Part 23

By the time Jazz had Soundwave safely seated a private conference room, his cuffed hands resting on a long table, no one had any doubts as to why the Decepticon had allowed the leash. His engines rumbled despite every effort to keep them silent, revving everytime Jazz touched him. Jazz unlocked the chain and pulled it from Soundwave, coiling it up in his subspace, and quirked his mouth at the larger mech.

"I just don't get you," Jazz muttered, crossing his arms. "Or Starscream for that matter, but he's a lot less subtle about it than you, and that's saying something."

Soundwave gave a long vent as his shoulders drooped. "My behavior, glitching and erratic. Outside dominance, helps establish my own semblance of control."

"And my aft is shiny," Jazz snarled.

"Negative," Soundwave said, then stumbled over his own answer. "Clarification: affirmative, Jazz is shiny. Negative, that shininess alters desired leashing."

"Don't...just don't phrase it like that," Jazz said, backing away to lean against the wall. Thank Primus he'd left his mechs outside. "So you're saying Bumblebee or Mirage wouldn't get a second look from you, 'izzat it?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave nodded. "Jazz, only Autobot with such chaotic yet loyal programming. Jazz, superior among Autobots. Soundwave, superior among Decepticons. My interest in you is to be expected."

"I dunno if I should be flattered or creeped out," Jazz said. "Does Megatron know you're like this?"

"'Like this'?" Soundwave echoed. "Clarification requested."

"Being treated like a pet," Jazz said. "Abuse. Forced tactile, all that."

Conversation gave him something to do, but it also served to give Jazz valuable data on their prisoner. The more that Jazz watched him, the more he recognized some of Soundwave's more nuanced emotions. The slightest narrowing of his optics, the minute tilt of his head, and especially the soft downturn of his lips all signaled confusion, the kind that made Soundwave look a little surprised that Jazz would ask.

"Such behavior, common among Decepticons," Soundwave said. "Noticed among some Autobots as well—"

Soundwave broke off there, shaking his head once and looking back down at the table. "Apologies. I do not wish to anger you."

Now that called for a roll of Jazz's optics. "Oh, puh-lease, I understand bots being kinky. Ain't gotta explain that to me. But you...mech, you are locked up in an enemy base and if we don't think you're being honest, there's a very real chance we'll have to shoot you. How in the pit do you find that fun?"

Outside came the growing sounds of heavy pedes on metal floors, and a courtesy ping to warn them that Optimus and Ironhide were on their way. Relieved that the conversation could end, and by Primus let it be ended forever, Jazz straightened up a little and hoped that Optimus would dismiss him for a little "R and R" time, preferably Relaxing and Recharging with Prowl.

An instant before the door slid open, he glanced at Soundwave again. And paused. The larger mech looked between him and the door twice, then leaned forward as if rushing to give Jazz a vital, war-ending secret.

"Not 'fun'," Soundwave whispered quickly. "Desired. Even...required. Soundwave, not leader. Require a strong commander. Lost otherwise."

As he sat back, he turned away with a full coolant cycle easing the sudden heat swamping his systems, and Jazz had the uncanny feeling that Soundwave had dropped information on him that wouldn't have been forthcoming without the leash. Just like Starscream wouldn't have surrendered.

The door opened. Jazz and Soundwave acted as if they hadn't spoken at all, barely knew each other, in fact. But it wasn't Optimus at the door, nor Ironhide. Prowl stood still for a moment, scanning the room first, a datapad in one hand, following up with an apologetic look at Jazz.

Don't tell me— Jazz started, his doorwings drooping low.

Sorry, Prowl nodded. Optimus is running late and this is the only time I'll be able to fit in a real debriefing.

You owe me, Jazz said, wagging his finger at him. You're the one who got me revved up. You gotta take me for a spin once in awhile.

I would never shirk my responsibilities, Prowl said with a small smile. Soon. Just...not now.

Gotcha, Jazz said. You want me to send in my bots?

The room is fully secured, Prowl said, and even if this was a poorly thought out attack, I'm not such an easy target as that.

Standing aside, Prowl let Jazz by, letting their hands brush together briefly. And then the door closed, and he sat opposite of Soundwave. If he felt any hint of danger, he didn't show it, setting out his datapad and stylus just so before he started.

"This is Prowl, Second in Command of the Autobot faction," Prowl said, beginning the datapad's recording function, "beginning debriefing of Soundwave, Communications Officer of the Decepticon faction. Is there anything else to add before we begin?"

