Chapter 21
He slept. For an entire cycle he slept, so deep in recharge that the world outside might as well not have existed. The noise of the city didn't touch him, and neither did the tentative tappings of his worried cassetticons. The stars were in their evening positions when his optic relay flickered on, at one point; starlight and Jazz sleeping soundly beside him were all he saw before his exhausted mind shut down again. Joors passed. When Soundwave's mind groped its way back to consciousness again, his chronometer informed him that it was well into the night cycle and Iacon had shut down again for curfew. Nobody else was home. His hydraulics put down a firm veto on movement, so Soundwave abandoned the thought of sitting up and checked on Jazz again.
A pale blue glow met his gaze; Jazz was awake. Though probably not much more than that, given that he was still lying exactly where he'd passed out that morning. The glow waned, blinked out for a moment, then renewed itself.
"Finally up?" Jazz mumbled.
"Affirmative."
"Too bad." Jazz's head rolled and he looked back up at the ceiling. "I was kinda hoping that you'd died."
"Deactivation, unlikely. Condition: excessive fatigue and sensor pain. Activity, more strenuous than expected."
"I hope it hurts like hell."
"Jazz's exhaustion, also evident."
"Small price to pay." Jazz shifted in the berth, trying to push himself to the edge.
"Movement, not advised."
"Shut up and go back to sleep. I'm just gonna... take advantage of your weakened state and escape now. It's been lovely, Soundwave, but goodbye forever. Don't try to find me." He rolled off the berth, and dropped to the floor with an uncharacteristically clumsy thud and a squawk of pain. Soundwave didn't move. Gazing at the ceiling, he listened to Jazz's low moan, and half-sparked efforts to get up again.
"Suggestion repeated: movement not advised."
"Oh, now you care about my wellbeing. Go. To. Hell." Jazz didn't bother trying to stand again. Soundwave heard - and then saw, once he'd emerged from underneath the berth - him crawling across the floor on his hands and knees. If Soundwave thought there was a remote chance he'd make it twenty paces, he might have bothered getting up. As it was, Jazz surprised him by at least reaching the far wall before slumping against it, vents wheezing. For some while, it was the only noise in the room.
"Query."
"What?"
"How long?" Jazz looked up, meeting Soundwave's gaze again. "Your... archival process, in place for how long?"
A corner of Jazz's mouth twitched into a dark smile. "About a year or so after we woke up on Earth. Ratchet called it 'glitched-stupid,' and impossible besides, but I'm always proving people wrong when they say that. He just didn't know how much human music was out there for the pickings. I've never lacked for the perfect song." He tipped his head back against the wall. "I'm filing today under Pink Floyd's Brain Damage. 'You lock the door and throw away the key... there's someone in my head, but it's not me.' Pity you didn't brush up against any of my Pink Floyd files. Those lyrics would have broken you for sure."
Something in his gaze turned taunting, and Soundwave scowled a little. "I wish I could tell Ratchet now how my little project panned out. To think, I'd wind up with the one Decepticon on the planet that can't figure out a simple song. That must have been such a nasty shock for you. Blaster would have understood every note of all that. Oh dear, was that insensitive of me? Good thing you deal well with frustration and failure."
Soundwave struggled not to clench his fists, knowing Jazz was watching for it and determined not to give him the satisfaction. "Telepathic exploration, not a failure. Some parts, understood."
"So you think."
"Understood," Soundwave insisted, and in a burst of stubbornness pushed himself to sit upright. Joints complained, but he didn't try to stand and only swayed a little.
"This much understood: Jazz hoping for freedom."
"Didn't like that, did you, love? Well I tried to warn you, but you wouldn't listen. I know how much you enjoy pretending that we're madly in love, raising a happy family. Does it hurt, knowing that I'm still dreaming of my freedom while I lie in your berth?"
Soundwave's spark constricted painfully in his chest, but he resolutely ignored the venomous words. "My feelings, irrelevant right now. Possible treason, relevant. Autobots, now possessions of Decepticon Empire. Consistent declarations of freedom crime against Lord Megatron."
