Origin (Transformers)
Chapter 13. Illusion – Part 2.
Jazz ran. His peds hit the ground and bounced him further, his field exploding with energy. No walls, no corridors, no turns to slow him down. No borders. He ran straight and straight to the landscape that could hide him away from this open space and the base from the gates of which would soon rush mechs in vehicle forms speeding after him.
He could already hear their shouts announcing his escape and he dreaded to hear the sound of their transformation.
Jazz too could transform, yet in his young age he did not yet trust his form-changing speed nor his orientation once it was complete. The try was not worth the risk, nor could he drive in the shattered plateau, with levels and drops, cables of natural structures - their planet's version of fauna spreading its servos and transforming their already constantly shape-changing word.
He could not drive there. Nor could the other bots. Once bipedal, for them with their much bigger and less agile frames it would be hard to move through the fractured wilderness.
So it was his destination. To keep moving and get lost from their site.
The loud engines behind his back announced that the chase had began but Jazz's ped stepped over the first thin cable that pierced itself through the thick layer of sand and his spark bounced sending a thrill to his frame. From here on there was no sand and dust but polished and rough metals and stone, oil and fluids reflecting the rare light squeezing through the cables.
There was a call through the comm. followed by a audio stinging sound of connection disturbed by the now chaotic surroundings. All Jazz heard was some mech calling his name and a command directed at him, unrecognizable at this point. Jazz switched the link off. He was among the wild territories. There was no point in stopping now. He was using the chance and just had to keep going.
Young frame rushed through the hanging cables and jumped over a huge thick one so old that it was almost as much metal as the ground. Landing, he never stopped, sliding down and crossing a linking he made his way over the uneven surface. Some bio-light around shone or blinked, then went off or never acknowledge his light frame at all.
He could hear shouts behind his back.
The young spark almost jumped out when he spared a quick glance back to the side and saw a figure storming its way through the forest, hidden behind cables close, unaware of his presence. Holding back a surprised gasp, Jazz made a sharp turn throwing himself at the angle away from the 'Bot, barely managing not to fall in the dirt.
His ped splashed into some fluid shining on the polished stone, servos already covered in slippery oil as he chose route the least possible for mechs to go through. Fans working hard the youngling kept going. If they caught him now, his return conditions would no longer be same. They would know he wanted and could escape. Jazz had used his only chance.
The thrill of chase and fear all mixed blocking any signs of exhaustion allowing him to go further. He could outrun them and he would.
Later his sensors might manage capturing the magnetic fields that would lead him. If not, walking opposite the second night star would lead him straight to Decepticon territories, through the wasteland between two Autobot cities. If he was lucky he would come across a 'Con patrol or a seeker squad. He could manage that journey. If older mechs were able to travel bigger distances so could he. He was strong.
Cables were slapping his faceplate, armor being scratched by sharper edges, dented from rare falls or slips. The voices were lowering down now left behind.
He was succeeding.
Barely able to see where he went, now on a lower level of this Cybertronian forest, Jazz dived among the roots trying not to care about all the splashing noise he was making by running over the thin layer of colourful liquids.
It was hard to see, the space getting darker. Jazz heard the sharp eruption of thunder - the clouds were closing the sky. He did not need light at that point. He felt the direction he was going, flying over the obstacles and borders, squishing through, crawling under with the fake feeling of endless energy filling his mind with illusion.
"RedAlert, sir…Emmm… Is that not the Kaonian youngling…" A mech asked looking at the monitors unsure.
"What are you-" to say that Security Officer was stunned wouldn't describe the whole site. The mech jerked to the monitor taking controls and zooming inthe image, "What's he doing out there?!"
"~Sir, we have a saturation-~" a voice came from one of the speakers linking to the Minor G gate.
"YOU THINK?!"
"~We just saw a youngling~"
"Running out of gates! Get him! What are you waiting for-"
"~Already on it, sir.~"
True to the mech's word there were three vehicles quickly catching up with the escaping figure. But RedAlert could see that they would not reach him while still in the open.
A mech looked sideway at his officer,"…Should we… Shoot him, sir?"
