Cybertron: A Little over Four Million Years Ago
Prowl was there when the call went out.
Technically, one could say that he was the one who made the call, as it was his hand that controlled the tight beam transmission to every Autobot outpost on or under Cybertron's surface.
The voice and the message, themselves belonged solely to the Autobot's leader, Optimus Prime. Prowl had merely been one of those supporting Prime.
"The energy shortage has reached a critical stage. We must now consider the possibility that we must explore beyond our world in order to find a new source, in order that we may win this war. In order to do this, we must form a unit like none before, both to build the craft to leave this planet, and to crew it on the voyage. I ask only for volunteers, because this is an uncertain mission, we do not know how long it will take in order to find what we need. We must be able to work together to succeed."
As Prime stepped back from the communications console, Prowl watched the panel light up with the incoming messages. A flood almost as fast as the communications expert, Blaster, could handle them. Blinking messages from the far reaches, from the last strategic holdouts and outposts; those who earnestly desired to help the Autobot cause.
"Do you think it will work, Prowl?" Prime asked quietly, his own optics on the lights.
"It is the only logical and feasible way." Prowl told him, curious about the uncertainty that seemed to come out of nowhere. "You are not certain now?"
"I am. I was just wondering if it made sense to you."
"If those who are expected to arrive do so, we should be ready for a launch before the end of the next year." Prowl gave one of those rare smiles to his leader. "And with the way the messages are coming in, we should know within a few hours."
Over the next planetary week, many Autobots started filtering in– appearing at both the gates to Iacon, and at the secret underground entrances. All ready for whatever Prime would call upon them to do.
So few in number, but so stout to the core.
Some Autobots sent messages through those they sent– saying that they would maintain the presence that would keep the Autobot foothold on their own world, even if it was to be a hidden one. Everyone had a role. Not everyone would be chosen.
The task of choosing which volunteers to take was a monumental one.
Prowl was privy to the criteria by which the crew itself was selected– in fact, he and Trailbreaker created most of it at Optimus's order, while the Autobot leader himself went to negotiate with the few remaining neutrals. They needed materials to build the ship. Resources that were guarded by a few who still didn't know which side they wanted to be on.
While Prime and Blaster communicated with the few alien races that Cybertron knew, to obtain the star maps and sensor data that they would need to navigate, the list grew from a handful of names, to a true list. Each autobot was chosen for his strengths and abilities– the most important of which was the ability to work with every other Autobot as a team.
There were a few dynamics that Trailbreaker or Prowl had brought up as potential problems– a few Autobots who occasionally had problems— however, by the end, all three– Prime, Prowl, and Trailbreaker– were certain that the frictions wouldn't cause any major problems to the mission.
The Engineer– Wheeljack– had arrived, as Prowl predicted, blueprints in hand, and a few ready mechs to start the physical construction of the 'Ark' as they had nicknamed it. Wheeljack, despite some past failures, had more successes, and, importantly, the skill to work on the faster than light drive from the sketches given to Prime. He was one of the first on the list.
Ratchet, the medic, had appeared later in that first week– a day and a half later than Prowl had estimated his arrival. There had been some heavy casualties in a minor skirmish in the western cities that had delayed him. The acerbic medic was one of the first people that Prowl had listed. In any operation, a medic would eventually be needed: Ratchet was the best, and most likely to volunteer.
Ironhide had appeared within the first three hours after Optimus's broadcast, and hadn't left the leader's side. The red mech would be good for backing up orders– and his experience would be invaluable. He was the only one who was earlier than expected.
All of the pieces were falling into place: those that Prowl had already counted among the volunteers had arrived, save three. And two of those, at last report, were on the way. The remaining Autobot, however, according to an intelligence report that had been slipped into Iacon with a supply of the metal plating for the ship's hull, was not going to be coming.
According to the report, he had died a few weeks before the broadcast– after a botched intelligence mission to the mines of Cuprahex– at the hands of a Decepticon inquisitor. The loss was significant– many of the Autobots, including Prowl, had known the agent personally– and liked him.
Prowl had just begun to re-evaluate the crew, and to find a replacement, when the last of the expected Autobot volunteers arrived.
"Knock knock, Prowl!" The familiar voice almost made him cringe, while at the same time the realization that his prediction of the arrival time of this particular pair had been dead on. To the minute.
