maybe forever. Maybe Megatron will do the right thing and protect him. If he doesn't, though, you want him to be safe, right?"

"Yeah." Frenzy wouldn't meet his gaze. The faux cheer and spunky defiance vanished from his stance. "Yeah, I want him to be safe."

"Frenzy ..." he'd had this conversation with countless kin over the year. He was never sure how they would react, but he sighed, then continued, "Frenzy, do you understand the concept of competency?"

"You mean can he understand enough to make decisions for himself?" Frenzy's tone was still soft. His phrasing surprised Ratchet. The kid was very intelligent, moreso than he'd expected from a tough little punk of a symbiote.

"Yeah, that." Ratchet smiled approvingly.

"Right now, even though he retains many of his intellectual faculties, he is not able to make informed decisions because he cannot understand the information, effectively ask questions, or communicate his wishes. This means that you may have to make some important choices for him, even if he doesn't like what you decide. You may piss him off, he may disagree with what you do, but you have all the data and he doesn't. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"I think so," Frenzy's voice got even smaller. He seemed to be shrinking down inside his plating. "I ... I just want him to be okay." A ghost of humor touched his face as he added, "Right away."

Ratchet sighed. "He will ... be better. He is still the Soundwave that you love, Frenzy. But it's going to be a long road and you must take charge. It won't be easy, and he probably won't like it much, but out of love for him, you will need to make some decisions for him."

"Why me?" Frenzy hugged himself. Behind him, Soundwave was shifting back and forth in the chair and spitting nonsense syllables. He added, "And he doesn't like you talking to me. He's kinda protective of us."

"It's your responsibility because you love him and you are closest to him." Ratchet glanced back at Soundwave, checking the distance between them. If Soundwave lunged for him, he was within grabbing distance. It would be a very short fight, but he'd learned the hard way not to underestimate the amount of damage a patient could do to a medic. Sometimes injured mechs seemed to have more strength than healthy ones. The dent on his cheek arch that Soundwave had given him accidentally earlier was minor compared to other damage he'd sustained from his own patients.

Jazz, of all mechs, had once ripped two of Ratchet's fingers clean off. Jazz had been hallucinating at the time, out of his mind with a virus. Another time, early in his career, a soldier had come in off the battle field in agony with thermal damage to his plating, and when Ratchet had been too slow to tend to him, he'd snagged a laser scalpel and held it to Ratchet's throat.

Soundwave remained seated. Ratchet slowly relaxed, then, a bit irritated by Soundwave's possessiveness, squeezed Frenzy's shoulder. Frenzy didn't pull away, and didn't seem to mind the touch. He kept his hand on the mech's arm in a comforting touch. Slowly, Frenzy relaxed.

Ratchet said, "You know, I wish we weren't enemies, Frenzy."

Frenzy looked away for a moment, then said, "If ... if I needed it, would you help us ... if Megatron doesn't do the right thing?"

"I would do what I could." Ratchet nodded. Actually, given what Frenzy had implied, he was prepared to do quite a bit, and Frenzy would probably be surprised by how much influence he could muster if he needed to. He simply didn't think it was right that the two of them should be in fear of assault from their fellow soldiers. He wasn't sure exactly what he would do, but offering them amnesty in exchange for intelligence about the 'cons and a safe place to stay came to mind. Pit. He'd just flat out offer them simple amnesty, if he could talk Optimus into it - and screw any deals. He was a medic first, Soundwave was his patient, and he was, by both his nature, his oaths, and his training, fiercely protective of his patients.

He's a con. We don't have the resources to spare on a potentially hopeless case, was soundly and thoroughly trumped by, He's my patient, and I think there is hope.

Optimus would completely agree with him on this matter. There were times when Optimus's moral code seemed over the top to Ratchet, but when it came to defending the helpless - and at this point, Soundwave was helpless - neither of them could turn a blind eye.

"Even if it's for Soundwave." Frenzy's tone turned challenging, and even a little angry.

"For any mech. For you."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a soft-sparked Autobot medic who swore an oath to Primus before he swore an oath to the Autobots." He rose. "Because I believe we all have basic rights that transcend faction lines. Because I've got a boss who agrees with me. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Frenzy's anger faded. He glanced up at Soundwave, who seemed to have subsided a bit.

Ratchet smiled encouragingly at him. "I ... will talk, if you need to, as well. Just don't get caught by your commanders, got me? Figure you're Soundwave's cassette, you can probably get me a message without anyone knowing about it, though. Bet you know a few tricks with comm systems - It's not about factions, but if you need any advice - medical or otherwise - or if you want to talk to someone who's impartial, I'll be here."