"A crime well worth committing," Jazz said bitterly. "You saw what we've been through. What he did to us. Megatron is so arrogant. He thinks he can lock us in these collars, humiliate us, and rape us, and that's enough to turn us into his personal harem of slaves. But the Autobots are not as weak as he likes to pretend we are. He thinks we're broken, and we're not. At his feet, in his berth, it doesn't matter - we are always thinking about being free."
Soundwave's grip was curling over the edge of the berth while Jazz spoke, his head high and looking right at Soundwave as if he had nothing to hide.
"Thinking?" he asked. "Or plotting?"
"Still mad about that Combaticon thing, are we?"
"Your purpose that day, primary objective of telepathic interrogation."
"The failed objective of telepathic interrogation, you mean." Jazz smirked again and managed to stretch his arms over his head, his smile curving into something wicked.
"Shall I tell you a secret, Soundwave? I miss the fear. Not mine, obviously, but the Decepticons'. They did, quite often, fear me. Your troops feared surprise demolitions in the center of their camp, unfortunate mishaps with their weaponry, nasty viruses threading through their systems, a swift blade across the knee joints in the dark. Do you remember it? Oh, I do. There was a time when entire squadrons of Decepticon soldiers huddled in their camp with blasters pointed at the shadows because Jazz was rumored to be in the area and looking for a little fun. I miss it, commanding that kind of fear. Give you Decepticons control of an Empire and it's amazing how quickly you forget. Now nobody thinks about what a threat I used to be. For six years, I've been - how did Skywarp put it? A little pet whore."
His gaze had drifted, but now it focused again on Soundwave, intensely blue. "I've never seen you so angry before, and it's true that you scared me this morning. But it's also true - don't try to deny it - that you were scared too. You were afraid of what I might have done to the Empire, what I was capable of, and I saw it. I could almost taste it. Mmm but that tasted sweet, like a little morsel of what I used to have.
"So you know what? I did it. I'm guilty. I plotted the whole thing, fixed everything so I could be there on the stairs and drop that tantalizing hint right into the Combaticons' laps. Maybe I can't escape, but I can trick a team of rogue Cons into freeing at least one of my friends for me. Course, now he's trapped in deep space with four very unhinged soldiers who may or may not be torturing him into hunting down Mirage, but at least he's out of that prison camp and out of his tracking collar. If he could escape, then that's it - Megatron will never find him. Tall order for a guy who worked as a cartographer before the war and lists bird-watching as his favorite hobby, but miracles can happen. I admit it, it's not one of my most foolproof plans, but for sheer daring it wins the prize. I am Jazz, and I still got it."
The room went silent again, air flowing softly through Jazz's vents. That superior gleam in his visor was infuriating. Jazz must be innocent – that 'plan' was nothing less than a foolhardy gamble with the Autobot's life. Or... he must be guilty, deliberately pointing out those flaws to pretend innocence. Was he faking guilt or faking innocence? Game theory said it could be either, and if Jazz was master of anything, it was the game.
"Jazz, lying? Or telling truth?"
"Who knows? Certainly not you."
"Other methods of interrogation possible," Soundwave reminded him darkly, but Jazz just shrugged.
"Do it. You only have to suggest to Megatron that I might have had something to do with all this, and he won't stop tearing off limbs until he gets a confession. We both know that much. What you don't know is if there'll be anything left of me when he's done."
That much, at least, was the truth. Hand Jazz over to Megatron and that'd be the last Soundwave ever saw of him, the last his cassettes ever saw of him. Another slave dead, another failure. His family might not survive this one. Jazz was the prisoner here, the slave who'd just suffered a thorough ravaging of his mind, but somehow it was Soundwave left sitting helpless in the dark.
"Jazz… very difficult."
"I think what you mean is, 'Jazz seven'."
"This question, not settled. Further consideration required."
"You take your time, lover, I am not going anywhere. You hope."
