Chapter 2 Ark Return
The volcano partially hid the Ark's entrance, Mt. St Hilary's long shadows descending with the setting sun. The orange metal both a reminder of Cybertron and how alien earth was, the metal encased in rock and dirt. Solspark's radars detected new energy scanning mechanisms inside the entryway, making her wary. Transforming up, the silver blue Bugatti Veyron form unfolded into her. "Nothing else is changed. Odd, I didn't see anything on the day's listing for tech installs."
"What's cracking?" The cheerful pitch recognized instantly but startling.
"Jazz! Do not practice on me. I know you sneak around. Did something happen while I was out?" she gestured towards the new sensors, turning to mock glare. He was taller than her, heavier chest components and moved with a grace she sometimes envied. And totally undetected until he spoke.
"Nothing other than our ever-paranoid Red Alert wanting to spot Decepticon cassettes. Unless you are Rumble riding Ravage with Laserbeak on your shoulder, nothing to worry about," Jazz chided, resisting his own desire to deep scan. Nearly his height, her sleeker design lines indicating a femme and warrior with her armor plating. The long rifle down her back charged and spotlessly clean to his approval.
"Not an image I want to process. Though I would love to target Starscream and see his wings as a sun cover," she smiled, walking. Red Alert as Security Director had investigated her background upon arrival as standard procedure and cleared her. His paranoia kept in check by logic and common sense, nothing in her personnel file a trigger for investigation or concern. And the fact her communication position last outpost allowed her full access to it and any version forwarded never revealed to any bot. Certain medical file attachments were removed and lost to data corruption as were two location postings to the Council as a member of the Elite Guard without rank or explanation. A basic worker with a common file when viewed.
"Screamer is crazy and might bump off ole Megs for us yet," Jazz commented moving ahead of her, letting the invisible scans flow over his system before disappearing into shadow. Taking a deep vent, she stepped forward perceiving no effects before joining him walking down the corridor.
Inside Prowl's office, two sets of bright blue optics narrowed as they watched the remote readings intently. Their decision to verify the device without her direct involvement necessary for her protection and their reassurance. And to keep the agreement of the trade between her and Jazz.
"Matrix energy traces are within Solspark's frame, confirming her story," Prowl identified, locking the results with his personal encryptions. A typed command and the exterior devices resorted to scanning for recognized Decepticon indicators, no long hidden in their cassette form.
"Detectable but muted or we would never have known," Optimus realized, comparing it to his Matrix of Leadership scan. "Very similar indeed. Time to make my presence known to her, not as one Prime to another but a potential friend."
In the main corridor, sounds of laughing mixed with angry revving warned Jazz and Solspark to flatten against the nearest wall, the twins alt modes racing by as Ironhide raged behind, bright green and glowing in the shadows. Jazz snickered, saving the image while Solspark shook her head, never impressed with their antics.
"Not even sun down and the mischief makers crawl out of their dens," Jazz said, waving her to go through the recreation break room door first.
"It's empty for once, thank Primus. Grab a cube or two before I hit the wash rack," she vented happily, heading straight for the energon storage area.
Jazz smiled, knowing the entire corridor remained empty by design, most mechs having no idea why and not caring. Duties or orders keeping them to other parts of the ark ship. His optics took in her dusty parts, tired shuffle to her feet pads as he remembered her comment about never recharging sufficiently. A misalignment in her arm plate flagged across his systems, the repair weld failing to pull away.
"Need help?"
"With?" she challenged, raising an optic's arch.
"Repairs, not cleaning," he pointed at her temporary patch job on her arm.
"Slag. All the bumpy roads must have jarred it loose. The coupler on my arm blaster is blown and I had planned on repairing it this morning with the parts ready. Instead I got shifted last minute to patrol duty with it half disassembled. Easier to tack it down with weld glue than explain wiring is shot and controls are out. My long rifle can protect me if we are attacked. I can finish repairs tomorrow."
"Ratchet or any of his staff could," he began.
"No."
The firm statement left no room for discussion. The sudden stillness of her frame, blue optics narrowing caught instantly to his profiling routines. Sipping her energon she remained calm, no outward sign of her internal struggle that most would have missed. Yet she kept the char mark, as if daring the universe to ask. Jazz felt sympathy, knowing many a bot that hid emotions, rarely as undetectable as her control seemed to be. Undetected they didn't receive the help or support they sometimes didn't even realize they needed until too late. 'Not happening to her,' he processed, focusing on gaining her trust.