"YOU'RE NUTS?! Of course, not!" RedAlert grabbed the speaker, "This is not a drill! We have CODE RED 4.7!"
"He ignored his comlink and it is hardly useful with all the natural obstacles. The model he was provided with is not too basic…" the red armored mech from the Monitor Tower announced the updated reports from his datapod to the group of officers.
"What about censors?"
"Not many in the forest but we do have some outside its borders."
"We don't have them in the South-East."
The reporting mech lowered the datapod with hesitation, "... No sir. It's neutral territories."
"Exactly."
"You think he knows where he's going?" Ironhide looked at Prowl with disbelief, "We can barely orientate in that area, how's he supposed to know the direction?"
"He hasn't crossed the clearance in sector 6.9, nor was he detected near 7.0."
"He is going South-East, can be anywhere between 7.5 and 7.9."
"8.1."
"What? There is a slope to the lower level. All is swamp there, he can't cross it."
"His frame is smaller and lighter, he can." Ratchet pointed unhappily.
"And he will. Jazz knows we can't follow him through. If he passed sector 7.5, which he must have had by now, he saw it."
"So he's going through the gap in the territories? How does he even know the geography?!"
Ironhide snapped but froze instantly turning at WheelJack who flinched under the stare, "It is basic knowledge-"
"You were supposed to teach him glyphs and coding, not provide detailed data of our territories!"
"Don't you dare throw all fault at me! And it was very basic information! I did not expect him take off into the wild!"
Hound stepped in between the two glares. The mechs that were first to react to the running youngster returned empty handed. Having had a head-start with no mech expecting the possibility of such a sudden and seemingly impossible escape, Jazz, who had sneaked through the maintenance site managed to make it quite far unnoticed by any mech. The Monitor Tower caught the attempt with a light delay as the odd reading caused by Jazz's size and speed did not instantly trigger the cameras. Must be noticed, this was a huge omission from RedAlert's side but one had to give him some credits for after going mad from such a simple mistake, as if the runaway Kaonian was not enough, he blazed back to work reviewing all the systems and the personnel included.
Hound himself had been with Mirage, the mech informing him of the incident with Wreckers, when Hound saw the youngling's figure walking towards the maintenance area.
"Hey, 'Rage, ain't that Prowl's kid?" he remembered asking. They had been too far from the site, watching from the top of the high decks between the buildings, "Ain't he supposed to be with 'Hide?"
"He was, indeed…"
"You don't think he's-
They had been distracted by the call from furious Ironhide demanding Mirage to hand him the youngling whom he had not met where stated, who had refused to answer the comms and who was going to drive him crazy. Promising an age-lasting cleaning duty to the youngster, he demanded Mirage to help him locate the mechling as the noble in Ironhide's opinion was the second most possible mech to find that sand in a joint.
The suspicion of Hound and Mirage became truth far too quickly when both mechs saw the youngling speeding far already on the other side of the wall.
Hound himself was somehow impressed by how far the mechling managed to go and was not surprised that once in the forest the youngling succeeded to slip out of the site. The mechs who followed him were not trained to maneuver in such terrain while also searching for target half of their size. More than that, they have had just arrived from patrol, their energy levels low.
"Weren't you supposed to look after him?!"
"I can't look after something that ain't there, genius!"
Once the escape was reported a mess bigger than expected began and something was telling Hound that it was not so much a worry for some random youngling running off in the dangerous territories but the fact that what some considered to be a potentially Decepticon escaping their control, having seen some quite private parts of Iacon… A guardian himself and the mech with a long remarkable tracking history proving his qualification, which Hound preferred to dismiss, he was ready for departure. Currently in the group with Prowl, Mirage, Ironhide, Ratchet and WheelJack, who had been last to interact with Jazz, they had formed a confusing site of quite highly ranking mechs all attending the same, at first look, matter of not such a high priority. Others who had been present by the Red Gates were either reporting, mainly from the monitor tower (mostly the lack of information regarding mechling's location) or continuing their work while looking yet trying to avoided the group of high command. Among Ironhide's and WhealJack uneven match Hound asked the obvious question, "Wasn't he installed a tracer of some kind? Signal might still be strong enough."