Soundwave stiffened, then quickly smothered the reaction Jazz was surely waiting for. He steadfastly ignored that cocky grin. He shouldn't even be bothering with Jazz right now, he should be concentrating on what he'd seen while in that head. Without his body, Soundwave had no access to recording or copying functions, which meant he had to rely on his own short-term memory if he was going to retain any of it. Codes or coordinates he could have managed. But how was he supposed to commit that bewildering cacophony of noise to memory when he couldn't even make sense of it to begin with? Too many songs, too many nonsense words, had jumbled themselves on top of one another. Soundwave remembered the images, but he couldn't recreate the music.
His symbiotes had returned. He could feel them, each relieved but anxious little spark flocking back home upon realization that he'd woken. Now all five were hovering around the building, not sure if they should come in but dying to know what had happened. Soundwave wanted to be with them, away from the mocking glow of Jazz's visor, if only to give himself space for thought.
Gingerly, he eased himself off the berth, standing still until he was sure his leg struts were prepared to bear his weight. "Jazz, come."
He only stumbled a few times. Jazz, less concerned with keeping up appearances, kept to a crawl as he followed his master out into the common room. Soundwave led him to one of the far windows, with a broad view of the street below, and sat him firmly on the sill. "Stay," he commanded, "here. Result in movement: extreme punishment. My orders, understood?"
"Clear like a bell. Master."
Soundwave braced his hand against the wall, collecting his strength, then started to move away. "Soundwave."
"What?"
Jazz bit his lip plating, looking three shades more pitiful than he had crawling across the floor. "I'm hungry."
Naturally he was. Jazz had missed five feeding times in a row and must be starving. Soundwave looked away, focusing on putting one pede in front of the other.
"You will not starve. Stay, and wait."
He limped out of the loft, and locked the door behind him.
"It's about time, what the hell happened in there -"
"We've been going crazy wondering -"
"Master, hurt?"
"You wouldn't wake up no matter how hard we tried -"
"Mental interrogation, conducted?"
"And don't think nobody else noticed either -"
"Yeah, Starscream was askin' questions -"
"Recovery time, unusually long."
"Shockwave nosin' around -"
"They wouldn't leave us alone, kept nagging us -"
"Mental interrogation, successful?"
"- to know where you were, what you were up to, we -"
"- didn't know what to say, because -"
"Answers found?"
"- we didn't know either!"
Almost shaking with fatigue, Soundwave lowered himself to sit on the edge of what was once an old parking dock. None of these buildings were habitable yet, leaving the alleyway beside Soundwave's home dark and empty. He remembered the night of the mid-vorn, how he and Jazz had tumbled off the roof and nearly flattened themselves on this street, but saved themselves just in time. It was a memory tinged with warmth, for Soundwave. Now it seemed distant and untouchable as a star.
The symbiotes were already swarming over him before he'd finished sitting, nipping at his joints, pounding at his armor with angry little fists, nuzzling, clinging, squeezing. They were all frantic to reassure themselves he was fine, after his unexpected fall into stasis, the only condition that left him incapable of mental contact with them. Soundwave had suffered such circumstances in the past, usually post-battle, but they'd never gotten this anxious before. Of course, now they'd seen what happened to Blaster's symbiotes.
Only Ravage managed to keep his distance. Facing Soundwave, he sat up straight with head held high, his sporadically flicking tail the only outward sign of distress. Explain.
"Mental interrogation on Jazz, conducted," Soundwave answered. "Investigation, thorough. Apology given for concern, long fall into stasis not predicted."
Unease rippled through all of them. Soundwave had practiced his telepathy many times in the past, and none of them had ever known him to sleep for so long afterwards. Rumble and Frenzy exchanged glances, then looked back at him.
"Well, boss? What's the answer? ... did he?"
On his knee, he felt Laserbeak's struts tighten with apprehension and dread. Without thinking about it, he looked directly at her.
"Results of interrogation, inconclusive. Unable to determine guilt."
The unease was wiped out by what could only be described as blank incomprehension. Even Ravage blinked, looking stunned.
"Whatdya mean, 'unable'?"
"Yeah, what's that supposed to mean?"
Soundwave vented wearily. "Can't," he translated, the word clipped in distaste. "Objective, failed."
