Part 29

After delivering the news to First Aid, Hound, and—upon reflection of how much he'd irritate Prowl—Beachcomber, Jazz felt a load of weight off of his shoulders.

The relief did not improve his mood. Like a bit of sand caught in a ball joint, Prowl's kiss irritated him the more Jazz thought about it, and he couldn't stop thinking about it. Startling, lifting Jazz upwards like a dust devil in the desert, the kiss had pressed into him until Jazz had felt surrounded by Prowl and momentarily overwhelmed.

His combat subroutines did not like being overwhelmed, and his blade suddenly scraping the paint off of Prowl's hood had been all too close to giving Jazz a sudden promotion to Second.

Stupid Prowl! Hadn't Ratchet warned him that Jazz was dangerous? Hadn't Jazz himself kept trying to drive that point again and again? And still Prowl pushed his luck. Did Prowl run any kind of calculations for his own survival? If he kept trying reckless stunts like that, his life expectancy had to be running toward nil. Stupid, idiotic, lovestruck...

Jazz turned his pedes toward the brig, slamming the stairwell door open and ignoring the looks he drew.

Stupid, idiotic, lovestruck Jazz.

What was he supposed to do if he killed Prowl? If he hurt him? Over a damn kiss. A simple kiss. Something other mechs could take for granted. Something that Jazz might have liked—

He'd forgotten his datapad. Biting off a curse, he brought up the list of Soundwave's latest works on his visor, scrolling through to the most recent uploads. As he isolated the handful of them, he finally came to the last flight of stairs. Waving aside the guards he'd stationed, Jazz went through the door and heard it lock again behind him.

Sitting in his cell, Soundwave snapped to attention as much as he could, putting down his own datapad as Jazz came closer. He put one hand over the patched steel of his front, as if Jazz might reach through and wrench out his spark chamber.

"Apologies," Soundwave said before Jazz could start. "Ravage, warned Soundwave that the Jazz scene was overly indulgent."

Soundwave frowned, his unguarded expression turning faintly sullen. "...did not think it warranted official sanction."

Jazz stared at him for a moment, then realized he meant the long description in the story he'd read earlier. His ill humor returned like sour acid in his fuel tanks.

"Well," Jazz said, "it ain't as bad as you shooting at me, but it sure as hell is more aggravating. 'least on the battlefield, you can't hit worth slag."

Soundwave flinched. Whether that was for the barb at his shooting or his writing was impossible to tell.

"Story..." Soundwave started, then paused. "Story was not meant to hit any targets."

"But it did," Jazz said, annoyed at himself as sass slipped into his voice. "What the hell are you trying to pull? You got most of the base riled up against you even worse than usual. I didn't think it was possible, but I ain't never seen that kinda language as you're getting on those stories."

Soundwave tilted his helm as if the comments meant nothing. "Current hate, negligible. Jazz, should look in sur-net archives for the Great Shipping War last year. Thousands of flames over the power of healing spike to end the war."

Jazz opened his mouth to ask, then thought better of it and let that comment slide without question. Some things he did not want to know.

"Whatever," he said, waving it away. "I'm just here to get a quick update of what you've written, get the lowdown on what the hell it is you're trying to say."

Jazz swiped through the list of stories, including one that freshly uploaded as he was reading the list.

"Race to the Finish, Race to Victory. Spinning Out the Battlefield. Hill Climb Beyond the Clouds. Jazz in the Underground: Falling Through the Looking Screen."

A laugh escaped despite himself. "Stealing titles, now?"

Soundwave ignored the jab. "Lewis Carrol, worth stealing from."

Now that was unexpected.

Jazz lifted an eyeridge. "You? Read Alice in Wonderland?"

Soundwave nodded once. "Affirmative."

Letting the list on his visor fade, Jazz focused on Soundwave.

"I ain't buying that," Jazz said. "That Decepticon high command is reading poetry and nonsense?"

"Not nonsense!" Soundwave leaned forward, hands curling around the bars. "Highly structured critique of logic and mathematics."

"Really?" Still skeptical, Jazz narrowed his optics. "I should warn you I've read that and seen all the film versions."

"Likewise." Soundwave grimaced. "Disney animation, inferior."

"Whoa," Jazz said, taking a step. "Don't be hating on Disney. That's some damn fine adaptation—"

Soundwave pressed his mouth to a thin line. "Novel, superior."

Jazz vented. "Okay, yeah, true. And..."

He stopped himself. When did this turn into debating Disney with Soundwave? And no way was he buying that the overgrown boombox had ever read it. It was just a cheap ploy to get into Jazz's good graces, using an earth novel that was more famous than Shakespeare.

