Part 25
For the next ten shifts, Jazz was the dutiful peripheral. He fetched cortex liquid patch pills for Prowl, took his own meds without complaint or reminder, and even used his friendship with Bluestreak to win a few more details for his master unit. No new leads on Meister and nothing solid on the tower fighting.
When they had finished their energon and lay down to recharge, Jazz put his helm on Prowl's shoulder, one pede over Prowl's, his arm draped around his master's waist. He couldn't keep Metronome out, but for now everything around him was full of the quiet rumble of Prowl's engine.
Prowl sat up in the berth, one hand resting on his datapad. His other arm wrapped around Jazz, holding him close.
"Nothing?" Prowl echoed. "That worries me."
"No news is a good thing, though, ain't it?"
Jazz lay with his helm on Prowl's shoulder, and he looked up to meet Prowl's gaze.
"I mean, maybe Meister won't show again?" Jazz said, tapping his fingertips on Prowl's hood. "Do, uh, do bad guys ever just stop?"
"Over eighty percent of offenders stop only due to incarceration or death," Prowl said. He noticed Jazz's wince and patted his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like thinking about smelters."
"Yeah, that," Jazz murmured.
"But it was actually the towers I was referring to," Prowl said. "A lull in the fighting likely means that both sides are regrouping. That a more violent confrontation is brewing."
"Mm."
Jazz frowned. If Prowl was right—and his master unit was scary accurate—then Metronome was probably planning something right now. Something Meister would be called on to handle. And one more job would probably give Prowl enough hints to narrow in on Jazz.
"Do you think Meister works for the towers?" Jazz asked.
"I believe I mentioned he must be a tower mech," Prowl said, "considering his abilities and high-performance frame. But I believe he won't be part of the fighting. He seems to be more of a thief or a distraction."
Prowl tilted his datapad screen so Jazz could see it more easily. Images of Meister, blurry and barely visible, scrolled by with Prowl's notes on the side.
"Once I knew what I was looking for, the images came more rapidly. I've catalogued two more of his thefts just this shift. And I am over ninety percent certain that his strings are pulled by someone else."
Jazz watched quietly as Prowl listed each heist over the past half-vorn. His master had missed a few, but no matter. He'd found enough. Golden strings from Maestro's harp just before Chamber Chorale's debut concert. An atomic metronome from House Sarabande during their dress rehearsal. The mech Theremin of the historical House Strata lost his compiled acetate notes on the origin of the chrys-guitar and how it was not the original invention of Chamber Harmonics. They were all cold cases, forgotten by every single Enforcer except the one mech who could begin to put lost clues together to fill in a picture.
"Despite being highly valued, these items have not reappeared," Prowl said. "Our informants have never seen them in the underground auctions. So if they are not resold, then there must be another motive for the thefts. If Meister was wealthy enough to want to collect them, he would have hired someone else to steal them. Therefore, he is either hired or commanded to steal. And I am leaning toward him being commanded."
Jazz made a soft sound that could've been questioning. Prowl took that as a cue to continue.
"A professional thief would not joyride," Prowl said. "He would do nothing to call attention to himself. But a young tower mech with no standing? He would want to blow off the pressure of being forced to risk himself time and again."
Jazz felt torn in two, wanting to run out onto the highway and wanting to cling tight to Prowl. He bit his lip and pushed his face against Prowl's throat cables.
"You don't think he's evil?"
Prowl fell silent, allowing Jazz to readjust against his side.
"He is a thief," Prowl said. "But he is not a killer. And...he caught me when he didn't have to. Twice. No, I don't think he's evil. And if he is being forced...I want to save him. He could provide valuable information in return for Enforcer protection."
Jazz clung hard to Prowl, feeling the rumblings of his engine deep in his own frame. Their systems had synched almost perfectly, and Jazz's processors had become more and more in tune with Prowl's.
"Perhaps we shouldn't discuss this," Prowl said softly, kissing the corner of Jazz's visor. "It always seems to upset you."
Without trying to force a connection, Prowl had created a link stronger than even the temple ceremony had tried to create. Jazz felt Prowl's concern nudging at the edge of his thoughts, his desire to make Jazz content and calm. Even a pinged inquiry if Jazz wanted to sing or play his guitar for awhile.
Jazz squeezed shut his optics. Prowl had come to enjoy listening to Jazz's improvisations, encouraging him to create. If Prowl wanted to protect Meister...