Every mouth, or beak, hung open just a little. Soundwave's superiority in telepathic interrogation had gone unquestioned all their lives. And why shouldn't it? He was the smartest and strongest of his kind, the reputation of his power enough to make mecha flinch at his name. His symbiotes followed him, and trusted him, and were content to be owned by him, because of his strength. Rare was the day Soundwave failed at anything, and at interrogation - never. They hadn't even realized it was possible.
Ravage was the only one that didn't have to find words. His general inquiry - how? - more or less suited everyone's thoughts anyway.
Soundwave did not care to elaborate on the details. "Jazz's mind, complex," he said shortly. "Organized according to specific protocols known only to Jazz. Therefore, results inconclusive."
The alleyway went quiet again, while everyone there struggled to internalize what Soundwave was saying. That Jazz had bested Soundwave on the turf of his own mind, that Soundwave had lost. He could feel their baffled minds trying to wrap around the alien concept.
"Well... okay." Frenzy had to grope for words. "So, uh, that didn't work. What does it mean? Where does that leave us?"
"Jazz's guilt, still to be determined," Buzzsaw spoke up. "Actions with Combaticons, now witnessed by all of us. Actions, highly suspicious."
"Hang on," Rumble interjected. "Just, slow down already. I know it looks weird, I knew from the minute I heard the news that it was weird. But I've been thinking about it all day and it just doesn't make any sense. This is the Combaticons we're talking about; they're a pack of psychopaths. The Autobots should be so lucky that Megatron hasn't given any slaves to that team. Why would Jazz do anything to change that? Why go to the trouble of delivering one of the bots right into their hands?"
"Maybe he doesn't like Hound," Frenzy suggested. "If I hated somebody, and could get away with punting them into space with Vortex for company, I'd do it in a second."
"Negative," Laserbeak denied. "Jazz, popular amongst Autobot crew, friendly to all. No internal enemies known."
They accepted her assessment without demur. Laserbeak had spent more time than any of them spying in Autobot bases, particularly the last of them on Earth, and she would know if there had been a hostile relationship between Jazz and Hound. Even if they were not close friends, Soundwave couldn't imagine any dislike strong enough to compel Jazz to put his old comrade in danger. Protecting his fellow slaves from abuse was, indeed, the one thing Soundwave could expect from him.
"Most obvious objective, to free Hound," Buzzsaw reminded them all. "Hound now offplanet, without tracking collar."
"But it's not freeing him, not by a long shot! I've tangled with the bot and he's no wimp, but he was never one of the Autobots' heavy hitters. The Combaticons are mercenaries. Not even Sunstreaker could take on all four of them and win. If he was tryin' to spring a bot that way, he'd have been better off telling them to grab Grimlock."
"Autobot can potentially sneak away."
"In deep space?"
"And then live on what?"
"And then, maybe, just maybe if everything worked out perfect, what does Jazz get? One more bot that's gone MIA, the rest of them still slaves. Not as if nothin' would change."
The three of them fell back into a frustrated silence. Soundwave glanced up at his own building again, checking on Jazz. He hadn't moved, still slumped on the window sill, chin resting on one knee as he watched them. Was he worried? Gloating? Did they even have a chance at grasping what must be in that head?
"Maybe we're looking at this all the wrong way," Frenzy suggested. "Maybe it's not about doing anything for the bots, and all about messing with the Decepticons. He likes to embarrass the other officers - we see it all the time. This is kinda like the ultimate embarrassment for Megatron, cuz now everyone knows that he can't even keep his labor force safe from his own soldiers."
"Yeah, that could be it!" Rumble chimed in. "Everybody in Iacon already knows about it. I heard Starscream braggin' that this woulda never happened if he was in charge. If he doesn't shut up about it then Megatron's gonna smash his head into the wall, and that'd be just the kinda thing Jazz was wanting all along."
"Ambition likely," Buzzsaw conceded, but hesitated when Laserbeak shook her head.
"Risk of Autobot's safety, too high. Consider Combaticons' motivation. Desperate to find Mirage, no possibility of going back now. Hound, unlikely to track Mirage without persuasion of torture. Hound's refusal, also likely to result in termination. Combaticons cannot return without both Autobots. Failure to capture Mirage means inability to return to Cybertron, therefore starvation in space. For Hound as well as Combaticons."