He shared the days stories, getting her to relax and unwind as he had many a fellow bot. "And that is how Bumblebee and Hound wound up on cleaning detail, sticking you with patrol duty all day. "
"Serves them right for risking themselves that way. A reconnaissance mission and they turn it into a parts raid," she chuckled before becoming rigid, looking past him.
Optimus stood in the doorway, his regal blue and red frame nearly filing the space. "Am I interrupting? Need a top off of energon." His regal baritone deliberately toned to reassure. Crossing one arm over the other, he half leaned on the doorway, softly chuckling. "And can either of you tell me why Ironhide just passed me in the hallway glowing in the dark?"
"Twins boss bot," Jazz answered, waving for him to join them. A glance confirmed Solspark showing no emotional response in her frame.
"That unfortunately explains many things around here, not all of them good," he answered. "Thank you Solspark for taking the patrol with little notice."
"It is an honor to serve my Prime," she answered neutrally, half bowing in the old ways.
Optimus smiled, half bowing his frame towards her in acknowledgment before striding over and grabbing up a handful of energon cubes. He didn't miss he way she backed towards Jazz, using him as buffer between them. Venting softly, he drank the energon, concentrating on his Matrix. Warm humming increased under his chest plate as it answered. And her optics widened, as though suddenly startled. "Gotcha,' he processed.
"Prowl to Optimus Prime," transmitted clearly in the silent room, his external helm speakers carrying the signal.
"Go ahead Prowl."
"Readings confirmed. And Wheeljack is requesting permission to design another Dinobot."
"Understood and request denied. Prime out," Optimus smiled down at the them, rolling his optics. "I use to build and design. While I applaud Wheeljack's enthusiasm we need more power convertors and updates to med bay scanners first."
"Before the war?" she asked, half smiling.
"I was an architect and an archivist. From filing records and researching to building the Grand Arch Span bridge at Iacon, the power docks there and surrounding areas. My existence before our war was one of peace and simpler things. Now I lead because it brings us closer to peace. This war will end, and I will take up a new life. Perhaps return to building bridges," he stated calmly.
"But you are a Prime."
"The Matrix is part of me but does not define my sole existence," he answered, recognizing her exact phrasing of a Prime and not Prime alone. Most Autobots and even Decepticons blended his title and life into one word as though a name but not her.
"Na, that would be reports, monitoring Teletran One and endless meetings," Jazz quipped.
"Speaking of meetings, I have one to attend," he stated regally, standing to full height, moving his arms to show off his wide chest plates and glass front enhancements. It had the desired effect on Solspark, her venting increasing even if slightly and a focusing of her systems his direction.
::Show off. Save your preening for Elita One:: Jazz sent, chucking his drained cube into the recycle bin, as Prime casualty tossed his across the distance, another chance to show off his physique.
"Good joor," he called, striding out.
Jazz pretended to not notice Solspark rubbing one armored hand across her chest plates absently. He did report it to the others in Prime's office later, Wheeljack attending. "Readings?"
"Power flare in yours then hers," Prowl confirmed.
"It is said that a Matrix carrier of Primus recognizes the one that will succeed them as Prime. The interactions I had with other Primes never revolved around our Matrixes, our identities and work clearly established. Otherwise there is no way to verify her current status," Optimus explained.
"Prime Axial must have recognized her at the end, passing it onward," Wheeljack guessed, rapidly sketching case designs on his data pad, calculating probable power limits.
"Or wanted it out of the Decepticon hands. Megatron's seekers were stealing relics and ancient devices as much as fighting then. Kept me busy collecting stuff to protect," Jazz reminded.
"Relics were not all they were stealing, and I believe Solspark left part of her tale out and I process I know why," Ratchet surprised them.
"Please continue," Optimus prompted.
"Medical combat support did not carry arm blasters or long rifles until late in the war. Their limbs were morphic tools like mine with two assigned combat troopers to cover and protect. I reviewed her medical records and found a left arm morphic connection sealed over. The damage under the seal was aged and an indicator of when it happened. And not her cover of becoming communications vorns later," his normal composed features went hard with pain.
"Starscream's triple glyph order," Prowl realized.
"Sweet Primus," Jazz swore.
"What? I don't understand,' Wheelajck asked, his bars flashing colors of confusion. The scientist had been a civilian much of the war and kept off the front lines, hearing only bits and pieces of the horrors.
