Title: Tribute
Universe: G1
Disclaimer: I don't own them, and the world's safer that way :)


He stopped in the open doorway, his momentum lost now that he had actually arrived. Just what was he intending to do here? Rescue some small portion of the contents? To what purpose? And store it where? Besides, it was not so much the loss of the things but of the place that had driven him to race over here ahead of the clearing squad.

The problem, as so often was the case these days, was the new regime. Autobot City had been given to Blaster to manage, and as far as he was concerned this room could stay like it was for the rest of eternity without being disturbed. But one of the new arrivals had fancied it as a studio, and when he had been turned down and told why he had gone to Ultra Magnus who had ordered it emptied immediately.

Blaster's delaying tactics had failed - there were now only groons until a maintenance detail would come in and clear out everything within. The best the frazzled city commander had managed was to get permission for mechs like Grapple to go and retrieve 'their' belongings first.

It did have to be emptied, he supposed. There were all kinds of things in here that might degrade over time and explode, or get dislodged and explode, or be on some randomly set timer and explode... In truth, it was a miracle that nothing had exploded yet.

He cautiously took a step inside. Nothing stirred. The lab was the same chaotic mess it had been when Wheeljack had abandoned it in response to the battle alert as Trypticon had approached.

Half-built somethings were strewn about, mixed with half-drunk cubes of now-degraded energon and note-filled datapads and circuitry with tangled, trailing wires. In one corner he saw a set of schematics for the Dinobots. On a cluttered bench, the mangled and melted remains of a failed experiment. Piled by a cupboard, a haphazard collection of parts of human-made vehicles.

But it was not the experiments that were the most difficult for him to cope with. Wheeljack had blown up his own creations often enough that it was almost expected.

It was knowing that this would no longer be Wheeljack's space that hurt the most.

Sure, this lab was fairly new - Autobot City had been built so recently - but this had always been part of the design specs. Right down to the reinforced walls, ceiling and floor to contain accidents and the complex atmosphere filtering system to stop the escape of gases harmful to their organic allies.

It had been designed for him, structured for him, built for him, and the idea of someone else being in here so soon after his demise seemed repellent. Particularly given how much space there was here on Earth. There was no pressure for accommodation - could they not at least wait a vorn out of respect for the recently fallen?

"Grapple?" a voice behind him called.

"I don't know what to do, Hoist. It's not right. They shouldn't be doing this."

"They'll be here in a groon."

"Then we'll seal the door so they can't get in. You can weld it shut..."

"They'll just break it down."

"Whose side are you on?" he demanded angrily, turning, then gaped as he saw that Hoist was not alone. "Jazz?"

The once-cheery ex-third-in-command did not attempt to smile or even to meet his gaze, simply staring into the cluttered space.

"Y'right." he agreed dully. "They don't respect it. An' we ain't got the time for anythin' subtle but they ain't gettin' their hands on it, either. Leave it t'me."

Hoist grabbed his arm and pulled him out and away across the courtyard.

"What's he going to do?" Grapple hissed at him.

"What Wheeljack would've wanted. Now come on - he said we shouldn't be here when it happens."


A breem later the entire lab was destroyed in an explosion that somehow avoided doing more than minor damage to the buildings around it, but left not a trace of the workshop that had been there. Red Alert ordered an investigation into the cause but none was ever identified, and when rumours started up that it was Wheeljack's ghost saying goodbye the investigators gave up in disgust.

Grapple tried several times to find Jazz to thank him but the wily mech had always been hard to pin down unless he wanted to be found and these days he rarely did.

It was not, perhaps, the best solution in terms of the knowledge that had been lost, and it was the destruction of yet another of his designs but this time it felt right.

It was a fitting tribute to a mech whose name had been synonymous with explosions for as long as Grapple could remember.