"Unless they decide to just start over on some other planet somewhere," Rumble concluded glumly. "In which case they either keep Hound for the fun of it, or kill him. And I guess Jazz wouldn't do that."
More silence. None of his little symbiotes had uttered something that Soundwave had not already considered, in the brief span of time that it took to stumble out of the loft and exit the building, and they were all getting to exactly where he had - nowhere.
Frenzy slumped to the ground with a defeated huff. "Or, maybe we're all tied up in knots over something that Jazz never meant to happen at all. Maybe he was just talkin' that day cuz he wanted to tease the Cons, and nothin' more. Maybe he's just as surprised as all of us."
"Yeah," Rumble muttered, "maybe."
"Maybe," Buzzsaw allowed. They all glanced at Ravage, but he was keeping his thoughts to himself for now, carefully watching and listening but nothing more. Laserbeak rubbed her beak against Soundwave's leg.
"Jazz, now fond of our home. Jazz, happy here. No reason to destroy that happiness. Yes?"
Soundwave would rather suffer a thousand deaths than tell her the full truth. Instead he dropped a hand on her head, stroking her plating. "This much seen in his mind: Jazz, enjoys your company. Reasonably confident, Jazz fond of you."
"Hey, me too, right?" Rumble sat up straighter, and so did Frenzy.
"Yeah, and me?"
"Affirmative."
They relaxed, looking pleased, and only Ravage noticed that Soundwave was holding something back. His audio twitched in indication, but he didn't pry and Soundwave wouldn't have told him anyway. Perhaps, more than any of the others, Ravage would have understood Jazz's burning desire for freedom, but Ravage himself was proof that such desire did not last. They didn't need to know, because it didn't matter. Jazz belonged to them forever.
"Your response now?" Buzzsaw asked. "Master, in possession of details concerning Combaticon raid. Report to Megatron?"
"What? No, you can't!"
"Yeah, if Megatron even thinks Jazz was part of this, he'll tear him apart!"
The twins' optics flickered with distress, and he could feel Laserbeak's spark contracting with fear. Quickly he sent all of them a soothing pulse of comfort.
"Negative. This knowledge will not be reported to Megatron."
Ravage stiffened warily at that. Images and memories played from his end of the link, pointing out the many times Soundwave had performed his duties for Megatron, how Megatron relied on him. Soundwave was Megatron's most trustworthy officer, he was loyal.
"This action, not a betrayal," Soundwave said firmly. "Details in reports, always my discretion. For Jazz's action, no proof of guilt found. His purpose, unknown, possibly no purpose at all. Without certain knowledge of guilt, unnecessary and ineffective to inform Megatron."
The others were relieved, but Ravage was still cautious. Soundwave had been entrusted by Megatron to keep watch over his empire; he was responsible for presenting just this sort of secret to him. They both knew that if it had been anyone else, anyone other than Jazz, Soundwave would have reported this.
"Loyalty to Megatron, unquestioned," Soundwave reminded him, speaking only to him. "Loyal to Megatron, always. Also loyal to safety of my possessions. Discretion, only solution."
Speaking of which... "This subject, absolute top secret," he cautioned aloud. "From now forward, verbal discussion of it forbidden. This knowledge, too valuable to other officers."
They all nodded. Get one whiff of what Jazz had done and the only question would be whether it was Shockwave or Starscream that trampled the other in their race to drag him before Megatron. They'd been granted a second chance for their slave, and to keep him they must protect him. Again Soundwave checked on Jazz, still watching from above. He must be so hungry.
"This discussion, concluded. Everyone dismissed. Some time alone with Jazz required. Permission to return to loft in one joor."
"Yes, boss."
"Understood, master."
They all had the look of wanting to regroup and think things over, and left without argument. Buzzsaw and Laserbeak took flight, circling upwards to disappear over the rooftops, and Frenzy and Rumble punched their thrusters to zoom off in the opposite direction. Ravage delayed just a few moments longer.
Danger swirled in his thoughts, but it was not quite the same danger he'd been afraid of when Jazz first came to them. Soundwave, busy concentrating on standing up without wobbling, ignored the pointed message.
