This is the first of two one-shots done in honor of the 1,500 review of Turning Points. I forgot that not all reviews are posted immediately if they are guest reviews. So I got the 1,500th review in the strict sense of what showed up in my inbox, but someone else got the 1,500th review that actually got posted. Instead of choosing which one to use, I decided to use both. This story was requested by Watt0-101, who wanted to see Prowl help Jazz out of a bind. However, I also had a couple of you guys wanting to know more about Jazz's past and, well, it just seemed to fit. So, here you are. (The second reward story will be up soon.)
This story takes place at some point in the future (ie: after chapter 56), but before the end of Turning Points. I have tried to make it a stand alone fic and should be enjoyable no mater what, but there could be little things that would make more sense if you have read Turning Points
Jazz pulled a sigh of air through his vents as the mostly gleaming spires of Tyger Pax came into view on the horizon. Here and there, even at the enormous distance that still separated him from his destination, he could see where the war had left ragged scars on the buildings. Tyger Pax was at something of a strategic cross-roads between Iacon Territories and the Decepticon Territory of Thetacon. Buffered as it was behind its allied territories, Iacon had, for the most part, been spared the worst of the war's devastation. Tyger Pax was not so lucky, though it was still faring better than the Autobot territories closer to Kaon.
The rugged, occasionally creator-pitted road, flew under the sleek silver alt form as Jazz sped toward the city. Normally he would have assigned a task like this to one of his trusted lieutenants, but considering the stakes of this particular scouting mission, he dared not. That and his own rank and status within the Autobot forces would be needed. True, one of his lieutenants could have done the scouting and then reported back so he could make the next step, but it saved precious time the AllSpark did not have for him to simply take on both duties.
Besides, he had a way with mechs – there was no pride in that acknowledgement, just an acceptance of fact – and the Prime wanted Tyger Pax to cooperate willingly. He did not want the fate of the AllSpark depending on mere capitulation to threats and fear. Nor did Optimus want cooperation simply because the Prime had asked for their assistance. Thus, as experience had proven in the last three cities that had hosted the 'AllSpark,' Jazz was, quite literally, the best mech for the job.
And it was a job he enjoyed too, much to the minibot's surprise. So often his skills were used for sabotage, infiltration and destruction. It was nice to put his processor and frame to the much more uplifting task of asking leading mechs to willingly – if not even enthusiastically – accepting the danger of hosting the AllSpark as the Autobots fought gallantly to keep it out of Megatron's hands.
Thus it was with a light spark that Jazz finally slipped into the city of Tyger Pax itself.
An expert at not attracting attention when he so wished, Jazz blended seamlessly in with the mechs and femmes bustling about their normal lives. Within only a handful of joors, Jazz had located the areas that catered to the crowds likely to harbor the greatest dissent toward the Autobot cause and immured himself in the dark corner of a disreputable looking energon establishments. He was quickly all but invisible as disgruntled, low-level workers filed in after their shifts.
The saboteur listened attentively as they griped about their commanders, about their coworkers and about the ineptitude and stupidity of some of the city's Councilors. But over all, it was nothing extraordinary beyond the typical grousing of tired, frustrated mechs.
Deciding he knew enough to proceed to the next stage, Jazz eased out of the shadows and seamlessly entered the conversations around him. While a few of the more perceptive mechs might have realized his was a new faceplate, most accepted his presence without alarm or worry. At least that was the case until he started asking slyly seditious questions or made faintly disgruntled comments about the Prime or the Autobot cause. He was pleasantly aware that their unease was growing. It was, hopefully a good sign that they did not like where the conversation was headed rather than that they feared it might be an Enforcer trap to accuse them of treason. A city held loyal based only on forced cleanses of disgruntled segments of its population was not truly a loyal city and not one they could risk the AllSpark to.
A few mechs quickly and uneasily excused themselves.
Internally, Jazz grinned. Externally he sighed, setting his cube of energon on the table and staring at it wistfully. "I dunno, mechs. I hear the 'Cons got plenty of Energon. Good energon. That they don't have to be on rations like us. If the Autobots are so wonderful they…"
"That's enough." The burly mech next to Jazz – an unsavory looking character as Jazz had seen – dropped a heavy hand on Jazz shoulder. "You sound like a 'Con sympathizer."
There was the distinct sound of several weapons arming. Jazz was pleased at such a response in such a setting. Only in Iacon had he found such patriotism for the Autobot cause even in setting such as this, where the pressure to conform was almost non-existent.
"Naw, mech." Jazz waved negligently. "I'm just spouting off my vocalizer. Don't mind me."
"He's lying Axe." Another mech spoke up. "It's mechs like him that gin up trouble."
"I ain't trying to make any trouble." Jazz smiled widely and tried to slip out from under Axe's hand but the bulky mech only tightened his hold enough to make Jazz grunt. "Hey, watch it."
