"That was Sparkborn by the Kaonitics—grab your drinks and settle in, mechs and bots, we're only getting started on this marathon of one of Kaon's greatest local bands. Gone but not forgotten, we're giving them a proper send-off tonight. Next up and starting their second album, Firing on Empty, their most popular hit, Falling Stars."
look at me, can't see me no more
trying to sing when I'm built for war
Mechs had no day or night—they could run just as well come sun up or sun down, as long as their optics were suited for the dark. And yet the Autobots had quickly adjusted to the Earth's rhythms, taking its diurnal cycle for themselves, and as last purple rays of the sun scattered across the sky, the Ark also fell quiet—bots went to their recharge, the night shift spoke softer and the mechs in the mess hall took their energon in murmuring groups.
Jazz was pleased to see Beachcomber in the center of the largest group, smiling with several bots he normally never talked to, waving over his own friends who were absorbed into the conversation. Jazz didn't quite understand how Prowl had managed it, but with the catalyst of a competition, several of the hard anti mechs were now willing to sit with a known pacifist. He supposed it was the same as taking mechs out on a mission, knocking them together and watching them become best of friends.
"Everyone loves a winner," he murmured to himself. It wasn't the same as Prowl's wargames, but maybe it was close enough.
losing myself won't set me free
nothing left of myself for me
He'd splashed off the mud in the washracks, hurrying so that he didn't meet Prowl on the way out. There were several washracks on base, but he didn't want to risk it anyway. And Ratchet wanted him to rest more before he was signed of for another mission. Well past midnight, Jazz should have been to the berth by now. He should have been in his quarters in recharge.
our sparks go out like falling stars
I always thought this world was ours
Instead Jazz sat in his dark office and spied on the Ark. He sat sideways in his chair, pedes dangling, a small cube of energon to sip. His three datapads lay on his workstation rotating from one camera to another as he hacked the base's cameras. Normally he wouldn't risk it without permission, but RedAlert was exhausted in Inferno's arms, leaning against him in the officer's mess hall as they drank the day's last energon.
"Might as well just move 'em in together," Jazz chuckled, switching views. "At this point, Inferno's as good as his peripheral unit."
living a function ain't living as me
if war's gonna kill me, I might as well be
He wasn't looking for anyone in particular. Simply watching, looking in on the halls, seeing who was walking with who...it reminded him there were other mechs on base, all of them living their own dramas, hand in hand or laughing and joking, arguing in pairs or sneaking energon in the corners. He looked in on the defectors in the brig—most were lost in recharge, but Silverbolt sat with Whisper, both of them locked in conversation.
I'll die screaming my name to the sky
thousand falling sparks ain't mine
ain't mine
And then he found Prowl and Soundwave.
Jazz sat a little straighter.
They weren't sitting in Prowl's office—Jazz never would have dared look inside there. But they were instead in the officer's second command room, a chamber designed to hold dozens of mechs of various sizes. It had been intended to hold an army and political faction, not a guerilla force, so the room was rarely used. Now it provided the two mechs some privacy as they sat side by side.
Mirage had been telling Jazz the truth. It didn't help how much it stung.
Believing no one was watching them, Soundwave and Prowl sat very close together, using a bench seat meant for a much larger mech, and they quietly worked on multiple datapads spread before them. From time to time, Prowl switched one of his screens out for one of Soundwave's.
Something pulled in Jazz's spark. At this range and resolution, he couldn't make out what they were working on, only that it was made of long columns of numbers. Data-mining was something he would have twisted himself inside out to avoid, and they were sharing it like it was a date night.
Jazz stared without moving.
Yes.
This was good.
This was how it should be—two calculators happily calculating.
For a moment, Prowl wore his usual blank expression, but then he said something and gave Soundwave a smile. That small acknowledgment had Soundwave's optics light up like sunlight on gold. He gave a nod, and then they returned to working.