Soundwave frowned. Something about this mech annoyed him. His overly straight back, the way he set his datapad perfectly straight in front of himself, the cant of his head, the way Jazz smiled at him. Soundwave drew himself up to his full height, looking down at Prowl who refused to change his expression.

"Soundwave, Decepticon Communications Officer, Spymaster, Commander of Cybertron Planetary Cassettes, Chief Intelligence Officer in charge of Sabotage and Deception, Tactical Operations Second in Command." His mouth pressed into a firm line. "And you?"

Prowl's optics narrowed.

"Prowl, Autobot Second in Command and Tactician of the entire Autobot faction." He smiled. "That includes Special Operations Coordinator. Jazz's unit."

Soundwave's optics narrowed. He didn't respond. Prowl, on the other hand, picked up the datapad in satisfaction, scrolling over his notes.

"I've already gone over your download provided by Ratchet," Prowl said. "However, there are gaps here and there that I need filled, and I'll require perspective on several key points, seeing as how you are such a high ranking officer."

As Prowl scrolled, however, Soundwave felt some of the annoyance leave him. A sense of loss dimmed his optics, a keen awareness of the cuffs holding his wrists.

"Soundwave, no longer high ranking officer," he said softly. "Soundwave, defector."

Prowl slowly turned his helm, regarding him like a wounded snake. Still dangerous, only tolerable because it couldn't bite anymore.

"You might be," Prowl conceeded. "But we have to consider that this is one elaborate trap. You are a potential defector. There is always the chance we have to execute you."

"Understood," Soundwave answered more in a vent. "Soundwave risk factor, thirty-eight percent."

"Thirty-two, actually." Prowl found the spot in his notes that he'd been skimming for, not noticing how Soundwave looked up.

"Thirty-eight," Soundwave insisted.

Prowl frowned. "Thirty-two. I personally ran the numbers."

"Soundwave, little to do besides run numbers."

"And write," Prowl said with a slight smirk.

Soundwave drew in a long vent. Some things were simply not to be tolerated.

"Factored for glitch self-repair?" he asked with an edge to his voice. "Compensated for fatigue and stress?"

"And added in your close proximity and previous honest behavior," Prowl said, more struck than when Soundwave had listed his full titles. Few mechs even dared question his calculations. He struck a few icons on his datapad and flashed the screen. "Thirty-two percent."

"Incorrect," Soundwave said, his revealed face betraying indignant optics and raised eyeridges. "Thirty-eight."

Prowl answered through clenched denta. "Care to check the numbers?"

Which was how Optimus and Ironhide opened the door to find Prowl and Soundwave bent side by side over a datapad, talking over each other as they pointed to different parts of the screen.

"—disregarded casseticons? But—"

"—not immediately with you, and you have no contact—"

"Completely ignoring—"

"—what should be ignored—"

Optimus cleared his intake. When they didn't look up, Ironhide banged his hand on the wall, making the pair jump and look up. Prowl's optics went wide, and then he and Soundwave both coughed and stood straight.

"My apologies," Prowl said, gathering the datapad back. "We were in the middle of debriefing. About his threat level. Debriefing...he was wrong." His voice trailed off to nothing and he furiously typed in something to the file.

Soundwave glared at him sideways but said nothing.

"Prime," Ironhide sighed, "is this gonna turn into another math nerd session? 'Cause I got enough of that earlier with Perceptor."

"I doubt it," Optimus said, chuckling now that the raised voices had turned out to be an argument reminiscent of the occasional flare-ups between Perceptor and Brainstorm, and that alone gave him another burst of hope over Soundwave's defection. "Did you need to finish right now?"

"No, sir," Prowl said quickly, tucking the datapad away and moving around the table. "I'll be in my office."

"Try Jazz's office instead," Ironhide said with a growing grin as Prowl passed. "I think he's waiting for ya."

Prowl stopped in surprise, looking at him with wide optics. "Really?"

"Yup." Ironhide patted his shoulder and gave him a slight push. "Go on, kid. You've earned a break."

Huffing, Prowl turned his face to hide a sudden flush of embarassment, but he quickened his steps as he headed down the hall. Optimus gave Ironhide a look, but by now he was growing used to his bodyguard's glee at teasing the other officers. Ignoring it as best he could, he faced Soundwave and motioned toward the chairs.

"Have a seat," he said. "I've been wanting to continue this conversation for awhile now."