"Where in the hell did you hear about Alice in Wonderland?" Jazz demanded. "I don't think that'd come up during Megatron's daily speechifying."

Soundwave paused, taking a long vent as his gaze turned inward, remembering distant memories.

"Arrival on earth," Soundwave said slowly, "illogical at best. Unforeseen and impossible to calculate for. Indigenous population, likewise impossible to understand. Required quick understanding of earth culture."

"So you downloaded kid's books?" Jazz asked.

Soundwave shook his helm. "Downloaded over one thousand five hundred novels, films, songs and animations. Formed basis for understanding earth languages and politics. Analysis: earth culture primitive and illogical. Philosophy, hopelessly backwards. Religions, laughable. Music, intractable. Only intelligent discussion of logic and mathematics, Lewis Carrol's two Alice novels and assorted poetry."

Jazz's visor hid his wide optics. Soundwave rivaled Prowl for the most mechanical of mechs. To have a sudden culture bomb dropped like this... Worse, that Soundwave could see all that earth had to offer and still not feel anything for it...

Except for two short children's books.

Sitting down in front of Soundwave, with the prison bars between them, Jazz rested his arms on his pedes.

"Why?"

Soundwave blinked. "Why what?"

Jazz half-smiled. "Okay, that might be getting ahead of ourselves. Let me take a page outta Carrol, and who knows. Maybe we'll see just how far your rabbit hole goes."

"Mech," Jazz said, his grin spreading. "Who...are you?"

Soundwave was tempted to answer flippantly, fidgeting at having Jazz grinning directly at him. That smile usually meant his undivided attention, the same as a cybercat playing with a glitchmouse before sinking its fangs in. That same apprehension made him answer honestly.

"...Soundwave, uncertain." The golden optics flickered unsteadily. "Assertion—always considered Jazz more of the cheshire cat than the caterpillar."

"Either way, that's fine company." Jazz settled with his elbows on his pedes, head in his hands as he grinned. "I mean, who are you? If you take away the name Soundwave and the whole Decepticon thing."

"Previous answer," Soundwave repeated. "Uncertain. Megatron, provided previous life goal."

"Okay," Jazz said, "but you had to have a reason you joined up with him. What were you doing that made the Decepticons look so good at the start?"

Soundwave paused for a moment, his look turning distant as he drew up older memories from millenia past.

"Difficult...difficult to say. Memories before war, fragmented and corrupted. Only time in Senate, recoverable."

"'Senate'?" Jazz echoed in disbelief. "You were in the Senate?"

Soundwave shook his helm. "Negative. Employed by Senate. Specifically, Senator Ratbat."

"Huh." Jazz tilted his helm, accessing his own files. "I don't have any information about any assistants for that guy."

"Not assistant," Soundwave said. "Spy."

"Huh." Jazz vented. "Yeah, that makes sense. A telepath would be great for a politician."

"Ratbat, never knew about telepathy. Only used Soundwave for communications array. Deep space signals from colonies or cities on other side of Cybertron."

"Oh," Jazz said. "So is that your original designation? Deep space radio?"

Soundwave nodded. "Affirmative. Soundwave, superior range of all frequencies, even beyond most satellite units."

"I think Blaster would argue that," Jazz said. "So'd Cosmos, for that."

"Blaster, Cosmos, inferior," Soundwave said. "Blaster, focus on local terrestrial frequencies. Cosmos, focus on galactic frequencies. Soundwave, master of both."

"And yet you don't boogie down with all the music that earth's got to offer," Jazz said. "Hell, I figure you got a lot of old Cybertron songs, too."

Soundwave rolled his optics, straightening how he sat. "Earth music, Cybertronian music, both sentimental or mindless. Few files retained."

"Ain't nothing ever stuck with you?" Jazz asked mournfully. "Not one song or note?"

Soundwave met Jazz's look, then glanced aside.

"Heh, I knew it." Jazz grinned. "Come on, what song was it?"

"...not a song," Soundwave said. He bit his lip. "Jazz would not consider it music."

"Hey, I'm pretty open minded," Jazz said. "Or was that not one of the reasons you whacked me over the helm and carted me home like a caveman?"

Soundwave scowled at the analogy, then realized Jazz was baiting him.

"Jazz...superior," he conceded. "Sound is...electromagnetic vibration from Sol."

Jazz processed that for a long moment. He'd heard Cosmos, their litle UFO bot, swear that the planets and stars all had different sounds. And Blaster had said before that he often had to clear out the ambient noise from the stars.

"What's that sound like?" Jazz asked.

Soundwave moved to touch his front panel controls, then stopped as he remembered he was locked out of most of his own systems. He frowned, shuffling through his memory files.