Jazz put his hand on the screen, lightly tracing over Prowl's face. He remembered how that control and poise vanished in the berth, the way Prowl's hands revealed in Jazz a dangerous vulnerability and escaped unscathed. He remembered Soundwave's hungry look locked on himself, frightening in its focus. All that desire that had burned Jazz before, and how glitched was Jazz that he wanted to touch it again—
Soundwave bent forward, putting his helm in his hands, resting against the workstation. Prowl's hand came to rest on his, and Soundwave vented and nodded once to whatever Prowl had said. After a long moment, they gathered up their datapads and stood, Prowl providing a hand for Soundwave to lean on as his gyros wobbled.
Jazz had made the right choice. He was sure of it. Look at them fitting together, practically master unit and peripheral. Who would have thought that Prowl and a warbuild…?
He let his hand fall.
Jazz could admit that to himself now, a little bit. Warbuild. Soundwave was right—Jazz cared more about the mission than himself, more about getting the kill than getting close. Just like Afterburner, now that he thought about it. As long as he served as a good soldier, Optimus' hidden operative, what more did he need? Nothing. Better if he didn't have any romantic entanglements—he didn't know how to handle 'em. He'd only end up hurting someone.
So why did it hurt?
Why did it hurt twice as much?
A thousand sparks falling together
not mine
not mine
"That was Falling Stars by the Kaonitics—we're in the middle of a marathon of their first three albums, keeping their vocals alive after all this time. Gonna take a break for our sponsor, an early hit from our own Optimus Prime, and then we go right back in for Ignition Sparks."
Watching Prowl and Soundwave holding each other, Jazz sat in his office, utterly alone.
Who are you ?
At his work console writing another review, Optimus froze. His datapad dented at the edges, suddenly clutched too tight.
Because that is ultimately what is at stake in this war—who are you?
A cog in the machine of Cybertron? A gear bolted in place, doomed to one function forever? Who are you?
Optimus vented out, leaning back in his seat. He stared at the ceiling, seeing a moment long ago in the past, when he stood in the rubble of yet one more fallen city. He remembered that day. The war had not come on them in full force—there had still been reporters and news channels and way to reach mechs with words instead of violence.
Who are you? Because that is what is going to keep you alive in the coming conflict—when you are alone in the midst of death and destruction.
Are you your function? Are you a piece of the planet, to be replaced when you break? Or are you a spark created by Primus, one of millions, and all of us unique and individual Cybertronians?
Who are you?
There is a storm coming, and many shall fall. What you do then will grow up out of who you are. You must not be afraid to be who you are. More than your function, more than your programming...there is is a spark inside of you and you must rise up out of t hat spark into what you are meant to be.
Will you let this storm come unopposed? Will you take up arms to the defense of others ?
Who are you?
How strange to hear himself. Optimus Prime sounded so different to himself. When he'd spoken that day, he'd felt so lost, watching the world tearing itself apart as he called out for help.
He had never really listened to his own speeches. He hadn't even considered them speeches. Speeches were planned, drafted, written, rewritten. Megatron had written speaches. Orion Pax had always spoken from the spark. After his transformation, when the matrix had been integrated into his systems, Optimus Prime knew no other way to speak.
"Mechs and bots," Blaster said, "the storm may still be raging, but at least we're still holding the line. Raise a cube to a toast—to the Autobots, my friends, and to the ones we've lost on the way. Ignition Sparks, my comrades in arms."
As the opening strings of the song began, Optimus reached over and turned the volume low.
An unfamiliar sound pinged in his audios. He reset his optics. He'd received a message in his surnet inbox, his first ever, and it took him several seconds as he found the notification on the screen and found the right link to click to read it.
Mech, who in Primus' name are you? No one's ever written that kind of review for me before—I always said I was just writing cheap overload trash, and then you come along and… I know I'm not the only one. Oasis has been rolling around in the one you gave him for ages now. Who are you, bot?
