Chapter 17

Jazz's rush of self-consciousness faded as he heard Ratchet calling his name, waving him over to the cell.

"Jazz, c'mere."

Ratchet adjusted so that he was kneeling beside Soundwave, optics only inches from the sparks crackling over the exposed cortex. Cleaning out melted steel from the scorched circuitry, Ratchet cursed under his breath as he began to disconnect tiny diodes and mini-mainframes.

"Shine a light in here, will ya?" Ratchet asked, nodding toward the dark corners in Soundwave's helm. "Visibility's lousy down here, and I need both hands free for this."

Jazz pointed one of his small stealth beams where Ratchet motioned, a little above and behind one of Soundwave's optics. *And my hands free in case he tries something?*

The thought had crossed my mind, Ratchet answered. I wanna make sure his telephy doesn't came back online, either.

"I'm surprised you mentioned you could hear your little terrors," Jazz said, lightly tapping Soundwave's shoulder. "It ain't like we'd noticed."

"Autobot total control of area electrical wavelength assumed," Soundwave said softly, his optics half shut as he moved compliantly in Ratchet's hands. "Better to make a show of good faith than to try to hide the signal."

"And your cassettes?" Jazz asked. "They doing the same?"

Soundwave made a soft noise that Jazz couldn't decipher. "Unknown. Contact with cassettes attempted, unsuccessful. Brig well shielded."

Not moving so he didn't disturb Ratchet's work, Soundwave peered up at Jazz, golden optics blinking as something broken in him refused to adjust to the lights behind the smaller bot. He bit one lip, fingertips curling on the floor, without noticing how the Autobots tensed up as if exptecting him to attack.

"Symbiotes...alive?" he asked. "Functional?"

"Don't worry about them," Jazz said, relaxing a little. "They're recovering. Probably be fine in about a week, and then we'll have a whole new set of problems."

Namely what to do about a handful of tiny handfuls of chaos. Soundwave's cassettes weren't called terrors for nothing. Their presence on a battlefield could make or break a fight, and Ravage alone had left scratches and gouges on Jazz's own armor. How were they going to keep Rumble from setting the earth shaking, if he put his mind to it? A bullet in the little slagger's head seemed like the best choice, but...

Jazz met Soundwave's optics again. So golden, and worse, so sincere in worrying about his symbiotes. With his loyalty to Megatron compromised, Soundwave must have been latching onto any loyalties that he had that were constant. And as Jazz was discovering, Soundwave's unguarded expressions made him as easy to read as telepathy.

"I'll have to approve it with Red and Prime," Jazz started, "but I'll see if we can't arrange a couple meetings. You'd probably feel better with them inside your casing, after all."

From the corner of his optic, Ratchet appraised Jazz's promise with open skepticism but he didn't contradict him. If the Third in Command offered such a deal, he had the rank to back it up. And from the way Soundwave sat a little straighter, almost losing another memory chip as he nodded despite Ratchet's hands in his helm, their prisoner believed him fully.

"Confirmation of their well-being, desired," Soundwave said. "Autobots, require exchange of information for this favor?"

"Autobots appreciate offers of faith and sincerity," Jazz said.

He knelt down in front of Soundwave, one hand on the other mech's cheek. Soundwave's look bored into him, normally full of Decepticon cunning, but now wide-opticked as Jazz touched him. The larger mech leaned into his hand, his engines rumbling in relief as Ratchet slowly took the pain away.

"You can talk philosophy and politics with Prime all day long," Jazz said. "But we need information. If you're honest about leaving Megatron, then you can work with us on that, right?"

Soundwave nodded once, slowly, his optics shutting to thin slits. "Download, expected. To be administered at Second in Command Prowl's command?"

"Oh, he'll be rolling around in that like a cat with a big fat glitchmouse." Jazz ran his thumb under Soundwave's optic, drawing a deep rumble from his engine. "But I'm interested in different things. Like...how come Megatron ain't banging down our door trying to find ya? You're a big catch for us. Why ain't he trying to kill ya, if not get you back?"

Soundwave squeezed his optics shut, beginning to tense up...when Ratchet smacked him squarely across the edges of his opened helm.

"Quit that," he grumbled. "You'll start melting again. You're gonna lose circuitry as it is. Any more and you could lose the whole positronic center, too."

"Soundwave, loyal to Cybertron," Jazz said, drawing the mech's attention again. "You know that. So why is Megatron happy to let you go?"

With a long vent, Soundwave tried to cool his systems only for them to grow hot again. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then met Jazz's look again and tried one more time.

"Soundwave...lied."

