Age of Smoke Part 1: The Autobot Code

Chapter 34: Working

Sideswipe stepped through the groundbridge into the shouting chaos of the temporary base on the outskirts of Slaughter City. His comm. fed him a steady stream of information and orders and troop movements. It was fascinating how much more he was allowed to know about the battle as a member of Ironhide's personal unit.

"Come," Ironhide led the way through the confusion to a small group of mecha.

The closest one saluted. "Commander Ironhide, sir. It's good to have you with us again."

"Thank you, Powertrain," Ironhide said. "This is Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. They're going to join us. They need someone to keep an optic on them though."

Powertrain nodded. "Rookies, huh?"

"Something like that," Ironhide said. "Good at fighting, not so good at following orders. Got landed with them somehow."

Sideswipe glanced at the commander and was slightly relieved to see the older mech's lip plates turn up in a half-smile when they made optic contact.

"Yes, sir," Powertrain said. "Hot Shot?"

A yellow mech stepped forward. "Yes, sir?"

"You're on rookie duty again. You two stick with him. He'll show you the ropes."

"Really?" Hot Shot said. "Again?"

"I don't…" Ironhide said hesitantly.

"Was that a bad call?" Powertrain asked. "I can assign them to somemech else."

"Nah," Ironhide said. "It should be all right, so long as Hot Shot stays on his best behavior."

"Sir, yes sir," Hot Shot said. "I always am."

"Uhuh," Ironhide said. "Let's move out, mechs."

They transformed and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker fell into formation behind the other mech.

"Hey," Hot Shot said over a closed comm. with just the three of them. "You two on the unit comm. yet?"

"Yeah," Sideswipe said. "Where are we headed?"

"Wherever we're needed," Hot Shot said. "There's no way to know for sure. For now we're going to get some altitude and take a look at a few things. But we end up on the front lines sometimes too."

"Question," Sideswipe said. "What do they even need a ground commander for, they've got that crazy genius tactician, right?"

"Good question," Hot Shot said. "Don't word it like that if you ever bring it up to Powertrain, though, he might get offended. He pretty much thinks the world revolves around Commander Ironhide and that the army would fall to pieces without him."

That was good to know.

"Sometimes we probably don't need a ground commander," Hot Shot said. "But there are sometimes decisions someone on the ground needs to make. And if we lose comms with base, someone's gotta be in charge. Make sense?"

"Yeah," Sideswipe said. "I guess so."

They turned a corner, heading toward the smoke and distant sounds of battle.

"You know, it's a great honor to be in this unit," Hot Shot said. "The Commander must think highly of you."

More like he felt sorry for them. Sideswipe didn't say anything.

"But you'll only stay in this unit if you can follow orders and work as a team."

Sideswipe felt Sunstreaker's mild disdain for that statement through the twin bond, but figured he should say something. "That's not really our forte, but we'll try."

"Great," Hot Shot said. "That should be good enough."

They turned another corner.

Sideswipe hoped it would be.

First Aid woke to the comforting sounds of the Autobot medbay. It was nice, he thought, to know where he was and that he was going to be all right.

He… wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten here, though. He checked his memory files. The most recent ones were difficult to decipher. He'd been doing better, hadn't he? What had happened?

He un-shuttered his optics and glanced over at Ratchet, who was arguing with that Praxian who'd come in once or twice.

"…but you need time to integrate the repairs. I'll unlock it for you in three orns."

"Three orns is too long!" The black and white Praxian insisted. "I have to—"

"You shouldn't use your battle computer for a whole decaorn. Three orns is the absolute minimum, but if you're going to argue about it, I can increase the time."

"But I—"

"No!" Ratchet said. "Now get out of here and get some rest."

The Praxian looked as if he wanted to argue more, but then he deflated, doorwings drooping, and left the medbay with a bitter expression on his faceplate.

Ratchet muttered to himself as he walked over and checked the monitors First Aid was hooked up to.

"I'm feeling better," First Aid said.

"I can see that."

"Where are my brothers?"

"In their quarters. There's fighting in Slaughter City right now so we're too busy for visitors."

"Oh," First Aid said. "Can I help?"

"No," Ratchet said. "You nearly offlined on us—you're going to stay on this berth and rest."

He finished checking First Aid's monitors and then hurried over to a mech on another berth.

First Aid watched him as he worked. Medics came and left, and eventually, Ratchet left with them, headed into the larger medbay.

Cautiously, First Aid pulled some of the monitoring equipment over and detached it from himself. Some of these would warn Ratchet if anything happened, but First Aid knew how to trick them by changing the settings slightly.

