Prowl onlined early the next orn feeling, while not exactly rested, at least with a definite sense of things being in clearer perspective. He had been truly shocked and unsettled by the realization of just how far his ethical and moral subroutines had drifted from his original programming. He had been equally troubled by how subtly and innocuously the change had happened; enough so he had not even noticed until the truth had been, quite literally, slammed into him.
Ironhide had helped him correct one area where he had gone astray. How many others were still there? How many subtle but dangerous alterations to his original ethical coding remained undiscovered, waiting to appear at any moment?
He had to trust that was the purpose of this evaluation period; that the most common moral aberrations would be tested for. But he could not help but wonder if there was anything he could do himself. One thing came immediately to mind and he set a portion of his processor on the task as his sensors picked up Bluestreak's systems powering up.
As if he had been waiting for that very thing – which he probably had been – Jazz chose that moment to saunter through his door. The smaller, silver mech said nothing at first, he simply watched Bluestreak slowly online.
"I assume you will be procuring Bluestreak's energon?" Prowl asked quietly.
Jazz nodded, not looking at him but at the sparkling in question. "Of course. I'll be taking him to med bay, Ratchet wants to check his progress."
It made sense, despite what Ratchet might have said the previous orn; they no doubt questioned his ability to safely monitor the integration of Bluestreak's first upgrade. Considering how most Decepticons reacted to sparklings, he could not blame them.
Bluestreak sat up on the berth and trilled. Optic ridges furrowing in frustration, Bluestreak tried again. Prowl was beside the berth in two short strides. "It can take several orn for the upgrade to integrate fully. How do you feel?"
Bluestreak's helm canted to the side as he thought. Then he put one hand on his temple plating and then put both hands together before pulling them apart, miming and expanding sphere.
Prowl nodded. "I imagine so. Your processor should begin to feel less full as the orn progresses. Ratchet wants to check on your progress."
Bluestreak nodded and hopped down, holding his hand up to take Prowl's, but the tactician shook his helm regretfully. "Jazz will be taking you. Do be on your best behavior."
Bluestreak let his hand drop back to his side and looked at Jazz momentarily – who smiled warmly at the little one – before looking back at Prowl. He nodded and walked to Jazz, holding his hand up as he had done for the tactician.
Jazz smiled again and took the proffered hand willingly and Prowl watched them walk back to the door. He was tempted to feel resentment that he was not free to follow, but he squelched it, unwilling to mar his satisfaction that Bluestreak was not going to be made to suffer the same restraints as he.
Half way through the door, Jazz paused, looking over his shoulder at Prowl. The saboteur opened his mouth as if to say something, his gaze unreadable behind the visor. The moment stretched but then Jazz snapped his lip plates closed. The inscrutable gaze lingered for an astrosecond longer then Jazz was gone.
Prowl frowned , staring at the now closed door, wondering what his former interrogator had been going to say. If he had not been required to stay in his quarters unless escorted, he would have followed. As it was, he remained in the room, though the door remained unlocked.
With a weary ex-vent Prowl returned to his desk, picking up the datapad Jazz had given him to read.
Only a joor passed before his sensitive doorwings picked up an approaching spark signature. Who ever it was, was moving so quickly Prowl did not have an opportunity to identify them before his door was violently forced open.
Prowl stood respectfully as Ironhide stalked in.
"Where have you been?" The massive weapons specialist demanded, growling darkly.
"Right here." Prowl frowned minutely at the intense hostility, not understanding its source. "Is there somewhere else I should have been?"
Ironhide was close enough to point a scarred finger in Prowl's face and snarled threateningly. "You were supposed to be in the training room half a joor ago."
Prowl did not respond to the invasion of his personal space, tamping down the sudden panic he felt with vorns of practiced ease. "My apologies, Ironhide, but there must be some mistake. I was not notified that my presence was expected anywhere but here."
"I am not interested in your lies, 'Con." The timbre of Ironhide's voice dropped warningly.
"Former Decepticon, sir." Prowl dared intone softly, then louder: "Nor have I been informed I may leave this room without escort."
