Chapter 178 – Reparative Skills
(SwPOV)
Soundwave was driving, not his favourite means of transportation, by any means, but he was competent, at any rate.
Far more important in this case was his destination, led by Ironhide and Jazz, he was bound to find one of the bots he had sought to save. Far too many had died, by Megatron's hands, and unfortunately, his own.
One life didn't wash away the energon that would permanently remain on his servos, but, at the gates to the well of All-sparks, perhaps those he had worked to spare from torture or offlining would speak for him. It was the only hope his spark had from being shunted directly to the Pit.
They had been driving for fully seven joor, now. For the past three Joor, neither of the bots accompanying him had bothered to address him.
Not that Soundwave minded, really, he was long accustomed to orns of no-bot addressing him. He had his symbionts to keep him company anyway. They were also far less surly than the Weapons Master he was following.
Ravage was currently reminiscing of the hatchlings she had borne, and of her lifetime alliance with an old Banshee-hawk.
Soundwave put it in his forward logs to ask Lena if the femme wished the coding to make it possible for her to communicate directly with Ravage.
Certainly the Femme Cybercat wished to speak to Banshee-hawk.
::. Why now.:: the Saboteur growled.
::. Why what?.:: Ironhide grumbled.
::. Why does Soundwave want to help us now?.::
Soundwave remained quiet, as he generally did unless asked directly.
::. Ask him that.:: the Weapons Master grumbled.
::. He's on the same frequency.:: Jazz replied flatly.
::. Soundwave request: Saboteur elaborate.::
::. Stop that, talk like a normal bot.:: Ironhide immediately grumbled at him.
::. In English?.:: Soundwave immediately shot at the mech. He'd been waiting for that opening for the past several Joor. Jazz snorted in spite of himself.
::. Oh great, he's a telepathic comedian now.:: Ironhide groaned.
::. Twenty rell of high-grade says he makes you laugh.:: Jazz snorted.
::. Saboteur: elaborate?.:: Soundwave repeated himself patiently.
::. Why are you driving with us – without so much as a growl at how long driving takes, I might add – to go retrieve the memories of a mech that'll just as likely offline you on sight?.:: Jazz asked patiently.
::. Soundwave: -.::
::. I said quit that!.::
::. has spent several vorn planting allies.:: Soundwave continued patiently, making an idle note to speak in his normal monotone anytime he wished to annoy the Weapons Master. ::. By no means, Saboteur-.::
::. Just call me Jazz already.:: the mech stated. Soundwave smiled.
::. By no means Jazz, do I too wish to burn in the Pit.::
::. That's fair enough.:: Ironhide rumbled. ::. Here's the city, s'on the other side.::
Soundwave glanced at his co-ordinates and nodded, following the larger vehicle as Ironhide turned and began taking a road choked with sand.
Sand.
Of all things.
::. Come on then lazy afts.:: Ironhide rumbled tauntingly. Ah. That was the Weapons Master's revenge. Soundwave watched patiently as the larger earth-modelled vehicle the mech had chosen sped off down the road.
However he and the Saboteur both were forced to slow over the rough ground.
Unless...
Soundwave opened a separate frequency and offered a code of his own crafting and use to the saboteur. One which allowed him to shift directly from one alt-mode to the next.
::. Ah don' have a second fohrm.:: Jazz muttered bitterly behind him.
Soundwave pursed his lip plates and thought for a moment, running through the multitude of modes he had scanned around the smaller mech's size.
Wait.
He grinned and sent Ravage's suggestion, gleeful laughter was his response.
::. Hah d'yah have that scanned!?.:: Jazz demanded through his laughter.
::. Symbiont: Ravage.:: Soundwave sent modestly, eying the rapidly shrinking form of Ironhide.
::. Nah hah d'yah suggest Ah take off?.::
::. Soundwave: tow.::
::. Ah wondah if ah still have...:: the mech stated musingly, even as he sped up to get into Soundwave's cable range.