He finished disconnecting himself from the machines and slipped off the berth. He did feel weak, but not too terrible other than that. And if he went to medbay gamma, hopefully he wouldn't run into Ratchet while he was helping.

"Elita, do you have anything to report?" Optimus asked.

Jazz yawned, leaning back in his chair.

It was a sparse meeting. Ratchet was too busy, Ironhide was in Slaughter City, and Mainspring was working on something else.

"Yes, actually," Elita said. "We've received a message from Pescus Hex. It's an invitation. They'd like to meet with you to discuss an alliance."

Prowl was here, looking unhappy about something. But… wait, he was supposed to be having processor surgery. Had Ratchet cancelled that? Or was it over? He wouldn't put it past Prowl to come to a meeting right after having surgery.

"I should speak with them then," Optimus said. "Thank you."

"The only catch is that they want you to actually go to Pescus Hex."

Jazz pulled a datapad out of subspace and checked it. A few of his mecha had checked in. He forwarded their reports to Mainspring.

Optimus nodded. "If they are willing to make an alliance of some sort with us, then I'm certain that can be arranged. Is… something bothering you?"

Jazz looked up.

Elita did look troubled about something. What were they talking about again? Pescus Hex?

Wait…

"It's just… in the past, Pescus Hex has been… well, we were worried for a while they'd join the Decepticons as a city, like Tarn did."

"Yeah," Jazz put in. "I had a mech there a couple of decaorns ago, and the general public's still leaning toward the 'Cons. I wouldn't go there in person, it ain't safe."

"They were very specific about you coming in person," Elita said.

Optimus frowned.

"Don't even consider it, mech," Jazz said. "That's too likely ta be a trap. Ya could be killed or handed over ta Megatron. Or they might know about that document somehow. Or it could be like what happened in Vos. How do we know these mechs are actually the ones contacting you?"

"While I do not wish to take such risks," Optimus said. "If it is possible that we could build a positive relationship with the city…"

"If we could determine their intentions," Elita said. "We'd be able to make a better decision."

Jazz nodded. "I ain't been off base for a while. I can go check it out myself."

"Are you certain you're not too busy?" Optimus asked.

"Yeah," Jazz said.

"They do want to meet soon," Elita said. "Before the end of the decaorn."

That gave him three orns.

That might be a little tricky.

"No problem," Jazz said. "I'll leave after the meeting and be back in an orn."

Hopefully that would be long enough for him to get some information about what was going on.

"Thank you," Optimus said. "I am very grateful for your willingness to rearrange your schedule so you can go."

"Mech, I ain't got a schedule."

Mainspring would beg to differ.

Come to think of it, Jazz should talk to him before leaving.

"What do you mean you don't have a schedule?" Ultra Magnus demanded.

"Can we avoid getting off topic?" Red Alert said. "There's something I need to check on once the meeting is over."

Optimus nodded. "Elita, what else do you have to report?"

They talked for a good half a joor about politics and supplies, and then Red Alert had a couple of security points to bring up, and Jazz had a few things to report. Prowl assured them that the battle was going as well as could be expected.

Apparently he had had the surgery already, and had come back online just a few breems before the meeting. He grudgingly admitted that he would need to rest for a few orns before going back to work.

Ratchet must have really threatened him.

But something was off about him lately anyway. Probably just more trouble with his department. Jazz wondered if he could help with that somehow...

When the meeting was finally over, Jazz made his way to Mainspring's office. He found the mech with datapads stacked up all around his desk and three spread out in front of him.

"Hey, mech."

Mainspring looked up. "Oh, Jazz. Do you need something?"

"I'm gonna be off base for an orn or so."

"Really?" Mainspring said. "Jazz… but…"

"Somethin' came up, and if I don't go check it out, Optimus is gonna walk inta a potential trap in the hopes that he can work an alliance with Pescus Hex."

"What?" Mainspring said.

"Yeah, so I gotta prove ta him that's a bad idea. But I can still try and keep contact with everyone, and I'll only be gone one orn. And… I'll make it up ta ya when I get back. I'll even do some paperwork for ya or something."

Mainspring raised an optic ridge.

"What?"

"I've seen the way you do paperwork," Mainspring said. "I think I'll be all right without your help."

Jazz grinned. "Ouch, mech. Though if ya do want some help, I know a certain Praxian who's supposed ta be resting cuz he's just had processor surgery."

"He wasn't at the meeting, was he?"

"He was," Jazz said. "In any case, I think doing paperwork is probably about as close as he ever gets to resting. Plus he probably needs someone ta talk to. He's got this crazy idea that he ain't fit ta be in charge of his department or something."