"Why are you doing this?" Frenzy threw his hands up. "You want intelligence?"

"Well," Ratchet scratched the side of his nose, "I wouldn't say no if you offered, because Prowl would have my plating if I did, but I'm not asking for any. I'm just worried, is all."

And again, Optimus would agree with his actions - as long as he provided a transcript on request for anything that wasn't medically confidential. This was partly because Optimus had empathy for any mech in a situation like Frenzy, and partly because, with the cold sparked calculation born of thousands of years of war, Optimus knew that forging bonds with enemy soldiers led to new spies or defections.

"Hmph." Frenzy sounded skeptical.

"Anyway. We need to get your boss clean - everywhere, if you get my drift. That weapon they hit you guys leaves a caustic residue that will cause corrosion if we don't scrub it all off, aside from it not being good to paint over any kind of grunge." Ratchet surveyed Soundwave with some unease. "Everywhere. He can't reach his backside. You think he'd be happier with you doing the scrubbing on the bits he can't reach, or you think he'd prefer me to do it?"

Frenzy threw his hands up. "I am so not washing Soundwave's aft."

Ratchet snorted a laugh. "You're gonna need to learn, kid."

"Slag. Can we call off going home?"

Ratchet rubbed a hand over his face. "I'll program a maintenance drone. It'll take more time, but it might be less trauma on all of us."

"... I don't think we've got a maintenance drone on the Nemesis that could handle that."

He couldn't help but be a little amused at the kid's complete discomfiture. It was a little cruel of him, but he had to find humor somewhere, and a very young mech squirming over the idea of needing to bathe his elder made him want to snicker. If only the kid knew just how many embarrassing things medics needed to do to patients ... this was minor.

He had a whole file of things that Frenzy - or another friend - was going to need to help Soundwave with, some of them far more intimate. The biggest issue Soundwave faced was communications, but the damage to his sensory circuits was going to cause issues with everything from his waste oil reservoirs to his power supply. Since he couldn't read his own errors, nor see many of the parts, somebody was going to need to help him with some fairly involved and intimate maintenance on a regular basis. As his circuits rewired, new problems could arise, too, so in the beginning he would require checks of his systems multiple times a day.

His amusement faded as he thought of Soundwave's likely reaction to the absolutely required care. Frenzy would rise to the occasion, he thought, but Soundwave was so slagging proud. It was not going to be easy for him, Ratchet thought, to adjust to needing help.


Optimus's trailer bumped to a halt. Soundwave, seated on the floor, didn't actually realize that the trailer had stopped moving until he - belatedly - noticed the lack of tire noise. It still felt like the world was heaving and rolling around him. The lack of a visual input inside the trailer didn't help. He'd transformed, earlier, thinking it might be easier if he subspaced most of his mass and Frenzy carried him about, but that had made it worse - something about not being able to move or look around had caused his vertigo to intensify a hundredfold.

He'd hastily reverted back to his root mode and had sat with his vents heaving, frantically blocking his momentary terror from reaching Frenzy.

Frenzy, now seated next to him, hadn't been fooled. He was clinging to Soundwave's side at the moment, too scared to bother looking tough. Only when the bolt on the door rattled did he move away and stand up, jaw setting into a stubborn mask.

The back door opened, admitting brilliant sunlight. He blinked as his optics sent him a few unexpected errors, and were slow to react. Then a shadow fell across the opening, and Ratchet was peering in. Relief flooded him with startling intensity. He hadn't expected to welcome Ratchet's arrive so much. The mech was an Autobot - the enemy!

Yet, Ratchet had been unfailingly polite and professional. He'd almost acted like he cared. He had been kind to Frenzy when most Decepticons (including Soundwave himself) would have been angry at him.

Soundwave, sucker for strong mechs, Soundwave thought, amused at his own reaction. He did like mechs with power, and Ratchet had an unmistakable air of authority.

Ratchet helped him scoot to the edge of the trailer, then signaled he should stay there with an upraised palm in a "stop" signal. Frenzy was saying something to Ratchet, and Ratchet responded with a snort and a laugh.

Frenzy felt ... odd. His presence in Soundwave's spark was muted, with jagged edges and a brittleness that hadn't been there before. However, Soundwave was surprised to feel a brief, genuine flash of pleasure from Frenzy after the exchange with Ratchet. The kid was wounded to the core of his being, and yet he was resilient. A survivor. Something in Soundwave's spark relaxed, just a little bit, as he realized that Frenzy might thrive again someday.