His voice was heavy, pushing out the word like a confession. Ratchet paid little attention, gently holding a circuitboard in place as he unfastened it from its setting, lifting it to see the burned steel beneath. At Soundwave's hissed intake, Ratchet paused, blowing away lingering heat.

"Really melted a couple of these," Ratchet whispered. "Jazz, careful how you push him. These are still pretty hot."

"No problem," Jazz murmured, watching Soundwave's gold optics droop and fight to meet his own. "No philosophy here. Just two mechs talking."

He cupped Soundwave's face in his hands, leaning close. Soundwave blinked hard, hissing as he drew in cooling vents, and he turned slightly into Jazz's palm. The heat off his helm warmed Jazz's hands, and his whole frame shuddered against the cooler touch. Jazz served as a heatsink, drawing out Soundwave's excess as he pressed steel against steel.

Over Soundwave's helm, Ratchet caught Jazz's optic and gave a little questioning nod, flicking his gaze from his patient back to Jazz. Their head of Special Operations sometimes used questionable ethics, using any tools the enemy gave him. But leading on a Decepticon?

Jazz half-shrugged and grinned, ignoring Ratchet as the questioning continued.

"...lied?" he echoed, sweeping his fingers over Soundwave's cheek.

"To Decepticon high command," Soundwave whispered.

A crackle of static popped between Ratchet's fingers, but nothing worse. Ratchet shot Jazz a look and continued lifting out a ruined diode, blackened and melted at the edges.

"Megatron, required surveys of geographic area termed Oro Grande," Soundwave said, shuttering his optics as he spoke. "Starscream, demanded additional data on Autobot activities in the northern polar cap. I told each I would complete the other's task."

Jazz chuckled, leaning close enough to touch his helm to Soundwave's. The larger mech's engines rumbled at a low level just enough to hum against his armor, playing a soothing note as they both tried to avoid paying attention to Ratchet removing ruined portions of his cortex.

"Nifty little trick," Jazz said. "So each of them thinks you're busy somewhere else. What happens when they figure it out?"

"Starscream, notoriously defensive. Will rant at Megatron for days before answering—"

He suddenly seized Jazz's wrist, gripping tight as he winced. Jazz frowned, one hand already drawn back and flipping out a knife without thought, pausing only at the acrid scent of smoke and the glow of smoldering polycarbon as Ratchet drew out the worst bit of damage. A melted and twisted chip no longer than a finger lay in the medic's palm, glowing red.

"There's the culprit." Ratchet reached into his subspace and withdrew a sealant pack, injecting gel into Soundwave's singed connectors. "I already firewalled some of your cranial sensors, but I'm gonna shut most of them completely down. You're gonna feel lightheaded, so hang onto something if you start losing your balance."

"Way ahead of ya," Jazz said, retracting the blade and holding Soundwave's shoulder. "Shouldn't he be laying down for this?"

"I'd rather have him in my bay," Ratchet said, shifting so that his knee ran against Soundwave's side to further brace him, "but he'll be fine this way. And it's just a couple burned out components, not a full cranial extraction."

Ratchet set back the flipped up circuitry, lowering back in the small chips with infinite gentleness.

"Now when I replace everything, then I'll need him laid out and unconscious." He shrugged, resetting Soundwave's armor. "For now, he needs rest. A good recharge and defrag will help start his self-repair functions. Plus, his balance is gonna be shoddy until he's fixed."

"Gotcha." Jazz looked back at Soundwave, motioning to the berth beside them. "Wanna lie down?"

"Negative." Soundwave tried to shake his head, quickly aborting the move as his gyros spun without control. "Confused. Tired. Symbiotes...?"

"They're fine," Jazz murmured. "You can see 'em later. You were saying about you'd lied to Megatron and Starscream...?"

Soundwave hesitated, then gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Estimated time to discovery, only half a deca-cycle. Starscream, at least, will know something is wrong by then."

"Why just Starscream?" Jazz asked, holding his head as Soundwave's helm bobbed unsteadily.

Soundwave froze.

At first Jazz thought that Soundwave had quietly glitched, but a look at Ratchet showed the medic just as confused as he was. Jazz stared at Soundwave, leaning away as he watched the mech's hands. He didn't think the Decepticon would try anything as stupid as attacking them now, but Jazz had seen his Spec Ops mechs walk in circles and repeat the same phrase over and over after a head injury. Soundwave reverting to earlier programming was not farfetched.

"Soundwave..." Jazz said slowly. "Why just Starscream?"

"Jazz, will be angry."

Lifting his head, Soundwave pressed his cheek into Jazz's hand. The sudden nuzzling, closing his optics and resting against the saboteur's fingers, startled him into sitting straight and meeting Ratchet's own surprise.