"They are working on it." Ratchet announced annoyed by the lack of progress.
Mirage raised his optic ridge surprised, "You did install the tracer after all?"
"Standard procedure."
"Do my younglings too have the device?" The mech's deep gaze drowned the obviously unsettled medic as the silent stretched among the group, the only mech still unfazed being Prowl.
The medic throw a quick gaze at the Praxian and Mirage guessed that their Tactician too had asked the same question some time ago…
"Other youglings don't run around the base at night or hide in the places no mech can reach." Ironhide growled.
"Of course, that was for his own safety… Obviously. One question, does Jazz know he has one on him? And that he is the only one who does?"
"We don't have time for that."
"Yes, we don't indeed," while Mirage's voice sleek, his gaze told them all he thought about the matter.
So much for helping the trust issue. Obviously, at this stage the youngling's opinion wouldn't have been considered by the most mechs. Mirage, however, saw that despite Jazz's youth he was surprisingly observant when it came to such details. He seemed also capable of reading between the lines… Mirage wished he had known about the device before so he could have talked to the young 'spy' regarding this tracking procedure… It must have been implanted sometime after the youngling's last disappearance when the crystal episode happened.
"Don't you give us that look. You know perfectly well that was needed with this scraplet! The whole situation proves the point-"
"Sir, an update. Last time tracker transferred signal from sector 7.5. Three minutes after entering the area. The connection was blocked since then."
"What kind of technology is that some trees manage to block the signal?!"
And so Ultra Magnus entered the picture.
"It's Titanium cliffs, sir. They are covered with Spreader Roots and-
"More nasty obstacles than you want to imagine." Ironhide added, "On top of that the weather is messing up the readings."
Second in command was not satisfied, "Do you have any idea how much information this youngster can leak to Decepticons. If he comes across a patrol and they aren't foolish enough to shoot him on site, some descriptions of what he saw will be enough." His gaze then snapped at the Praxian, "He was your responsibility, lieutenant, where were you when he was running off?"
"I was tending to insubordination from the Wreckers under your command, sir. Perhaps if a more detailed introduction was organized for the newly arrived units they wouldn't be attempting to perform false security action towards a Head Tactician Officer and the youngling of the base."
"Sir, the weather conditions are slowing the signal, it has just reached us and seems he had indeed reached the swamp."
"He would need to rest, he can't keep the same speed for long." Ironhide protested but Prowl ignored him and started his walk towards the shuttle,"Take us to sector 8.15, we will spread from there."
"Wait... You going?"
"I am his guardian."
"I protest. The Head of Tactician department is too valuable to be sent on a capture mission of one escaped Kaonian."
"Quit it, Magnus. The kid almost got scrapped by Wreckers."
Ironhide acknowledged that? Mirage was immersed. It seemed the mech was at least slightly worried. The spy decided to add, "No wonder he is trying to run away. Prowl knows him better, Jazz will be more likely to comply."
"I cannot possible allow such-"
"I do."
"Sir-"
Prime. 'Savior of the day', Mirage thought. Their leader and most of the mechs present were not in charge of dealing with a situation like such, considered the low priority of the runaway with only one little 'but' – him being a Kaonian youngling. Yet here Prime was… Mirage while having respected the mech for loads of other obvious reasons, held back a satisfied smirk. Jazz had the strongest ally at his side he could have had. As long as the mech was available among the galaxies of other responsibilities he had to complete…
"Prowl and Mirage ae right. The team will be staying among our territories, the risk is minimal. Hound, you are in the lead of the party. Ratchet, go with them, the mechling might need a medic."
"I'm going too." Ironhide announced and not even waiting for a reply walked in the shuttle.
"Very well. Mirage, you are currently in charge of younglings on the base. WheelJack I have heard your help is required in the laboratory."
Jazz knew he managed to get away.
There were no more shouts of mechs. He had heard them try communicating between each other or growling angrily at the conditions they had to chase him in. What he was hearing now in almost a complete darkness was the splashing of the fluid and dirt under his peds that were fully covered in both, while loud attempts of his fans to cool his system were unusually loud.