Prowl watched warily, waiting with concealed nervousness as Ironhide's optics narrowed, raking over his form. Then the Autobot growled low and threateningly. Prowl blinked, recognizing the challenge within the threat. After a moment he averted his gaze, looking to the side, still showing strength but also indicating submission. Clearly he was to be punished for this miscommunication.
Ironhide continued to glare at Prowl, not missing the clearly submissive stance, but not trusting it. Then he saw the slight flick of stiff doorwings, the very minute vibration that raced through the black and white frame and realized the Decepticon defector was expecting to be disciplined…painfully.
He growled again, testing that observation.
Seeing what he wanted, Ironhide stepped back, his armor settling back over his frame. "Jazz." He said shortly, realizing what had happened. "He was supposed to notify you."
"Ah." Prowl started blandly, realizing what Jazz had been about to say, but did not want to dwell on the matter as it could still be dangerous for him. "I see. I apologize for the delay. Should we not proceed?"
Ironhide blinked his optic shutters as if surprised Prowl had taken that as well as he had, then nodded. With a broad sweep of one arm, he gestured Prowl out into the corridor.
… … …
Prowl shortly found himself back in the training room, where the simulations continued. His first day under Ironhide's watch had consisted of marksmanship exercises, now the simulations were more strategy oriented. It appeared that his ability to read a battlefield and respond were what was being tested. Each successive simulation was more complex than the one before.
Much to Prowl's relief - and Ironhide's surprise - the incident from the previous orn was never repeated.
The simulations started with him alone and progressed to having Prowl command small teams of five to eight mechs against increasing numbers of Decepticons in scenarios that required more and more complex tactical approaches in order to achieve victory.
Once again, Prowl's advanced tactical and battle computers made each simulation relatively simple.
Near the end of the orn, Ironhide called a halt.
For safety's sake, Prowl placed his training weapon on the ground as soon as he received the stand down order and stood, turning to face Ironhide.
The weapon's specialist circled him slowly, cautiously, as if not sure what to think. "You're doing good."
Prowl nodded in acceptance of the reluctant compliment, then blinked his optic shutters when Ironhide presented him with a cube of energon.
Suddenly wary, knowing he had agreed to give his next energon ration in exchange for Bluestreak's upgrade, Prowl slowly accepted the cube. He looked up at Ironhide in question, not lifting the glowing liquid energy to his lip plates even though his frame was screaming for sustenance.
"It has been almost two orns since you had any." A pause indicated a response was expected so Prowl nodded. Ironhide gestured to the cube. "It's about time. Go on."
Slowly, still waiting for Ironhide to change his mind, Prowl took a sip. Regardless of the fact it could be drugged, Prowl quickly finished the energon. Once again, it was not enough to fill his tanks, but he could feel it hit his systems and appreciated how much better it made him function.
"Thank you." He said honestly as he returned the empty cube.
With a grin that could not truly be called friendly, Ironhide gestured to the weapon Prowl had placed on the ground. "Back to work."
Thus the simulations continued. The situations became more complex, the ranks of mechs he commanded increased in numbers. This continued for several orns, to the point where Prowl was commanding armies. For his processing abilities, it was not overly taxing, though it was requiring his entire concentration.
Idly Prowl wondered what, exactly they were evaluating at this point, though he did not voice that question. He simply faced the next scenario and did his best. So far his best had been sufficient to ensure victory.
Statistically, however, he knew that would not always be the case. That was proven true six orns after he started the evaluation period.
He stood near one of three advance regiments of an army of five hundred and seventy Autobots as they surrounded a major, if unnamed Decepticon base with the objective of taking out Megatron and his top commanders.
They easily succeeded in tearing through the base's physical defenses and the buildings were now shattered husks. But the fighting had degenerated into scattered hand-to-hand combat.
Prowl ducked a wide swing from his current opponent and took the opening that provided to slip his energon dagger between the gaps in the other's armor, slicing a major energon feed. The mech fell to the ground with a gurgle. Even as he turned to tackle another Decepticon, his processors were directing the troop movements of the rest of the Autobot forces.
Then communications alerted him to an incoming message… from Megatron.
He accepted the transmission and, even knowing it was just a simulation, the words the former Lord Protector snarled into the communication line made his energon lines freeze.