"Vibrational," Soundwave said as they waited. "Like high power cables that have been tapped, with occasional breaks of higher pitched overlays."

Finally he found the right file and played it through his vocal box. A little strange to feel those deep space frequencies coming from his own chords, but at least he could share the sound with Jazz.

The strange sound played between them. Jazz closed his optics as he listened. There was no melody, no notes, not even a single stop in the sound, and yet the star resonated like strings of gold and silver, like a graceful humming over a deep, dark abyss.

"Spooky," Jazz murmured. "You recorded this?"

Soundwave shook his helm. "Negative. Merely a memory file, so audio is not flawless. Prefer to aim satellite array at the sky and merely...listen. So. It is not music, but..."

Soundwave vented and half-shrugged, wincing as the movement pulled on the healing cords in his chest. He let the memory file fade and click off.

"I like it," Jazz said.

Soundwave looked up with wide optics. "Jazz...really?"

"Yeah." Jazz leaned back on his elbows, stretching his pedes out. "I mean, I wouldn't put this in the lineup for a dance party or nothing, but it's a solid base for ambient sound."

"'Ambient'?" Soundwave echoed.

"Yeah, ambient." Jazz snapped his fingers. "You ain't never heard of that? It's kinda like this, only more planned out. Here, I got a few samples."

Jazz set a handful of song files to play, only thirty seconds to sample, and Soundwave listened intently to each one. They were reminiscent of the sound of the star, but they all played clear with tonal shifts and pitches or chimes that echoed like star dust in the darkness of space.

"Style, unknown," Soundwave said softly. "Did not hear this during previous sampling of Earth."

"Not bad?" Jazz asked.

"...Jazz, would be willing to trade?" Soundwave asked.

"I could be persuaded," Jazz said. "Truth to tell, you can have what I got, but I am dying to see what else you got hidden in those files of yours. Any Cybertronian stuff?"

"Very little," Soundwave said. "My tastes, obviously different from most. Only Steel Lunaire discography complete."

"Oh, I will definitely trade for that," Jazz said, sitting upright. "And Blaster's gonna straight freak out. He's been nursing the one song he still had of theirs for ages."

Soundwave opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and let it pass.

"Uh-uh," Jazz said. "What were you thinking?"

"Thoughts, very undiplomatic," Soundwave vented. "And not wise in current situation."

"Mech, what is your beef with Blaster anyway?" Jazz asked, already guessing what those thoughts were. "I mean, I know that he hates you don't get down to all the sweet tunes in the world, but—"

"There is more to music than dancing," Soundwave muttered, looking away at the wall. "Rhythm, precision, stark contrast and harmony. Blaster neglects all of this."

Jazz narrowed one optic. "Rhythm and harmony and all that is part of music, bot."

"Not the superficial melody he prefers," Soundwave said. "Jazz, superior. Understands ambient—"

"Blaster's the one who tuned me on to that," Jazz said.

Soundwave stumbled, a monkey wrench thrown in his logic, then pushed on. "Blaster, inferior. Blaster, focus on popular music and sound. No consistency. Changes with latest fads."

Unconvinced, Jazz watched with a growing smile as Soundwave wound himself up.

"And what does superior Soundwave prefer?"

"Perfection." Soundwave lifted his helm. "Control."

"Like...?"

Soundwave closed his optics, searching for another memory file. When he played it, however, only one clear note rang through, then faded swiftly. A short stretch of silence followed.

"That's it?" Jazz gaped.

"Perfect note in silence," Soundwave said. "Masterful control and awareness of sound."

"Huh." Jazz looked at him for a moment, then allowed himself to ask. "So, what do you think of jazz?"

"Jazz...it..." Soundwave's gaze dropped again. "Tried to listen to it. After awareness of Jazz superiority, tried to sample wide range of jazz songs. But...very chaotic."

"Don't feel like you gotta like it," Jazz said, waving one hand. "Heck, my name ain't really Jazz. I just liked it so much here, and my old name was just the glyph for musical tone...ain't like I was losing much changing my designation, y'know?"

Soundwave nodded once. "Dark jazz, acceptable. Some pieces very similar to ambient music, also acceptable." He paused. "Jazz, allow query?"

"Sure," Jazz said. "Might not answer it, but shoot."

"Why original designation so broad?" Soundwave asked. "Most mech names, very specific."

"Well..." Jazz leaned closer. "Tell you what. Tell me why you were named Soundwave and I'll tell you why I was just a sound."

Unsure if Jazz actually wanted the reason or was simply trying to avoid answering, Soundwave did his best to dredge up all of his earliest memory files. He recognized all of them, having played them over and over in order to piece together something of a past.