He wanted to see Frenzy happy. He wanted to hear his laugh, see his smile, he wanted to be secretly delighted when the kid executed a well planned prank or delivered a zinging one liner that made Starscream snarl. For now, though, he was just glad to sense that very brief moment of amusement in Frenzy's spark.

The Autobots were moving away - all were looking off to the west, so he supposed the Decepticons were on radar. Since nobody was watching them he briefly ran a hand over Frenzy's back. He was seeking comfort as much as giving it in that gentle touch. Frenzy was his, but he was also Frenzy's, and even if everything else had come apart, the two of them at least had one another.

They would be home soon. He planned to go to his own quarters, recharge for about a week, and then ... do whatever he had to, to fix things as much as he could. He needed to talk to Megatron about how to handle his ... issues ... while he was recovering.

He would recover, he vowed.

Trepidation warred with defiant denial. His mind was intact. He could be useful, valued, still.

Talk to him.

Dark, grim, amusement flickered through Soundwave's spark. He didn't bother to hide this from Frenzy, who glanced up at him. He wished he could share the black humor. He needed to talk to Megatron, and he couldn't even tell his symbiote why he found this so funny. He couldn't slagging talk!

He'd figure something out. Megatron wasn't stupid, and he was more perceptive than most believed. If he had to communicate with stick figure drawings and charades, he'd set his dignity aside and do it.

Frenzy said something, questioningly, softly, uncertainly. Worry flickered across the bond. Frenzy was concerned about why he was amused. That was weird, and it made his amusement vanish. Why would his humor worry Frenzy? He was often silently amused at the others. It was a rather normal feeling for him.

Should he feel normal? Suddenly, he realized why Frenzy was looking at him with silent concern. Despite everything - the loss of all but Frenzy, the damage - he felt fairly normal. Should be be consumed with fear and anger and grief? He blinked his optics behind the visor that the Autobots had returned to him (in perfect working odor, and cleaner than it had been in ages) and felt weirdly guilty for not being devastated into catatonia.

At his core, he was a pragmatic mech. The loss of the other five cassettes was searingly painful when he focused on it, but he had lost other bonds from both his own past masers and other symbiotes. He'd lost a true bond mate once, and had thought the pain alone from that would kill him. He had survived, he would survive ... he had to, for the little one who was currently leaning up against his plating again. The warmth of Frenzy's small body was comforting, though he would have preferred it if the kid had consented to riding in the security of his own slot.

Frenzy was refusing to return to Soundwave's dock. He'd tried a few times, and the kid had reacted with abject horror and claustrophobic fear. The last time, just before he'd entered Optimus's trailer, the reaction had included flickers of images that had lent some clarity to the reasons for Frenzy's fear.

It seemed that Frenzy had been about to leap though Soundwave's opened armor panels when the missile had hit. He'd been thrown clear and the sudden termination of five quantum bonds had rendered him unconscious. When he'd woken to find Soundwave so critically injured, he had been terrified beyond all measure.

He had desperately wanted Soundwave to live.

And then he had wanted Soundwave to hurry up and die, so he could follow, as the reality of the loss of his twin, and the other cassettes, had sunk in.

But he had lived.

And now Frenzy would not return to his slot, reliving that awful moment every time Soundwave asked.

He stroked Frenzy's back. He wouldn't ask again until Frenzy was ready, but he missed the warmth and comfort that came with keeping his symbiotes in their slots.

I should have made them load faster, he thought. If his panels had been closed, perhaps they would have lived.

Had the Autobot aimed for his open cassette dock?

He bet they had. He would have, had their roles been reversed. It was a large opening into his chassis, an easy target.

Slow anger boiled at that thought.

Frenzy was worried again.

He stroked him, but didn't block the link between them now. His emotions, and Frenzy's reactions, were the only real communication he had. Perhaps it was selfish, but they had been together for hundreds of years. They knew each other to the core of their beings. He told himself it wasn't wrong to share his emotions with his symbiote, and Frenzy was not a child, just young.

Frenzy's small hand patted his arm. Normally, Frenzy was not any more touchy-feely than Soundwave was, and this was a somewhat awkward attempt to show sympathy. He covered that small hand with his own and tried to communicate with a squeeze how much he loved the kid.

At least, he thought, at least I have him.