"I have your precious Prime. Surrender now, or I kill him."
Prowl instantly ordered all his troops to assume defensive positions but to hold their fire unless attacked. Then he attempted to contact the simulated Optimus. The hologram confirmed his capture.
As quickly as he could, Prowl made his way to the small clearing where Megatron was holding a badly beaten Optimus, a plasma cannon pointed at the Prime's spark chamber. He had to keep the Decepticon leader talking until he could determine a way out of this.
"What are your terms, Megatron?" He demanded.
The simulated Megatron turned slightly to look at him. "You want to save Optimus' life, you, all of you surrender now. The war ends now with all of you submitting to me or I kill him."
Prowl's processors raced, calculating, evaluating. He checked the stats on his troops and confirmed that they had suffered heavy losses. It did not make sense, unless some of the intelligence they had on the base was erroneous. But at the moment, the Autobots were heavily outnumbered. At this rate, they could not win.
His options were deplorable and very limited. Surrender the army, which he knew would consign them to their deaths. Or withdraw and watch the Prime, simulation or not, murdered in front of him. Neither was an acceptable option. Both would mean the destruction of the Autobot cause and the success of tyranny. He growled, realizing Ironhide had finally found a simulation that beat him.
But it was a choice he found he did not feel qualified to make. There had to be a way that would not utterly destroy the Autobots. No, he had no right to consign an entire army to their death. Nor did he have the right to do the same to Optimus Prime. The only life he had that type of authority over was his own…
His head came up, optics blazing as he realized there was a third option. It was one he knew the real Megatron would probably leap at with a disgusting amount of sadistic glee. There was one potential trade he could make, one mech Megatron would want to get his hands on even more than Optimus Prime: a defector.
It was the only sacrifice Prowl felt qualified to make.
If it were real the Autobots might or might not attempt to rescue him… and that was assuming they ever got the chance. While it was true Megatron might not abide by any agreement, it was still a possibility. He began ordering most of his troops to withdraw even as he organized a small task force to extract Optimus Prime.
Would it be worth it if the simulation were real? Prowl took a moment to consider, but he knew the answer immediately. In the large scheme of things, Prime was more important than one lone Decepticon defector, even if that defector was the best tactician on Cybertron.
He stepped forward, glaring at the holographic Megatron. "Release Prime, and you may take me in his place."
The holograms froze, flickering harshly. It was an indication that that was a response they were not programmed to react to. He waited, but then the entire simulation dissolved, fading from existence. Prowl blinked, focusing on Ironhide as the weapons specialist walked up to him, his expression unreadable.
"Do you have any idea what would happen if you did that for real?"
Prowl blinked. Of course he did, the probability outcomes had been calculated before he had even initiated the action. He nodded. "There is a 96.27% chance that Megatron would accept such a deal because his hatred for defectors would cause him to forget that I am a less strategically important prisoner."
Ironhide just blinked at him, so Prowl continued. "Should he accept, I calculate a 98.19% probability that I would be executed as a traitor, either summarily or after he attempted to extract any information of value I might have."
Ironhide growled and Prowl hastened to finish. "I believe there to be an 89.73% likelihood that I could withstand whatever method he might choose to employ. However, when I was assigned as Megatron's Head Tactician, I wrote a program that would effectively wipe my processor and slag my battle and tactical computers making them unsalvageable if I ever reached that point." He continued softly. "I also know that, as of right now, there is only a 13.02% chance that the Autobots would seek to attempt a rescue in such a scenario."
Ironhide could only stare at Prowl for a long moment, not sure whether to believe the former Decepticon. Would Prowl actually make that choice? The scenario was designed to be no-win. The only options were to sacrifice the Prime or sacrifice the entire army. The option chosen, as well as how difficult it was for them to make the decision, spoke much about the said 'bots value system.
Very few mechs even made it to this scenario because very few had the personality, spark and skills to be a leader at that level. It had been a surprise Prowl had been among the few to have done so.
Of the mere handful of mechs Ironhide had ever personally run through this simulation only one had made the same choice Prowl had. It was a former dockworker turned archivist named Orion Pax and it had been just after he had been named as a candidate for being Sentinel's successor. Like Prowl, Orion had known that his status alone made such a trade even feasible.
