Part Nine

Disclaimers in Part One

-Sidhe Chronicles-

Diarwen entered the house with great caution and great silence. It wasn't total, no organic could achieve that, but only her heartbeat and the sounds of her respiration went with the Sidhe.

But then Flatline pulled off his exit, and all the lights in the lower story turned on at once.

A handsome man in late middle age rose from a heavily-reinforced cot, turned his head to Diarwen, and said, "You are about to die, organic."

Diarwen's blade whispered from its sheath. "The first to say that to me died before you came online. It would be wise for you to surrender now."

An impact from upstairs shook the entire house. A cloud of plaster dust sifted down from the ceiling. Diarwen took advantage of the distraction to vault the cot.

The tip of her blade traced a shallow slice down the outside of Soundwave's arm, but the Cybertronian dodged beyond serious damage: he had faster reflexes than she.

A thin cable with a sharp blade at the end shot out of his palm. It nicked her wrist, though it did not cut sinew or tendon, which might have compromised her grip on her weapon.

She came in under the whipping cable to thrust at Soundwave's optics.

He pivoted, then stepped back, and jumped backwards through a window, getting room to move—it would be suicide to stay in close quarters with a blademaster of Diarwen's skills.

Diarwen pressed her attack, careful to let her armor deal with the shards of broken glass scything out from the window frame as she dived through and rolled to her feet, just in time to twist out of the way of a line of thin flechettes fired from a weapon that transformed out of Soundwave's uninjured arm.

She closed to sword range again, and he transformed his arms to a pair of wide cleaver-like blades, suitable for attack or defense. Diarwen shifted to thrusts rather than cuts, getting the feel for her enemy's blocks while she danced beyond the reach of his attacks.

At the front of the building's second floor, Jazz had wakened Arturo through the simple expedient of tearing his bedroom window from its frame. Melendez jerked awake and leapt into a crouch in the corner of his bedroom, thinking that he faced Warp. Jazz said, "Hey, no, Arturo, it's me, Jazz!" about the same time that full awareness returned to the Master Sergeant's eyes. Melendez scooped the change of underwear he had had to beg for off the chair it was drying on and said, "Let's go!"

Jazz deposited his partner near the soldier that Prowl told him had Arturo's gear; he and Arturo nodded to one another, and each began the next part of his battle. Melendez got dressed; Jazz sent, ::Prowl, where is the Prime Consort?::

::Other side of the building, fighting Soundwave!::

Jazz turned that way to back her up, and that was when Blitzwing landed right in the gravel lot, a whole Pit of a lot more crowded when the big 'Con inserted himself into the middle of it, taking part of the warehouse wall down on his way in.

One of Prowl's acid pellets struck him in the elbow joint, one of the few places it could affect his ability to fight. Other than at the joints, his armor was too heavy. Blitzwing slapped at his injury, which got acid on his digits. He roared, optics blazing with fury, but instead of going looking for Prowl he attacked―as far as he knew―his own teammate Warp: backhanded him into the side of the farmhouse. Weakened from Jazz' rescue of Arturo, the front wall crashed down on top of the youngling.

Prowl desperately searched the bond. Jazz was still with him, but trapped in deep unconsciousness with Warp.

Everyone in the lot opened fire on the 'Con to distract him from Warp and Jazz.

While those reports thundered under the lightening Nebraska sky, Silverbolt sent to Optimus, ::They got away from us, Prime. Lugnut is on an escape vector, but Blitzwing is headed back your way!::

::I see him! Lugnut will be too fast for you when he gets far enough out of atmosphere to use his interstellar drive. Back us up!::

::Yes, Prime!:: The Aerialbots picked up speed, except for the injured Fireflight, who sent, ::Go! I won't be far behind!:: to his brothers. But Skydive kept pace with him anyway, Silverbolt's warm approval following them both as the other Aerialbots arrowed back to Soundwave's last stand...if they could make it that.

-Sidhe Chronicles-

Optimus covered the distance from the airstrip to the gravel lot in a flat-out run. A steady stream of reports from Prowl's and Mirage's guns, as well as NEST and S14's sabot rounds, echoed across the surrounding fields. On some level he was aware of an SUV full of humans escaping from the farm down the road, but since the battle had almost no chance of affecting them, he paid little attention, beyond a wash of relief that they had taken themselves out of harm's way.

He got there in time to see Blitzwing get hold of Sideswipe by one wrist, yank the skater to him, grab the ankle on the same side, and slam him into his twin. Both fell into an unconscious heap.