"Shut UP! SHUT UP!" Starscream's screech of rage was audible over the combined roar of five pairs of thrusters. Megatron didn't know whether to laugh at Starscream's outrage, or blast him on general principles. He couldn't hear what Jazz had just said to Starscream, but it had obviously incensed him.

Fifty feet above the ground, over a barren field that the Autobots had selected for the rendezvous, Starscream flung Jazz hard at the ground. Jazz hit with a crash and Megatron was still torn between amusement and irritation. He didn't particularly want this to turn into a fight - if for no reason other than that the Autobots outnumbered them - but Optimus's expression of shock was absolutely priceless.

As they landed, Jazz was picking himself up. He smirked, saluted Megatron, and said cheerfully, "It was a pleasure, as always."

Something about that tone made Megatron grit his denta. Jazz skipped across the ground to Optimus ... favoring them with an upraised finger as he did. It was a very human gesture, but he'd seen Shockwave's brats exchange that hand sign often enough. He understood it to be a rank, low class insult.

Thoughts of Shockwave made him look over to the mech, who was still seated on Optimus's trailer. Shockwave looked ... odd.

He also looked stunningly handsome. Megatron, mostly in an effort to be irritating, had bargained for Shockwave to be returned not just repaired but with his bodywork complete, his armor repainted, and his entire frame detailed. He scowled at the sight of Soundwave now, recognizing a classic Autobot response to that demand - they hadn't just painted him, but someone had given him a paint job worthy of the finest Towers mech. The bastards had turned that demand back on Megatron in a way he couldn't possibly complain about without looking like a complete ninny.

Optimus, I'm outraged! He looks too pretty! You fulfilled the terms of our deal too well!

He could already hear Starscream's mocking cackles of laughter.

And ... the truth was, Soundwave looked gorgeous. The paint job was Soundwave's familiar colors and design, but the paint itself was a deeply lustrous, metallic, and seemed to practically glow in the sunlight. Every spot of chrome was polished, his glass cleaned, and the struts and wires visible through cracks in his armor had been retouched to a rich, deep matte black.

He'd long ago admitted that Soundwave was a good looking mech. Soundwave was pointedly not interested in interfacing (with anyone). Megatron had coaxed him into 'facing a few times anyway, then had given that up as being less rewarding than it sounded. Soundwave had just been too polite about it. If Megatron wanted to 'face him he would spread his legs wide and let him, without complaint, and with technically good skill, but there had not been any passion evident from him.

Since Megatron preferred his lovers with a little more enthusiasm, he'd given up. Soundwave was pretty, but he just wasn't much fun in the berth. And he was a good officer, and Megatron knew the mech was truly loyal.

However, as he studied Soundwav now, he realized there was something was wrong. Soundwave hadn't moved, hadn't said a word, had not even stood up, but Frenzy looked terrified. Frenzy was not good at hiding his emotions at all, and Megatron often used him - and the other blasted little glitches - as barometers to judge Soundwave's real mood. He'd determined long ago that Soundwave's attitude always impacted the behavior of his little gang of troublemakers.

He wasn't going to miss them much ... well, except for Laserbeak. He'd always liked her.

Starscream snarled, "Soundwave, stand up and salute your master, or has your vacation amid the Autobots made you forget how a real military organization is run?"

Sotto voice, Jazz whispered, "... It's almost like he thinks the Decepticons are a proper army."

Besides Optimus, the assembled Autobots included Ratchet, Prowl, Bluestreak (armed with a hefty laser rifle), both of the Prime-bedamned Lamborghini twins, and Ironhide. The red twin snorted a laugh at Jazz's comment and Jazz grinned wickedly. The others looked varyingly amused. Starscream snarled.

"Soundwave let's go. if we stay any longer, Optimus's court jester might learn to be funny." Megatron imperiously waved Soundwave over.

At his gesture, Soundwave started to rise. Ratchet, who was next to him, reached out, caught Soundwave's elbow, and pulled him to his feet. Megatron, baffled, watched as the medic guided Soundwave over. His third-in-command was weaving on his feet like he was overenergized to the point of passing out, and he was not normally a mech who drank at all. He clung to Ratchet's shoulder, and Ratchet had a tight grip on his hip.

"Ratchet needs to give you some information," Optimus said, following cautiously.

"You drugged him!" Starscream shouted. "How dare you!"

"No," Hook said, softly, disagreeing. "Ratchet ... how bad?"

"Could be worse." Ratchet sighed.

"Chance of recovery?"

