Frog: Let's see what the Autobot commanders are up to, shall we? ;) LOTS of exposition in this chapter, I hope you don't mind, I just have a lot of stuff I need to explain so that the rest of the story will make sense. Though perhaps to some extent this chapter will just leave you with a whole lot more questions XD I promise to answer all of them eventually, cross my heart.
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Time measurements to approximate Earth equivalent:
Klik: 1 minute
Breem: 6 minutes
Joor: 6 hours
Orn: 360 hours (2 weeks)
Iorn: 540 hours (3 weeks)
Cycle: 60 days (8.5 weeks). One Cycle is defined by two Iorns (light shifts) and one Orn (dark-shift). Could be compared to one Cybertronian day.
Para-Cycle: 12 cycles (2 years)
Vorn: 7 Para-Cycles (84 years)
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Chapter 3: Bright Lights and Harsh Shadows
Iacon Central Command; a massive complex of spiraling towers and broad buildings. The hub of Cybertronian government, economics, ingenuity, spirituality, and security. More bots lived and worked within its confines than some small provinces. Physically, it was a city unto itself, complete with small shops and apartments. Those that worked here need never leave, though most did when they had the chance.
Metroplex, many of the populace had come to call it, as Iacon Central Command was something of a mouthful, was a place of ambition and bright ideas. Of science and secrets. Of age old tradition and new-fangled ideals.
Time passed differently here. The highest officials worked continuously, having very little to any concept of shifts or the passing Cycles. The entire complex ran on generator power, even during the brighter Iorn shifts, so the streets were always lit and the bots that traversed them always busy. It was a city that knew nothing of rest.
It was the job of but a singular bot to make sure Metroplex remained safe.
Red Alert was a mech above reproach, or at least he felt he should be. He answered directly to the High Council and while he may have worked closely with the Autobot Protection Force, this was his jurisdiction and not even the Prime would dare to cross him. Relatively young and considered very talented, especially for an apprenticed mech that lost his teacher at a young age, Red Alert took his job very, very seriously. He was something of a joke in Metroplex for that last bit, but even more so was he a force to be reckoned with when his security protocols were breached.
So when aforementioned mech stormed into the Prime's office unannounced, Optimus Prime was quick to give him his full attention. "Red Alert?"
He said nothing at first, his tense expression relaying that he was trying to find words to his current frustrations. Soundwave, commander of the Enforcer's wing of the Autobot Protection Force, slipped in at this point, as stoic and silent as ever, watching with what had always seemed to Optimus to be an eternal well of patience as the Security Director regained his bearings.
"They're at it again!" Red Alert finally snapped. Optimus required no further clarification and dropped his helm in exasperation.
"What did they do this time?"
The red and white mech cast a glance at the silent femme next to him. "What do you think? They got out, raised some Pit, and to top it all off Steeljaw has been captured."
Soundwave gave a silent nod of confirmation, as a frown past through the Prime's optics. He had worked with the blue femme for a very long time, and though he had never once heard her speak, he had picked up more than a few things about the ways she did choose to communicate. Body language, however slight, was how Soundwave chose to project what she dared not even write in a report. Something about her stance told him more than words ever did. It was a bizarre sort of understanding they shared that he had never fully understood, but was grateful for nonetheless.
"I assume that is not your only concern," Optimus shifted his gaze back to the Security Director. "The Decepticons…well one of the Decepticons has gone around snatching cyber-cats before. Retrieving Steeljaw from them should not give us much trouble."
"Blaster was a witness to the abduction."
Optimus nodded slowly. "So he will have to be educated on the matter I suppose. It's unfortunate that he is so young."
"Most certainly," but the red and white mech still looked troubled, "However, these events have brought another issue to light."
The Prime wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Go on…"
Red Alert looked to Soundwave again, who to the average mech looked just as drone-like as ever, but to those who really knew her, she was radiating displeasure as the Security Director announced the source of her ire. "Jazz has resurfaced."
There was a thoughtful pause. "I see," Optimus steepled his hands. "Shall I give the word to bring him in for questioning?"
Both mechs turned simultaneously to Soundwave once again and she promptly indicated a firm 'no' with a slight shake of her helm. Red Alert released a heavy sigh, crossing his arms as he proceeded to pace what little floor there was in the Prime's humble office.
"And why is that?" He asked lowly, casting a glare at the royal blue femme.
Optimus gave a thoughtful hum. "Perhaps the two incidences are related?"
"Unlikely. As you said, this particular Decepticon has been committing similar felonies for entertainment for vorns now."
"Then why would Jazz show up at all?"