Optimus read it again. And again. He looked at the author—Mech892352. Out of curiosity, he searched for the mech's stories. Lamborghini Twins Do the Ark, I Fought Shockwave's Drone Dolls of Death, The Incredible 'Con-Killing Caper, Decepticons Clawed My Cables, and Petro-Bunny Orgy. Optimus started looking for Prowl's long database of who was who on the surnet...and then he stopped and closed the file. He didn't need to know, and Mech892352 was entitled to their privacy.
Still…
He put down the datapad and sat back in his seat, closing his optics.
RedAlert, he said. It's time.
Understood, Prime. I have everything ready. Shall I bring Prowl and Perceptor in as well?
No need. This won't require strategy.
...Megatron is a monster, Prime. Are you sure?
Optimus smiled at his friend's worry.
I'm sure. Sometimes you gotta go on faith.
Optimus waited as RedAlert created the link and brought it up on his datapad. It took another moment for the chat room to subtly change permissions and protocols so that no one else noticed.
You're in, Optimus. Good luck.
He didn't reply.
He was about to shoot from the end of the court for three points.
Over-the-Edge has joined the group
Over-the-Edge: BLASTER'S PUTTING OUT GREAT TUNES TONIGHT
Zapwing!: woo ahhh ahh falling stars
BrightLight has joined the group
B-Ball-Bot has joined the group
Mech892352: i hAvEn't hEaRd ThAt SpEeCh iN AgEs! OpTiMuS' sTiLl gOt iT
BrightLight: I didnt know Optimus was watching us train with Prowl
Over-the-Edge: OF COURSE, OPTIMUS WOULDN'T FORGET US LIKE THAT
dazzle-bot: I Didn't Know 'comber Was So Funny, Shared His Spiked Energon Too
Over-the-Edge: ...AIN'T HE A CON SYMPATHIZER?
Lube'nslide has joined the group
Pchoochoo: i dunno, he wasn't one of the bots fucking cons in the sand
Pchoochoo: hes just fucked up in the helm, too hurt to fight
dazzle-bot: Yeah, Not His Fault He Can't Fight No More
Over-the-Edge: HUH
Over-the-Edge: KAY THEN
Over-the-Edge: LEAST HE AIN'T NO NEUTRAL
BrightLight: even if he can't shoot anymore, at least he's still one of us
UMO: NO
UMU: THERE CAN BE NO MIDDLE GROUND IN WAR
UMU: LOYALTY OR BETRAYAL
UMU: HIS WRITINGS REVEAL HIS FALSE NATURE
Mech892352: jAzZ AnD OpTiMuS BoTh vOuChEd fOr cOmBeR
Mech892352: He jUsT WrItEs tHaT StUfF 'CaUsE Of ThE WaR
UMU: THERE CAN BE NO MIDDLE GROUND
UMU: TO EXCUSE BETRAYAL IS TO ENABLE BETRAYAL
Mech892352: I
Mech892352: i DoNt
UMU: TO WRITE CROSS-FACTION IS TO SANCTION IT
UMU: HIS FICTION INFORMS HIS REALITY
BrightLight: now WAIT 'Comber's just BROKEN
BrightLight: he's not a pink bot!
BrightLight: OPTIMUS said he's just unorthodox!
Over-the-Edge: IF OPTIMUS SAYS HE'S OKAY, THAT'S GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME
UMU:
Over-the-Edge: UH I MEAN
dazzle-bot: What They Said! You Can't Go Against Optimus!
UMU: DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE THE ENEMY
UMU: NO BOT IS ABOVE RISK
UMU: ALL MAY BE LED ASTRAY
Lube'nSlide: but
Lube'nslide: its Optimus
UMU: NO BOT IS ABOVE RISK
UMU: NO BOT IS ABOVE FAILING
Zapwing!: but it's Optimus!
