Part 8

When the door opened, three mechs came in, weapons drawn, securing the room. What they found was Jazz in a corner with Soundwave unconscious on his lap. Their commander turned down Madonna's Ray of Light and smiled up at his Spec Ops bots with a weary grin.

"Took y'all awhile," he said. "Are we a long way from the Ark?"

"You could say that." Mirage exchanged a look with Smokescreen and Bumblebee. "Why is...?"

"Long story," Jazz said, optics closed. "Real long story."

"So that's what he looks like." Smokescreen leaned closer, staring at Soundwave's uncovered face. "Huh. Always thought he'd have red optics."

Done clearing the room, Bumblebee went back to the door and waved at someone out of sight. "It's all clear! One wounded, one prisoner."

"'Bout time," a familiar voice grumbled, and Ratchet edged past him with First Aid at his side. "Who's the prisoner—whoa."

"No no, it's okay," Jazz said quickly, holding his hand out as the medics took a step back. "He's out. He ain't gonna wake back up until you reboot him."

"I trust you," Ratchet nodded, kneeling beside Soundwave and tilting the Decepticon's head to the side, popping one of his smaller panels and examining his analog switches. "But I'll feel better once I see for myself. First Aid, take care of Jazz."

"Yes sir," First Aid said, kneeling beside Jazz. "Tell me what hurts."

"All things considered, it ain't that bad," Jazz said, nodding at his hand. "I had to peel his armor back Same with my hand. He's glitched pretty bad. Other than that...not much to report."

"Maybe not to me, but everyone else is gonna be interested in this guy." First Aid pulled out a diagnostic kit and plugged it into Jazz's hand port, skimming the code flashing across the screen. "Hang on. I wanna make sure he didn't upload anything nasty into you."

"No rush," Jazz sighed. "It's been a hell of an orn."

"I can guess."

Jazz lay still, venting in relief as First Aid finally disengaged all of his pain receptors, and then watching as Ratchet completed a surface scan of Soundwave's systems. After several kliks and a shared look between the two medics, Ratchet nodded once, and the smaller bot went outside without a word.

"Okay," Ratchet said, turning and helping Jazz sit up completely. "We're gonna take you out on First Aid. I'd rather fix you up on the road. What about Soundwave?"

Jazz's smile faded. "Yeah, we're taking him, but don't let him wake up. Not yet."

"You sure you wanna keep him?" Ratchet asked. "He's not gonna be easy to hang onto. Do we really wanna risk bringing him back?"

"Yeah, we do," Jazz nodded. "It's part of that long story, but he's coming with us. If he don't glitch up again, he shouldn't give us any problem."

Ratchet looked skeptical, but he didn't argue. He ordered Jazz's mechs to carry both Soundwave and their commander into First Aid's alt mode, ignoring Jazz's grumble that he didn't need carrying. When eased inside the ambulance, Jazz insisted on sitting up, watching as Soundwave was unceremoniously slid onto the floor, and then Ratchet sat on Soundwave while working on Jazz's hand.

The place Soundwave had stashed him turned out to be little more than an outpost, but Jazz ordered Mirage and Smokescreen to stay and scout it properly. That left him with Bumblebee driving ahead of First Aid, keeping an eye out for any Decepticons. After several kliks, however, Jazz noticed another car behind them, then another.

"Hey, we picking up an entourage?" he asked.

"Just the twins for now," Ratchet said. "In a couple more miles, Hound'll join up with us."

"Not taking any chances with him, huh?"

"Prowl ordered it," Ratchet said, finally satisfied with Jazz's hand and closing the small access panel. "I think we'll have Tracks and Warpath by the time we finally reach the Ark."

Jazz chuckled. "Should'a told Prowl I didn't need a groupies."

"More like making sure you don't slip out of sight," Ratchet said, "and leave him alone with this mess."

Ratchet knocked his knuckles on Soundwave's case. Both of them glanced at his face to make sure he was still out, but Soundwave hadn't twitched. Even his optics had frozen in the middle of changing inner lenses.

"So now that we got some time, dish," Ratchet said. "How'd you take him out?"

Suddenly finding the window fascinating, Jazz stared at the flat desert road behind them for several seconds before he answered.

"I...out-logic'ed him."

Ratchet laughed. "Cute. Like I'd ever believe that."

"Nothing but the truth," Jazz said. "And I just used Soundwave's own arguments. We'll have to check his code out completely, but if he's on the up and up, we may have ourselves our highest level defector."