His mouth filling with cooler, Jazz decided it was time to climb from under this lower level to check the surrounding and direction. Allowing himself a click to lean on a thick cable Jazz coughed pushing his frame further. He was close to the slope of the upper level which would lead his out from the swamp. Unlike the side he used to slide in, this did not hover over the ground and was just half of his height, sharply merging with the level he was on. His frame filled with dizzy lightness Jazz pierced digits in the mud and lifted his frame up. He started walking again, his vision darkening during the first two step. Expected after a sudden strain on his frame, it was not anything critical as his system were supposed to re-calibrate soon. Jazz went further without a glance back, his peds heavier with the mud stuck to them. He looked through the thick webs of cables over his helm where he managed to see a hint of the grey sky.
The wind rose capturing the smallest rocks from the upper levels and cooler drops from cables, lightly splashing them across the youngling's frame. Jazz had to blink away the particles and spat at the ground to clear his mouth. No longer running widely he was still quite fast passing the obstacles, ignoring the non-stopping work of his haggered fans. The numbness was slowly coming as he struggled to use his digits while his peds' reply to his command seemed to be happening with delay. He would gain his energy back in a bit. There was still a great distance to go but even if his condition stayed same Jazz could manage, automatically leading himself further.
There was no going back at this point and nothing to go back to.
Alone, among this hidden world of cables and wetness where a rare mech could manage to reach he heard no sounds of any life despite knowing that at least small bugs had to be there on surfaces or swimming in whatever the fluids here were. They were mostly likely just hiding from the untypical intruder to their territory or sensing the weathers' possible worsening. Jazz honestly did not want to know how close to some of the creatures he had been while in that endless puddle.
There was a strike of thunder again. Wind got stronger.
Jazz frowned deciding he would go till it was no longer possible and then find a spot to hid. There was an opening among in the cables. Not sure at first, he decided it could help him to clarify his route.
There it was – the clearance uncovered by any upper levels, much sky with only a few brunches and cables of biggest trees blocking the view. On land however, Jazz was a step away from a deep scar like drop on the ground.
His spark flinched once as he stepped away.
Titanium stones cleared from softer filling by the previous storms were now separated in two sides creating a small narrow and rusted scar on the land covered in mud crossing the site. And that scar was long. Jazz was not sure how far he would need to walk till its end or a possible passing so he started looking, searching for a way to cross it. His main destination was on the other side.
It was then when he saw it - a small part of the wall forming a slope which he could use to slide in. With servos lightly shaking, peds threatening to stumble, Jazz decided there was a chance he could manage the short climb up after. It didn't matter that he still struggled to breath, cooler filling all of his circulation system, servos trembling as he raised them to keep a better balance. The red optics locked their gaze on the distance to come, barely noticeable behind the trees on the other side. His light dimed a little with doubt. Perhaps, it was really a journey far too long for him to manage… Jazz gripped his dental and forced the tired frame to move. He would be rusted but he would make across that drop. Autobots were most likely still searching for him, and he wasn't going to make it any easier for them. He needed to pass.
Jazz kept some steps away from the drop swaying a bit as he stepped from sharp edged titanium rock to the mud wholes filled with rust particles and grease.
Making another step he tried to pull his ped hidden under that soaking mud. It caught on a hidden root. Stumbling Jazz lost his balance and his falling frame pulled the root with its weight.
He felt the pressure on his ped caused by the wrong angle just before he heard the sentencing sound of rolling rocks and ground, now without a holding root falling down the drop, taking land from under his peds.
His shocked gasp was spread through the air and got blocked by the trees. Frame was pulled down the steep slope, rolling, as Jazz tried to grab onto something to slow his frame. But whatever he managed to capture all followed him down as he was scratched and dented landing in watery mud with a splash, final following rocks hitting the bottom and his frame. It all silenced among the distant howl of wild.