"He's probably after something, if we are to assume from his prior patterns," Red Alert whirled quickly to face the Prime. "Which is fine in and of itself, the problem therein is that bots tend to go missing when he's around."
"Do you have a proposition?"
"We keep tabs on him, see if we can figure out what he's after without making a scene," Red Alert surmised, gesturing expressively as he again resumed pacing. "Soundwave, I think it's safe to assume that's why you ordered your ward to remain with Kup's team until further notice?"
Soundwave nodded in approval as the Security Director continued.
"Excellent. We can keep Blaster there under the guise of work-study. Youngling's restless enough as it is. I welcome a Cycle or so of not having him around to encourage those infernal twins."
"I will arrange for one of my informed agents to visit at the beginning of every shift," Optimus confirmed.
"Jazz will know what we're up to, no doubt."
"No doubt," the Prime agreed. "We will choose to hope for the time being that such knowledge will keep him in line. Unpredictable though he is, we've managed to reason with him before."
"Good," Red Alert gave a sharp nod. "Keep me updated, and let me know the instant he appears to be up to anything shady. I may not be involved with the Autobots, but you know there will eventually be grave consequences if we can't keep Jazz under control."
"Yes. Thank you Red Alert."
The Security Director promptly turned from the room and strode back down the hall. Optimus turned his attention back to Soundwave, concern haunting his optics as he studied her posture. "If you are worried for Blaster—"
She raised a hand to stop him and as usual, he understood without really needing to be told. There was nothing that could be done for her Apprentice at this point. He had already seen too much for them to pass the incident off as something else. He would have to be told the truth and if there was one thing Optimus Prime loathed it was revealing the transgressions of past Primes.
Shaking his helm of that thought, Optimus gave a nod of dismissal and Soundwave left just as quietly as she had come in. He remained motionless at his desk awhile longer before finally giving in and activating his com.
::Bumblebee, your presence is required in my office::
::Yes sir!::
Came the expected exuberant reply. Optimus returned to the forms on his desk as he waited for the yellow mech to arrive.
Personally, the Autobot Commander far preferred the Cycles prior to his becoming Prime. Every time he had to call a bot to his office, especially one as enthusiastic as Bumblebee, it reminded him of what it was like to actually be out working in the field. What it felt like to see the good he was doing with his own optics as opposed to reading endlessly about it in reports as those duties were delegated to mechs of lesser status.
He, like most every Prime before him going back almost more vorns than records could account for, had been apprenticed by the Prime before. Chosen as a youngling by the Matrix of Leadership for bearing a character that it alone could see and then was raised and educated in Metroplex ever since. It was what he had been trained for since he was just a youngling and, as was expected of all apprenticed mechs, he fit the position like a glove.
The Enforcers were the largest portion under his command. Theirs was a task of keeping the peace on the civilian level. They imposed the laws passed by the High Council and handled manners of civil disturbance. Investigative work was also common among their ranks and honestly Optimus had never been good at that angle. He much preferred mysteries stay out in the open…if only it were that simple. No, he was quite keen to just let Soundwave handle that part of the job.
The Sentrium had the unique honor of being a paradox unto itself by being both the smallest and the largest Autobot branch of the three. This was Cybertron's militia, a civilian army should the need to defend their planet ever arise. War was a downright filthy word on the metal planet and most inhabitants believed themselves to be quite indestructible as it was. What did they have to fear in the universe? Not many civilizations had technology as advanced as theirs and organic life was inherently fragile while their metal frames were adaptable and strong. Optimus wholly disagreed with this sense of security, as did most Primes before him, but the populace would have none of it and so no official army existed, only a long list of names of bots that would enlist should the need ever arise. So as they were not in wartime, the Sentrium only had a small handful of officers with far too much free time on their hands. Ironhide in particular, as commander of the Sentrium, could use a hobby that didn't involve weaponry.
Last was secretly Optimus' favorite position, the Protectoriate. These were the first responders, offering a wide variety of skills and backgrounds that served Cybertron when emergencies came up. Equipped for fires, viral breakouts, and the occasional catastrophic system melt-down, the Protectoriate was easily the most glamorous department an Autobot could be a part of and, quite honestly, it required a special talent to pass inspection. If Ratchet had his way, almost no one would be worthy to join (not enough spark, or too squeamish and all that), but he had retired a few vorns back and the position now fell on Inferno's ever-ready shoulders.
Though…Ratchet wasn't exactly down for the count just because he had retired from the position. The High Council had been pretty quick to snatch him up as Metroplex's Chief Medical Officer. The mech had been around since Optimus first came to the capital sector, and it was honestly reassuring to know the grouchy old medic was still around. Even if their respective duties did not often have them crossing paths.