Hesitating, Soundwave kept his optics on Optimus as he awkwardly pulled a chair out and sat down, resting his hands in his lap. His synthetic synapses grew uncomfortably energized, and his whole frame tensed as the Autobot Prime sat down nearly within arm's reach. This red and blue mech was Megatron's opposite, capable of trading blows and commanding a similarly powerful if chaotic army. To stand beside Megatron was to stand beside power incarnate and aggression personified. And now he was face to face with Optimus Prime.

Soundwave had felt safer with bars between them.

"The last time we spoke," Optimus started, "you said that Megatron had grown corrupt."

Soundwave nodded once. "Megatron, power hungry. Abandoned hope of restoring Cybertron, focused instead on expanding Decepticon rule across the galaxy."

"So far we agree," Optimus said. "My question now is why did you join him at the beginning of the war? What was different about him then?"

Soundwave's gaze slipped down as he recalled ancient memory files. He prided himself on accurate recordings that spanned millenia, but watching the early parts of the war brought a flood of emotion that surprised him.

"Megatron, heroic. Brave. Gladiator, demanded to be allowed to surpass function." Soundwave curled his hands into fists as he recalled the grand speeches from those days, looking up at Megatron as he spoke to growing crowds of mechs fed up with Functionalism. "'A mech is more than the function imposed on his spark. A mech must be allowed to pursue his own functions, to build upon the processor imbued upon him by the Well of Sparks, forming connections not limited to his guild. Cybertron is more than a ball of steel and iron. We are more than steel and iron, even when we die in service to the great cause.'"

"I...think I remember that speech," Optimus said slowly, allowing the search to filter through his archives. "We thought Megatron would be little more than a short-lived rabble rouser. The Senate was so powerful then."

"Senate, very powerful," Soundwave agreed. "Senate, Functionists and Autobots. Any protest, considered insurrection. All protestors imprisoned in Kaon."

"The Decepticon city," Ironhide said. "Explains how there were so many there before it fell to you guys.

"Any mech caught listening to Megatron," Soundwave said, "imprisoned in Kaon. Later, Decepticon insignia became a death warrant. Attack on Kaon, Megatron's great risk. Had we failed, war would have ended with us."

"I understand last-ditch fights," Optimus said. "And I understand taking up arms against the Functionists. There was no way they were going to give up power. None of them would listen to me, even when I clearly wielded the Matrix."

Soundwave's gaze flickered to the center of Optimus' frame where the Matrix lay. A nigh holy relic, and it sat inside the mech before him, just in arm's reach. He was curious, yes, but also relieved that he couldn't see it. Stories and rumors passed among the rank and file that the Autobot Prime could control a mech's cortex and force obedience, even wipe clean a cortex. From the military leader they only ever saw in a fight, it did not seem all that farfetched. How could any mech follow an Autobot, the faction that had supported the Senate, when Megatron espoused nothing but power derived from their own ability?

"But you felt deep loyalty toward Megatron," Optimus continued. "For a long time. I know that you've grown disillusioned enough to break away from him, but what did he say that swayed you so much before? What gave Megatron such a powerful command of your loyalty?"

Soundwave was silent for a long klik, remembering the fervor and devotion he once felt when he looked up at Megatron. The former gladiator had turned politics and warfare into his new arena, and he slung words just as easily as his fists and firepower. No doubt he had sat long joor in his cell, waiting to be summoned for the next bout, hammering out his thoughts and growing dissident beliefs, that by the time he came to stand on a grayed out Autobot corpse, he'd found it all too easy to overcome the crowd's shock and sway them to his side.

"'We are defined by our function'," Soundwave repeated slowly. "'We are formed, we function and we die, serving the Senate until the orn we grey out. Like servos working together, we keep the planet functioning. We even take names based on the labor we do.

"'But what if that is a lie? Were we truly formed? Or were we sparked? How many of us feel our inner fire burning against our frame, forced into our function by presumptuous priests who glossed over our spark? Who pretend to know the will of Primus? Which of you were told ignore your own desires, that your need for something besides a millenia of lifting crates or changing wires was a glitch? A malfunction?

"'Why must gladiators fight until we fall apart? Why must transport units drive until they break down? I have seen our smaller comrades, cassettes and storage drives, called Disposables. Are any of us disposable? Or are we something greater? Are we functions or are we sparks? Are we servants of Cybertron, or are we Cybertron itself?

"The Functionists have given us their answer. They told me I was built to fight. So I will take up this fight and take them my own answer. If freedom is a lie, then I say we will find our salvation in lies and deception. If you would be free, who will take up the lie, my brothers? My Decepticons.'"