"Medics were targeted midway in the war because of the sparks we saved. Starscream and his seekers would catch a medic, injuring them and disabling medical protocols before dumping them among the wounded, unable to help. The second time they were caught he took their limbs and branded them with a glyph and a warning."
"The third time?" Wheeljack asked, guessing but needing to hear.
"Slow torture in ways a medic would suffer the greatest before literally being torn apart. Solspark has no glyphs but her morphic limb was sheared off in a non-surgical manner, the rent metal under the cap. Whether in combat or catching I cannot say. She risked everything going into Irenic and leaving with the Matrix to continue as medical, young or not. Her training records indicate apprenticing under a Senior Medic named Cogwheel. Cogwheel helped discover our transformation process as a natural part of our existence. She was offlined as a third glyph example at Tyger Pax. As were several medics I knew," Ratchet continued.
"I ended that practice," Optimus rumbled, his normal regal baritone harsh. "For every medic lost we took a dozen seeker sparks and returned the wing tips to Megatron. He grew tired of the vengeance and losing them instead of fighting for his cause and discontinued the order."
"She made a wisecrack about Starscream, no fear there," Jazz remembered.
"Negative indicator of capture. Probable she witnessed or mourned a third glyph victim and changed her limb for a weapon with the occurrence of a subsequent injury. Not revenge but close-range firing with her hidden blaster should her long-range rifle fail. A way to protect without undue offlining and keeping with a medic's vows," Prowl reasoned.
"I swore to never carry a weapon either and that changed. It keeps me alive and that keeps all of you being repaired, the ultimate fulfillment of the life vows," Ratchet explained as if daring any of them to challenge.
"How does that help us with Solspark?" Wheeljack asked, letting Ratchet double check his designs.
"Her comments. They revolved around her feeling safe. Carrying weapons to defend herself. Not being able to recharge and wanting me to guard in the same room. That might be the key to reaching her," Jazz realized.
"I trust your judgment Jazz. For now, we will continue monitoring without confrontation. And as the time is past normal working hours, this meeting is adjourned. Good recharge," Optimus ordered, dismissing them.
Two nights later, the image of Prime relaxed and talking kept replaying as Solspark flipped onto her side. A check of the chronometer confirmed a late hour, her internal one disabled as power systems lagged. Siting up on her bunk, Solspark linked into Teletran One checking the work assignment schedule, delighted to see free time listed for the rest of the week. "Yes. Work on repairs," she cheered before sobering. Medical warnings flashed across her optics, citing low frag time. "Ever helpful. Tell me I need deeper recharge without how," she murmured, dismissing the warnings.
Solspark ran calculations estimating what was necessary to flip the alerts into the dangerous stage, instead of warning. "A little bit more energy spent here, more time there and I can medically override and dismiss before any auto reporting is logged in my systems," she realized, leaving her quarters on the fourth floor. Designed to carry over three hundred Autobots, the earth-based crew barely filled the fourth floor of the Ark, the scouts and special operations bots taking the fifth level, spacing out rooms to ensure privacy. Special teams like the Aerialbots or Dinobots had quarters in the mountain but not within the Ark main structure that had survived the crash landing. Following the earth's solar rotation, the late-night hour meant less chance of any bot encountering her as the Autobots kept the human pattern of nighttime recharging.
As Solspark descended the floor ramps her processes kept returning to the week's events, the revealing of her past and Prime appearing and talking of peaceful times. More had happened in those few hours than her entire two months on earth and yet she was no closer to answers on what to do next. The bright orange metal of the corridor barely echoed her steps, the doors closed on all the personal quarters as she turned down a side hallway. Reaching the hallway end, it took a second to realize she faced a stone wall, only the ventilation vent breaking its surface. Tired optics focusing on it, auto gauging the size.
"Lost or need a saboteur application?"
Half fritzing, Solspark's battle protocols activated sub spacing out her long rifle, its safety locks disengaging. A white armored mech stood tall behind her, smile on his lip plates beneath a familiar blue visor.
"Jazz! Would you stop doing that!" she growled, sliding the black rifle back to hiding in subspace.
"Day after I offline," he quipped moving closer. He approved of her quick reaction and weapon safeties disengaging, he loved being able to get in attack proximity range before announcing his presence. "Speaking of which, no offense but you look kind of slagged."
"Every femme wants to hear that. Recharge is elusive tonight. You?"