::. Recording of Banshee-hawk?.:: Soundwave sent innocently. Along with his personal audio-file.
(OPOV)
Optimus was doing his level best to not laugh, he really was.
But the truth was that his Kae's patience always ran short when she was forced to remain still for protracted periods of time.
Such was the case with her repainting. Sunstreaker was an absolute perfectionist in his artistry, which was understandable, of course, one's paint was to be taken as seriously as the human's preference of clothing. Personally, Optimus preferred his femme completely armour-less in their berth, but this was not a perfect universe, after all.
"Hold still!" Sunstreaker commanded, again. Optimus failed to not snort, the front-liner glaring at him the next second.
"Sunstreaker it's paint," Kae stated in exasperation. "it doesn't need to be perfect, I'm just going to scratch it up again!"
"You most certainly will not!" Sunstreaker fairly bellowed. "What's the point in a proper paint job if you aren't going to be taking care of it!?"
"Paint's like clothes, right?" Kae murmured, glancing at him.
"It is," Optimus nodded, struggling to not laugh again.
"Did you ever keep count of the sheer number of articles of clothing you shredded for me?" his mate asked in mocking curiosity.
That was true.
"Several," he rumbled musingly.
"Sunny stop worrying so much about my paint!" Kae stated again.
"Stop calling me Sunny!" Sunstreaker growled quietly. "I have a name."
"You're name's a mouthful," Kae stated irritably. "How about Streaker?"
Sunstreaker froze and stared at her.
"That is why you insist on Sunny?" he demanded.
"Too many syllables, how many times do I let people call me Archangel?" Kae snorted cheerfully.
Silence.
"Streaker's fine," Sunstreaker grunted, "Now stay still, I almost have this shading right."
"What are you shading me to look like?" Kae snorted softly.
"I'm exaggerating your streamlining," Sunstreaker murmured, quiet and content as Kae remained still... finally. "And as weird and... squishy as your birth-race is, I figure you'd probably like a bit of shading to suggest it."
Optimus cycled his optics and shifted slightly, backing up somewhat to look at his femme as a whole.
Then, he simply stared.
Subtly, softly, so much so that only those who remembered human Kae would see it...
Her paintjob was the same, mostly, the flames dancing up her legs were ever so slightly more subtle, the blues and silvers rippled against each other with the 'heat' of the flames now. But here and there, the shading on her armour changed, now, somehow...
"How the slag..." he finally managed to get out.
Sunstreaker had had to point it out, but now that he looked that way...
"It's subtle," Sunstreaker shrugged, rising and eyeing Kae critically. "But the humans do have a few interesting frame modifications, that Kae has too. If she's that proud to be a former human I figured that she wouldn't mind a bit of a hint of her heritage, you know, the way she curves like that, it's so much less... blocky. Right, transform so I know I've got the forms meshed." he added.
Once again, Optimus watched with a fond smile as his femme transformed back and forth from biped, to flier to grounder. Sunstreaker was nodding musingly as she did.
"That's got it, now you can look," he nodded finally. Kae turned and looked at herself in the mirror.
"Wow."
"Just make sure it's dry before Optimus scratches it in the berth," Sunstreaker added cheerfully, making his escape before Optimus could make a light swing at him.
(SePOV)
Sentinel had a secret.
He hated space, with a passion. More accurately, he hated being in space. Flying from star to star, planet to planet without something to guard his frame from the cold, the heat and the full catalogue of things suspended in the vacuum that tended to stick to his armour.
He was proudly large, not the largest bot to grace Cybertron, but he was certainly not small. Unfortunately, and something that he could not change (although he'd certainly tried to calculate it's change) was the habit of smaller things being attracted to the inherent gravity created by a larger body.
It had been to that effect that he had created the space bridge. It was a winning circumstance, go from one planet to another without having to travel long distances through space.
Unfortunately, and something he had neglected to think of on his first experiment, was the sheer capabilities of his space bridge.