UMU: ADVERSITY SHOWS A MECH'S TRUE COLORS
UMU: OUR CAUSE IS ABOVE ANY ONE BOT
UMU: ALL MUST BE AS ONE
B-Ball-Bot: I suppose that logic is true
B-Ball-Bot: Terribly twisted
B-Ball-Bot: but true
B-Ball-Bot: all are one
B-Ball-Bot: (￣ω￣)ゞ
UMU:
UMU: B-BALL-BOT
UMU: YOU ARE NOT KNOWN
UMU: WHO ARE YOU
UMU: IDENTIFY YOURSELF
UMU: YOU HAVE NOT SUBMITTED IDENTIFYING MATERIALS
B-Ball-Bot: and what about you, (¯`·.⋆ ⋆.·[ ÜMÜ ]·.⋆ ⋆.·´¯)?
B-Ball-Bot: fancy title for a bot with no identification (￢ω￢)
UMU:
UMU: THIS DISRESPECT WILL NOT BE TOLERATED
UMU: CANCELLING YOUR ACCESS
kicking B-Ball-Bot from the group
...
command denied
B-Ball-Bot: ( ⌒ω⌒ )
B-Ball-Bot: That'll be hard
B-Ball-Bot: without administrative privileges
UMU:
kicking B-Ball-Bot from the group
...
command denied
UMU: WHO ARE YOU
BrightLight: uh
Lube'nSlide: wait whats
Zapwing!: hey, I know that designation!
UMU: DO NOT INTERACT
UMU: DO NOT INTERACT
Mech892352: i kNoW ThAt bOt!
Mech892352: He rEvIeWeD My sToRy!
Mech892352: tHrEe wHoLe pAgEs wOrTh
kicking B-Ball-Bot from the group
...
command denied
kicking B-Ball-Bot from the group
...
command denied
B-Ball-Bot: ( ´ ω ` )
UMU: GET OUT
UMU: DO NOT INTERACT
B-Ball-Bot: Why not, o great and powerful UMU?
B-Ball-Bot: if you're so right
B-Ball-Bot: why can't they interact?
B-Ball-Bot: (・ω・ ) ?
dazzle-bot: This Is The Bot I Was Telling You All About
dazzle-bot: A Paragraph Review On Every Chapter of My Fic!
UMU: DO NOT
UMU: DO NOT
UMU: GET OUT
UMU: THIS IS MINE
UMU: MINE
Pchoochoo: whoa what the hell
B-Ball-Bot: tell them who you are UMU
B-Ball-Bot: better yet
B-Ball-Bot: show them who you really are
B-Ball-Bot: (・`ω´・)
UMU: WHO ARE YOU
B-Ball-Bot: you know what's funny about all this?
B-Ball-Bot: Blaster's playing our old hits tonight
B-Ball-Bot: I haven't heard any of it in millennia
B-Ball-Bot: but hearing it all on the radio
B-Ball-Bot: brings it back like it was yesterday
UMU: WHO ARE YOU
muting B-Ball-Bot
...
command denied
B-Ball-Bot: when all of this was new
B-Ball-Bot: and the reasons we were fighting were so clear
UMU: SHUT UP
B-Ball-Bot: all the fear and anger
B-Ball-Bot: but all the hope too
B-Ball-Bot: that we'd save everyone
B-Ball-Bot: and make everything okay again
B-Ball-Bot: better, even
B-Ball-Bot: do you remember that?
UMU:
B-Ball-Bot: tell them who you are UMU
UMU:
B-Ball-Bot: Tell then why they shouldn't interact
UMU:
B-Ball-Bot: well?
B-Ball-Bot: you have your audience
UMU: DO NOT INTERACT
UMU: INTERACTION BRINGS DOUBT
UMU: INTERACTION BREEDS DISLOYALTY
UMU: TO DEBATE WITH EVIL IS TO INVITE IT IN
UMU: LOYALTY IS EVERYTHING
B-Ball-Bot: loyalty cannot be commanded
UMU: I WILL HAVE THAT LOYALTY
UMU: I DEMAND LOYALTY
B-Ball-Bot: you cannot command them to bend the knee
B-Ball-Bot: Freedom is the right of all sentient beings
UMU: YOU
B-Ball-Bot: you might deceive them for awhile
B-Ball-Bot: but my Autobots think for themselves
UMU: YOU HAVEN'T WON
B-Ball-Bot: and we will not stoop to your level, Megatron
UMU: YOU WILL NEVER WIN
B-Ball-Bot: even under your sway, they remain free
UMU: I WILL DESTROY YOU
B-Ball-Bot: You've already lost
B-Ball-Bot: by the way
B-Ball-Bot: your defectors all say hello
B-Ball-Bot: ( ´ ω ` )ノﾞ
UMU has left the group
…
command denied
UMU: -OU FOOL!