"Same. Walking the corridor to relax protocols. Special Ops means all hours and off schedule tomorrow. Time to rest then. Maybe attend the music festival next state over," Jazz covered, leaving off the alarm that triggered him to wake when her door opened during recharge times. Or his command link into all the Ark cameras to track her every step. The sensors on his wrist flared to life, flashing colors. "Pit."
"What?" She watched, recognizing a warning but the red and yellow colors meaningless.
"Twins. Probably another prank. Quick, we can hide in my doorway until they pass," he gestured back down the short hallway. Smirking, he moved silently but quickly, leaving her no choice except to follow. The warning lights on his wrist turning off at his command as they had turned on. Dragging steps she followed, trusting him. They passed four doors before reaching his room, the door automatically opening. Armored finger to his lips, he manually slid the door close once they were both inside. "They don't dare stop here after last time. I believe we are undetected."
Too tired to ask what happened the last time, Solspark tried to be polite and not stare at the sheer volume of items laying everywhere, piled on each other into stacks. Then he opened the door to his recharge area, a massively large bunk and murals on every wall and ceiling. Views as though standing on the launching tower at Iacon. Murals recreated in painstaking details. Cybertron. Home.
"Take a nap. I can stand guard for a bit," Jazz offered, recognizing her look. He stayed back, standing between her and the outer door without seeming to block the escape route.
"No, I can return to my room." Her attention never left the empty bunk or the mural behind it.
"Solspark, I give word on my spark you will be safe," he promised, one armored hand over his chest plates that she never turned to see. His reputation as dangerous a benefit and known to her with her earlier comment. He hesitated, wondering if his other reputation was affecting her desire to stay. 'Come on femme, make the right decision,' he processed. The mural his creation, a natural outlay of his skill in missions and having to recreate what he had seen in detail for reports. Captivated, Solspark faced it without moving, a good indicator. Reaching, he opened an energon cube and waited for her to give in.
"But you need recharge," she argued, half turning his way. His spark ached seeing the tired desperation flashing across her expressive features.
"Catch that later. Programming allows me to run without recharging. I have been trapped behind enemy lines or monitoring Cons right under their sparks, unable to move. Keep the energon up," he explained, handing her the cube.
Drinking it down, she never noticed the added content, enhancing the energon. Not high grade but close. A special mix for long running hard systems designed by Wheeljack and issued by Ratchet. Tapping the outer door, Jazz locked it tight, the energy patterns flaring across its surface for her to see.
"I owe you," Solspark promised, flopping down. In less than half a breem she dropped into deep recharge, her ragged system settling into a steady pattern.
"Not my first time recharging upright," Jazz's trademark visor snapped up revealing blazing blue optics. Deeper blue than a night sky without stars and resplendent with pure power, his cores coruscating to match Prime's at his brightest. The temptation to turn them red or purple fleeted past before being ruthlessly discarded. A promise made, a promise kept in truth as she kept her part of the trade. She would be allowed to see him unguarded and fundamental, one of the few who would live past the revelation. But not yet.
Silently he transmitted messages to his three conspirators, intending it to be read in the morning. Solspark recharging in his room and his routines engaged so he could recharge some of the same time. Unsurprisingly both Prowl and Optimus answered back, confirming their acceptance of the information and a promise to keep his end of the branching hallway clear. No accidental contact to disturb them. Ratchet an auto message reminding that mechs needed to recharge, not stay up on messaging.
Another message sent to his special ops team, not to be disturbed for anything short of a full Decepticon attack and to confirm entry was granted before opening his door, no exceptions. Echoes flowed back of recharging, patrolling, one in med bay but all accepting his desire for privacy without question.
Jazz set a subroutine alert for the slightest shift or movement by her and he would snap awake. Full protection mode auto engaged before he consciously realized it if the outer door opened. And his optics closed as he relaxed, the visor engaging to damp down their sheer power. The recharge door left open between Jazz and Solspark in the resulting darkness.
Hidden under her armor the Matrix flared, pulling her excess energy to burn a little brighter.
To be continued…
Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and to my loyal readers. You make it worth it. There will be more action, training and revelations onward. Not all will be their romance or the Matrix. And no, she was not a glyph order caught though she did lose her morphic arm. Story in a later chapter. I researched the Matrix and Primes, the Ark ship layout on tf wiki and half a dozen other canon TF research sites, books, G1 cartoon, movies and comics. Until all are one.