The youngster groaned slowly lifting his helm, frame spread at the bottom of the drop. His upper leg and side hurt having taken most of the hit, whole frame sore from inside out. Piercing his servos in the mud, knowing he had fallen but not seeing the whole picture yet, Jazz pushes himself horizontally, carefully testing his peds. He winced freezing, a pained gasp leaving his vocalizer as a sharp, electric-like pain spread through his left ped. Squeezing his detains Jazz dared to slowly move his upper half, helm turning to look back at the damaged limb. He could not see much with even more mud covering him now, but the scare from the perspective increased his spark beat. Hissing, Jazz desperately tried to ignore the nagging thoughts of consequences the incident would cause him.
Grimacing and struggling not to move his ped, he slowly dragged himself just by his servos, leaving a trace in mud, trying to reach a dryer spot. His optics darkened once and he had to stop, blinking the dizziness away. Once on the harder ground Jazz dropped his head, catching his breath.
Finally having stopped after his long run, the exhausted frame worked hard to release the built tension. Feeling the tremble of his servos Jazz shut his optics, tired and damaged he knew he had to move. Lifting his helm up he saw the wall he had planned to climb, the slope leading back forgotten now. There was no way he could walk around the long drop with such ped. He had only one option - to climb up, as impossible as it seemed and drag himself inside the forest once again, finding a spot he could hide himself into.
With an exhausted and desperate growl Jazz hit his fist at the ground, servos trembling with protest but complying more or less, one ped helping to push.
Young Jazz was and so was his spark, still more hopeful than most of the older and hardened mechs had. While decision he made could be rushed, his almost childish determination was still there to lead him in and out of trouble. Jazz's certainty of his maturity a lot of youngsters shared in that age had too fogged the young mind who refused to accept his limits. But now, the more he moved further, more aware he was becoming of the actual strength left in the drained frame.
It was scaring him, the slow realization that was covering his mind with dark clouds. And so he tried not to think, pushing the despair and fright threatening to flow out back in the depth of his mind.
He hissed now and then at a wrong move that would make his damaged limb release a painful warning but went on with a determined frown. He tried to lift himself and partly succeeded dragging his ped under, helping him reach a higher spot of the crag. Short and quick blows of air were pumped through his nose and he spitted a piss of mud that entered his mouth.
Jazz climbed. Digits pushed in the walls of mud as deep as possible, grabbing edges of the titanium layers and roots that would sticking out. He was close to the ground when his servo slipped, unable to hold longer on the edge of a stone and he was back at the bottom, somehow managing not to damage himself further but holding back the gasp caused by the moved damaged limb. Once he could move again, he did, trying at another spot, just by the vertical line of wholes and cleared rocks he left from his try.
He could not move anymore. Exhausted frame felt beaten from the hits he received every time he fell back on the ground. The slope, that was a useless way out leading back from where he'd come now too had prints from an attempt of a climb that went barely till one forty of the way, too steep for the tired mechling to use. Stuck at the bottom of the scarred land a barely noticeable frame, half covered with a thin grayish layer of now dried dirt, half carelessly left in the cool mud of black, grey and orange, had stopped the frantic breathes and was now cooled, trying to recover with barely any energy left for the process. Jazz's half closed optics had stared at the mud since the last fall followed by a crawl to a dryer ground where he finally allowed himself to drop.
He failed. Jazz had thought of what he had attempted, now seeing that he had almost no chance to make the distance he had planned.
He did not know how long he'd laid like that but the cloudy sky was getting darker and he could hear the wind blowing over the drop he was in. Slowly he raised a servo to his comm-link and turned it on receiving monotonic sound of light static in his audio. He did not speak at first, listening to that steady his. Untypically hesitant, he finally spoke, "C-Can… Can a-anyone hear me?"
"Do… do you copy?" he tried, realizing how hoarse his voice sounded and was not sure he wanted anyone to hear the first two calls he just made. Managing to turn so he could lie on his back, Jazz looked at the sky line framed by the two cut edges of the drop… He was alone in that place and the only sound of wind and static felt so strange. To the youngling who'd spent his life among the metal streets and walls suddenly this world felt too big to cover.
Jazz tried again.
"...Hey, Prowler…"