"We ain't friendly to 'Con Symps around here, mech." The last word was spit as if he thought Jazz was more beast than sentient. "Those damned 'Cons have killed too many of our friends, destroyed too many of our homes. Anyone who sympathizes with them deserves a quick trip to the Well of…"
"Not here, Axe." The bar's proprietor stepped up, putting a gentle hand on the bigger mech's arm. "I know you lost your sparkmate during the attack on Stanix, and there isn't any one of us who hasn't suffered at their hands. Jammer lost both his creators and his sparkmate because they were in Praxus when the 'Cons… Never mind. Look, this isn't the way. We don't even know if this mech really is 'Con Sympathizer."
"He sounds like one." Axe growled, fingers denting the metal on Jazz's shoulder plating.
Jazz knew he needed to make his escape since his mission there was completed, but he found himself completely surrounded. Were they Decpticons, Jazz would have had no problem fighting his way out simply because collateral damage would have been an added bonus. But these were Autobots – staunchly loyal ones at that – and hearing of their loss made him oddly reluctant to cause more harm. They would fight him if he tried to force his way out, he knew that in his spark, and he really, really did not want to hurt any of them.
"I'm not a 'Con Sympathizer." Jazz told Axe levelly, meeting his optics. "I have never been a 'Con Sympathizer."
Around him, the press of Autobots shifted uneasily at the change in Jazz's character. Something was going on below the surface, something was more than what it appeared, they sensed that and it made them uneasy.
Axe stared at him for a moment and then growled again. "From some of the things you've been saying? Only Decepticons lie so easily. If you aren't a 'Con Symp you are a true Decepticon trying to create trouble."
"A spy…" Someone whispered and a ripple of fear and anger spread through the crowd.
Oh slag. Jazz's processor raced as he felt the mood of the crowd shift dangerously. He was outnumbered nearly one to twenty. He could probably still escape, but even with his skill he doubted it would be a clean escape but rather one that would leave him injured and numerous mechs dead.
"I am not a Decepticon spy." He said through gritted denta, though a part of his processor was delighted to see this reaction. Tyger Pax might just be best place outside of Iacon to protect the AllSpark. In every other city there had always been at least a few mechs willing to muse on treason with him.
"Liar!" Axe's fist connected with Jazz's abdominal plating with more swiftness than the mech's bulk would have suggested possible. Thankfully, the force of the blow propelled him out of the angry mech's grip.
Unfortunately he was caught by no less than three of the mechs gathered to watch. Jazz tried to get free but the hands holding him tightened. Deciding that they were more likely to drop their guards if he did not resist, he stilled, submitting to their hold. He looked up in time to see the bar's owner restraining Axe with one arm while whispering something fiercely in the large mech's audio.
After a long moment Axe nodded and his armor relaxed. Then he looked at Jazz again, the light in his optics fierce. "Let's take him to the Governor, mechs."
Jazz's growing concern gave way to relief. Once he gave the governor his clearance codes and the small datapack the Prime had compiled for that purpose, he would be freed. He wouldn't need to hurt another Autobot. For that reason he gave no resistance as he was hauled out of the bar and through the darkened streets. A few curious onlookers watched their strange procession but mostly the city recharged peacefully.
They reached the governing complex without incident and, when Jazz's 'captors' informed the guard who challenged them of their purpose, the Governor was quickly summoned.
The tall, elegant brass and silver colored mech swept into the room, Autobot insignia standing out on the light colored plating of his chassis and accentuated by the deep, almost purple hue of his blue optics.
"What is going on?"
"We found this spy trying to make trouble in the Outer Districts." Axe declared firmly, though the respect he had for the Governor was plain to see.
Jazz studied the Governor in turn as those violet eyes studied him. Though reformatted, repainted and now with blue optics rather than the gold he had used before the war, there was no mistaking the spark signature of the mech before him.
"Governor Triticus." Jazz said formally though the effect was somewhat dampened by the many hands still holding him captive.
Violet eyes flashed and then narrowed in recognition. "Why are you here?"
The governor was almost motionless now, staring at Jazz as if seeing a ghost. Jazz prayed the mech would not remember any more details from their previous meeting. He had been careful that time, as he always was, but it had been near the beginning of his career and he knew he had made mistakes… Jazz tried to tell himself that a mech's past would not necessarily dictate the present or the future. It hadn't so far as Tyger Pax had been unflinchingly loyal to the Prime and the Autobots as a whole, willingly giving everything they could to the war effort in terms of mech-power and raw materials. And Triticus had been its governor long before the war started.
Shaking off that thought, Jazz bowed his helm as would be appropriate for a mech of his rank when addressing the Governor of a territory. "I bring you greetings from the Prime, Governor. Clearance level Theta Omicron Gamma Five." He also transmitted the required pass-code.
Silently, the Governor held out a hand toward the saboteur. Their grips having gone slack at Jazz's declaration, the silver mech freed one arm and snagged the datachip out of subspace and dropped it into Triticus' waiting palm. The bronze mech's eyes unfocused as he slid the chip into his wrist port.
Once finished incorporating the data he looked at Jazz. "I will tell the Prime Tyger Pax will do everything we can to fulfill this sacred duty."
Jazz relaxed, smiling as he shrugged out of the now limp hands still holding him. With puzzled and confused looks the four mechs from the bar looked between themselves.
"He ain't a spy?" Axe asked for all of them.