He'd bridged half of his experimental lab, located on a convenient asteroid, into an entirely different sector of space.
Very, very few bots knew that that had been an accident.
Far better, was to allow the rumour that he had disagreed with the bots on the laboratory asteroid and in a fit of pique had bridged his lab somewhere else to find some peace and quiet.
Far more dignified.
He had refined his bridge since then, certainly, however considering the distance between the Earth and Cybertron, the power ratios stood far too high a chance of simply taking half of the Earth with them to Cybertron.
Sentinel had done so before, bridge a random asteroid with the most useful compositions onto Cybertron's surface.
However without doubt, removing half of the human's planet would cause massive devastation to both it, it's atmosphere, and it's resident sentient population. The Prime in him reviled against such mass destruction of living beings. But the Prime in him would also make that sacrifice to save his home planet.
Except for the femme.
Without any doubt whatsoever, Kae would offline him if he broke her planet.
She was a medic besides, Sentinel didn't even want to comprehend the sheer levels of nasty his death would encompass if he pissed her off enough.
The space bridge would be far safer in space, and in this he required his Ark. It was his staging point, his method of travel. He glanced down as Lena bounced up to stand beside him, a broad grin on her faceplates. Her mate was following more sedately behind, smiling tolerantly at his femme's excitement.
"Do we getta go yet!?" Lena demanded excitedly.
"We must go to the destination of the Ark's arrival, first," Sentinel rumbled in amusement, watching the femme as she bounced around, watching him with wide optics and a grin.
But he was not deceived by the femme, without doubt the human in her remained.
And that human femme was a force to be reckoned with. There was a reason her spark had designated her Banshee-Hawk.
(IPOV)
Ironhide smirked to himself, waiting.
Two options, either Soundwave engaged Jazz, at which point he was fully prepared to blast the mech straight to the pit. Or the both of them would turn up covered in his dust.
It was a narrow revenge, but Jazz could use some dust on his pretty armour. He slowed and made the final turn, driving toward the ramshackle barns that Lugnut had taken to staying in. He shook his helm somewhat then smiled, Bolt and Wing were there, sitting out in the sunshine with their creator.
"Gunbot!" Lugnut immediately shouted. Ironhide rolled his optics and transformed, striding the last few units toward the group.
"What brings you out to the bustling metropolis of Tranquility?" Longbolt snorted, lounging in the sun beside his creator.
"Soundwave," Ironhide rumbled flatly.
"Where is that slagger?" Bolt snarled, instantly on his pedes and striding toward Ironhide.
"Oh Bolt!" Wingnut stated in an exasperated tone.
"What makes you so sure, Wing, that Soundwave didn't just make him worse?" Bolt demanded of his sister.
Wing simply rolled her optics and looked at Ironhide. Somehow, he got the sense that the little femme knew precisely why he was here.
"Soundwave is here to repair your creator's processors," Ironhide rumbled patiently.
"Lady Protector named. Sound-bot come," Lugnut stated calmly. Ironhide looked at the wrecker and nodded. "Sound-bot fix," Lugnut stated cheerfully, pointing at his helm.
It seriously made Ironhide wonder just how much repairing Lugnut actually needed, his response times were slow, his chosen alt-mode was a human combine, but... when you got past his childish vocal tones...
Ironhide shook himself and turned to look where he had come from.
There was no dust cloud.
::. Jazz where the slag are you two?.:: Ironhide demanded over the comm.
At that moment, a screech, a scream. It took every ounce of his self control to not freeze.
Why. The slag. Was there a Banshee-hawk on earth!?
Ironhide looked up and couldn't hold back a snort of amusement. For some reason, Jazz was swooping around with Soundwave carefully following him.
::. 'Hide yah gotta try dis!.:: Jazz commed him gleefully.
::. I ain't flyin'.:: Ironhide growled over the comm. ::. Now get your afts down here, we're on a schedule!.::
Jazz dove and landed.
On his faceplates.