Optimus flicked his optics down at the data pad dumbly, realizing that in his straying thoughts he had only been holding the thing and not actually looking at it. If he had at least looked at it, his optics would subconsciously commit the information to his short term memory. Great, now he would have to devote some conscious effort.
Perhaps it was time for him to take a shift off. He had been working for too many Cycles straight without a proper break. He would have to see to it after Bumblebee arrived.
Speaking of which…
"Bumblebee reporting, sir," the intercom outside his door buzzed.
"Yes, come in," he pushed what he was sure was a wholly uninteresting data pad aside to give the scout his attention. The yellow mini-bot worked for the Protectoriate, his compact frame making him perfect for investigating unstable structures before larger mechs got in and got themselves hurt in a miscalculation of structure solidity. Pressure damage did little to his armor, so he could survive being buried under a collapsed piece of machinery with little fear so long as he didn't try to move. Most importantly, he always had a chipper grin that just infected everyone around him.
"This job is going to be a little different than what you're used to," Optimus began thoughtfully as Bumblebee came to stand on the other side of his desk, albeit barely able to see over the top, "and truthfully, you may be too qualified, but at present I cannot risk tasking any of my Enforcers to the job."
"Why is that sir?" Bumblebee put in curiously.
"Time constraints. I'm not sure how long this will need to go on. It may be until the end of the Cycle, or it may be for several Cycles in a row. The nature of this assignment is still unclear."
The mini-bot tilted his helm to side. "And what assignment is that?"
Optimus studied the mech before him briefly. Sometimes it was so hard to believe what all he knew.
"I shall try to be brief…"
"With you sir, that tends to be very difficult," Bumblebee commented with a playful grin. The Prime allowed some amusement to glint his optics, but did not give into the urge to chuckle.
"The Decepticons are at it again."
The yellow mech promptly sobered himself. "You don't mean Vortex, do you?"
Optimus gave a long-suffering sigh. "It would appear to be him, yes. I don't know any others that are so devoted to cyber-cat snatching," he shook his helm and with it, the annoyance in his voice. "Rest assured your assignment deals nothing with him."
Bumblebee uttered a soft sigh of relief. "So what's wrong, then?"
"Evidently, Steeljaw was captured," he watched as the young mech's jaw slackened, "and Blaster was witness to the…assault for lack of a more appropriate term. He is young, perhaps too young to realize the weight of what he's discovered."
"That…is a problem," Bumblebee muttered, crossing his arms in thought.
The Autobot leader allowed him to properly absorb that information before he continued. "The main reason I am giving you this assignment is because Blaster trusts you," the Prime explained with earnest. "Due to some parallel circumstances, we are having him stay with the Enforcers in the local area the altercation took place."
"Go on."
"Does the designation Jazz have a place in your memory banks?"
"Maybe vaguely," he rubbed his helm awkwardly. "I'm not as young as I look, you know. It was still awhile ago when that whole mess went down. But…yeah, I think I remember hearing a Jazz somewhere in there…"
"All you need to know at present is that we need to keep tabs on him. Be on the look-out for anything suspicious in any part of the command hub."
"Who is he?"
Optimus paused. "He is a highly specialized agent, one that does not always follow the rules, but ultimately he's on our side."
Bumblebee's frown deepened. "A lot of bots fit into that category, don't they…"
"Indeed…"
"So check in on Blaster, make sure he's okay, and also keep an optic on this Jazz character, right?"
"Precisely," the Prime nodded. "To avoid too much suspicion, you are not to stay there constantly. Return to your post by the end of the Orn, and then check on them again once your shift is over. We will decide what to do from there."
"Yes sir. I'll be on my way then."
"Very good. And Bumblebee?"
"Hm?"
"Blaster…doesn't know about the Decepticons yet. I intend to tell him once we retrieve Steeljaw, but for now..."
"Keep it a secret?"
Optimus nodded, feeling a twinge of bitterness in his spark at the prospect. "Yes, that will be a great help."
"I'll do that sir. Don't worry."
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"Why does Blaster get to have all the fun? Why can't we ever go outside Metroplex? Why can't I have a cyber-cat too? Why—"
Ratchet was very tempted to just shut off his audios. It didn't matter how often he told Sideswipe 'No', the youngling would still come up with new ways to word his questions, or new queries entirely until he was finally distracted. Unfortunately, it was generally frowned upon to tune out one's own creations, and thus Ratchet had no choice but to listen and hope that the red youngling would give up soon.