"Depends on him and you." Ratchet pressed his lips together, meeting the other medic's eyes, then flicking a quick glance in Megatron's direction. "Depends on if he gets the care he needs. Depends on how he's treated. Depends on a lot of things. Dumb luck. Depends on how much nanoscale damage there is that I couldn't detect."

"He's not fully repaired!" Starscream shouted, tone somewhere between anger and delight.

Megatron was not enough of an optimist to think that the glee in Starscream's voice had to do with the Autobots failing to carry through with their part of the deal. Starscream had little love for Soundwave, viewing him as the competition - and particularly dangerous competition, at that.

"Soundwave," Megatron said, with a sigh, "Let's go home. I'll have a proper medic repair you. These Autobots are incompetent idiots, all of them."

Hook asked hesitantly, "Sir, may I question the Autobot medic for a moment?"

Soundwave hadn't said a word. Frenzy was staring up at Megatron, however, optics huge and terrified. Frenzy normally wasn't openly frightened of him. Megatron couldn't figure out why the kid was so scared. Maybe losing the others had just glitched him out.

"What?" He demanded of Hook.

"I think ..." Hook was clearly nervous. "Ratchet, his neural circuitry was damaged, wasn't it? His posture is ... distinctive."

"I have data file with the details," Ratchet met Megatron's suddenly alarmed stare without fear or hesitation. "I have done my absolute best to repair him. Physically, he is in perfect condition. I spent twenty-six hours personally putting him back together, Megatron, and you are well aware of my skills. However, part of his sensory circuitry was damaged beyond repair, and the connections between his optical and auditory feeds and his language centers have been very badly damaged."

The medic calmly handed him a datafile. Megatron was struck by how absurdly normal it felt to simply take the file from Ratchet. It was, for one startling moment, as if Ratchet was just a doctor, not the pit-slagging Autobot medic, a deadly warrior in his own right and an politician he'd loathed from before the war.

He was not a scientist or a medic, however. He started to hand the datapad to Hook, but Starscream intercepted it. "Who's the expert on neural circuitry here? Yes, me, thank you."

"You were a researcher," Ratchet ground out, making researcher sound obscene. "Not a medic."

"Yes, well, we've all had to learn to make repairs - though I imagine your medics do more repairs than ours do," Starscream snapped. He frowned as he flicked through the data. "I'm certainly qualified to interpret scans ... Megatron, they cheated us."

Megatron growled, "How bad?"

"That thing," Starscream flipped a hand at Soundwave, "Isn't our favorite communications officer. That thing can't understand language, it can't walk, it can't talk. It doesn't have a comm at all. It can't even dump waste oil without help because those sensors are glitched. Slag, I'd want to be dead in that position."

"He can think," Ratchet said, quietly.

"He can't understand us." Starscream shoved the datapad at Hook. "Tell him, Hook."

The Constructicon medic scanned through the data swiftly. Then, grimly, and with real anger, he said, "If I had a patient in this condition, I would offline him. You cannot fix that kind of damage. It won't autorepair and he'll never be able to function."

"That is not true." Ratchet seemed angry at Hook's words. "I've personally seen mechs recover ..."

"That is my experience."

"I'd note," Ratchet snorted, "That I'm a lot older than you are."

Megatron ignored the exchange between the two medics. Starscream wouldn't lie to him about this sort of thing. He stared at Sound - at what had been Soundwave - and real pain bloomed in his spark. He did like Soundwave. However, the swaying ... thing ... before them hadn't said a word in his own defense. Soundwave wasn't exactly verbose under the best of situations, but he would have expected him to speak up long before now!

"Soundwave, talk to me," Megatron said, hearing a note of pleading in his voice. It hurt. He just wanted his communications officer back. He wanted that steady, unfailing, unflappable support. Soundwave was the one officer he'd always relied upon, always counted on, always trusted to be there, to pull through, and to never betray him.

"He ... he can't talk. But he'll get better!" Frenzy stammered.

"Feh. They only saved is life so they could trade him for Jazz." Starscream snorted. "Shoulda let him die. It's cruel to keep him alive like this."

"No!" Frenzy shouted. "No, he wants to live!"

Ratchet said, quietly, "Megatron, you should know that patients like this often recover markedly - there's some details in that file I gave him about my suggested course of therapy. It is entirely possible that he will regain a significant amount of function."

"Yeah, he might someday be able to do basic labor or aim a gun in the direction we tell him." Hook's lips curled into a sneer. "He won't be Soundwave. Starscream's right, Megatron. He's slagged. There's nothing of Soundwave left."