Governor Triticus smirked. "He is a spy, but not for Megatron. He was sent here by the Prime to determine the level of Tyger Pax's loyalty to the Autobots. You served well in delivering him to me."
Jazz grinned at the confused mechs to show he didn't hold their accusations against him. "It's refreshing ta see such dedication ta the cause. Most of the time I'm able to ferret out a few true 'Con Symps. All of ya or a credit to the Autobots."
"Yes." The Governor said in a guarded tone that set Jazz on edge once again. "Well done, all of you."
A flick of a hand dismissed the mechs and Triticus watched them go before turning back to the Saboteur. "Jazz."
Jazz could hear the threat in the way his designation was uttered but smiled widely, deciding to feign ignorance. "Yes Governor?"
The larger mech frowned, fist clenching. "Do you think I would forget what you did?"
Shifting his weight backward, searching for escape routes Jazz held up his hands placatingly. "That was a long time ago, sir. Things change. We're on the same side now..."
A dozen city Enforcers marched into the chamber, effectively blocking the only escape route. "You broke into a government office, my private residence, hacked my files and stole my belongings. We just never had enough proof back then to indict you. But then, you've gained quite a reputation since the war, haven't you. In fact, I'm quite sure you earned that reputation before the war. Isn't that so?"
Jazz said nothing; he just lifted his chin. Finally his curiosity got the better of him and he could not help but ask, "How do you know it was me?"
At that the Governor chuckled, though the sound was far from warm. "You aren't the only one with contacts in unofficial places, Jazz. Once the war started and you came out into the open, it didn't take long to build the hologram."
"I'm here as an envoy for the Prime, I…"
A wave of Triticus' fingers cut him off as two Enforcers descended on him, each grabbing an arm in vice-like grips. Jazz hated to admit it, but it was only this decovorn's association with the Prime and later Prowl – and the intense respect and devotion to the law that had rubbed off on him – that kept Jazz from retaliating violently to the Enforcers. But he also felt that his hold on such self control was tenuous.
"Diplomatic immunity only goes so far, Jazz." Triticus said slowly. "And it only applies to trouble you might cause while in the Primes service. Your crimes against me far predate that. Even the Prime cannot argue about the legitimacy of my case."
The smile Triticus gave him was one of long-awaited triumph and smug arrogance. "I will tell the Prime myself, that you will be… indisposed for a while. I'm sure he will be most intrigued to learn how his head of special operations learned his… specialized skill set." Then to the Enforcers he said, "Take him away."
Jazz's control snapped then and he fought off the hands holding him. "You think the Prime doesn't already know?"
As fast as he was, the Enforcers were well trained and disciplined. Maybe if he had been more interested in preserving his frame rather than his pride he would not have been recaptured so easily. Maybe he really did not want to hurt any mech just doing his duty and following legal orders. Regardless he was apprehended again before he had even taken a quarter of a dozen steps.
Once he was hauled back to his feet, this time with arms bound with no less than three stasis cuffs each, the Governor was staring at him again. "You might have told the Prime what you needed to, but everything? No, a mech like you doesn't give stuff like that away easily. But don't worry, I'll let him know what happened. Everything." He cocked an optic ridge. "How does it feel to have your baggage laid before the optics of those you work for?"
Then the Governor swept out of the room as gracefully as he had entered it. Jazz could do nothing but watch him leave, not even trying to get out of the cuffs or hands holding him. He was wrong. Triticus was wrong. The Prime did know. Maybe not every little detail, but had not hidden anything about his past when he had approached the Prime, nor had he lied when the Prime had thoroughly interviewed him for his current position. Triticus had no idea how impossible it was to not be an open book before the Matrix Bearer. Jazz could no more lie to the Prime than he could to himself. That Optimus never commented or reminded Jazz of the darker things he was capable of doing – and had done on numerous occasions – did not mean the Prime was ignorant of them.
Even so, Jazz did not put up more than a token fight as he was physically picked up and taken to a detention area. He would be left alone at some point and would be able to engineer his escape. There was no Decepticon prison in existence that could hold a determined Jazz for long. And he had helped engineer Autobot security systems himself.
However, He was made to stop before the warden as the green mech read something on a datapad. Then he looked at one of the Enforcers and sent a quick, silent transmission. Jazz had just enough time to feel uneasy about whatever had just transpired before a sharp jabbing sensation burned into the back of his neck, just below the base of his helm.
"Wha…" darkness claimed him.
… … …
Prowl was working in his office, steadily sifting through recent intelligence reports on Decepticon movements, sorting them by importance and classifying them by which team would need the information when the Prime pinged his comm. system and requested he come to the Primary Command Center. Immediately, Prowl acknowledged the request and sent the compiled information where it needed to go while saving his analysis and locking his desk's work station. All of that he accomplished even as he stood to follow the Prime's order.
Meeting Smokescreen's optics as he made his way through the quietly buzzing tactical center, Prowl nodded, wordlessly handing command to his Second for however long he would be gone.
The atmosphere that greeted Prowl in the Command Center was tense and worried. The tactician noted this even though he kept his own outward appearance calm and unaffected. Internally he subdued a knot of dread that wanted to grow in his tanks. Wordlessly he walked up to the Prime and came to attention.