"Soundwave, does not desire to anger the Autobot Jazz."

In the silence that followed, a small snicker.

Ratchet put his hand over his mouth, but it didn't cover his growing grin or wickedly delighted optics. He switched to his internal comm even as he shook his head in disbelief.

Looks like the mech's sweet on you, Ratchet laughed. Prowl, now Soundwave. You like 'em high ranking, huh?

You rotten mech—

Hey, I'm not the shiny bot here.

Cutting off transmission, Jazz turned his attention fully to Soundwave, giving him a small nudge.

"I won't get mad," he promised. "And I need to know."

Soundwave's vocalizer hiccuped, then coughed and reset itself. After a long moment, he nodded once.

"Soundwave, never missed a forum update before. 'Starscream, Starburst,' strict upload schedule."

Silence, inside the cell and between the two autobots. Ratchet's jaw dropped, and Jazz stared at their prisoner as if Soundwave's head had ejected off of his shoulders. No one spoke. Sure that he had upset them, Soundwave turned away as if hiding in Jazz's palm.

"You mean those stories on the forum," Jazz said, drawing out each syllable. "Don't you?"

Soundwave nodded once. The Autobots shared a look, not sure if they should feel surprise or disgust or curiosity. The brig felt suddenly very awkward.

"So." Jazz cleared his filter. "'Starscream, Starburst'."

"What's it about?" Ratchet interrupted before he could stop himself.

"Skyfire, force-downloads Starscream," was his immediate answer. "Many times."

"Wait, what?" Ratchet barked a laugh, too lost to do anything else and ignoring Jazz's scolding gaze. "You're writing that, and Starscream reads it? Often enough to notice if you don't update?"

"Starscream, fan," Soundwave said, and was that a touch of pride in his vocalizer? "Always first one to comment. However, not sure if that is because he can delete posts so he is always first."

"Whoa, whoa, more importantly," Jazz said, shaking his head at Ratchet in a vain attempt to switch the subject. "'Starscream, Starburst'? That wasn't on the list we had of stories you probably wrote."

"Story, exception to my rule," Soundwave said. "Starscream, posted request to anonymous board. No one answered. Soundwave, assumed writing would lead to bargaining chip in the future."

"Mechs and femmes," Jazz murmured, leaning against Soundwave in disbelief, "this is Decepticon high command. Argh...I'm gonna need to read it."

Jazz shot Ratchet a look, cutting him off even as the medical bot opened his mouth. "Not a word outta you, mech. Not a word."

"Spoilsport." Deprived of his toy, Ratchet grew serious again and nodded at the berth. "He's just about done. Help me get him down? I don't wanna leave him sitting up."

Jazz patted Soundwave's shoulder, turning him toward the berth. The larger mech groaned, tightening his grip as the room started to spin, sending his gyros into a tailspin. With his other fist pressed to his mouth against nausea, Soundwave whimpered in the back of his throat, leaning on Ratchet's shoulder. The medical bot steadied him as he turned, one arm behind his waist as Soundwave went backwards.

"This unit, falling—" Soundwave gasped, scrabbling at both of them.

"You're fine," Ratchet said as he set him down, taking his hand and pressing it down. "Almost...there."

Stretched out on the berth, Soundwave didn't resist as they arranged his limbs on the soft plasticene surface. Ratchet touched one of the buttons along the side, and strong magnetics locked Soundwave in place. A sigh escaped his vents, his optics half closed and swam.

"I'm gonna put him under for about eight orns," Ratchet said, programming the berth locks.

"Set it but don't knock him out just yet," Jazz said. "I gotta get a little more out of him first."

"Sure," Ratchet smiled, getting back to his pedes. "We'll call it Spec Ops Mission three hundred, Soundwave in the magnetized berth of the Autobot—"

"Finish that sentence," Jazz grumbled, "and I'm making Sunny and Sides' do their next community service in your medbay."

"...you are no fun, you know that?" Ratchet tapped the berth above a large button. "When you're done, touch that. It'll send out that tone that knocks you out."

Jazz stuck out his tongue at Ratchet's back, making sure his friend was well out of the brig before turning his attention back to Soundwave. He didn't touch his hand, staying well out of reach of the berth's magnetics, but he sat up where Soundwave could see, slowly blinking as his frame finally began to cool.

"Can you hear me?" Jazz asked.

A low rumble from Soundwave's engine answered first, as if the mech were rediscovering his vocal processor.

"Yess," he slurred.

"When do you have to get the next part of that story written?"