Soundwave finished, sitting quietly again, and in the silence, Ironhide huffed, clearing his filter.

"Ain't gotta be a braniac to figure who said all that," Ironhide said.

"I can imagine how inspiring Megatron was," Optimus admitted as he sat back. "After the Functionists controlled the planet for so many millenia, and the Senate backed them...many mechs would have relished even a noble death, let alone the promise of a life of freedom and choice."

His gaze held Soundwave, as unyielding as Megatron's but without anger or demand. Soundwave felt as if he were being held rather than gripped, led rather than pushed. As if answering Optimus' next question was his own idea.

"And now?" Optimus asked. "What has changed about him?"

Soundwave held very stil. Inwardly his cortex began to grow warm as his old loyalties and admiration clashed with merciless logic. Although he didn't notice it, his right eye twitched, and both Autobots straightened. Glitches had clear symptoms, and they were both attuned to the signs of a crashing mech.

"Megatron..."

His voice pitched higher and then cut off. Venting in short gulps, Soundwave bowed his head, covering his face with his bound hands.

"Megatron, delayed latest energon shipment to Shockwave," he whispered. "Megatron, lied to Decepticons. Rationed energon severely. All excess energon supposed to be transported to Cybertron. Instead...instead..."

Ironhide and Optimus exchanged a brief look and, despite Ironhide's growing scowl, Optimus leaned across the table and put his hand on Soundwave's shoulder. He didn't ask or prod. He waited patiently and only provided some physical comfort. For Soundwave, the touch made it that much worse.

"Megatron wants to build a base here," Soundwave broke, his voice hollow as always but flowing quickly now, as if he had to get it out all in one burst or else he'd choke. "A city. New Tarn, or New Vos. He wants Earth to be the launching point of his galactic conquest. He's forgotten Cybertron. He's forgotten Cybertron. He's–"

The hand on his shoulder squeezed, then relaxed. Didn't let go. And it was stupid of him, Soundwave knew–completely illogical for a physical stimuli to affect his cortex like this, especially from someone so recently his enemy–but that hand fit comfortably around him and, through it, soothed him more than should have been possible. Was that the effect of the Matrix? Or was Optimus simply practiced at comforting mechs not sparked for combat?

"Cybertron isn't forgotten," Optimus said. "We'll find a way to save it."

"It's so far gone," Soundwave said, grimacing at how his vocalizer tensed so much that it hissed static. "It's almost dead."

"There's always hope," Optimus said. "If there wasn't hope, we wouldn't be fighting. Although others have given up, we keep trying. I have to believe there's something for us to save, and as long as there's life left on Cybertron, I know we can bring it back to its full glory."

Soundwave held still, steadying himself, bringing his vocalizer back under control. After a moment, when he could vent fully without his engine hiccuping, he slowly set his hands back on the table and nodded once.

"...apologies," he murmured. "Momentary lapse, ceased."

"No apology necessary," Optimus said, chuckling softly as he sat back. "Discussing Cybertron brings out strong emotion in bots. This isn't the first time I've seen an overwraught mech."

Not sure that he wanted to trust his voice just yet, Soundwave nodded.

"Now," Optimus said, "since you've brought him up, let's talk about Megatron. You've been gone a long while and he still hasn't come looking for you."

"Soundwave, absence accounted for," he answered, venting deeply once more. "Starscream's absence, however, obvious. Megatron, probability already summoned me and received no reply. Will likely instigate a battle to draw out Autobot forces."

"And try to take prisoners," Ironhide guessed. "To interrogate. Probably come after the Ark if he thought he could swing it."

"Affirmative," Soundwave said. "Lacking Starscream and myself, Megatron will bring overwhelming forces to compensate. Autobot victory, uncertain."

"But if we know it's coming," Optimus said confidently, "then we can prepare. With your help, we'll be ready for him. And we'll see if we can't bring this war closer to an end."

Soundwave lifted his helm, staring up at Optimus in wonder that the Prime could sound so sure of himself. The Autobot commander lacked the bombast and drama of Megatron's speeches, had nothing of the theatrics of his commands. And yet...

"Now seeing that expression never gets old," Ironhide grinned, and his smile only broadened when Soundwave looked at him in confusion. "Don't take it personal. He's got that effect on everyone. Can't buy that kinda loyalty."

He laughed under his breath, speaking more to himself. "But you can get stories about it. Optimus Prime and His Chain of Command...heh."

This time it was Optimus' datapad that careened off Ironhide's helm.

TBC...