"You wished to see me sir?"
Optimus studied him for a long moment and then nodded, the armor around his optics relaxing just enough to be noticeable. "Yes. I have just received this message from Governor Triticus of Tyger Pax."
Prowl took the datapad the Prime handed him and played the message. At first he felt a wave of relief that was at odds with the agitation in mechs that were now watching him closely for his reaction. Triticus was pledging Tyger Pax's support in their scheme to keep the AllSpark out of Decepticon hands. This was good news. But the governor continued to speak, clasping his hands together in front of himself.
Prowl felt his fingers tighten on the data pad as Triticus explained that he had had Jazz arrested and why. The case he laid out was indeed serious and, it would seem at least at first, that his detention of Jazz legitimate. He knew Jazz well enough to know the mech had the skills and the personality to do what he was accused of if he felt the need. Yet Prowl's keen processor leapt onto one glaring omission. There was no indication of when the alleged offense had taken place.
With an effort of will, Prowl peeled his fingers off the back of the datapad, aware small dents in the metal remained, and handed it back to the Prime. "What do you intend to do about this, Prime?"
His voice came out cool and emotionless, which pleased Prowl even if it caused a susurration of irritation if not downright anger in the watching mechs. Jazz was well liked by almost all the Autobots and Prowl knew that but he kept his attention on the Prime.
Optimus stared at him for a long moment and Prowl fought the urge to squirm. Even the Prime was irritated with him. That was confirmed by the way the Prime straightened and the way his optics hardened. "Criminal law is your expertise. Get to the bottom of this."
Prowl's vents flared. "And if Jazz is guilty?"
The soft sound of metal shifting met the Praxian's audios as armor flared on the mechs around him. Optimus' gaze bore into him. "Triticus was personally involved in the crime he accuses Jazz of. If his guilt is in fact established I want to make sure such a conflict of interest does not result in a disregard of fairness."
Prowl understood. In these troubled times, a true court was a luxury and Judgment Tribunals were far more common. If Jazz was going to trial it would most likely be with Triticus – as Governor of Tyger Pax – as his judge and jury.
When Prowl merely nodded, Optimus stepped closer, his voice intense though not truly harsh. "You are the best qualified to head Jazz's defense."
With that declaration Prowl felt his own armor relax. He was not truly a lawyer, but he knew the laws and legal procedures well enough to be more than competent with the duty. "Understood sir."
"Then I will leave you to it, Commander." With that Optimus turned on his heel strut and walked to his office.
For the briefest of moments, standing alone in the center of the Command Center, Prowl was very aware of the angry and burning attention the rest of the mechs on duty were giving him. They felt his stoic response was a lack of feeling or care for Jazz's situation. That was far from the truth, but Prowl did not bother dissuading them of their perception.
He took a moment to organize his processor and decide on his next step. He looked at Blaster. "I need a secure line to Tyger Pax."
Blaster's blue gaze was icy as he pointed to an unoccupied consol. It was one of the substations near the main station. Not exactly one that offered privacy, which was probably done on purpose judging from the communication expert's expression. However, since Prowl had not requested a private terminal he said nothing about it and simply walked to the indicated station.
His attempt to contact Jazz resulted in static, which caused a ripple of concern through the Command Center – evidence that others were in fact eavesdropping. Prowl felt alarm as well, though nothing showed outwardly. He tapped a finger on the consol edge for a handful of seconds and then, a frown touching his lip plates, he sent another communication request. This time it was an official Autobot communiqué to the Governor himself.
Prowl was not looking, intently focused now on what he needed to do, so he did not see Blaster's blink of surprise as he saw who Prowl was contacting. Nor did he see the silent looks the others exchanged as they all waited for what was to happen next.
Finally the governor's face appeared on the screen. Prowl dipped his helm formally in greeting. "Governor, I am Prowl of Iacon Command, we have been attempting to contact one of our senior officers, designation Jazz. Would you know why he is not responding to comm. requests?"
Silver lip plates flicked downward in a frown. "You received my communiqué to the Prime?" Prowl nodded. "Then you know why. Jazz is being held in forced stasis until his trial is to be held."
Prowl's optics widened a fraction as his fingers clenched on the side of the consol, but his voice remained calm and controlled. "Forced stasis, why?"
"We know who and what Jazz is. He is too much of a flight risk to be held in any other manner." The Governor flicked a finger as if that was all there was to it and Prowl felt his own irritation grow.
He took in and released a vent of air, fully understanding now why the Prime wanted him to do his best to help Jazz. "The Prime would not approve of such treatment of one of his senior officers."
"The Prime would not interfere in the internal matters of a sovereign territory." Triticus returned sharply. "We have a right to administer our owns penal system."
Invisible to any mech watching, Prowl's processors were already racing at full combat speed. He had accessed the databank for Tyger Pax's legal code and was analyzing all the facts he knew and all the regulations he was quickly integrating into his processor as he formulated a plan. Unfortunately he knew Triticus' claim about territorial sovereignty was correct. Thankfully, in this instance, the law was also on his side.
"Jazz has a right to speak to his legal counsel." Prowl spoke the words with clipped precision.