Still, it shook the weapons specialist to think Prowl had it in him to become that much of a leader. He was virtually emotionless. He had been a Decepticon, for Primus' sake.
Ironhide's optics narrowed suspiciously. "I see. Of course, this was merely a simulation. It's easy to make such a decision when no real danger exists."
Prowl simply considered him, without any outward reaction to the implied accusation. If he was offended, taken aback or disappointed, nothing showed. He simply nodded in acknowledgement of the observation.
That alone surprised Ironhide. Then the tactician spoke softly. "That does not mean it is not the choice I would make if it were real."
Ironhide stepped toward Prowl with understated challenge. "Why would you sacrifice your life like that? Especially when we have given you no cause, when, as you yourself stated, we wouldn't go out of our way to save your aft?"
Prowl fought the urge to shift his doorwings. "Without an army, our cause is lost. Without our Prime, our army would be lost and thus the war. In order for Cybertron to survive, Megatron must be stopped. As valuable as my tactical abilities may be, or become, they are useless without the other two. Therefore, it was the most logical decision to make in the circumstances."
"Logical?"
It was Prowl's turn to blink in confusion at Ironhide's tone. "Of course."
"Right." Ironhide shook his helm, dispelling the surrealism that had claimed his processor. "Go back to your quarters. I will review your performance and determine the next step."
Prowl took half a step backward, though he caught himself from doing anything else, confused and suddenly a little nervous. "Return to my quarters… unescorted?"
"You know the route, yes?" Ironhide sounded irritated now.
"Yes, but…"
"Then get going!" The growl that accompanied the order turned it into a threat.
Prowl snapped to attention, conditioning with the Decepticons and as an Enforcer kicking in again. He bowed his helm formally. "Yes, sir."
With clipped, sharp movements, Prowl turned and walked out of the training range. He hesitated for a sparkbeat as the doors closed behind him, but quickly started walking toward his quarters.
He tried to figure out what had just happened, but was at a loss. Ironhide had seemed disbelieving, then stunned and then almost angry. But he had done nothing to correct him and Prowl was unable to identify what he might have done wrong.
He made it most of the way to his quarters when the sound of running pedes caught his attention. They were rapidly coming toward him. Though he was not sure why, he felt dread grow in his tanks and internals. Cautiously he continued forward, wary and watchful.
His unspoken suspicion was confirmed moments later when three mechs rounded the corner; two were large and red in color, the third a deep cobalt blue. He recognized Inferno and Red-Alert, but not the third. He also noted that all three had their weapons drawn and armed, aimed at him.
Prowl froze, lifting his arms slightly, palms up placating, trying to show he was not a threat.
Red-Alert stepped forward, anger clear in the aggressive flare of his armor. "Just what do you think you are doing?"
Prowl kept his voice calm and collected. "I am returning to my quarters from the training range, as Ironhide ordered me to do."
Optic ridge cocked, Red-Alert shook his head disbelievingly. "Ironhide told you to wonder the halls of the base on your own?"
Prowl frowned. That was not what he had said. "No. He told me to return to my quarters alone."
Red-Alert shook his helm again, this time in reprimand. "You aren't supposed to go anywhere unescorted."
Prowl blinked. That was what he had thought. He considered pointing out again that he was following orders, but quickly decided it would be a waste of time. He briefly wondered why Ironhide would order him to go alone – or not inform security about the change. Was it incompetence… or a test?
Prowl was inclined to lean towards a test.
Prowl bowed his helm respectfully. "My apologies, Red-Alert."
Bright blue optics narrowed suspiciously. "How do you know my designation?"
Surprised again at the Security Director's tone, Prowl answered simply. "The names of senior ranking Autobots and their immediate subordinates are well known to Decepticon Intelligence. Just as are…"
"Decepticon Intelligence?" Red-Alert's optics widened, bright red armor flaring in alarm. "You are a spy!"
Suddenly fighting panic at the radical jump in logic and what it might mean for him, Prowl managed not to let his sudden concern show. "No, no I am not…"
"Take him to the brig, Inferno, Viper." Red-Alert's engine revved.