Oh, but if Prowl was lying! The rejection, the hate, the anger that could follow.
Jazz told himself to be brave. Trust Prowl. Prowl hadn't lied to him, hadn't hurt him, hadn't even raised his hand... Jazz squirmed. He didn't want anything to change, but it had to change no matter what. Prowl would find out somehow. There was no stopping him.
"Prowler..." Jazz murmured, the words at the edge of his voice. "I...I'm..."
A command triggered. Pain flashed white in his cortex. A high pitched frequency blanked out his audios with static and his optics blanked out.
nvphaz . adm = disabled
disable processes : x0000x00000984 . sys
address 6x9889 . linksys disabled
processor error
Suddenly blind and deaf, Jazz bolted upright and fell off the berth. His vocal processor refused to work. In his rising panic, he tried to reboot everything and found nothing responding. He couldn't feel anything.
Completely numb, he sunk toward the safety of his sparkchamber as his world grew smaller and darker, closing in on him as he huddled against the only thing left to him, the small dim flicker of his spark. From his cortex, under siege from an unknown source, something was rushing toward him like acid rain, like a meteor storm. He could barely understand the attack, overwhelmed with sudden alien commands. The static grew into the oncoming roar of code—crash imminent, crash imminent—
out_undo_partial_alloc
block_n:x-set/0
reroute_access
return
restart
enable
The storm...stopped. The roar snuffed out like smoke. Jazz held his vents even though he knew he wasn't really venting.
void_groups: free all
reboot_root_phys: tactile
reboot_root_cortex: enable
Jazz could have understood the code if they hadn't flown by in nanokliks. Slowly information began to flow back into his systems. Touch, sound...at first they whispered in, barely enough to let him know he still existed, and then more and more data processed until he could feel, hear himself venting again. Something was interfacing with him from outside his processors, managing what had been a freefall and bringing him back online one system at a time.
Jazz?
Jazz. Come back to me.
That code...he did understand.
He opened his optics. He was on his knees, hanging onto Prowl's hands as his master unit stood over him, holding him upright. Jazz keened once, clinging tight as his sensors came online in bursts. He felt like he was tipping backwards and sinking at the same time, and only Prowl kept him from tumbling into nothingness.
Something was happening around them. His sensors flickered wildly, registering billowing waves of heat and streaks of smoldering ash. Was he on fire? Jazz still felt numb, and every sensor that came back registered the same thing. A roar of flame, breaking crystal. The groan of steel?
Jazz, Prowl said, looking straight into his optics. I'm going to close some of your receptors. It will feel odd, but don't fight this-
Jazz tried to gasp down vent after vent, unable to feel himself drawing air. He shook his helm and winced as more code flowed in from Prowl, his master unit feeling around his cortex, as if Prowl were gently putting his hands around Jazz's code and sifting through it.
Prowl frowned. There is a signal-
No, Jazz breathed. No-
It is coming from a port behind your firewall. Prowl narrowed his optics but his hold remained gentle. His focus locked on Jazz's security suite and began tapping at the edges, testing its abilities. It's hurting you.
Prowl-
I'm sorry, Prowl said, and with their code mingling so closely, Jazz actually felt the regret and concern warring inside him. I didn't want to force you to show me this, but we are running out of time and options.
Jazz's firewall shattered, obliterated so quickly that for a moment he imagined that it had never existed. He cried out, trying to make his mouth work and so shocked that he struggled to put thoughts together.
"Virus!" Jazz gasped. "Don't—virus! There's—"
I am aware, Prowl said. I see it.
Outside of themselves, the tower groaned again as the floor tilted. Ash blew up from the doorway and smoke began to cloud their intakes. Prowl stepped closer, holding Jazz flush against himself. The firewalled section of Jazz's cortex lay bare for him to read, but he didn't, too busy dealing with the virus to even consider it.
The virus turned and twisted on itself and then struck out, racing through their link and lancing Prowl's code. Jazz tried to yank it back but he had no control, and he felt the virus squirming between both of them, trying to sink deep into both of them.
Prowl caught it, pulling it deeper, and behind the virus, he deleted its anchor and let its fragmented code wisp away, to be swept up by the next defrag cycle.
Wounded, the virus attempted to recreate its anchor, lashing out in all directions for any code it could latch onto. Its purpose was obvious, to take over Prowl's higher functions and slave him to Jazz, reversing the marriage ceremony and setting them both at the command of whoever held Jazz's leash. No cheap worm, it reeked of high tower creation, lethal and more powerful than even a temple bot's wedding programs. Whoever had created it wanted Prowl badly.