He saw what might have been concern flash in Triticus' optics but it was gone too fast for Prowl to be sure. The Governor shook his helm. "That Counsel has already been assigned and…"
Prowl was suddenly hit with the suspicion that Triticus simply did not want Jazz talking to anyone and that triggered several alarms in his CPU. He interrupted the Governor's assurances that all was being done in accordance with established procedures. "No. I am Jazz's legal counsel. According to Tyger Pax's Criminal Code 431.76 subsection 52 paragraph B. 'Any mech being held for such crimes whose primary territory of residence is outside Tyger Pax is entitled to Counsel from their own territory.' Also, Section 39 subsection 6 as well as Criminal Code 318.21 subsection 2 clearly states that Legal Counsel is to be permitted adequate time to communicate with their client in order to properly establish a defense." Prowl leaned toward the screen fractionally, unaware that his own optics were blazing. "I will speak to Jazz."
"But the risk…" The Governor began but Prowl cut him off with a shake of his helm.
"Is negligible. Jazz is an Autobot Officer." Prowl was unaware that he had become the focus of every mech in the Command Center as most of them saw a fierceness about him he had let very few see since his defection form the Decepticons. When it looked like the Governor was going to object again, Prowl went on. "Take what ever precautions you feel you must, short of illegally listening to our conversation, but you will arrange for me to consult with my client." Or else was left unsaid.
A scowl marred Triticus' finely crafted faceplates but he was well aware Prowl had trapped him just as he had trapped Prowl earlier. The Prime might not interfere in the legal proceedings of a sovereign territory, but nor would he stand idly by if that same territory blatantly disregarded the laws of it's own penal code.
"Fine." Triticus snapped at last. "Stand by."
The screen went blank, replaced by the Autobot insignia. Prowl's processor was still racing and he did not immediately register the fact that all other activity in the Command Center had come to a stop. Seldom was it that Prowl displayed the full force of his own commanding presence and most of these mechs merely thought him a highly competent and arguably brilliant offensive tactician but otherwise emotionless and usually hesitant to stand up to a higher ranking mech.
Completely heedless of such thoughts in those around him, Prowl snapped his gaze to Blaster. "Be prepared to arrange an encrypted conference with Jazz. Whatever signal they use, make it so no one but Jazz and I can understand what is being discussed."
The defensiveness that had held Blaster stiff earlier was gone, replaced by wide-opticed awe. "Yes, sir."
Prowl blinked at the stressed, formal and deferential response. He was merely the Tactical Department Commander. While the honorific was technically correct given his rank as a Commander, none of the mechs in the Command Center were directly under his command. Indeed, it was the first time he had been addressed as such and it threatened to confuse Prowl, whose primary focus was still on sifting through Tyger Paxian legal code.
Ruthlessly however, he pushed that puzzle aside as he waited for Tyger Pax to reestablish communications.
… … …
Jazz snapped online, his finely tuned systems humming to full alertness within an anstrosecond. The first thing he noticed was that he was lying flat on his back, immobilized to a berth with class five stasis cuffs to each extremity, a magnetic field and that a neural block was fastened to the base of his helm. His engine gave a low rev at the indignity of the whole matter. But his anger was mostly directed to his current impotence.
Sensors fuzzy from the neural block, Jazz knew there was another in the room – most likely a high-security cell – and he started hurling epithets and rather inventive curses at whoever it was.
A dull gray faceplate suddenly loomed over him, looking decidedly unimpressed. "Your legal counsel wants to speak to you."
Glaring at the guard through his visor Jazz fell into a stubborn silence even as he instead started working on hacking the neural block.
With a smirk, the guard walked away and a moment later Jazz heard a door slide open and then shut, followed closely by the buzz of the locking mechanism. He was about to start cussing again when a familiar voice pinged across his communication systems.
/Jazz?/
/Prowler!/ Jazz tried to sit up, forgetting momentarily about the plethora of restraints holding him down and he cussed again.
/Are you unharmed?/ Prowl asked immediately, concern edging into his otherwise perfectly calm voice.
Still miffed at the whole thing, Jazz huffed air through his vents. /I ain't permanently damaged, but they have me trussed up like a damn 'Con. Don't worry tho', now that I'm conscious again I'll be able ta.../
/You will do nothing, Jazz./ Prowl interrupted him sharply.
/Why the pit not?/ Jazz demanded.
There was a pause before Prowl answered. /Because I told the governor you were not a flight risk./
Jazz's intakes choked and his engines stalled. /Why on Cybertron would you fragging go and say some slagged thing like that?/ It was more demand than question and Jazz gleefully spit the glyphs for stupid-imbecile-fury at the tactician.
If he was ruffled in any way, Prowl did not show it. Not that Jazz would have expected any differently. A part of him knew he was unfairly venting his frustration at his friend. That tiny splinter of guilt was only compounded when Prowl answered his question.
/Because it was the only way I could gain his cooperation and thus his willingness to allow this conversation./
/Oh./ Not the most intelligent of comebacks.