"My decision, final. Ravage dismissed."
His oldest symbiote slunk into the shadows and disappeared, but not without a parting shot of warning. Jazz was still waiting. Soundwave put Ravage out of his mind, and turned toward his home.
Jazz was still lounging on the window sill when Soundwave returned to the loft. Soundwave knew perfectly well that he was just as tired as he was, but somehow Jazz managed to make it look like he wanted to relax that way. For Soundwave with his ramrod straight posture, no one would be fooled. He decided he resented Jazz for that along with everything else.
"So? Jury says?" Jazz dropped one pede to the floor at a time, twisting gradually off the sill. "Never mind. You're here, instead of Megatron in a murderous rage, so I already know what you decided. Didn't have much doubt."
Soundwave reached into subspace for six energon treats. "Jazz, come."
He walked slowly, but carefully, across the distance between them. But when he opened his mouth in expectation, Soundwave held back from inserting the first one.
"This known: you did it. Why, not known. But you did it. I will discover why."
He inserted the energon delicately into Jazz's mouth. Jazz rolled it between his denta before swallowing, and smiled. "How nice. A new hobby for you."
Insolent. Soundwave held up another treat. "War, finished. Decepticons victorious, Autobots defeated. Autobots now slaves. Escape impossible." Jazz's gaze was fixed hungrily on the fuel between Soundwave's fingertips, but Soundwave withdrew his hand when Jazz tried to close his mouth over it. "Repeat it."
Jazz's visor glittered frostily. "Escape," he said, "impossible."
Soundwave fed him again. "Soundwave, master. Jazz, slave."
"Soundwave, master. Jazz... slave." Another treat.
"Master, not enemy."
"Master. Not enemy," Jazz repeated. They were moving, Soundwave noticed belatedly, trying to circle one another unconsciously. But Jazz echoed him obediently, and so Soundwave rewarded him again.
"Soundwave, stronger than Jazz."
"Soundwave, stronger than Jazz."
"Soundwave, smarter than Jazz."
"Oh, I do believe the game will decide that one, love." Jazz slithered up onto the arm of the couch rather than bump into it, kneeling on it to look Soundwave straight in the optic. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
Soundwave thought that over. "Jazz, not smarter than Soundwave."
"Touché. Only time will tell."
Soundwave fed Jazz the last of the energon, relishing the feel of Jazz's denta scraping lightly over his fingertips. "Mm. Thank you, master."
"From now forward, Jazz under more careful scrutiny. Jazz, always close to me. Jazz will be watched."
"So, nothing different there then."
As if he knew that would make Soundwave bristle, Jazz was quick to slip back onto the cushions of the couch. Soundwave bent forward enough to grasp his chin, holding him still. "Also, no contact with other Autobots."
Smugly Soundwave noted how he stiffened, but Jazz's visor did not even flicker. "You do realize that cutting me off from the Autobots wouldn't have prevented what happened with the Combaticons?"
Soundwave was tempted to scowl. "Consider it punishment."
"For what? I didn't break any of your rules."
"Attempted destruction of Decepticon Empire, now against the rules."
"Aw gee, and it was on my weekend's to-do list."
Soundwave released his grip on Jazz with an abrupt twist that nearly yanked him off the couch. "Jazz will make jokes. Jazz will laugh. Your distractions, ineffective. This much known: Jazz hiding something. I will find it."
"You're accusing me of keeping secrets? Now isn't that the glitchmouse calling Ravage black."
Soundwave almost faltered, but faced Jazz impassively. "My promise made. Remember it."
"I remember everything," Jazz assured him, with a smile that could cut ice. "To a tune."
His braced arms slid apart and he relaxed back against the cushions, the glow in his visor fading again. Soundwave was too weak to drag him back to the berth for any more recharge, but Soundwave was not interested in sleeping anyway. He was tired too, but he'd worked in states worse than this. Soundwave stalked away from the couch, leaving Jazz to slip into a doze, and entered his office. It was time to complete the long-overdue upgrade of alarms guarding this building.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters