So, new chapter. All the Prowl lovers out there should be happy with this one as he managed to almost monopolize this chapter.

Warnings: bullying of underage mecha/children (there shouldn't really be anything worth warning about in this chapter, but better safe than sorry).

Enjoy!


Chapter 12:

After the introductory meeting for Jazz and Blaster it was decided that only one of them would need to attend the ornly meeting, at least until the new comms team arrived. With only a handful of novice commsmecha it was necessary for one of the Polyhexians to remain in the Deck at all times during the orn. They had a single midlevel commsmech who ran the dark-cycle shifts so the two senior experts could get some recharge.

It was Jazz's turn on Deck and he was enjoying some light banter with a fellow commsmech at the Tyger Pax base. In reality he was actually downloading a series of sensitive datatransfers on a subfrequency under their signal, their chatter was just the cover. This was a new technique that Blaster had suggested since normal datatransfers were a virtual lit sign telling the 'Con listeners that something was going on. Even if they could not decipher the message the purple-marked mecha would often make a retaliatory strike against any outlying bases to try and plug potential data feeders.

This problem was also a boon in that it worked in reverse as well. Though not knowing the Deepticon code scramblers, the Autobots could still detect when information was being passed and from where. This was how they detected Rapidburst, who had been completely unaware that Autobot transmissions were monitored by SpecOps in the same manner that Comms did the Decepticons.

After the transmission ended Jazz gave a little stretch to get the kinks out of his spinal struts. As he leaned back he caught sight of the blue guardsmecha looking at him again, so he gave him a wink. The mech jumped a bit at being caught, but returned a shy smile.

Step One complete, giving the suspected spy favorable responses. On to Step Two.

The ops team, plus one, had sat down in the privacy of their quarters the last dark-cycle and processor-stormed over how to tempt their potential spy into making a move beyond a few appraising glances. Blaster had joked about feeling underappreciated for not being the target chosen. He was just as friendly and, according to himself, way more handsome than the saboteur. In reality though, they all knew why Jazz had been selected over Blaster, or even the commsmecha being transferred in. One, Blaster was the new bossmech and to try and subvert him would be foolish on far too many levels. Jazz on the other servo, despite being second-in-command, had started out as a glorified nursemech and was therefore more likely to be amiable to a conversion whilst also possessing enough rank to ensure any transmissions could be sent undetected. Second, Blaster had cassettes which, if believed as sparked, would have to be wooed as well, or, if not considered sparked, would be a risk for recording incriminating data unknowingly. Third, Jazz was a low level Polyhexian and was considered easily persuaded, like so many other former gutter mecha. Blaster though, was a hostmech, a member of the middleclass, and his type had been known for loyalty to the Prime. Blaster accepted these facts but still made sure to get in a few friendly jabs.

The team's most important deliberation had been to decide how far the temptation was to be taken. Jazz was no stranger to interfacing and knew that such acts were sometimes an element of ops, however, they typically tried to keep it at the level of tactical stimulation. The concern was that such a shallow intimacy, which would have been expected among the Decepticons, would become suspicious to an 'Autobot' who would normally be trusted enough for more. The alternative though, was an extremely high risk. For a true interface the visored Polyhexian would have to lower the shielding over his spark and open the chamber. Disregarding even the emotional scarring that Jazz would suffer, this would put him in too vulnerable a position.

Two joors of debate and they still could not come up with a solution. It had actually been little Rewind who proposed a viable alternative. He and Eject laid out a meticulous design for beguilement that was so detailed and perfect it stunned the rest of the team.

It would be easy, simplistic, and foolproof. That is, if everything went off without a glitch. And the opsmecha were well aware that no plan survived first contact with the enemy. However, the team would try their best, and hope for at least a near optimal outcome. Which was why Jazz was currently trading flirtatious glances with a potentially amorous blue guardsmech and priming the gate for later entry.

_-*-_..._-*-_..._-*-_

Prowl was ready to complete his investigation. It had taken him a full four orns to compile the security footage, discreetly track down the witnesses, and then cross-reference everything for accuracy. Now, there was only one thing left to do. Confront the perpetrators. He had called them to his office out of the desire to keep the matter private, rather than the more public venure of the brig's Judiciary chambers.

A buzz at the door indicated his quarry's arrival. He waited a full fifteen nanokliks before opening the door and remained completely silent as the nervous foursome entered. Their worried host could be seen just beyond the door, wringing his servos and pacing. Prowl's orders had been very specific to indicate that the cassettes were not to be accompanied by their creator into the meeting itself, but he would not begrudge the near-frantic mech his proximity.

The SIC had set out four chairs so that each mech could be comfortable, but, in a sign of just how distressed they were, the cassettes all huddled together on one of the middle seats.