Ironhide was firing with a lot more effect than the smaller weapons of the scouts and soldiers, but he was limited by his concern for where a missed shot might go.

Optimus approached Blitzwing from the side. He tapped the bulkier bot on the shoulder, and when Blitzwing turned, punched him in the face. The blow staggered him, but the 'Con caught himself, and Optimus pulled his sword and shield out of subspace barely in time to block a gout of flame. He shouted to the humans and smaller bots, "Back up! Make room!"

Lennox ordered, "You heard the mech, retreat to the tree line!"

Glasco sent a ping to his own troops, giving the same order.

Optimus paid no more attention to the strategic retreat as the soldiers fell back in turns, half of each fire team moving while the other half kept firing. It took them very little time to get clear.

His sword clashed against Blitzwing's armor, but even the energon sword did not cut all the way through. The triple-changer's fist slammed into the Prime's shield. He left a large dent, and Optimus saw a series of cracks spiderweb that panel. The damaged section would not stop another solid blow; the entire shield might shatter with the next one.

Optimus began to wonder if it was going to be possible to take the madmech alive, especially with Jazz out of commission.

-Sidhe Chronicles-

The Sisters trailed their quarry through a dark, starry Nebraska night, beginning to lighten in the east. Google Maps showed two driveways between themselves and Flatline's final destination; both led only to single houses. Still, the Sisters stayed too close on Flatline's tail for him to turn; they had no wish to risk any collateral damage, and knew Flatline would not let that consideration influence him.

The flash of his headlights as he entered the quarry showed a car, parked on the rim of the quarry itself. Teenagers, necking, Chromia realized. ::I'll send them away,:: she sent. ::Go get him.::

She rolled to a stop, transformed, and tapped politely on the passenger-side window. Two shocked faces beyond it turned to her, the girl began to scream, and the male of the couple started the car, whipped it into a J-turn, and catapulted away. Good.

-Sidhe Chronicles-

Diarwen heard the battle between Optimus and one of the triple-changers, but could not afford the lapse in concentration that would allow her to find out what was going on. Soundwave was a much tougher opponent than she expected, particularly since all the tales she'd heard of him emphasized his mind-raping abilities. While she had defenses against that even in the absence of her magic, none of the Cybertronians thought to tell her of his excellence with a blade.

None of them thought to tell her that he could weave a web around his potential victim, either, and the injuries she sustained in Chicago kept her from recognizing it as he wove it.

Diarwen tucked her legs up under herself and leapt one of the cleaver-like blades, parrying the other with her sword, and had to tack a backflip onto the end of that maneuver when the small blade on a thin line arced toward her face.

She could fight two blades with ease, but three was far more difficult. Diarwen needed help, and she called for it the only way she knew how: Great Mother, help me!

-Sidhe Chronicles-

In Washington, DC, Sam Witwicky jerked awake. It was six thirty-eight on a Monday morning, which he had off, so why had he wakened?

Then Diarwen's face made its way into his consciousness. She needed help, and no one knew that but him.

Sam Witwicky hastily lit nag champa incense, and sat down in front of the picture of the Matrix he had commissioned from Sunstreaker. He rose again to get the printout Diarwen had given him at their last meeting; it might hold some of her energy still.

-Sidhe Chronicles-

Jazz was shaken violently to consciousness and found himself floating next to a still-out-of-it Warp. Cut off from the heightened physical senses that a frame allowed, Jazz was all the more acutely aware of the wildly roiling, clashing auras around him.

Prime and Blitzwing were a mass of aggressive red, quarter neither asked nor given as they battered each other. Only Prime's innermost layer of lavender, blue, and gold identified him; Blitzy's core was a schizophrenic fingerpainting that used every color there was, united by no discernible theme at all.

The Decepticon spymaster and the Prime Consort, though...had Jazz been in his frame at that moment, his armor would have bristled like a porcupine when he realized what was going on. Soundwave's field was weaving a subtle net around the Prime Consort, a net that when drawn tight would cut her off from awareness of the world around her and drag her into a psychic universe of Soundwave's devising.

Until his death and return as a ghost, Jazz would have believed implicitly that such an attack could only work on another Cybertronian, or on humans who were using technology similar enough to theirs to appear Cybertronian on the net, like Soundwave's victims at Beaverton last year.

Once set free of physical constraints, Jazz had finally understood: sparks and souls were more similar than different. Psychic energy was psychic energy.

Soundwave had apparently learned that lesson too; as well, Diarwen's psychic injury at the Battle of Chicago had left her at a deep disadvantage, he realized. She couldn't see what he was doing.

Jazz kicked clear of Warp's frame like a swimmer freeing himself from a snag, and drifted through the corner of the house to get closer to the swordmasters' duel.

Just as the net pulled tight around Diarwen and Soundwave prepared to end the battle, Jazz formed a javelin of psychic energy and let fly. Soundwave's shields held, barely; Prowl's own javelin followed, and the shield shattered.

Enraged, Soundwave recognized his arch-enemy of thousands of years. "Jazz. I hope you kissed your mech goodbye."

Jazz dodged a fireball, which came roaring at him like dragon's breath but splattered into a circle of flame against the house and vanished without a sign that it had ever existed. Before Soundwave could aim another, the saboteur ducked out of the room.

Soundwave brought his frame along, which slowed him down as Jazz escaped through the walls and ceilings into the upstairs. But Jazz had a plan.

Behind them, Diarwen went to her knees.

-Sidhe Chronicles-

Sam Witwicky let both his thoughts and the image of the Matrix drift out of focus before him. The paper Diarwen had given him lay between him and the image; he reached out and touched it.

Danger red and black and silver a man about his father's age who —Soundwave!—pain and a weakness so profound she did not see the trap encircling her—

Sam did not hesitate. He erected his own best shields, he recalled that Diarwen had once told him that she used either blue or green for healing energies, he checked with his own psyche (and those remnants of All-Spark energy left within his aura) to see which one would work best, and then he hit Diarwen with a dump truck's worth of blue energy.

Then, for insurance's sake, he emptied a green truck over her too.

-Sidhe Chronicles-

Jazz wasn't quite fast enough to execute his well-thought-out scheme: didn't get out through the hole in the wall in Arturo's room, failed to lure Soundwave into the parking lot.

One of Soundwave's tentacles, as ephemeral as Jazz himself, wrapped around his leg, and began to drag him ever closer to the Decepticon. Jazz fastened his own optics onto the glowing coals of Soundwave's, looming over him and descending slowly, slowly, the Decepticon's enjoyment ever more intense...almost sexual.

Eww.

Jazz had the pleasure of seeing Soundwave's optics narrow, but then the Decepticon resumed his slow torture.

-Sidhe Chronicles-

Diarwen was on all fours when Sam's first delivery of energy hit her with all the impact of its thousand-mile journey. She somehow kept herself from falling flat on her face, identified its source, and allowed it in.

Not that, in her injured state, she could have kept it out. But by allowing it, she got greater benefit.

Blue...she was drowning in blue. It swathed her, filled her; she breathed it in and digested it; it sent itself from muscle to muscle, neuron to neuron, bone to bone. It penetrated the wounds left by channeling more energy than her body could bear in Chicago.

And then it began to knit them together, not gently. She kept herself from screaming, somehow.

Then the green energy arrived. Diarwen felt herself taken up by Brigit, examined by critical, but not unloving, eyes, and placed on the anvil of healing.

Then Brigit's hammer fell, just once, and inside her own head, Diarwen screamed, just once.

-Sidhe Chronicles-

Jazz commended himself to Primus, and awaited the experience of death at Soundwave's servos: Soundwave, he could feel, took as much pleasure from Prowl's distress at his bondmate's situation as from Jazz' own.

Still, Soundwave was not happy. ::You will fear me, Jazz.::

::No Ah won't. Ah fear one Being only, an' that's Primus. You ain't in His league.::

Soundwave did not discuss his displeasure further. Instead, a red emanation stretched between them. It fastened onto Jazz' ephemeral peds, and began to rise, crawling up his struts with slow cruel relish; Jazz opened the link to Prowl as far as it would go, and began to say his goodbyes.

-Sidhe Chronicles-

The noise of Flatline's escape and the subsequent thunder of the battle had yanked Smith and Wilburn out of a sound sleep. They met in the hallway outside their bedrooms.

"What's going on?" Smith shouted.

"Dunno! This way!" said Wilburn, pivoting into a flat-out run.

They raced through the kitchen and into the farmhouse's basement, beyond it to the storm shelter. This heavily reinforced structure was intended as a safe room in case of a tornado, and had a second exit in back of the house in case debris blocked the basement.

The two men opened the trap door with small, careful gestures. The noises they made in doing so were inaudible under the ruckus of Blitzwing's arrival. They ran for the tree line.

Bad decision. The tree line, after Optimus' thunderous shout, became infested with a bunch of guys who looked human but were no such thing. Smith and Wilburn tried to hide from S14; they took refuge under an arch of blackberry tangles, which left them invisible.

Or so they thought. DeWayne Sturman moved the brambles aside with one massive arm and smiled down at them, Ruggles' rifle paired with his own in pointing straight at the traitors' hearts.

Glasco stood with his hands on his hips, and his men trained three more rifles on the pair. "Look what we have here! Augie, get out the zip ties. Let's tag 'em and bag 'em."

Fortunately for the two miscreants, he meant that figuratively and not literally. Being unacquainted with Glasco's sense of humor, neither Smith nor Wilburn tried to push their luck.

-Sidhe Chronicles-

Optimus could feel that Diarwen's battle with Soundwave had put her into danger. But he, in danger from Blitzwing as were the Aerialbots and Ironhide, could not break off the fight with Blitzwing to aid her...and the crazed mech was winning. Optimus struck Blitzwing in the jaw struts, which forced him to remove his teeth from Optimus' arm.

Some tiny part of Optimus' processor remained aware of his Consort's issues.

Then Sam's energy arrived, and while Optimus could tell that the younger Prime needed a bit of moderation in his energy-delivery techniques, he'd learn that in time. Right now Optimus could re-enter the battle with Blitzwing, spark, frame, and processor.

He sent a ping to Silverbolt, and he and Defensor tackled Blitzwing, one from each side, just as Ratchet arrived at the airfield.

Blitzwing hit the pavement with a thunderous crash. Down but not out, he continued to thrash, heave, and hit. He crumpled Optimus' left pauldron, and the middle third of Defensor's right ulnar strut.

Then Ratchet leapt to the middle of his chest, immobilizing the madmech's upper arm struts with his knees, and stuck a 35-gallon hypodermic under a plate. He pushed the plunger.

Blitzwing continued to thrash and fight, more and more weakly as the drug took hold. All four of the Autobots were panting for breath, exhausted, before the enormous triple-changer slid into unconsciousness.

Optimus got slowly to his peds, but Ratchet shoved him back down, which was a lot too easy by the medic's lights. ::You stay right here until I have a chance to take a look at the Twins and the little warper,:: the medic snapped. He spun on one ped. ::And that includes you as well!:: he sent to the Aerialbots and Ironhide.

::My consort,:: Optimus replied, and left; he would deal with any flying wrenches later.

The others of Ratchet's prisoners took a reading of the medic's fields and stayed put. Ironhide moved enough to put Blitzwing into the heaviest, strongest stasis cuffs, but when Ratchet turned to look at him from Warp's side, he hastily finished what he was doing and sank back onto the tarmac.

Blitzwing presented only the clear and present danger of a mech almost as strong as the Prime who was also thoroughly insane: Ratchet occupied the class above that.

Glasco commed Optimus with the news that Wilburn and Smith were in custody, and the leader of the Autobots began to send messages to Idaho and Oregon, while seeking his Consort.

-Sidhe Chronicles-

Jazz could not struggle any longer. The red emanation had risen up what he thought of as his "body" until his arm struts were pinned to his sides. Soundwave relished his victim's panic and pain, although Jazz knew he wasn't anywhere near giving Soundwave the levels of fear and stress he craved.

Soundwave upped the red pressure from "confining" to "painful."

Frag that, Jazz thought. Frag Soundwave. He dismissed the Decepticon from his concerns, which further enraged the spymaster, bade Prowl farewell, and prepared himself to meet Primus.

Jazz' awareness was dimming when Diarwen's energy did not so much enter the room as burst through the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. Soundwave, far from watching a helpless victim succumb to him, was suddenly awash in a blue-green energy he could not counter, flung into a fight he had failed to anticipate.

The red energy did not recede: it vanished. Jazz, who had not given up any part of himself to the Decepticon, struck at Soundwave with the same fierce sharpness as did Diarwen's blade.

For perhaps the first time since his mods came online, Soundwave fought for his life. He struggled to access his power, fought toward the use of the greater part of it. But Diarwen confounded his attempts as easily as if she were skating. Her blade touched his plating, and a sizzle of green swept over Soundwave, numbing him to the world beyond him.

It failed to stop or discourage him. The battle went on, spread among three blades and three minds.

Then Jazz sent to her, ::Prime Consort, wait a minute! Give the glitch a bit o' breathin' room! Optimus wants to comm him!::

Neither of them knew before trying it that they could do that.

Diarwen switched from full-out assault to confinement. Wherever Soundwave sought freedom, he found Diarwen's energy, or her blade, between himself and his objective. He could not outfight her.

Thanks to Jazz, he could not access the wiring in the old house, an escape route he thought invulnerable to attack.