Regardless, Prowl continued now that Jazz was somewhat calmed down. /You are being accused of breaking into the Governor's office, his private residence, illegally hacking into his private records and hacking into his accounts to transfer three million credits to your own accounts./
Jazz went very still, even his vents stalling. When he answered, his transmission was weak. /That last part ain't true. I didn't steal credits for myself./
/But you did steal his credits?/ There was no overt accusation in the question and for that Jazz was thankful. But he knew Prowl's devotion to the rule of law and he found himself extremely nervous as to what the former Enforcer's reaction would be. It was why he had never told the mech about his past from before the war.
When he did not answer Prowl spoke again. /If I am to effectively represent you in court, I need to know what happened./
Jazz released a vent of air and, with definite trepidation, started explaining. /It was nearly five decavorns before the war. I transferred those credits to a ghost account and then donated them to tha Paxian Youth Center and Orphanage so that they could bring the facility up to tha Governor's new Building Aesthetics Code./ Prowl said nothing and his silence was a request that Jazz continue, so he did so. /The Governor was best friends with the owner of Pax's premiere construction firm and Maxinus had his optic on the orphanage's grounds for a long time. 'Prime real estate', he said. But the orphanage was protected because they hadn't broken any laws. After a three-million credit donation by Maxinus, the Governor managed to pass the BAC laws, and they didn't allow for exceptions. Surviving on donations, the orphanage would be closed if they couldn't upgrade and its properties put up for auction. Maxinus had already published his plans for the property once he could get his slimy hands on it: A high-end housing complex with attached gambling establishment./
With another sigh of air, Jazz focused on the featureless ceiling tile above his head and continued. /The orphanage applied for an extension, to have more time to raise the funds to come up to the new codes, but Maxinus' payoff for his donation was a guarantee that their property would be his. All I did was take the three million he gave to the Governor as bribe-money and gave it to the orphanage so they could come up to par./
Prowl was silent for a long time and Jazz knew he would have been fidgeting had he not been completely immobilized. Slag, this was all levels of frustrating.
Prowl's response, when it finally came gave no indication of his personal feelings about what Jazz had just revealed. /Can you prove the duplicitous actions of the Governor?/
Feeling defeated at Prowl's perfectly impassive question Jazz answered. /Yeah. I never took a case I couldn't justify./
There was a pause as Prowl processed that this was not the only such 'crime' Jazz had no doubt committed. /You have actual documentation supporting your claim?/
/Yes./ Jazz hissed across the comm. line at the tactician, for some reason irritated that he had not gotten a rise out of the other mech. /I keep copies for… posterity./
/Right./ There was a touch of disbelief in that and Jazz could not help but smirk. Yes, Prowl knew him too well to believe personal reminiscence would be the only reason he would keep such records. /I need access to them./
Jazz tensed at that. If he gave Prowl access to those records, he would be giving him access to virtually everything. There was a lot in those files he did not want seen by others. He could not help the defensiveness that edged into his voice. /Why?/
/If the Governor broke the law first, they have no cause to hold you now./ Prowl stated calmly – almost soothingly – and with a definitive air.
Jazz snorted. /Things like fairness and Justice didn't exactly mean much to them at the time. I doubt that's changed much./
Even as he said that, he knew that Triticus' administration had seen a dramatic decrease in the usual scandal load in the vorns leading up to the war. And there had been virtually none since the war had actually started. That did not mean he was suddenly a shining beacon of virtue, even if he was a loyal Autobot. Jazz's engine growled.
/Jazz./ Prowl broke into his dark musing.
/What?/ Jazz snapped mulishly.
/Trust me./ Was all Prowl said.
It was Jazz's turn to be silent for a long moment. Prowl was not one to ask for trust lightly. Even when he had been a Decepticon POW, a brand new defector to the Autobot cause, and his very life had depended on how much the Autobots had trusted him, Prowl had never so frankly asked for their trust. And, despite everything, Jazz found he was willing to give the tactician that trust.
Jazz sighed air through his vents, wishing he could rub a hand over his faceplate. /What do you want me ta do?/
/I need access to the evidence you have for this case./ Prowl paused and then continued hurriedly as if he could sense Jazz's objections. /Give me the specific index file for this particular case. I promise not to look at anything not immediately pertinent./
And Jazz believed him. As much as Prowl's curiosity might be burning in his processor, Jazz knew the Praxian would keep that promise. The mech's strict ethical program would not allow him to break it. Silently Jazz transmitted the requested access codes and file information. /They are on my personal computer./ He told the tactician. /It's not hooked up to tha main network, so you'll need to get into my quarters. Here is the code./ He transmitted that too.
Prowl acknowledged receipt of everything and then spoke again. /I also need you to cooperate with the authorities in Tyger pax./
/Cooperate?!/ Jazz half demanded, half asked. After the way they had treated him, Prowl wanted him to cooperate?
Prowl cut him off, his voice tight and commanding enough to make the saboteur shut up and listen. /Be the model, upstanding citizen, Jazz. I know you can do it. This is my arena./
There was confidence in Prowl's transmission, but it was Jazz's life that was on the line. /And what if you loose?/
/Then I resort to Plan B./ There was definite amusement in Prowl's transmission now.
/What is 'Plan B'?/ Jazz asked.
/Unfortunately, my time is almost up./ Jazz had the distinct impression that had he been able to see Prowl, there would have been a tiny smirk on that normally stoic faceplate.