Ironhide was hooting with laughter the second his scans on the saboteur proved him uninjured. Soundwave was on the ground the next moment, landing with the graceful swoop, flip, and transformation that the fliers prized.
Bolt charged the bot.
"Recommend: use tail-rudder for better stabilization when landing." Soundwave informed Jazz patiently, sidestepping and allowing Bolt to charge straight past him. Ironhide couldn't help but grin as the little mech spun around and charged again. He had spirit, even if he completely lacked tactics.
Soundwave reached down somewhat and lightly picked Bolt up by the scruffbar.
"Further recommendation: Allow Soundwave to repair Creator Lugnut before you offline me."
Bolt stopped struggling and settled for glaring at the mech.
"What proof do you have that you didn't just make him worse?" Bolt snarled.
"I did make him worse, but not before I repaired him," Soundwave stated patiently. Bolt dangled in absolute shock now. Ironhide glanced over to see Wingnut sitting patiently beside her creator, a smug little 'I told you so' dancing in her optics.
Ironhide snorted. Without a doubt, Bolt was going to be hearing it from his sister later.
Soundwave lightly set Bolt down onto his pedes again and strode to Lugnut. Ironhide stayed quiet save for striding over to pull Jazz back to his pedes, the saboteur had stretched out in the sunshine after transforming, smirking through his visor at the gathered mechs.
By the time he turned around again Soundwave had knelt down, lightly connecting into Lugnut's mainframe. He had absolutely no idea how long it was going to take the slagging telepath to repair the larger mech, or even if he still could. Still worth a shot though.
So it was one hell of a shock when no more than a silent breem after the two were connected that Lugnut's optics offlined and restarted.
Now those were some sharp optics!
A cannon that Ironhide had sworn wasn't left in the old wrecker's frame suddenly appeared, and Soundwave flew backwards, several bits of armour flying in random directions.
"Tha'. Is fer lockin' me processors intae younglin' mode!" Lugnut roared at Soundwave, getting onto his pedes and striding after Soundwave. The massive old Wrecker promptly picked Soundwave up by the chest-plates. "This. Is fer invadin' me processors wi' yer telepathic voodoo slag!"
Ironhide began striding after the old Wrecker, intent on making sure Soundwave remained online.
But he didn't make it there before Soundwave got a solid punch to the visor. Ironhide immediately scanned the mech and frowned.
He really wasn't taking that much damage, even if he'd skidded across the ground for another unit or so, Lugnut going after him again.
"An' this," the old Wrecker stated in a tone that damn near had Ironhide glitching. He was quiet now, calm, patient... "Is fer all th' reasons yeh did it. Fer the lives of me creations I thank yeh, advisor-primary."
Lugnut knelt down beside Soundwave, and produced a branding iron. Ironhide stared at it, he couldn't help it. Very few Wreckers carried their branders, let alone the slightly modified insignia of an honorary. The iron was red hot in a second, and lightly pressed against Soundwave's frame, high on his chest, but never covering another of his etchings.
Mark of a true honorary Wrecker. Holy. Slag.
"Gratitude, Wrecker Lugnut," Soundwave murmured quietly, bowing his helm to the larger mech.
Whoa.
Lugnut rose and turned.
"Wingnut. Longbolt. Why are you in Decepticon insignias?" the old Wrecker asked darkly, glaring at his creations.
"Lugnut?" Longbolt whispered in shock, staring at his creator.
"That's Creator, Papa or Sir to you, youngling," Lugnut growled. Ironhide smirked, that was a Wrecker!
"PAPA!" Wingnut shrieked the next second, on her pedes and hurling herself against her creator at high speed. Ironhide averted his optics, respecting the inherent privacy of a reunification of creator and creations as the little femme sobbed away every ounce of the hurt she'd carried onto her creator's chest-plates.
"Now now mah wee femme," Lugnut was murmuring tenderly, Ironhide glanced over and couldn't help but smile to see the mech rocking Wingnut, Longbolt close beside her. "It's gonna be okay mah wee Wing."