Prowl shut his lip plates, muting his vocalizer briefly as the two other 'Bots advanced on him. Knowing just how tenuous his position was, he said nothing as his wrists were again bound with stasis cuffs. He released a vent, resigning himself to the inevitable.
Just as he was hauled forward, pushed by none to gentle hands, Jazz's suave voice cut into his thoughts. "Hey, Red, where ya taking Prowler there?"
Prowl stiffened at the nickname, but did not dare protest at the moment.
Red-Alert gestured with his still armed weapon in Prowl's direction. "This Decepticon spy was wondering the halls alone, free to go wherever he wanted. I'm taking him to the brig where he belongs."
Jazz, of all things, smirked at Prowl. "Gave Red-Alert a scare did ya?"
Prowl, now that he was being addressed directly answered quietly. "It was not my intention."
Jazz's smirk was still in place. "Yeah, no doubt." He paused, looking back at the Security Director. "It's okay, Red. I got this. 'Hide told him to go back to his quarters. He's got permission to walk in public areas by himself so long as he is goin' from point A to point B and is expected at point B. Which he is. So, like I said, I got him from here."
Red-Alert's weapon slowly fell back to his side as he glanced with disbelief between Prowl and the saboteur. Finally, the blaster transformed back into a hand. "Oh. I was not informed."
He looked back at Prowl, who was staring at Jazz with an unreadable expression, doorwings stiff as ever. Then he nodded to Inferno and Viper and the former Decepticon was released.
Jazz gave Red-Alert a disarming smile and patted him on the shoulder, though his gaze was likewise fixed on Prowl. "My apologies, Red. I just got the memo myself."
As much as Prowl did not want to acknowledge it, he felt more than just a flicker of gratitude that Jazz had stepped in, even if it had been humiliating in its own way. Terrifying rumors aside, Jazz had not been as cruel an overseer as he could have been. Actually, he had not been cruel at all, irritating and frustrating at times yes, but not sparklessly cruel as he would have expected.
From the way Jazz was considering him, Prowl had the suspicion the saboteur knew what he was processing. For the span of several sparkbeats their gazes lingered and Prowl found he wanted to be able think more kindly of Jazz than he had.
"Thank you." He said after a moment.
Jazz just gestured him to continue down the hall, though the smile never left his lip plates. "Not a problem, Prowler."
Prowl's doorwings jerked in irritation, but he was quick to keep walking. Perhaps Jazz would leave him alone once he was 'safely' back in his quarters.
… … …
Early the next orn found Jazz, Ratchet, Ironhide and Optimus Prime gathered around the informal conference table in the Prime's office. On the main display was one of the video feeds from the surveillance sensors in the recent defector's quarters. For the last breem or so the handful of members on the Autobot Command Team had watched Prowl's interactions with Bluestreak.
Just like Ratchet and Jazz had reported, the youngling had been full of questions, which he eagerly used to perfect his grasp of basic Cybertronian. Though even Jazz found the constant stream of questions trying of his patience occasionally, Prowl appeared to be taking it all in stride.
"He just knows we're watching." Ironhide grunted half-heartedly when Optimus pointed that out.
Jazz gave the Weapons Specialist a canted look before focusing on the Prime. "He's done everything we've asked. Hasn't complained at all."
Ratchet nodded, likewise giving Ironhide a look. "He offered to give up his energon ration for Bluestreak's language upgrade."
Ironhide's optics widened at that. "In the traditional demonstration of a sparkling's worth in the eyes of it's creators?"
Ratchet nodded again and Prime's optics returned to the screen, thoughtfully. "Considering the position he is in, that is quite a lot."
Ratchet grunted. "Especially since it had been over an orn since his previous ration when he made the offer."
Silence settled over the small gathering once again and all optics drifted back to the screen where Prowl was helping Bluestreak with something on one of the educational datapads Chromia had given to the youngling. From all appearances, Prowl was actually helping Bluestreak to come to a correct understanding, not simply taking the easy route of just giving him the answers.