"Hmm," Mainspring said.

"Yeah, I don't know what ta do about it," Jazz said. "In any case, I gotta split. The sooner I leave, the sooner I can come back and tell Optimus that the Pescus Hex Council don't have his best interests at spark."

"All right," Mainspring said. "Let me know if you need me to do anything while you're gone—besides enlisting Prowl to help me with paperwork."

"Will do," Jazz backed out of the room and turned to walk down the hall. He'd take a bridge to just outside Pescus Hex and drive in so as to avoid detection.

Red Alert commed him.

Jazz sighed and answered. "Hey, mech, what seems ta be the problem this orn?"

"Where's your pet telepath?"

"Um…" Jazz said. "I don't know. If he's missing ya should talk ta his guardians."

"They're not on base. They left early this orn and won't be back until halfway through next orn They tried to take him with them, but of course I could never allow that."

"So ya just had them leave him by himself?"

"No, they left him with some soldiers they'd befriended. But then those mecha were deployed so I think they… look, it doesn't matter. You need to find him."

"I need ta find him? Mech, I'm leaving. I ain't got time ta look for him."

"He's cheating my system somehow. I can't see him anywhere! This is your fault."

"What?"

"You taught him how to do that."

Jazz frowned. He… actually couldn't deny that the mechling might have picked up some tricks from his helm. On the other hand… "Well, if anything you taught him how ta cheat your system mech. I can't even hide from ya all the time."

He wondered if Blaster was listening into the conversation. Pit, that would be such a useful ability to have.

"It doesn't matter," Red Alert said. "I need your help to find him."

"I told ya I don't have time for that right now. Ask someone else."

He left base and headed to the groundbridge station.

He waved the groundbridge operator away and put in the coordinates he wanted, then programmed the bridge to close behind him before stepping through into the under-streets just outside of Pescus Hex.

He checked his coordinates and his map of the underground roads and was just about to start walking forward when he heard the distinct sound of something coming through the groundbridge behind him, just as it was closing.

He sighed. "Mechling."

"Hey!" Blaster skipped over to him.

"No," Jazz said. "I'm sending ya back. How the frag did ya get to the groundbridge station without Red Alert seeing you?"

Blaster grinned. "I just waited until he wasn't looking," he said. "It's super fun."

"Ya aren't supposed ta be here."

"But no one will ever know," Blaster said. "And you need to be fast, right? I can find out exactly what the Council is planning."

So he'd been listening in on the meeting.

Blaster shrugged. "I hear a lot of stuff," he said. "I know lots of secrets."

"I'm startin' ta think Red Alert was right and ya're a liability," Jazz said.

"But I'm not going to tell anyone anything they're not supposed to know," Blaster said.

Jazz raised an optic ridge.

"Well," Blaster said. "At least, I'm getting better about that."

"Mechling."

"You need my help," Blaster said. "And I'm here already. And no one will know. Come on, it's not going to be dangerous is it?"

"Okay, okay," Jazz said. "Fine, but just this once. You're a manipulative little fragger, ya know that?"

Blaster grinned. "Yep."

"I hope ya know that if ya get caught or someone finds out about this, I'm not gonna be able ta train ya anymore."

"I know," Blaster said. "That's why I'll be careful."

"Okay," Jazz said. "Let's sneak inta the city. Now I can blend inta the under-streets really well. You got brighter colors, though. We can either find some route that's different or we can get some temp paint and color ya more like ya belong on the lower levels."

Blaster's optics lit up. "We can do that?"

"Yeah," Jazz said, transforming and opening his door. "Get in. Might be kind of a tight fit, but we aint' got time ta walk, especially if we gotta make ya look like a street urchin."

"You know," Blaster said. "I was a street urchin once. We probably won't need to completely change my paint job, just make it look more scuffed or something."

"Good point," Jazz said as Blaster climbed inside of him.

Then he drove down the dark, cavernous corridor toward the city.

A timer went off in Shockwave's helm, and he checked his patient's vitals. He had finally managed to install all of the necessary upgrades to the mech's frame, and this was the last one. Once they had recovered from their surgery, Megatron's "monsters" would be ready for deployment.

Shockwave had the unconscious mech wheeled from the room. That was not his only accomplishment for the orn. Perhaps it was time to report personally to Megatron.

He walked past his desk and hesitated, stopping to muse over the device lying on it. He was fairly certain he could repair it but he could not replicate it. He could not access its programming or its memory because it was all written in a format that had been lost with the Quintesson wars.

That was one failure. Perhaps he should work on repairing it before he spoke to Megatron. But that was a much longer project, and he was fairly certain the warlord would appreciate the good news Shockwave did have.