"Memory files, fragmented," Soundwave said slowly. "Sparked in a Polyhex science facility. Did not settle well in frame. Reasoning unknown at time—now obviously due to reading all electrical signals in cortexes of scientists-but was considered defective. In chaos of early thoughts, designation Soundwave occurs first in another mech's thoughts. Thought was...not kind. Mere generalized function, no special meaning."

"You don't remember getting your designation, even?" Jazz said.

"Reading of thoughts, impossible to control at first," Soundwave said. "Only after introduction to cassettes, focus found. Later, could be sublimated. Discovered reading thoughts very draining. When energon is scarce, telepathy is best not attempted."

"And you can't attempt it now?" Jazz said. "Sounds like it's more automatic than anything else."

"Control easier, now that systems are known," Soundwave said. "Ability was a ghost in the machine before. Can now be isolated and deactivated."

"Huh." Jazz sighed and leaned on his hands. "Well, wasn't quite what I was asking, but you gave me what you could. So, my designation."

The pause lengthened, and as Jazz slumped, Soundwave began to think that this was not a happy memory, either.

"Jazz, need not answer," he started.

"Nah, s'cool," Jazz said. "Just ain't no fun in the past. Some things don't change across the universe. Stars burn, space is cold, and musicians ain't worth the steel they're made outta. Even if you're created by a musical tower, you ain't worth nothing unless you can separate yourself out from the crowd. So all my spark mates, we all had the same name, tonal sound, and a number. Technically I'm Tone-5."

Soundwave's optics narrowed. "Functionist philosophy."

"Yup," Jazz said. "May the best mech win, and the rest would serve the tower as servants and whatever. If they didn't get smelted."

"Jazz, acknowledged as superior?" Soundwave asked, already knowing from Jazz's hollow laugh.

"Mech, I prefer improv and atonal stuff, and they were a pure classical crowd." Jazz shrugged. "I would'a been smelted if bombs hadn't started dropping while they was walking me down."

Soundwave leaned forward, holding the bars between them. "Jazz, saved by Decepticon bombing?"

"Go fig', huh?" Jazz shrugged. "If I had been with the rest of my sparkmates, I would'a died in the first strafing run. Instead the tower fell, and I skedaddled while the city started burning."

"Then..." Soundwave frowned, turning over the thoughts in his cortex. "You joined the Autobots?"

"Met Ratchet and Patch Up, they got me out of the city with a few other survivors. Stayed with 'em 'till we met Optimus."

"Not...Megatron?"

Jazz's smile didn't fade, but it did freeze. "Optimus and Megatron both hated functionism, but I heard less about that and more about how great ol' Megs is from the 'Cons. But Optimus, now he was all about what we were fighting for."

Soundwave old sentiments warred with his new reality. Joining Megatron had seemed so right, but here he sat with the enemy—

He corrected himself. With the Autobots.

"Patch Up, unknown designation."

"Yeah, well, he was a Praxian. When we got word about the attack on his city, he disobeyed orders and snuck out to go try to help any survivors."

Jazz's shrug said just how well that had gone. Whether the jets had killed him or he'd committed suicide, the outcome was the same.

Soundwave let his hands fall, settling back against the wall again. A long silence stretched between them. Soundwave knew better than to apologize for an atrocity like a city-wide massacre, especially when so many cities had been destroyed between them as the government went insane, flailing its military might until the three factions were fighting more for survival than politics. Praxus was a symbol, but it overshadowed so many other destroyed cities.

"More mechs on colonies now," Soundwave said softly, "than on Cybertron."

"I'd feel more sorry for 'em," Jazz said, "if they weren't a bunch of functionist sympathizers."

Soundwave looked up at him. How easy it was to forget that neither of them were neutrals. Jazz was as partisan as Soundwave, a true believer as much as any Decepticon or Autobot. They had more in common with each other than with any neutral.

"Functionism, dead." Soundwave vented. "At least the war destroyed that philosophy."

"Both sides agree on that," Jazz said, "if nothing else. Hey, Soundwave, you think the Cons would be willing to stop fighting if Megs wasn't there egging 'em on?"

Soundwave reset his optics. "Question, often considered. Led to glitching before, but even now... Many mechs dead. Decepticon army, weary of war, but willing to continue to keep some semblance of freedom. Individuality."

"Sounds like us," Jazz said, venting and staring at the ceiling. "Damn, this got depressing. Note to self, never talk about war with a warbuild."

Soundwave frowned, tilting his helm as if offended. "Warbuilds, not so different from civilian mechs."

Jazz grinned again, as broadly as he had before at the start of the conversation, but Soundwave found it impossible to tell if it was sincere or not.

"Mech...wouldn't that be crazy if it was true?"

TBC...