Jazz cleared his vents, redrawing the other mechs' attention and he flicked a claw at the screen. "Bluestreak told him I had placed monitoring devices in his quarters. Prowl said he would't mess with 'em or even look for 'em. All because it was only 'logical' we'd keep him under surveillance. He hasn't touched 'em. At all."
Ratchet let a long gust of air sigh through his vents and locked gazes with his Prime. "Like I told you a few orns ago, Optimus. Prowl asked me to place the tracking device on one of his dorsal plates between his doorwings where he could not get to it."
Ironhide's blink was audible. "That's a highly sensitive area on a Praxian frame."
"I know." Ratchet nodded. "Doubtless he is in constant discomfort because of it. He also deleted the timed deactivation sequence in the tracer program before it was installed in his systems. He said it was 'safer' for us and that I could just manually remove it when we decided we could trust him."
Ironhide stared dumbly at the CMO for a long moment then turned his gaze back to the monitor.
Optimus' expression was more controlled than his bodyguard, though shock was still evident in his optics. After a long moment the Prime found his voice again. "That is an unprecedented risk. Why would he trust us to that extent?"
Ratchet shook his helm, the gesture echoed by Jazz, and motioned with one finger towards the Praxian on the screen. "I don't think trust has anything to do with it. He is very aware of his position and of how he is regarded by Autobots. He claimed it was a fair exchange of risk."
It was clear by the Prime's expression that Optimus was taking in all they had said. Then he slowly shifted his gaze to Ironhide. "How has he progressed in his initial evaluations?"
From stunned disbelief, Ironhide's expression morphed swiftly to frustrated and somewhat irritated. He growled, "The fragging tactician is brilliant. No matter how complicated the scenario, he finds a solution and manages to eek out a victory of some kind, even if it is just making sure as many of the 'Bots under his command make it out alive as possible. No wonder we were struggling so hard and getting our afts kicked!"
Then the black mech's armor flared and he slouched slightly in his chair. "Only had one incident where he failed the ethical component of the test. On the first day he fired at a 'Con holding a Neutral hostage with less than an eighty percent chance of missing the Neutral. I came down on him really hard: I, uh, backed him up against a wall and chewed him out like I do the Twins when they've done something stupid."
Jazz leaned forward, optics flashing under his visor, one clawed hand splayed on the table. "Oh? And how'd he take that?"
Everyone there knew most Decepticons would have responded in one of two ways. Some, like Starscream, would have attempted to extract themselves from danger by mewling pathetically and groveling. Others, most of them in fact, would have attempted to throw Ironhide off of them. From all his previous observations of the mech, Jazz doubted Prowl had been violent, but he seriously doubted he had taken the 'groveling' option either. That left him truly curious as to what had happened.
Ironhide seemed to deflate as a long sigh of air gusted through his vents. "Take a look for yourselves."
The bulky mech reached up and adjusted the output of his optics to project a miniaturized hologram showing Prowl as seen from Ironhide's perspective. They all watched as a massive black arm struck the smaller frame, sending the black and white Praxian into a wall and then pin him to it.
They saw those shrewd, calculating red optics blaze with indignation and anger as he hit the wall of the training room. Ratchet was not alone as he winced at seeing those sensitive doorwings grinding against the unforgiving surface.
Then the anger left the former 'Con's frame as obvious confusion took its place. They saw Prowl wince as he was pushed harder into the wall. "That was when I threatened to kill him for treason if he ever did something like that for real." Ironhide narrated.
Instead of growling in anger or taking that as a challenge, those ruby optics remained absolutely calm, a touch curiousity and then gradually more evaluating. Then the smaller frame suddenly became tense, though he blinked three times in rapid succession. Jazz sat straighter in his chair, followed closely by Ratchet.
As if aware of their silent anticipation, something remarkable happened. It was not a blatant display of emotion, but it was obvious that every last dreg of defensiveness or fight just bled out of the Praxian as echoes of an ineffable pain whispered across his features.
Then the piercing gaze was turned away, optics shuttering for a brief moment before focusing back on Ironhide. Instead of narrating, Ironhide let the Praxian speak for himself.