Ratchet's smile faded into shock. "What?"

"Yup. That's what made him glitch up." Jazz shrugged. "Loyalty programming just couldn't take it."

"Whoa." Ratchet laughed once, disbelieving and faint. "Okay, you can't just lead in like that and not tell me everything."

"Cut me some slack, Jack." Jazz leaned back, helm thunking on First Aid's side, as he shut his optics. "You'll get to read the report anyway and-"

His fingers swept against something small, almost knocking it off the seat. He caught it just in time, then frowned. It was a datapad, and it was still set on the last file it had opened.

Mirage reclined in the comforting ring of Hound's arms, both brave mechs content to take their ease together after the terrible battle, watching the clouds drift by on azure breezes as the earth's golden orb sank, painting the sky in hues of lavender and fiery scarlet. The sapphire waters lapped at the sandy shore, bringing with the night wind the evening's cool wind and the sound of swans floating in idle repose and gently honking.

"That's it," he growled, tossing the datapad aside and crossing his arms, sinking down in his seat. "I'm going into recharge. Wake me up when we get there."

"Awww..." Ratchet groaned in disappointment, then snapped at his fellow medical bot. "First Aid!"

"Sorry," the ambulance said around them. "I forgot I it was in my compartment before we left."

By the time they arrived, Jazz was left with random slow downs and overclocks in his cortex, the effect of a light recharge while his chassis compensated for all the bumps in the road. As they came to a stop, Ratchet stepped out of the ambulance first, giving Jazz a hand so he didn't topple out in an undignified heap, and Jazz stretched the cords and wires that had grown crimped during transit.

Five mechs rolled up behind them, joining the seven or eight mechs standing with weapons drawn, all pointing at First Aid's hatch.

"For crying out loud..." the ambulance grumbled. "He's still unconscious. Get your rifles off my aft before someone gets twitchy."

Officially First Aid ranked below Ratchet, and several of the snipers around them had orders from Prowl himself to maintain the highest alert. However, no one disobeyed medical bots, and with some embarrassed coughs and sputters, everyone lowered their barrels toward the ground. From behind them, Optimus came forward, a noticeably grumpy Ironhide in tow.

"Good to see you back," Prime said, looking Jazz over. "When Soundwave made off with you, we feared the worst."

"You're sure he's unconscious?" Ironhide asked, making way as Ratchet pulled out First Aid's stretcher with Soundwave lying limp on top, still in chains. "Did you get all his weaponry?"

"Yes, mom," Ratchet snarked as he passed. "I just rode with the slag right under me. Of course I made sure he was out!"

"I think you offended him," First Aid said to Ironhide as he transformed, running after Ratchet and yelling over his shoulder. "I'll send you a report as soon as we're done!"

"Autobots," Prime said to the rest of the mechs standing guard. "Escort our prisoner along with Ratchet to the brig's medical bay. Red Alert is standing by with further orders."

Jazz looked up at Ironhide and Optimus, assuming that command didn't apply to him, and he walked with the two of them, rotating his shoulder to work out a kink in the line. As they walked through the Ark's wide main corridor, Ironhide gave Jazz a once over, tallying up the dents and scuff marks he'd accumulated.

"Not bad for an interrogation," Ironhide said. "Gotta admit, I knew you'd get outta there, but I thought you'd be a lot worse for wear."

"He wasn't out to torture me," Jazz said, yawning and leaning against the wall as they walked. "He wanted me to convince him to defect."

"First Aid mentioned that," Prime shook his head once. "I wish I could believe it so easily. Soundwave is Megatron's most loyal soldier."

"It's dangerous just having him here," Ironhide added. "He's gonna have to give us some pretty damn good reasons to keep him around instead of putting a round through his spark."

"Well, hold off on that option for a little while, 'kay?" Jazz said. "If Ratchet can get him online without glitching, I'd like to keep talking to him."

"You think he's legit?" Ironhide asked, a little surprised. "Really?"

Jazz nodded. "If Ratchet says he's lying, I'll be the first one to put him down, but...yeah. Yeah, I think this was for real."

"Well," Optimus said, "you'll have time. Prowl's only waiting on your debriefing before he heads down to interrogate Soundwave."

Groaning, Jazz turned and walked backward, staying a few steps ahead of the pair. Before he even began to speak, Ironhide started to smile, knowing exactly what Jazz was thinking.