Ironhide strode over to Soundwave and scanned him again, what little damage he'd sustained was well on it's way to being repaired, the mech idly reaching with his cables to collect the few pieces of armour that had been blown away.
Ironhide reached down and carefully picked up the ex-'Con, settling him on his pedes. Jazz had found a comfortable pile of something or another to lounge on again, surveying the scene around him with a smirk. Ironhide turned again with Soundwave beside him, watching as the Wreckers fell silent together, obviously communicating along their family bonds.
"Just for that, telepath," Ironhide rumbled gruffly. "I'll be speakin' to Primus about you gettin' into the Well."
"My gratitude, Ironhide," the semi-monotone voice stated quietly.
(LPOV)
"Do we getta go yet!?" Lena demanded.
She was going to the moon, the moon! Every kid, at some point in their childhood, teenager-hood, sometime in their life wanted to go stand on the moon.
Sentinel and Jolt were taking her to go stand on the moon.
Lena couldn't stop grinning, Jolt was laughing at her, silently, not meanly either.
Her mate was simply laughing because she was grinning so broadly. It was a nice feeling.
"We must go to the destination of the Ark's arrival, first," Sentinel informed her, again. Lena knew that, she wanted to know how long it was gonna take before they rolled out to NASA.
At NASA, there were several dozen astronauts already getting suited up, they'd gone through the training at high speed.
Free lift into space, to the moon no less.
The sheer learning possibility of that had practically every scientific and space-going country drooling.
And Lena, holding her mate's hand so they weren't separated by the bridge, was going to be the third person today to set foot on the moon.
Kae was already there, waiting for them.
"How'd Kae get to the moon again?" Lena asked with a frown, glancing at Optimus as he strode patiently toward them.
"She flew," Jolt snorted.
"Yeah but-"
"My Kae is to become a spacer, and a full seeker," Optimus rumbled benignly. "She simply has no wish to ever go near a space bridge once more."
"What's wrong with space bridges?" Lena immediately asked, edging toward her mate somewhat more.
"She got caught by surprise and bridged halfway across the solar-system," Sentinel snorted above her. "There is nothing wrong with my space bridge."
"Except for the location," Optimus rumbled in a mild tone.
"Are we arguing about this again?"
Lena had no idea what they were talking about now, so she shrugged into her alt-form, lightly revving her almost silent engines up and waiting. Immediately, her sensors and the visual pickup from her Jolt stated that several bots had turned to look at her in amusement.
"Space bridge at NASA. Do we get to roll to NASA yet!?"
"Patience young femme," Sentinel rumbled benignly.
Patience nothing. MOON!
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe finally made it out of the headquarters behind Ironhide and Jazz, the lot of them standing in the broad sunshine and watching the Primes.
Sentinel glanced a Optimus. Optimus shot him an innocent look.
"Just say it already youngling!" Ratchet grumbled. Lena snorted, and pursed her lip plating... sort of... moving without moving in your alt-mode was weird.
"Auto-bots, Roll out!" Optimus commanded.
Finally! MOON!
Lena sped off, following Bumblebee with Jolt close behind her.
::. Oh! You keepin' up with me now Lena?.:: Bee sent with a grin.
::. Try keeping up with me bug-bot!.:: Lena called back with a snort. She couldn't help it, she adored going fast, as a human she'd sped, everywhere.
So did Jolt, sort of, not really. But Lena didn't mind, she wouldn't go too far ahead of her mate.
But for now, there was a diesel electric drive in her systems that was begging to be tested out!
::.Slaggit!.:: Ratchet's voice rumbled irritably.
::. Hah! Drink!.:: Bumblebee played gleefully.
Lena snorted.
That and Bee had been waiting to play that line at the Medic. For months. To the point that Bee had made an in-bet and begged her to settle it in his favour.
Ratchet snorted.
Which was their ploy, of course, it was gonna be a full day of driving.
Perfect for a couple of Ratchet stories if they got him laughing.