As a medic, Ratchet was infamous for his creative means of always getting his way as well as his sharp (often painful) wit. As former leader of the Protectoriate, he had been known throughout Cybertron for his steely calm even in the face of Cybertron's most horrific disasters, as well as his high standards for anyone that wished to answer to him.
As a creator of a rare set of twins…well no one really had a comment about that. If they felt negatively, they knew better than to say anything. After all, Ratchet had a lot to deal with tending to aged council members and idiots who thought of new and inventive ways of getting themselves hurt in an otherwise very peaceful sector. No one could blame him for being too busy to attentively raise the younglings.
No one but himself, that is.
"Shut up 'Sides!" Sunstreaker, the yellow half of Ratchet's frequent processor aches, snapped irritably at his twin.
"But it's not faaaaiiiirrr…." Sideswipe whined back. Ratchet sighed at last, giving the younglings a look over his shoulder as he arranged his tools for an upcoming procedure.
"Blaster is a whole five vorns older than you and a responsible apprentice. Perhaps if you two could show you were responsible enough, I might have the inclination to consider letting you visit Iacon."
"By ourselves?" Sideswipe asked, a little too excitedly.
"Never without a chaperone, no."
"Ugghhh…" the youngling rolled onto his back so that he could give the ceiling a clear vision of his best dejected face.
"I don't see how him being an apprentice makes 'im so special," Sunstreaker put in sullenly after a klik of silence.
"He receives special training."
Sideswipe hopped back to his feet and wandered up to his creator's side, trying to see what the white mech was doing even though he wasn't really interested. "Why don't we get special training, Ratchet?"
The medic paused momentarily. "What type of training would you want?"
Sideswipe's optics brightened and he looked to Sunstreaker hopefully. "Would we be apprentices?"
Ratchet allowed a small grin in amusement. "You wouldn't really want that, would you?"
"Yeah 'Sides. You know how unhappy Blaster is about being an apprentice," Sunstreaker crossed his arms huffily.
"Rewind doesn't mind. Rumble and Frenzy don't either."
"Rumble and Frenzy are sparklings. They don't know any better," the yellow youngling rolled his optics, "and Rewind is weird…hey Ratchet, why does Soundwave have so many apprentices?"
"Not my concern."
"Why not?" Came Sideswipe's favorite question of all time.
"Blaster says it's 'cause none of them are good enough to do everything she does, so she has to split it up," Sunstreaker reasoned. Sideswipe pondered this before half-shrugging.
"You can't listen to everything Blaster says," Ratchet reminded them both with a sigh.
"I thought he was responsible."
Ratchet turned to give Sunstreaker a tempered glare. "By responsible I meant he can handle himself. He still has much to learn and he does not leave Metroplex alone, much the same as you wouldn't."
"But now Steeljaw's gone," the red twin piped up.
Ratchet froze more fully at that. "And where did you hear that, youngling?" He struggled to not make the question sound like a demand. He had only been informed of the situation himself about a joor ago, as Optimus often told him when these types of situations presented themselves. In some ways it was an honor to be the Prime's confidant, in others, he really wished he didn't know.
"Rewind told us when we went to go find Blaster," Sideswipe explained casually. "He also said that cyber-cats require only half the charge that us younglings do! Did you know that, Ratchet? That's why we should have a cyber-cat too! They don't use that much energy and it could help you around the med-bay!"
"Cyber-cats are not pets, Sideswipe, they are tools."
"That's not nice, Ratchet! Steeljaw has feelings too!"
"Fine, they're tools with feelings."
Sideswipe frowned up at him with a huff and meandered back to where he and his brother were supposed to be studying, but as usual had been using conversation as a means of slacking off. Ratchet had given up trying to get them to focus a long time ago, it was their own loss if they didn't finish, and he just didn't have the time to constantly redirect them. Besides, when they got bored with trying to distract themselves, they did get some work done.
Education was something of an odd phenomenon on their planet. All necessary information could be downloaded, but just because a bot knew something didn't mean they understood it. Therefore, education centered mostly on developing comprehension. There was no formal method of schooling beyond apprenticeship. A creator would simply provide their youngling with information that they deemed important and assist in developing understanding when necessary. Beyond that, most non-apprenticed Cybertronians were self-taught on into adulthood. There were few standards for what a bot must know and, given their long life spans, education could be taken at whatever pace an individual wished to learn.
"This is boring," Sunstreaker complained after a few kliks of blessed quiet during which Ratchet could finish his preparations. "Why do we need to understand what energon does?"