When they were settled Prowl turned on the holographic projector and began to cycle it through a set of images. Backbite in his lurid pink paint. A close-up of the prostibot advertising stating the prices for a number of interfacing techniques, including the Kaon Special. A pair of frontliners with their torso armor removed and the phrase "Shock me good baby" painted on their abdomens. A triad of artillery mecha whose paint had been switched to resemble the Decepticon Command Trine, clip-on wings included. This photo also had an attached sound clip to reveal that the Starscream wannabe had also had his vocalizer changed to match. The pictures went on and on, every bit of retaliation they had dared distribute, every instance of revenge, all laid out before them like the damning evidence it was.

The cassettes shrank down upon their seat. They had not thought that a few pranks would be severe enough to garner any attention from the command element, but apparently the SIC felt differently. They knew that since no one considered them to be sparked that they would not be receiving a fair trial.

After the imagery had run through a complete circuit Prowl addressed the cowering foursome. "It has been brought to my attention that a group of our frontliners and artillery mecha have been singled out to be the recipient of a series of distasteful pranks. According to the collective testimonies of these mecha, you four are the perpetrators. Would you care to defend yourselves against these accusations?"

The cassettes shook their helms. Commander Prowl would not have called them in if he was not in possession of conclusive evidence, which meant it was pointless to deny it.

The Tactician nodded. "Very well, in light of your willingness to admit guilt, you shall be given your choice of punishments. You may either apologize to the mecha you pranked and receive no further disciplinary action, or you may give restitution in the form of community service. Said service will be the cleaning, organizing, and relabeling of all the contents of both paint storage rooms. Choose."

The cassettes narrowed their optics, the punishments were too light. What angle was the Commander trying to play? If he was aiming for their servitude in exchange for looking the other was then he had another think coming. Still, given the choice they would rather not have to apologize to the afthelms. Especially since it would be neither sincerely given nor received. "Sir, we choose community service."

"Duly noted. Since none of you have yet to reach your majority, and this is a first time offense, this will not go on your permanent record. However, should your schemes continue there will be marks counted against you." The SIC gave them a stern glare to reinforce the statement. "Now then, on to the next matter of importance."

The projector cam to life again presenting a new group of pictures. The cassettes being shoved into a wall by a group of passing frontliners; a gunner holding an energon cube up in the air while Eject leapt up to reach it; another image of that same situation showing the other cassettes grouped around their own cubes unable to aid their brother because of their own harassers; Steeljaw being forced to wear a collar and leash; a vid clip of Steeljaw being booted down the hall for a 'walk'; the twins being held down while some frontliners removed all their armor save their sparkplates; the twins being forced to serve the rec room occupants like slaves while still in only their protoforms. The pictures and vid clips in this loop were numerous and each one made the mechlets cringe. When the images began to repeat what they showed, despite the differing date stamps, Prowl turned off the imager.

The cassettes had sunk so low in their seat that they were nearly flat upon it. They could not fathom why the Commander felt it necessary to remind them of their humiliations, but they wished he would not have. This saddened Prowl. Although he knew the type of reputation he possessed among the common soldiers was one of an extreme stickler for the rules, he had still hoped that his notoriety as a thorough and fair investigator would be a comfort to the small mechs. Instead, they seemed to expect him to treat them as poorly as their tormentors. He gazed at them with a calculating expression and revealed his true purpose for this small confrontation. "I am not wont to believe that any action is without cause, and so, when I investigated the pranks I also researched why they occurred. I was going through the pertinent security footage when I found these. I questioned a few of the bystanders to discover how long this had been happening, and the common answer corresponds with the general time of your arrival on base. Why have you never reported any of this discrimination?"

The cassettes looked at one another in confusion, then Steeljaw gave their answer. "Because, sir, no one cares. We're just lowly drones after all."

Prowl sat back in his chair from the slight loom he had accidentally moved into during his explanation. "You see yourselves as drones, not mechs?"

Four furious negatory helm shakes met that and Steeljaw answered again, very swiftly starting to reveal himself as the accepted leader of the foursome. "No sir, we know we are mechs, however, everyone else believes, and refuse to believe otherwise, that we are preprogrammed imitation mecha."

"Something I shall be rectifying, I assure you." Prowl stated with a nod. "However, as much of an affront as I feel this discrimination is, I cannot discipline the main offenders because the abuse is currently unreported."

"Is there a statute of limitations on the length of time between the incident's occurrence and the reporting, sir?" Steeljaw could feel the twins' plating vibrate behind him as they tried to rein in their hope that they might yet acquire true retribution for the acts done against them and not what little they could extract with their retaliations.

Prowl was struggling to smother a smirk. "No there is not."