"Hey, Prowl? Aren't ya glad to see us?" The pair of red and yellow mechs crowded into the small office where he and Trailbreaker had been discussing the possible replacements. Names were entered. Names were crossed off.
"I was expecting the two of you about two vorn ago." Prowl answered, setting the data tablet back onto the table. "You're the last two positions to be filled, aside from the helmsman."
Trailbreaker snickered quietly across the table at Prowl's little fib. Prowl had told him these two would be the last. He was fairly certain that there would be credits changing hands somewhere tonight.
"We're not the last?" Sideswipe said, elbowing his brother, and ignoring the complaining scowl. "I toldja we could stop t'see Jazz again, and not be late."
"You haven't been told then," Prowl shook his head, as Trailbreaker's laughter died away. "A mission went wrong– he's–"
"In a little city on the Tagan Heights, getting his fender fixed, when we left him." Sunstreaker said briefly, "Three days ago."
Prowl heard Trailbreaker hit the comlink, to locate Prime.
"Three days ago?"
"Yeah," put in Sideswipe. "The only thing about him that's dead is his sense of humor."
"Go report to Ironhide," Prowl told them sparing a glance for Trailbreaker, "He will show you where to stow your gear."
"...Without the computer system to guide them, I'm afraid the Ark won't be going anywhere– the calculations are just too astronomical for any one mech to keep track of, and still be able to maintain the engines." Wheeljack paused, as he caught a glimpse of Prowl and Trailbreaker in the doorway.
Optimus Prime followed the direction of Wheeljack's gaze, then nodded for him to continue.
"Xaus in DN3 is the best AI programmer I know. He has his entire lab wired up on one system– everything is controlled by his Teletran program."
"And you think he would produce something like that for us?" Prime asked, steepling his hands in front of his mask.
"I know he would, actually. I talked to him before I got here." answered the engineer. "And I just got a message from him yesterday, to say that he'd finished it."
"Is he going to bringing it to Iacon soon then?" The Autobot leader leaned forward, Prowl noticed silently. At least something seemed to be going their way.
"That's the problem." Wheeljack said with a sigh.
"What do you mean?"
"Problem?" queried Prowl.
"That's the whole reason I'm talkin' to you today. The Decepticons have been crackin' down on the surrounding region." Wheeljack made a frustrated gesture, his head-lights blinking furiously, "Xaus can't get out. He just barely managed to get word out to me through a few suppliers."
"And we just lost the only agent who knows that area, and has contacts in that region of Cybertron..." Optimus said slowly, with the a tone that Prowl recognized as resignation.
"That would be why we are here Optimus." Prowl said quickly, "We have just received some new information. He's alive, but..."
"Alive?" Hope rekindled. "That's good news. But why wouldn't he contact us, and let us know?"
"The report said that he was getting repaired in an area around Tagan Heights. And that he wasn't planning on coming this way any time soon." Trailbreaker put in mildly.
Optimus Prime sat quietly, thinking for a moment, as Prowl watched, waiting for the words he knew were inevitable. Trailbreaker and Wheeljack just looked at each other, and shrugged.
"If he won't come to us, then we'll have to go to him. Prowl, we'll leave in an hour."
"Of course, Optimus. And we will be keeping this as low key as possible."
"Yes." Prime looked up at the other pair in the room. "No one else is to know that we're gone. If all goes well... we will be back before anyone notices."
Rhodex: Tagan Heights
All things considered, it wasn't difficult to find Jazz. Probably because he wasn't trying to hide from anyone. If he were trying to hide, Prowl knew that they could have searched the heights for centuries, and found only rumors of his passing– or even no trace at all. Jazz had become very skillful in covering his tracks over the past millenia.
As it turned out, Jazz had been anticipating their arrival.
As Prowl entered the small repair bay in Rhodex– two steps behind Prime– he glanced over the three tables filled with damaged mechs, and the counters with the sparse spare parts with a reserved and assessing gaze. Most of these mechs had seen action fairly recently– the odor of plasma-burned paint still lingered in the air.
A pair of medics struggled to repair one of the worst of the casualties in the far side of the room.
Prowl didn't see Jazz at first. There was no sign of the white and black mech on any of the tables. Nor did Prime, apparently, as he took another step in, before stopping short, a puzzled look on his face.