"On any other ground," Prowl murmured, "you would have won."
The virus found that the code it had dived into was only a shallow shell of duplicate coding. Prowl quarantined it, briefly examined it like a glitch in a photo, isolated the root command and deleted it. As if it had been pierced, the virus simply stopped.
"That...will make interesting evidence," Prowl said.
He turned his attention to Jazz.
His peripheral had finally come back online, still leaning against him for support. Prowl looked over Jazz's cortex one more time to make sure all unauthorized communication ports were closed, then over what remained of their tower.
Whoever had attacked them—and Prowl had a strong guess—had incapacitated Jazz less than a breem before the front of their tower had exploded. The flames were still creeping up the staircase, but wind and smoke swept upwards, sucked in by the heat and forcing the flames higher. No doubt the lower wall had been destroyed in the initial blast.
Downstairs, something crashed in, followed by heavy steps that rushed into the main room. Intruders—whoever had attacked them, they weren't done.
"Prowl—" Jazz started.
"I know."
Hauling Jazz back to his pedes, Prowl steadied him until he'd regained his balance. Beneath them came loud cracking of crystal beneath pedes, electrical systems shorting out as fire ran up the circuits, followed by unfamiliar voices.
"Fan out! Make sure they're both offline."
"The explosion couldn't have missed them-"
"I don't want any surprises-"
Prowl made instant calculations. They had been attacked-100%. They were being actively hunted-100%. They had been drawn into the tower conflicts-90% and climbing. The lower floor was completely compromised-85% and climbing. The fire would soon engulf the entire tower-85% and climbing.
"Jazz-" he started.
"You gotta get outta here," Jazz said over him. "You can't fight-I'll cover for ya-"
"Negative," Prowl said. "Your safety is paramount."
"Prowler, you're still hurt-"
"A combat zone is no place for arguments," Prowl said. "Forgive me for this."
"Wha-" Jazz's vent hitched as his peripheral link was accessed, and he shook his helm wildly as he realized what was happening. "No no no, Prowl, don't-"
"Jazz," Prowl ordered him, "escape and make your way to the Enforcer station. Now."
"No, you rusted-"
Jazz cursed as his frame moved against his will, taking him toward the wash racks and opening up the evacuation access panels. Climbing easily through the cramped corridor and up onto the roof, he moved perhaps quicker than Prowl expected. Unlike cramped ventilation shafts, evacuation routes were meant to be climbed by mechs with far less experience than Jazz, and yet he shimmied up like a practiced professional.
Bullets and lasers peppered the trap door as he lifted it up, and he used the heavy slab as a shield. Through the billowing smoke, he counted the points of laser fire and came away with too many for Prowl to fight.
"Glorified calculator in't no combat mech," Jazz growled as his hands moved against his will. "Thinks he can take on a whole heap of bad guys and get away..."
But Prowl didn't believe he could get away. Prowl was just buying Jazz time to escape. Prowl knew he wasn't any good in a fight, and yet he'd sent Jazz away.
And Jazz was obeying no matter how much he fought his programming. The peripheral coding, though weakened, demanded that he move. Prowl's order had left him no loopholes to wiggle through.
Another spray of bullets landed around him. Could they see him? Were there fliers? He shuddered. He hoped not. Hard to outrun fliers, but he would've been happy to see Airazor or any number of Enforcers right then. He was sure Prowl had called for help, but there was no way help would come in time. There was only Jazz, and he was already crossing the roof.
He spotted an acid rain drainpipe behind him and grabbed it, pulling himself out of the shaft and using the pipe to clamber down the wall. Flames roared all around him, and with a grimace, he leaped down the last several meters and rolled through the fire. His internal temperature soared as he came back up in a run, heading toward the far fence. He could hop it easily, hit the road rolling, circle the tower district as he abandoned Prowl...
"No." Jazz repeated it over and over as he pedes took him toward the fence. "No. I ain't doing this. I ain't leaving him."
His peripheral coding had him at the fence. He grabbed the steel bars, and he saw the black paint of his hands and the white paint of his arms. Through the smoke rolling over the grounds, the two colors blurred in his optics.
"Jazz has to escape," he muttered.
But Meister didn't.
A little white and black mech had escaped from the tower. A sleek black and silver nightmare roared back.
TBC...