The cassettes' smiles reached potentially illegal widths. "In that case sir, we, the four cassettes of Blaster, the Chief Communications Officer, would like to register one hundred and twenty-seven separate incident reports regarding frame discrimination with intent to harm."

Prowl's smirk finally escaped his control.

_-*-_..._-*-_..._-*-_

The disciplinary hearing was held that very dark-cycle with the entirety of High Command in attendance. The hearing was not open for general admission, though Prowl ensured that the reason for it was not a secret. The entire base was now aware of the grievous crimes committed by the few and tolerated by the many.

The tribunal itself was rather short; once presented with the plethora of evidence against them, the frontliners and artillery mecha put up no pretense of innocence. Since every soldier was needed, unsavory character or not, the Autobots could not afford to discharge them. Instead, the miscreants were demoted to the lowest possible ranking for their various departments, stripped of all previously achieved honors and awards, and then transferred to the front lines.

Prowl was pleased with the decisive solution, although he did not show it externally. With the hearing completed the Praxian was free to return to his usual stacks of datapads. However, the current top of the stacks were recommendation forms for a new Head of Security. The recently resolved affair was deplorable to Prowl, especially when he chose to further investigate the security archives. The number of unreported exploitations and harassments was staggering. Sure, no attempts of infiltration, theft, or sabotage went unreported, but overlooking dishonorable conduct simply because it was perpetrated by their fellow Autobots was unacceptable.

Prowl had submitted his findings to the Prime directly and subsequently received instructions to quietly find a replacement for their Security Division who would actually do the job properly. The SIC had immediately sent out private communiqués to all of the other base commanders asking for recommendations of promotion for any of their security personnel. The only thing left to do now was gothrough the data and begin the refinement process.

_-*-_..._-*-_..._-*-_

The blue frontliner was waiting when Jazz got off shift. He seeme nervous, and if the saboteur had not known better he would have thought it genuine. When the mech spoke the visored Polyhexian noted that he had an unusual vocalizer. It was deep, but it had this odd sort of gravelly burble behind it. It intrigued the musically inclined opsmech. The frontliner introduced himself as Turbulence as they chatted for a bit on the new arrangement in the Deck. Then, the mech asked. "Would you be interested in getting together at the North Observatory for some energon this dark-cycle?"

Jazz paused for a moment in feigned contemplation, it would not do to seem eager. "Well, Ah 'spose that's be alright, but jus' fo' ene'gon. Blaster n' Ah're kinda together."

Turbulence was quick to reassure him. "No no, I understand. My intentions are purely platonic, I just want to be friends."

The observatories were THE spot to go for a private rendezvous, and no one invited another to them without romantic designs. However, the choice of venue was perfect for Jazz's plans so he played naïve. "In tha' case, sure. When ya wanna met?"

_-*-_..._-*-_..._-*-_

Four gunners and five frontliners stood on the landing pad. All their worldly possessions were stuffed into subspace or small shipping crates, and they were alone. No friends or acquaintances came to wish them luck and even their supervisor was remaining at a distance as he watched their departure. They had been made an example to the rest of the base of High Command's expectations, and the soldiers had taken it to spark with the immediate shunning of the offenders. It was almost worse than the death sentence of the frontlines.

None of them cared, at least outwardly, they were within their rights as freemecha and no one could tell them otherwise. It was injustice that they had been removed from their prestigious posts and bumped down to cannonfodder. All nine of them were determined to survive the front; to show the snobs of Command that they could not be beaten by a few meaningless words and a transfer. Let the crowd-pleasers do as they wished, these nine were overcomers and the world would eventually see their rightness.

A war-worn transport landed and lowered its loading ramp. All of its cargo had been removed on another deck so the demoted mecha boarded without delay. A few of them cast sour looks back towards Iacon Base and Backbite, who was last to board, made one final declaration to his accusers. "This will not be the last you see of me! I will be back!"

Then the ramp retracted and the shuttle took off.


Now, for my reviewers:

kkcliffy - thanks, it took me forever to come up with a prank that I considered worthy (I admit to having help from my inner Sideswipe). This chapter should also have answered your concern for the bitty mechs (headspace cassettes all said, thank you). And, don't worry about J & B they got this in the bag.

RagDolDark - I glad you found Backbite repulsive, you should particularly enjoy what I do him next chapter.

Nikkie2010 - some more Prowl just for you in this chapter.

Autobot Chromia - thanks! Hopfully the further details of the pranking madness were also up to par.

Gothic-Princess-77 - oh, don't worry, most of the spy's details should be revealed next chapter.

Thank you also to steelcrash, 314, and SusantheRedhead for your nice reviews!

Also, I intend to move our plotline ahead a bit more all in the next chapter so it might be a bit longer til it comes out. The good news is, it will be much longer.