/Prowl! What is…/
/Promise me you will cooperate./ Prowl pressed, interrupting Jazz.
Jazz's vents flared and his engine revved, then his frame relaxed against the restraints holding it. /Fine. I promise./
/Thank you./ Prowl might have said more but static cut him off.
/Prowl…?/ Nothing answered Jazz's transmission and he bit off another curse. Slag.
As if on cue, the door opened again and that same dark faceplate peered down at him. "Times up, lights off…" He reached for the neural block.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Jazz wished he could push himself away from the mech's fingers, all his talk about cooperation not withstanding. "Is that really necessary?"
The guard sneered at him. "We know who you are, Jazz. Your reputation proceeds you. But you won't be escaping on my watch."
Jazz groaned miserably. "Apparently not. I just promised my Counsel I wouldn't even try."
"Like that means anything to me." The guard scoffed.
"Hey, I'm an Autobot, just like you are." Jazz tried to offer a charming smile but was painfully aware it came off rather flat.
The guard snorted air through his vents. "Autobot or not, you are a liar and a thief." He reached for the neural blocker again.
"Please…?" Jazz all but begged
The guard merely grunted and Jazz felt the burning pain stab into his neck as the block was activated and his optics flickered off and every system stilled. It was supposed to send him into forced stasis, but Jazz had used the time he had bickered with the guard to protect his primary command cortex. While his frame was completely shut down, he was able to retain all his higher cognitive functions. Were this a Decepticon prison he would have used that fact to set about planning his escape. But he had given his word to Prowl.
Slag.
Several Breems passed and Jazz was achingly aware of every astrosecond. This was going to be a painful wait. He should have just let the guard knock him out.
What I do for you, Prowler…
… … …
Prowl gained access to Jazz's quarters and then his personal records without incident, though he had been aware of the fact that every optic in the Command Center had followed him as he had made his way out. He attributed their watchfulness to their concern about Jazz, not even entertaining the possibility some of it might be due to their curiosity about him.
The former Enforcer was not truly surprised to find that Jazz's records were exactly as he had stated they would be. It did not take the trained investigator long to confirm the validity of the various bits of official documents. Indeed, the quality of the accumulated information was proof of why Jazz had been selected for his current position. Prowl had known that Jazz was a relentless hunter of intelligence and strategic data, but it was quite obvious the saboteur also had a sharp tactical processor.
Making a copy of the indicated files, Prowl locked Jazz's computer again. He paused for just a second and then deliberately decided not to erase the access codes – either for the computer itself nor to Jazz's quarters, though he did not doubt Jazz would probably change both once he was back in Iacon. Jazz had not asked him to purge the codes, nor had he said he would do so and having them could prove necessary in the future.
After all, Jazz had the codes to his quarters.
With a soft venting of air, Prowl dismissed the whole thing and turned his attention back to the problem at hand.
He made a quick trip back to the Command Center to open a channel to the operator of the orphanage. Blaster had given him a strange look when he had told the communications officer whom he wanted to contact, but the mech had dutifully opened the channel regardless. The administrator – a thin, wiry mech – proved to be very helpful.
"Yes, I remember Jazz. A nice young mech. He got us out of a tight spot he did. Yes, sir, we would have been closed down for good. Then what would have happened to all the younglings?"
Prowl nodded. "Indeed. Would you be willing to testify as to what led up to your recruiting Jazz?"
The mech paused. "I was afraid this would come back to haunt him. It always seems like no good deed goes un-punished."
That made the Enforcer coding in Prowl's processor squirm uncomfortably. "With your testimony I hope to keep that from happening in this case."
"Good!" The lanky mech nodded firmly. "I will do everything I can to help. Jazz did us a lot of good, I want to be able to pay him back something for all he did for us."
Prowl blinked. "Jazz was not compensated for his efforts on your behalf?"
A shake of a long, angular helm, "No. He refused. He took just enough energon to get him through the orns he was working, but that's it. A good mech he is."
"Indeed." Prowl agreed quietly. "Thank you Administrator."
Prowl reached for the consol to terminate the connection when the other mech spoke again. "Hey, you don't say you could do something about the fortifications we were promised? While we don't have a lot of younglings left, we are getting refugees from all over Cybertron but our buildings have only been nominally reinforced. We were promised additional fortifications, but everything keeps getting diverted to build troop transports or to reinforce military instillations."
Prowl frowned. "I will see what I can do, Administrator."
The gray mech smiled again. "Whatever you can. Thank you."
Prowl stared at the blank screen for a long moment then he left the Command Center again. This time he headed directly to one of the base's archival chambers. He had more research to do on Tyger Paxian legal code. Once that was done, he started planning in earnest.
Half an orn later, Prowl was back in the Command Center, waiting for the Governor's office to patch him through to the Governor.
"I'm sorry, sir." A soft rose-colored femme answered. "The Governor is in a very important meeting."
"I will wait." Prowl told her calmly and then his signal had been placed in standby.
Resolutely, Prowl settled in to wait however long he would need to. After nearly a joor Prowl became aware of another mech approaching. He glanced up and then straightened as Optimus stopped at a polite distance away.