The strategist took another look around the room, his gaze finally falling upon one of the medics. The shape was familiar, though this mech bore a completely black paint scheme. That would be why he'd missed it at first. He had made the mistake of looking for the normal white coloration.
As though feeling the gaze, the black painted mech turned his head to acknowledge their presence with a calm– and unsurprised– blue visored gaze. A faint smile briefly crossed his uncharacteristically sober face.
Jazz.
He wasn't, Prowl realized after a moment, doing much other than handing over parts and tools that were needed. Jazz was acting as a sort of assistant to the actual medic.
Prowl touched Prime's arm, to get his attention, then jerked his head towards the far corner, watching as the leader finally realized what he was seeing.
"Be right with ya." Jazz called, then turned his attention back to the medic– conferring with the other in low tones.
"I didn't expect anything like this." Prime said quietly.
There was nothing to do but wait now.
Neither of the mechs seemed inclined to hurry with the repairs. Glancing at the closest battle damaged chassis, neither Prime nor Prowl was inclined to rush them.
An hour passed.
The two Autobots remained standing uncomfortably next to the entrance, until finally–
"C'mon in here– Aid said we can use his office while he's off rechargin'." Jazz was limping towards them at last.
The twins hadn't been lying about him being here for repairs. Even with four days of recuperating time, it seemed that all the kinks hadn't been worked out of the systems. Black paint aside, something about Jazz seemed out of place.
Jazz ignored their pointed looks, as he led them into the small office.
"What are you still doing here, Jazz?" Prime asked, as they sat in the uncomfortable space.
"Nice t'see you too, Prime." Jazz sat in the extra chair with a grunt. "I'm payin' off m'repair bill."
"We got word that you were dead." Prowl offered.
"I got better. Just sorry ya had t'waste a trip out here t'see me, 'cause whatever it is, I ain't goin'. Not this time."
"Jazz–" Started the Autobot leader.
"Ya heard me. I'm... quittin'. Givin' up."
Prowl suddenly realized what the detail was that had been bothering him. There was no brand on Jazz, only a smooth coat of black paint, where once the Autobot symbol had been.
"May I ask why?" Prowl asked quietly in the shocked silence that had fallen.
"Ya can." Jazz said, picking at a scratch, not looking up at them.
"Then... why?"
"I'm tired, Prowl. Th'last mission..." Jazz glanced up at Prime, "Th'last mission went bust 'cause I made one too many mistakes. Almost didn' make it back."
"You've gone through odds like that before– and no one is perfect." Prime was probably frowning behind the mask, Prowl decided. "What made this different?"
"M'inside agent turned me in." Jazz was looking up now, a curiously bitter twist to his mouth. "I'm not even sure how I made it outta there."
"So you're just going to sit in Rhodex, and play assistant to that medic, until the Decepticons raze all the neutral cities?"
Jazz shifted uncomfortably.
"Aid patched me back t'gether–" Jazz said, "I owe him fer that, at least."
"We have several candidates to take your place on the Ark mission," said Prowl. "However..."
"However we have no one else who can get in and out of DN3 without triggering alerts right now." Prime finished.
"There is, of course, Chimera." Prowl could see a wavering concern in the dark mech's face, despite the visor that covered his optics.
"Chimera's too new. She's too rash an' impulsive– "
"So were you when you started." Prime pointed out, "But without Xaus's program, we don't have a functional ship– We have no choice." Prime rose, and turned to the door.
Prowl rose to follow.
"Wait." Prowl looked back at the indecision written on the agent's face. "One last mission, and nothin' more?"
"Will you do it?"
"I will go as backup, if you wish." Prowl found himself offering. He didn't usually act so impulsively– but this was an unusual situation.
"It's that important." murmured the dark mech, sounding more like his old self, "Jus'... give me a bit t' break it ta Aid."
Data Node 3
The trip to DN3 was, in perspective, moderately uneventful. It wasn't a walk in and out by anymeans. The few patrols that Jazz and Prowl encountered were easily evaded, despite the obvious stiffness in the special ops agent's joints. Jazz still wasn't completely adjusted to some repair or another, even if he had insisted that everything was fine.
If he'd had to hazard a guess at the extent of damage with which Rhodex's medic had had to repair, Prowl would have guessed that there had been a major rebuild involved. And even if Aid had been as skillful as Ratchet...
Jazz wasn't talking about it– yet.