Soundwave uttered a soft, sharp, burst of static. It might have been words, but there was no meaning to be detected in them. He sounded scared, and Megatron had never known Soundwave to show fear.

Rage consumed him, suddenly. "How do I know," Megatron spun to face Optimus, "How do I know you didn't decide to do this to him? I brought you Jazz back unharmed and you give me a broken thing back that was my favorite officer. How dare you! I thought you had more honor than this! How could you be so cruel to do this to him?"

They'd done this. It had to have been deliberate. Soundwave, his communciations officer, was now unable to communicate. What a coup for the Autobots! He had nobody that could step into Soundwave's tracks and take over his job.

Optimus replied, "Soundwave's injury is a direct result of your actions, Megatron. You attacked us unprovoked. Do not blame us for this."

"My fault? My fault? This is his fault!" He raised his gun and aimed it at the medic, intending to hurt Optimus as much as Soundwave's fate hurt him. Ratchet had done this to Soundwave. Ratchet needed to die. Soundwave's visor glinted as he shoved Ratchet away from him, and that brief moment showed intent and comprehension and oh slag, what if Starscream was wrong?

"No!" Frenzy screamed, leaping, even as Ratchet ducked. Frenzy's small body latched onto Megatron's arm. "No! No, he didn't do anything, don't ..."

He flung the kid off. He could see Soundwave toppling to the ground out of the corner of his eye, unable event to stand without help.

The medic had done that to Soundwave. Soundwave was fritzing static now, scrabbling on the ground, repeatedly trying to get up and falling back. That brief moment where he'd seemed to be alert was gone. Surely, if he was flopping around like that, he had no sentience left.

Megatron knew he wouldn't want to live that way, and he couldn't be wrong, and he was just so angry. In actual good faith, because he didn't want to risk Soundwave's plating, he'd brought Jazz back unharmed. A third in command for a third in command ... it had been a fair trade. He'd bargained honestly for once.

The Autobots had tried to give him back a broken, sparkless thing and they'd made him pretty, as if that would fool him. Soundwave wasn't pretty - oh, Megatron had enjoyed looking at him, but it wasn't about pretty with Soundwave. He was efficient, loyal, competent, and the only officer that Megatron could truly rely on.

And now he was destroyed past all repair. It hurt.

"Damn you!" Frenzy screamed, again, even as Megatron brought his weapon up to end the miserable, pathetic thing that had once been his favorite officer. He'd kill the others later. That thing needed to die. He told himself he was doing it for Soundwave, who would have wanted to be terminated if he was ever this badly crippled.

He pulled the trigger but even as he did, Frenzy leaped at him a second time. The blast caught Frenzy square in the chest. The cassette flipped end over end into the dirt. The thing on the ground screamed in high, wordless rage, thrashed, then started dragging itself over the ground to the body.

Optimus's weapons snarled to life. Ratchet, a laser scalpel in hand, lunged at him. Jazz, somehow already armed, started firing. Bluestreak was bringing that laser cannon to bear.

"Retreaaaaaaaaaaat!" He screamed, seeing unmitigated fury in the optics of every Autobot.

Well, he had threatened their medic. Still, the outraged anger he heard from them, and the way they earnestly tried to slag him as he fled, seemed all out of proportion to the crime. He didn't quite understand why they were so upset.

Slaggit, he was going to miss Soundwave. The Autobots would certainly offline that ... thing ... he'd seen crawling in the dirt. They would have no reason to keep it alive, would they? They had Jazz back.

Well, it didn't matter. Soundwave was gone. That was just his husk.

He'd put an extra special bounty on Jazz's head. They shouldn't have tried to trick him.

:Slaggers shot up my landing gear!: Starscream complained. :Primus. If you'd just listened to me, Megatron, we'd still have Jazz.:

:You're the one who released him before we even landed, idiot!:

:He bounced good, too. Did you see that? I shoulda dropped him from higher up.:

:Shut up, Starscream.:

:Shoulda thrown him so he landed on Optimus. That would have been hilarious.:

:Starscream ...: Megatron aimed his plasma cannon. :Shut up.:

Starscream didn't shut up until Megatron actually singed his plating. The seeker was in far too cheerful of a mood to heed Megatron's subtler warnings.

Hook said, :Megatron, for what it's worth, I think you did the right thing in not taking him back. What's left of Soundwave would have no place in our army. I'm sure that the Autobots will give him a peaceful, painless end. He's earned that much. He was very loyal to you, and I believe he actually cared about you.:

:Shut up, Hook.:

At least Hook listened better than Starscream did.