"It's important that you understand how bots function properly," was the coolly spoken answer before the medic paused/ "Do you understand it?"
Sunstreaker flicked his optics down to his data pad a few times. "Umm, yes?"
"Ooh! Ooh! I know!" Sideswipe chirped, bouncing on the floor. "Energon is a super awesome container for energy!"
"Indeed," Ratchet confirmed, "but it is also a conductor of energy. Our frames are powered by our sparks, but our sparks need to be recharged to maintain full function."
"So energon!" The red twin cheered brightly.
"The energon acts as a battery, providing a constant supply of energy for a spark to distribute."
"And when it runs out you have to get more energon or you'llll wiiind yuuurrssseeellllfff dooooowwwnnn toooooo staaaaaaaaaaasssssssiiiiiiii sssssssss," Sideswipe droned, putting on quite a show of a mech who was slowly shutting down, ending with a spectacularly dramatic collapse to the floor. Sunstreaker was unimpressed by his theatrics and snorted.
"Do you understand now?" Ratchet asked lightly, looking up as the med-bay doors opened to allow his appointed patient in.
"I guess…" the yellow youngling muttered, already collecting his belongings and giving his still motionless brother a good kick to the back of the helm.
Sideswipe sat up immediately with a pout. "Heey!"
"Out of the med-bay, you two," Ratchet waved them off. "I've got work to do."
"Yes Ratchet," they answered on impulse, neither too keen on having to wander bored through Metroplex with nothing to do but dreadful 'learning'.
"And younglings?"
Sideswipe paused to look back at their creator, Sunstreaker did not.
"Steer clear of the labs on Level 5. I know you like to visit Wheeljack, but they're running tests for the Orn and they don't need you two getting in the way."
"Aww, but then where are we s'posed to go?"
Ratchet considered their options and sighed. "Go see what Ironhide's up to."
The twins perked up at that idea and scurried from the room with renewed excitement. Ratchet shook his helm, partly in exasperation, partly in amusement as he turned to his patient. She smiled cheekily at him in turn.
"I don't see why everyone's always complaining about those two, they seem delightful enough to me."
"You would think that, wouldn't you," he answered back dully. "You say your shoulder strut has been giving you trouble?"
The femme settled herself casually on the med-bay table, shrugging with her one good shoulder. "Must of bumped it, it's almost unusable."
Ratchet quirked and optic ridge before beginning his scans. "With you, Chromia, I'm not entirely sure what a 'bump' entails."
The blue femme smirked at him. "Well a nudge is a fist to the faceplates, if that gives you any idea."
"And you wonder why your brother was put in charge of Sentrium and not you?"
"I used to," Chromia mused, "then I discovered it's because Ironhide's a big softy."
"Oh I'm sure that's it."
"Well you did just send your creations off to him. Goodness knows you'd never make the mistake of sending them to me."
"There is something to be said for restraint, yes."
She huffed and moved to cross her arms, only to have the injured one shoved back into a proper position for Ratchet to begin repairs. "Restraint is overrated."
"In some circles, I'm sure it is," the medic nearly growled as he began digging through the mess of wires in the femme's shoulder, "but not here."
Chromia sighed dramatically, but other than that remained silent as she let the CMO do his work. Ratchet cursed after a moment, pulling out a different tool. "It's a mess in there! How can your armor show no signs of damage?! It looks like you got ground between a shuttle's ankle gears!"
"Met a nice detailist, patched the outside right up!" She swung her legs casually over the edge of the table. "His designation is Tracks if you're interested. Might be able to help with all those nasty chips in your chevron."
Ratchet jerked his helm away before she could pinch said addition to his helm and gave her a glare. "I don't have time to be concerned with such pittance."
"Is that even a word?"
He jabbed the tool into her shoulder with more force than was certainly necessary, causing her to hiss softly in discomfort before she once again regained feeling all up and down her arm. "Nice work, doc…"
He replaced her shoulder armor, still scowling. "Do me a favor, would you?"
"Depends on what kind of favor you're looking for," she gave him an expectant look as she rolled the newly repaired shoulder experimentally.
"Be a good example to them."
"Who?"
"You know very well who," he nodded toward her shoulder. "Your mate is counting on you, whether you realize it or not."
"I'm not sure he cares as much as you'd like to think he does," Chromia half-smirked, though her tone remained serious.
Ratchet turned to cleaning up his tools with a sigh. "Perhaps not. But sooner rather than later, he will have to…I suggest you prepare yourself now."
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Frog: Questions/comments/reviews in general are all appreciated :D Thanks for reading, and hopefully the next chapter won't be too long in coming ;)