Soundwave considered for several seconds. "Three days...? Uncertain. This unit, confused."

"Uh-huh..." Jazz pressed his lips together. "Does it take you that long to write it?"

"Already...mostly done," Soundwave murmured.

"Hm."

Jazz sat in deep thought, threading his fingers as he stared down at the mech in front of him. If Soundwave saw him, he couldn't tell. The golden optics wavered this way and that, lingering on the ceiling tiles. In a few kliks, he wouldn't have to push the button. Soundwave would drift off on his own.

"Why me?"

Somehow those optics came back into sharp focus, like an over-energized mech sobered up by fear. He didn't glance at Jazz, but he didn't have to. Jazz knew he had Soundwave's full attention, despite the damage. All of them had fought with severe head injuries before, knew the little tricks of how to overclock what was left of their positronics to wring out that last bit of clear thought.

"Jazz, morality gray," Soundwave said. "Not as idealistic as other Autobots."

Jazz half-smiled without humor. "Yeah, I've seen some messy work done at night. So?"

"Estimated forty percent chance of successful contact, persuasion and surrender." His engine slipped into lower gear, slowing his internal clocks and dragging at his conscious mind. "No other Autobots provided as high a chance."

"No other Autobots would forgive being chained up," Jazz reminded him, "and nearly overloaded."

The gold optics closed. Soundwave's engine slipped completely into recharge, locking him into deep rest. Annoyed that the Decepticon avoided having to give a reply, Jazz pushed the button anyway simply to be sure Soundwave wouldn't wake up any time soon. With a grumble, he stood up and left the cell, closing the door with a soft click.

"No other Autobots...so shiny."

Jazz held the bars of the door firmly shut, a cold flush running through his system in a routine prep for battle. He hadn't imagined that last, tired mumble. Most mechs locked up during recharge, but a rare handful spared a little processing power while otherwise unconscious. Was Soundwave still partially aware? He called out his name but heard no reply.

Filing that away as something else for Ratchet to check, Jazz left the brig, confirming two guards left at the door even as he walked by. He called Prowl with a loud ping, his cold frame warming as Prowl replied. The mech's internal voice sounded much like his normal speaking voice, but the electronic tone hummed lightly in his head, reminding him of fingers over his helm.

Prowler, got a lot to report and no time for writing it all down.

A sigh, somehow audible through the comm. How surprising. Talk, I'll take it down in notation.

Jazz grinned, slowing his pace so he'd reach Prowl's office just as he finished. Let's see. Soundwave's gonna have to take a raincheck on talking philosophy with Prime seeing as how he blew a circuit or two just explaining things. Check with Ratchet for the medical report. Probably gonna have to postpone downloading him 'till after he's repaired.

At least I have his cassettes for now, Prowl muttered. Continue.

Asked him why Megatron ain't banging down our doors trying to get at him, Jazz said. Get this. Mech says he lied to 'em both, telling them he was going on the other mech's missions. I'll explain more later. Important thing is, Starscream's gonna know he's gone in 'bout three days. Turns out he's reading one of Soundwave's trashy stories, and Soundwave keeps a tight schedule.

Starscream is reading...

Prowl's voice trailed off. Jazz laughed, wishing he could see his face. Of course they knew Decepticons were like Autobots, indulging in a little tactile now and then, but to have the enemy's cheap overload habits dropped in their lap felt voyeuristic.

It ain't about me, thank Primus, Jazz said before he could ask. It's 'Starscream, Starburst,' about Skyfire force-downloading Starscream lots of times.

...of course it is.

Now, Jazz said, coming around the corner so that the office door was in sight. I know you're gonna come up with more options than me, but I got struck by a bit of an idea and I wanted to run it by you, see what you think.

A joor later, Jazz stood in front of the Autobot top command, one hand resting on the table so he could look down at the datapad and not at the officers around him. Not that the datapad was much better.

"I don't think you've been entirely truthful with me," Skyfire said, pressing his pede firmly into Starscream's back. "I don't know why you keep trying to hide it. You know I'll pull it out of your cortex eventually."

Hands locked in front of him in stasis cuffs, Starscream squeezed his optics shut in pain and horrible anticipation. Skyfire knew his weaknesses, knew the sweet spots to touch gently or grind beneath his heel. Eventually Skyfire would tear him open, and in so many ways. He whimpered as his enemy's hand grabbed the edge of his ragged wing, obscenely gentle as Skyfire pulled him up on his knees.

"Ready to scream again, little star?"

Grimacing, hating himself for his own plan, Jazz shook his head and made himself look up.

"Mechs...we gotta get Soundwave to finish writing his damn story."

TBC...