"How is your assignment progressing, Prowl?" The Prime asked carefully, though his optics were intense.
"I have legal merit to have Jazz's case dismissed." Prowl told the Prime, aware others were listening to his report. "If the Governor is willing to listen to reason."
"We need Jazz." Optimus reminded him.
Prowl nodded once. "Yes, sir. We also need Tyger Pax. I will get Jazz back."
Optimus stood there for a moment longer, carefully considering him and Prowl had the increasingly familiar feeling that the Prime was seeing him all the way down to his protoform. At length, the large blue and red mech nodded with regal grace and walked away. Prowl watched him go, pondering on the uneasy feeling that he had missed something important.
The tactician's ponderings were interrupted by a blip of static and then the Governor's face appeared. "What is it?"
Prowl bristled at the borderline dismissive tone and he felt his mask of calm neutrality take a firmer grip on his frame. "In researching the legal defense for my client I have come across some… interesting facts. Facts that you should be made aware of."
Perhaps it was the calm confidence in Prowl's demeanor. Perhaps it was the intense if understated light in Prowl's optics. Perhaps it was the politician's inherent awareness of his own wrongdoings. Regardless, Triticus went absolutely still and he spoke with caution. "What facts?"
Recognizing the well-hidden and sudden anxiety in his prey, and completely unaware of just how much more intimidating it was over his normally blank façade, Prowl let his lip plates twitch into an actual smile.
… … …
Jazz onlined in an instant, every sensor and motor relay blazing across his awareness and this fact was enough to tell him that the neural block had been removed. He knew that even before his optics even booted up completely and he was moving even faster. Only a distant part of his processor acknowledged the fact that his ability to move at all meant that the magnetic field and stasis cuffs had also been removed.
Before he was even consciously aware of what he was doing, Jazz had launched himself at the nearest mech, his momentum slamming said mech into the nearest wall. An astrosecond later, his processor caught up with his actions and he froze, one clawed hand curled around a vulnerable armor seam, then he blinked up into faintly bemused cobalt optics.
"Prowl?" There were other mechs in the room, a few of which had weapons drawn and aimed at him, but Jazz ignored them as he struggled to figure out what Prowl's presence might mean.
"You were supposed to be cooperating." Prowl said with well-controlled humor in his carefully bland voice and field.
Jazz blinked almost dumbly at the tactician and around them weapons deactivated with whispers of relieved vents. Taking another astrosecond to reassure himself that Prowl was actually there and not a figment of his overactive imaginative subroutines left to run rampant without anything to actually do, Jazz pulled back, carefully removing his fingers from Prowl's armor.
On impulse, Jazz began patting that same black and white armor, dusting off various bits of imaginary road grime and weakly buffing out the scuffs he had just made in the usually pristine finish. "Prowler! Thank Primus! You have no idea what kind of torture it was to…" He reached up and whacked Prowl upside the helm. "What took you so long? Two whole orns…" Then he released a vent, frame slumping before throwing his arms around Prowl's lower Chassis. "Thank you!"
Prowl stood absolutely still, completely discomfited and lost in the wildly flip-flopping emotions of his friend. Then he slowly lifted a hand and awkwardly pat the silver saboteur's shoulder.
Suddenly sensing the Praxian's bewilderment, Jazz let go of him and stepped back, his frame heating a fraction as he processed just what a fool he must have made of himself. Then he decided he did not care and a huge grin spread across his faceplate. "Oops. Thank you, Prowl."
Prowl was able to relax once there was a comfortable amount of space between them and his armor flared faintly and something that was suspiciously smug flickered in his optics and field. "You are welcome."
Jazz's optics narrowed behind his visor. "How…?"
This time Prowl actually smirked. "Governor Triticus decided it was more expedient to drop all charges against you rather than face possible impeachment for corruption, even if that corruption dated back to his first decavorn in office."
While thrilled to be free and online, Jazz could not help but feel a touch disappointed. "That's all? Just another cover up?"
"Indeed not." Prowl's smirk grew bolder. "The Governor has graciously decided to take the orphanage on as his pet-project. For the good of Tyger Pax, of course. It will be fortified against attacks and will receive a quarterly grant from the city government for all regular operating expenses – in perpetuity – so long as Triticus remains governor."
Jazz just stared. "Ya serious?"
"The good governor has seen the errors of his ways and was… eager to right that wrong." Prowl spoke with absolute neutrality and deadpan seriousness.
Jazz stared for a second longer and then a huff of air escaped his vents and that turned into chuckle that built quickly into a full out, vent-stuttering laugh.
Prowl's stoic demeanor cracked then and a lip plate quirked upward in a smile. "Come, let's get you home, Jazz. There is much to do."
Right, the AllSpark and the war to control it. On second thought, Jazz briefly allowed himself to acknowledge that the two-orn break from it all had been a nice vacation of sorts. It was not until they were half way to Iacon that another thought hit Jazz. Rather it was something that had been nagging him for the last two orns.
Turning his attention to the black and white alt mode that was driving next to him, Jazz put his question to words. "Hey-ya Prowler... So, what was Plan B anyway?"
~Finis~