And Prowl was beginning to think that using another agent would have been a wiser courseof action– and just as effective. It wasn't because he was doubting the difficulty of what they were doing. He was more concerned that Jazz might not be able to handle everything that could happen in the field right now.
Ducking another patrol, they approached the low slung spires of the Decahedron district, where, according to Wheeljack, Xaus had his main laboratory. Jazz pulled Prowl into an alley that seemed a bit too narrow to hold one mech, let alone two.
"There's a way inta the buildin' from here." He said in a hushed tone. "Jus' gotta wait a minute so the patrol don't catch us."
Prowl's expression didn't change as he looked at the narrow alley. He saw no access hatches, nor holes, nor anything that indicated a way out, other than the way they'd entered. A pair of jets flew over, search lights randomly picking out the darkened corners of the city. Fortunately there was enough of an overhang that the white of Prowl's chassis remained in the dark.
"I don't see any–"
Jazz just grinned, and pointed upwards, as the roar of the patrol's engines faded in the distance.
There was a light near the top of the spire. Even as low as the building was, it would take them a few hours to climb the building.
"It will take a while to get there. Do you think the patrol will be gone long enough for us to climb that far?"
"Nah," Jazz shook his head, "Ain't gonna take that long. Jus' hang on to me."
"Hang on to–" The hand pointing upwards retracted into subspace, replaced by a grappling hook. "Oh."
"Can't say I didn' get ya there in style." Jazz quipped, firing the mechanism off at a point just above the light. Clink. He tested the line with a sharp tug. "Hang on. It's a li'l faster than the lift."
Prowl just shut his optics, and hung on.
The lab was only a short distance away in the darkened corridors. Confidence was growing– there was no one around to stop them from getting to their goal.
Jazz, however, seemed hesitant at the shadowy walk.
"Almost there." Prowl encouraged, "We should be safe once we get inside the lab. Xaus will be waiting."
"Somethin' ain't right..."
"There is no logical reason for them to think that we would be here. It's just a corridor–"
"When will you ever learn to trust instinct over logic, Autobot?" The voice behind them was feminine and unfamiliar. "Hello, Jazz. You're looking much better than the last time I saw you."
"Symphony..." In the dim lights of the corridor, Prowl saw the expression on the black mech's face change from wary to neutral, even as the alarm rose within his own mind. "How did ya find out about..."
"I have my ways." The seeker-jet stepped out of the shadows, as both Autobots turned. "You should really be more careful with that grappling hook. You almost hit the security grid."
"An' we all know ya wouldn't have wanted t'share the fun." Careful neutrality made the voice seem oddly flat. "So ya wanna go fer round two? I'm on to ya this time."
The black and gold seeker stared at Jazz with a carefully blank look for a moment, before chuckling. Symphony did not even move as the black mech's gun appeared in his hand in a flash of subspace energy.
"I see. And you're not even going to bother introducing me to your friend this time?"
"Prowl. Symphony. Symphony. Prowl. Introductions are done. Ya wanna give me a real good reason why I shouldn't jus' shoot ya now, an' have done with it?"
"Because the electronic surveillance in this area has been jammed, and you only have five minutes to get to Xaus's lab before the cameras reset themselves?"
Prowl blinked. The gun wavered, but did not lower.
"An' why should I believe you this time?"
Prowl frowned, glancing towards the lab door.
"Because, my dear Meister, it was your idea to get me in this deep."
"If she is telling the truth, we only have four more minutes." Prowl reasoned. "Jazz?"
"Xaus is waiting." said the femme, starting to walk around them. "I didn't expect to have this conversation, else I would have done something a little more permanent to those cameras."
Jazz nodded slowly, starting to follow, though Prowl noted that he didn't put the gun away yet. With a shake of his head, he followed them to the lab.
The lab was immaculate.
A fairly large set of rooms, the lab stretched out from the doorway in a stark and sterile imitation of a large computer bank. Only on a large scale. In the center, an older grey robot sat at a circular station, looking from one side to another at the screens that surrounded him. On the clear space beside him sat a small box.
"They have arrived, Xaus." Symphony called. "Are you ready?"
"Teletran One is nearly ready for transport." came the reply, as Xaus reached over to key something into the console. The door locked behind the trio, and Prowl spun to stare at it. Was this a trap? "Can't have any interruptions." The explanation came a moment later.
"Symphony?"