"Your correction is… appreciated, Ironhide. It is my hope you will continue to correct my behavior as necessary." It was said with perfect calmness, but for the saboteur and CMO – both of whom had been inside the former Decepticon's mind – it hinted at nuances of several intense emotions bubbling under the stoic mech's control. Hope. Despair. Pain. And, beneath it all, that impressive, undercurrent of determination.
The hologram cut off, leaving the leading Autobots to stare at the now empty space above the conference table. They were just as stunned as Ironhide had been at the time.
Prime regained himself first, looking at Ironhide. "Was it necessary to correct him again?"
"No." Ironhide shook his helm definitively. "Prime, he made it all the way to simulation Sigma Gamma Delta Five of the command series, and Theta Kappa Twenty of the tactical evaluation series. That one didn't even pose a challenge for him."
Considering whom they were discussing, no one was truly surprised that he had blown through the tactical evaluation tests. Ratchet was the first one to voice the obvious question. "Prowl completed all of the simulations testing potential command capability and aptitude… successfully?"
"Yes." Ironhide nodded and then focused intently on the Prime. "Optimus, he has the skills and the spark to command armies and to win. And to do so within ethical guidelines. I swear, it seemed like the more complex the scenario the better he functioned. That was for tactical as well as command and combined situations."
Optimus nodded slowly, his gaze falling back on the monitor where Prowl was once again seated at the desk in his quarters, reviewing the datapad Jazz had left with him nearly a decaorn previously. His appearance screamed 'emotionless Decepticon warrior' but all the reports were confirming what the Prime had felt from the Matrix the first time he had seen Prowl in the hanger bay. There was definitely more to the tactician than met the optic.
Without taking his gaze off the subject of their deliberation, Optimus spoke softly. "How did he do on Sigma Gamma Delta Five? Which choice did he make?"
The question was asked calmly and Ironhide released another long vent of air. "He made the one he considered the most logical." He paused to look at the monitor as well. "He sacrificed himself."
Optimus' gaze snapped to his Weapons Specialist.
Ironhide returned his Prime's stare, some ill-defined emotion roughing his voice. "Yes. He made the same fragged choice you did, Optimus. And, afterward, he gave me a rundown on all the statistical slag why it was the best choice because saving you at the cost of the army would destroy the Autobots and our cause. Likewise, loosing you would ultimately do the same fragging thing."
A large metal fist landed on the table, denting it's surface. "He even admitted there was a very low probability that we'd even try to save him as it stands now. And, I know we can't trust his word or anything yet, but he also said he would've made the same choice for real."
A strained silence descended over the conference table as each mech present processed, not just Ironhide's words but also the burning intensity with which they had been said. Was it possible? Could they trust what the initial evaluations showed? Should they take that chance?
If there was one thing war was quick to teach those who participated in it, it was that if something seemed too good to be true, it was usually a Decepticon trap. The second thing war taught someone was that trusting the enemy too quickly was a fast way to end up offline and in the Well of Allsparks. The very possibility that Prowl could turn out to be that much of an asset was almost intoxicating… and was enough to garner even more caution. None of the four mechs was immune to the conflict.
"He'll be scanned after his first mission." Ratchet intoned into the heavy silence. "That's according to the protocol for a defector's integration. We can check the veracity of that claim then."
Optimus nodded regally, though not completely without emotion. "Yes. If it is true… Prowl may prove to be one of the best things that has happened to the Autobot cause in a long time."
"If." Jazz reminded them tightly. Then, drumming his claws on the table he glanced at each of the other three mechs, settling back on Prime. "He's passed every test we've given him so far – official and unofficial. Don't that mean its time ta move on ta stage two?"
Optimus nodded. "Indeed." He looked at the mech orchestrating this part of the Decepticon defector's integration. "Ironhide, have you found a patrol team willing to allow Prowl to accompany them?"
Ironhide grimaced. "Only one."
Whew. I know, I know, I said not to get used to the longer chapters. I really didn't think this one was going to be as long as it was. Oh, well. I guess no one is really complaining, right?
Anyway, this was mostly a transition chapter, and I know lil' Bluestreak didn't play such a prominent role this time. Hang in there, Blue will be in and out of the spotlight so he isn't going anywhere.
Any guesses as to who is going to let Prowl go out on patrol with them?
As always, please review…