He left his lab and walked to the main Decepticon base. He appreciated having the lab separate. It gave him space to work.

But it was a waste of time to traverse back and forth from it.

He reached the base and made his way to the command center. Megatron and Soundwave were both there.

Megatron met his gaze as he approached.

He bowed. "Lord Megatron."

"Shockwave. You've emerged from your lab—with good tidings I hope."

"Yes," Shockwave said. "Your 'monsters' are complete. They will need several orns before they are ready for their first mission, but they should be fully operational."

"Very good," Megatron said.

"And there is something else."

Megatron nodded for him to continue.

"I received a request from the tactical division, regarding the seekers, and have written a program they can use to identify each other more easily. They will not need any modifications—but will simply have to install the program in their processors. It will also allow us to track them more closely."

Megatron nodded. "Send it to Soundwave, and he will forward it to the seekers. I don't know why you're bothering me with this—it seems trivial."

"It will help us to retain air superiority," Shockwave explained. "Many seekers have deserted recently, and if any have joined the Autobots, this precaution will help our seekers to identify the traitors."

Megatron's optics flashed. "Good," he said. "Very good. Anything else to report?"

"I have not made any other significant progress since my last report."

"Well, then, get back to work."

"As you command, Lord Megatron," Shockwave said, then turned and left the command center, headed back to his lab.

Blaster followed Jazz quietly through the utility tunnels. According to Jazz's map, they were heading toward the Council Hall.

Because of Blaster, they probably wouldn't even have to go in the hall.

Since Blaster's latest upgrade, he'd been able to listen to more than a hundred mecha at once for about five breems without even getting a tiny processor ache. He'd tested that while on the Autobot base.

Jazz stopped. We should be right underneath it once we reach the next corner. Ya sure you're up for this?

"Yes," Blaster said quietly.

Okay, let's go.

He followed the mech down the narrow tunnel until they were under the Council Hall and then they stopped at an intersection. Jazz used the extra space to turn around. He got out a little sphere and tapped a panel on it. It lit up and he set it down in a crack on the ground so they could see.

You good?

Blaster nodded.

Get comfortable, we could be here a while. Pit, this is so much better than comms. No one will be able to trace our communication at all, no matter what they do.

Blaster smiled, then shuttered his optics and expanded his range.

Fortunately there weren't too many mecha below them, because the building and streets above were crowded.

The number of other mecha in his helm rapidly increased and it got difficult to tell them apart or find the thoughts he was looking for. Each mech or femme sounded slightly different, but it was hard to distinguish them when he didn't know them.

He listened for anything about Optimus.

He didn't have to listen long, which was fortunate because his processor was starting to hurt. He pulled his range back in and un-shuttered his optics.

Get something already? Jazz was impressed.

Blaster nodded. "There was a mech. He was thinking about something. Hold on, I'm going to listen to him more."

Blaster took in a deep vent and expanded his range again.

This time he was looking specifically for the mech he'd heard before so it was easier to pick him out.

He was sitting in his office, tapping a datapad stylus on his desk while he stared down at a half-written report and thought about how he had been assigned to contact Megatron and negotiate a treaty in return for handing Optimus over. Blaster listened for a few breems, then pulled his range back so he could talk to Jazz.

You all right, mechling?

"Yeah," Blaster said. "They're planning to kidnap him and trade him to Megatron. For a peace offering, I think."

Well, that's about what I expected. Okay, that ain't normally the easy part, but in this case the tricky thing is going ta be getting evidence. Optimus'll probably believe me, but they're gonna want ta know how I figured it out.

"The mech I heard…" Blaster said. "He… he's the one who's supposed to comm. Megatron and make the deal."

And he hasn't yet?

"He hasn't."

Perfect. Did ya get his designation or anything?"

Blaster shook his helm. "But I can keep trying. I get his visual feed, so if it's written anywhere in his office I might be able to see it."

Good thinking.

Blaster expanded his range again.

It took a couple of times, but he finally managed to get enough information that Jazz could hack the mech's comm.

Okay, Jazz thought. Now we've gotta find a way ta get ya back ta base.

"But I want to keep helping."

No, Jazz thought. Red Alert'll be all kinds of suspicious if you don't turn up again until I come back. Here's what ya gotta do. Ya gotta sneak back inta base and then let him catch ya. Then ya can just say ya were playing hide and seek with him. Also, I think I threatened ta not teach ya anymore if ya snuck out inta the halls again.

"Sneaked," Blaster said.

"What?" Jazz asked out loud.

"Sorry," Blaster looked embarrassed. "Keepsake says the proper term is sneaked, not snuck."