"This isn't a trap.You can put your gun away– for now."
"What did ya mean... it was my idea?"
"I think that last blow must have damaged you worse than I had intended." Symphony glanced at Prowl. "You need someone close enough to keep tabs on things. I volunteered. 'Killing' you was the most effective way for me to prove my loyalty, so that I could get in good with the guard..." she stopped. "You really don't remember, do you." Statement of fact. Not question, Prowl noticed, as he stepped over to look at the screens that Xaus was using.
"She'll keep me safe," Xaus said quietly, as the other conversation grew quieter. "There is much I still need to do here– "
"You aren't coming?"
"As I explained to Wheeljack– I cannot leave Teletran to fall into the hands of the Decepticons– and my work– my life is here." The sober gray face looked up at Prowl with a tinge of regret in his optics. "I could not smuggle Teletran One out of the city on my own, so I went along with his idea that I would be leaving as well."
"And the Decepticon?"
"Symphony... will keep me from their prying optics– she is one of yours." Xaus smiled, touching another key, then detached the wires that Prowl hadn't seen connecting the box to the console. "I am finished. Symphony will take care of the cameras, so that you may leave."
Prowl took the box from Xaus's hands, and looked up to find Jazz and Symphony waiting by the door. Jazz had put away the gun, at last.
The old grin was back on Jazz's face, as though it had never left.
The Ark: 2000 CE
"It isn't a very exciting story, I know. You see– there's really not much more to it than what was covered in the report." Prowl said, "And some of the details can never be told."
"So... did Meister join the crew after he decided to rejoin the Autobots, or did he just... vanish into the night again?"
Prowl only gave Rewind one of those rare little smiles as a response.
"Oh... right. Not safe." Rewind admitted with a soft chuckle. "Sometimes curiosity overwhelms common sense. But it's still interesting how there seems to be a parallel between the ancient earth story and what happened on Cybertron."
"A coincidence, nothing more."
"There was a set of twins on the Argo." Rewind glanced at the screen in front of him. "And there seem to be a few references to other Earth cultures having myths with twins in them..."
"True– however we crashed long before the humans emerged, and awakened long after they had built their own stories."
"Still, I wonder..."
The door opened and closed behind them, admitting an aura of sound. Rewind only knew of two mechs who would have something like that– and one of them had gone out the tunnel.
"Hi, Blaster." Rewind said, as he turned around.
Prowl looked over Rewind's head to nod.
"Hey guys– hope ya aren't buggin' Prowl too much, Rewind." Rewind gave Prowl a guilty look.
"No. He's not." Prowl gave the large red boxy Autobot a measured look. "He has come up with a few interesting points of research. Is there something I can help you with?"
"I was just lookin' for Jazz. I need to talk to him about some of the encoding for the communications relay."
"He went for a drive. He should be back soon."
As though waiting for the cue, Teletran One made an odd beep, and spoke.
"Incoming transmission from Jazz." It announced, and immediately brought up the broadcast.
"Spotted a couple o' flyboys headed towards the Lakes Region power grid." Jazz's familiar voice filled the room. "I'm keepin' an optic on 'em, but if ya don't mind, I could prolly use some backup."
"Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are on patrol nearby. I will direct them to your location." Prowl moved to the console to respond, and tap another frequency to the twins.
"Thanks, man. I 'preciate–"
The transmission cut off in a burst of noisy static that made even Blaster cringe.
"Jazz? Jazz!"
Earth Orbit
The Earth was a stunning jewel in the cosmos. A planet rich in energy sources, and full of organic life. A rare treasure to be viewed. And Soundwave was tired of looking at it spinning innocently through the satellite's viewports.
Soundwave was more inclined to think of the planet as a means to an end, rather than an artistic gem, even as he watched the locator signals home in on one of the more isolated power plants in the western section of the continent known as 'North America'.
He doubted that the fools had even thought of the danger of striking a facility so close to the normal range of the Autobots. Soundwave wouldn't question Megatron's orders, however he could, and would, silently question the wisdom of letting the trio of seekers choose their own target.
It wouldn't take long for the Autobots to pick up on the Decepticon presence in the area, and battle would ensue– and all for what? A minuscule amount of energon.
He would inevitably have to bail them out, Soundwave realized with the tiniest fraction of a sigh. Carefully he set the controls to the satellite base on automatic, and prepared himself the journey.