UMU: HOW DID HE KNOW?
UMU: HOW DID HE GAIN ACCESS?
UMU: THIS IS YOUR FAULT!
UMU: I CAN'T HAVE LOST COMMAND OF
UMU: WHAT
B-Ball-Bot: you're in my surnet, Megatron
B-Ball-Bot: did you think I'd let you out so easily?
B-Ball-Bot: don't worry (* ^ ω ^)
B-Ball-Bot: I'll let you go in a moment
UMU: I WILL RIP YOUR SPARK OUT OF YOUR
muting UMU
U MU has been muted
B-Ball-Bot: there we go
B-Ball-Bot: I'll keep this short
B-Ball-Bot: to my Autobots
B-Ball-Bot: yes, UMU is Megatron
B-Ball-Bot: you have been badly deceived
B-Ball-Bot: and I'm sorry for that
B-Ball-Bot: I should have been more watchful
B-Ball-Bot: I was warned these stories could bite us in the aft
B-Ball-Bot: but I saw how much they meant to you
B-Ball-Bot: and I had no right to stop you
B-Ball-Bot: I still don't
B-Ball-Bot: but I forgot how clever our enemy can be
B-Ball-Bot: I also forgot something else
B-Ball-Bot: I forgot that I've never been able to speak to the enemy
B-Ball-Bot: not Megatron, however much he believes they belong to him
B-Ball-Bot: but to the rank and file Decepticons
B-Ball-Bot: Boom-Boom, BittenFin
B-Ball-Bot: and all the others listening
B-Ball-Bot: your mechs who have defected are safe and well
B-Ball-Bot: Seawing, Snare, Deadend, Submarauder, Spasma
B-Ball-Bot: Whisper, Soundwave, and Starscream
B-Ball-Bot: I am sorry to report one death
B-Ball-Bot: Afterburner, who gave his life to save Snare
B-Ball-Bot: Afterburner was enrolled in our own ranks posthumously
B-Ball-Bot: and it is my hope that he might be the last one lost
B-Ball-Bot: we have fought for millennia now
B-Ball-Bot: the functionists are gone
B-Ball-Bot: but this war will never end
B-Ball-Bot: if we never interact
B-Ball-Bot: I extend the invitation
B-Ball-Bot: we must interact
B-Ball-Bot: we will die if we don't
B-Ball-Bot: warbuilds, civilians, 'cons, 'bots
B-Ball-Bot: we are all mechs
B-Ball-Bot: no matter how we disagree
B-Ball-Bot: no matter how different we are
B-Ball-Bot: we are all one
B-Ball-Bot: …
B-Ball-Bot: …
B-Ball-Bot: ah
B-Ball-Bot: I admit I'm not sure how to end this
B-Ball-Bot: perhaps I must leave that in your hands
B-Ball-Bot: to decide how this war will end
B-Ball-Bot: as the humans say
B-Ball-Bot: peace out, yo ( ◠ ω ◠ )
U MU has been kicked out
B-Ball-Bot has left the group
…
…
…
Boom-Boom: ...is he always like that?
Mech892352: uh
Mech892352: kinda
BittenFin: more importantly
BittenFin: did your Prime just tell me to read your porn?
Mech892352: O_O
Over-the-Edge has left the group
Zapwing! has left the group
Mech892352 has left the group
Lube'nslide has left the group
pchoochoo has left the group