"Prowl's gonna have to wait," Jazz said, giving a little apologetic nod to Optimus. "I just handed over Soundwave on a silver platter, and I am running on fumes. I need time in the racks, I need energon, and I need to recharge. Then I'm all yours, I promise!"

Optimus chuckled. "I told Prowl you might not be up to a debriefing."

"Really?" Jazz clasped his hands behind his back, dodging between two mechs that hadn't noticed him coming up behind them. "And what'd Prowl say?"

"That normally he'd understand," Optimus said, "but that this was clearly not normal circumstances. He expects you in his office immediately."

"Slaggin' taskmaster," Jazz muttered. He glanced around, spotted Blaster coming down the hall and deftly snagged the datapad out of his hand. "Thank you very much!"

"Whoa, no no no-" Blaster cried, hand out, reaching for it and missing. "Don't look-!"

"Hey, you knew it'd be confiscated!" Jazz snapped, barely glancing at the screen.

-"I'm scared," Red Alert whispered, pressing his fist to his mouth. "Will it hurt?"

Inferno chuckled and leaned close-

"Can't you stop reading these for five kliks?" Jazz grumbled, backtracking out of the story and into the main forum. A quick search later and he flipped the datapad to Ironhide, who caught it in one hand.

"There ya go," Jazz said. "Spec Ops Mission 98-my report, the short version, courtesy of one messed up Soundwave. Did you know that mech thinks he's a writer? Maybe our commo officer here can tell us what else he's written."

Jazz made his getaway as Optimus and Ironhide both stared at the datapad, with Blaster trying to sneak away. As soon as they cried out in unison "'Jazz's Interrogation at Soundwave's Pedes'?" Blaster was then trapped between the Prime and his bodyguard, suddenly the best bot to question and the best distraction Jazz could've asked for.

Once he'd rounded the corner, Jazz broke into a run. Prowl might be in his office, but when the reluctant third in command didn't show up in the next breem, the second in command would stalk every inch of the Ark for him. Prowl, true to his name, was one of the few mechs clever and tenacious enough to find Jazz when he didn't want to be found.

So he was heading for the one place Prowl wouldn't look, at least not for a full recharge cycle, and there would be a berth and a wash rack he could use. Jazz snuck down into the living quarters, heading along the officer's row. There were no other mechs in sight, but he still looked up and down the corridor before breaking into Prowl's cabin.

"Why do you keep changing the locks?" Jazz said to himself, taking only an extra moment to access the maintenance subroutine and overriding the passcode altogether. "You know I'm gonna get in anyway."

The door slid open, and Jazz took one step in before coming to a halt.

Prowl sat on his berth, a cube of energon beside him, facing Jazz with perfect calm.

"I know," Prowl said. "But it gives me a moment's warning when I hear you whispering to yourself."

Jazz's doorwings drooped and he started to backpedal.

"Spec Ops Commander Jazz," Prowl said, interrupting his flight. "I order you to come in here for your debriefing."

A whimper rose out of the back of Jazz's processor, and with his head hung low, Jazz shut the door behind himself and padded over to the berth, plopping down by Prowl.

"Prowler," Jazz groaned, putting his head in his hands, "you gotta believe me. I ain't got a debriefing in me. I'm gonna fall over any minute now."

"I understand," Prowl said. "You may give me the short version with the highlights, recharge, and then give me the rest of the details afterward."

"Uh huh," Jazz sighed, "sure. Your idea of highlights and my idea of-huh?"

Prowl held out the energon cube, not letting go when Jazz put his hands around it. Jazz only then noticed that his hands were shaking. Prowl had to hold the cube steady for him as he drank, and the sudden rush of energy made Jazz lightheaded. He started to tip to one side, resting gratefully on Prowl's offered shoulder.

"Oh wow," Jazz said, coughing once. "Wow. I'm more tired than I thought."

"So tell me what happened," Prowl said, "and then you can recharge."

Several breems later, Jazz sipped at the cube and relaxed more and more against Prowl, explaining what Soundwave had said, the physical interfacing-he squirmed at talking about that out loud, but Prowl said nothing except to prompt him to take another sip-and finally how he'd made Soundwave glitch.

By the time he reached the part about calling for help, Jazz found himself lying curled up on the berth, floating in an over-energized haze. Prowl leaned over him, saying something about resting and meeting him as soon as he woke up, and Jazz watched him leave, a dark silhouette in the doorway.

TBC...