Soundwave began to worry that he would not survive. He redoubled his efforts, to no avail at all.

Optimus, who despite the Death Glare from his CMO had arrived at the ruined farmhouse, shouted, "Soundwave! Smith and Wilburn are in custody. If you surrender, I shall take that gesture as loyalty to them on your part. I will argue for the removal of the death penalty in their cases. I cannot guarantee it, but I will press hard for it. So will my government liaisons, who are not without power in these matters."

Soundwave sneered; Diarwen engaged his blades, and she and Jazz confined his energy between them. Still, the spy said, "And what of myself in this generous offer? How will I die? On your blade, or this creature's?"

"If you die on my Consort's blade, that will be by your own choice. My Consort certainly will not hesitate to accept it." Optimus watched Soundwave's helm go back in shock with a certain amount of satisfaction. "Unless you force my servo, you will not die by it. I may have to place you in stasis for a generation or three of humans, and give my own people time to disengage from their memories of you. But you will be in stasis no longer than four vorn."

He made optic contact briefly with Diarwen, who received from it the message "I adore you, and don't let down your guard."

Optimus continued, "But I will argue that we need time to see if you can be rehabilitated, and stasis will guarantee that you present no more danger to the humans. They will thus be less interested in seeing you executed."

Soundwave disengaged one of his blades, then the other, from Diarwen's. Optimus was still aware of Diarwen's and Jazz' energies corralling those of the spy; Soundwave was not giving up on his chances of energetic escape.

Fine; he wasn't a stupid mech. Optimus cautiously joined his own energies to those of the other two, but immediately disengaged: he was not in the league to play with these three, and would be a liability. He sent instead for Ratchet.

Who sent back, ::You have the Pit of a nerve. Be right there.::

Optimus could feel Soundwave's puzzlement as he disengaged lightly from both Jazz and Diarwen, who nonetheless kept their own guards up, though only to maintain Soundwave's confinement. They did not attack, nor did the Decepticon.

Soundwave was finding out that tomorrow did not have to be like yesterday, Optimus thought with satisfaction.

Soundwave himself thought that he was as free now as he had ever been, free of Megatron's insanity, and what had he done with that freedom? Continued Megatron's war.

And Optimus Prime was nothing at all like Megatron. That fact had been known to Soundwave before Megatron's death, but he had never acted upon it.

Soundwave, by the time Ratchet showed up, was thoroughly ashamed of himself.

His pacification went smoothly: Ratchet requested that he resorb

his blades, and once that was done, shut him down. The medic wouldn't remove the T-cog until they were back at base.

Diarwen went immediately to Optimus.

"Jazz? You here?" said the medic, tossing the Decepticon over one shoulder.

::Ah am. How's Warp?::

"Got his bell rung, but I think he'll be good once he reboots. I'm going to keep him out for his own good until I can get him back to Mission City and do some tests to make sure. Want a lift?"

::No, Ah'm goin' to Prowl.::

"All right. You," said Ratchet, as he pointed to Optimus, "get back to the airstrip. Sit beside Fireflight and Silverbolt, and don't move until I have examined you."

Optimus, Diarwen perched on one shoulder quite differently than the way Soundwave rode Ratchet's, went. Ratchet was mightily displeased to find that she had put quite a lot of healing energy into Optimus' systems by the time he got there, but Ratchet too had grown during the war. He shrugged, thanked her, and got on with the physical parts of the remaining repairs.

A groggy Sunstreaker dragged himself to his peds.

"Where do you think you're going?" the medic demanded, half-turning away from his present victim.

"Find what I came after, my fraggin' energon cubes."

"You can wait till I get around to you."

"Like the Pit. If I'm that far down the triage list, I can spend the time looking for my stuff. And if you fling a wrench at me, I'm flingin' it back."

"Suit yourself!" Ratchet growled. "Make more work for me and you'll regret it."

Prowl said, "The cubes are in the garage, Sunstreaker. They look fine."

Ratchet said, "Don't drink any energon till I have a chance to make sure you won't blow a line! That goes for all of you!"

For pride's sake, Sunstreaker checked on his energon cubes, and located them all. The system of fiber-optic cables that piped sunlight into the building for the cubes to produce energon while remaining hidden was really ingenious, and he saved several images of it. They could use the same technique to keep the cubes safely stored within the Cliff House back home, which would make any subsequent energon raids much more challenging. He transmitted that idea to Prowl.

Then he saved his own life by returning whence he had come, and sitting down to wait for Ratchet to get around to him.

End Part Nine