Jazz rolled his optics. I stand corrected, I guess. In any case, it might be better if we waited until ya're an adult ta train ya.

"But…"

Look, we've been workin' on a training program and it'd be better if ya go through that in case I forget ta teach ya something. But if something like this comes up where we ain't got time ta take the normal routes I'll let ya know and we'll sneak ya out ta come help us, okay?"

Blaster hesitated.

As much as I'd like to, I ain't got time ta train ya right now anyway.

"Okay," Blaster said.

Now, I've been thinking about how to get ya home.

"I can do that on my own," Blaster said.

Jazz looked at him.

"Trust me," Blaster said. "I know how to blend in. I've done this sort of thing before. I was sneaking out of my orphanage since I was one vorn old. And I'd have to get into the base on my own anyway."

And back then he hadn't had the ability to read minds.

Blaster could probably do anything he wanted to now.

Jazz nodded slightly. All right.

Blaster grinned and Jazz moved so he could more easily turn around. Then Blaster crawled out the way they'd come in.

It was so much easier to avoid getting caught when you could read minds. Jazz's teaching about moving quietly had helped too. The hardest part would be getting into the base, but Blaster had gotten out all right. Getting in couldn't be that much harder. Red Alert probably wouldn't be looking for him on the outside.

"I'm sorry I can't help more," Prowl said.

"Nonsense," Mainspring replied. "I expected to be working on this for two more orns, but we're almost finished now. Thank you so much for your help."

He watched carefully as Prowl took in a deep vent and let it out as a sigh.

"In truth, I should be thanking you," the Praxian said. "It's been nice to have something to do."

Mainspring smiled. "Well, I always have plenty of paperwork if you're ever bored."

Prowl nodded, looking down. "I may take you up on that offer sometime."

"How are things going with your department, by the way?" Mainspring asked. "Did those new mecha I sent you integrate well?"

Prowl hesitated, doorwings twitching. "It could be better, but I suppose I can't expect…" he trailed off.

Mainspring waited. He'd been trying to find a natural way to bring up the topic the whole time they'd been working together.

"I suppose I should expect more respect from everyone in my department… but… but if I was better at asking for respect I'm certain they would… but they just…" he sighed again. "I apologize. Things are going fine. And I'm going to be on duty in about half a joor, so I should probably go."

"It's all right if you're having trouble, Prowl," Mainspring said. "And leadership is difficult. It doesn't come naturally to everyone, but it can be learned."

"I know," Prowl said. "You're not the first mech to tell me that. But we need a strong tactical department now. And I'm not ready. I have to carry most of the weight of the battles because they don't listen to me and I don't trust them."

That was difficult. Mainspring leaned forward at his desk, trying to figure out what to say. Perhaps… "I know they can't all do what you can do, Prowl, but that doesn't mean they can't be trusted. Perhaps you should give them the benefit of the doubt, even if that's frightening."

"But real lives are at stake."

"You're a tactician, aren't you?' Mainspring said. "I know Optimus doesn't understand sacrificing the needs of the few to preserve the many, and I doubt he ever will, which is why he's our Prime. But that doesn't mean you have to adopt his mentality. Mecha will offline whether or not you do everything you can to stop it. But it seems to me that it's more important in the long run to have a tactical team who know how to work well with each other and their commander, even if it means working out the kinks now."

Prowl wouldn't meet his gaze.

"And it won't help anyone in the future if you work yourself to death."

"I know!" Prowl snapped. "You think I don't think about these things? That's why I'm considering resigning."

Mainspring tried not to let his surprise show. "Who would we put in your place?" Mainspring asked. "Hurricane's more of a defensive tactician, isn't he? And I don't know how well Flak or Flame would fare in leadership roles. Prowl… give it a chance, first. I chose your department carefully from the best, most skilled mecha I could find. Let them show you what they can do."

Finally, Prowl looked at him. "Thank you, Mainspring," he said. "I'll… I'll think about that."

"And I really am happy to talk if you ever need to let off steam," Mainspring said. "I know Jazz is too."

"I don't want to bother either of you," Prowl said.

"Prowl, that's what friends are for."

"For bothering each other?" Prowl asked, with a wry smile. "That sounds about right… Thank you again. I do think talking to you helped."

Prowl left and Mainspring got back to work. Perhaps he should ask Red Alert if he'd noticed anyone in particular in Prowl's department who seemed antagonistic toward him. He had a hard time believing Prowl had spontaneously decided he wasn't qualified for his job.

Then again, Prowl had said talking to him had helped. Maybe he'd work everything out on his own.