Ratchet was in a total fury, his tirade already in full swing by the time Prowl was escorted into the med bay, which was impressive considering the former Decepticon was only a handful of meters behind the Twins, Hound and Springer. He had heard of the rumors concerning the Autobot CMO, rumors that had even Starscream unwilling to get on the medic's bad side.

Unfortunately, this confirmation of those rumors did not lend the tactician any hope as to his own personal future at the said medic's hands.

His two escorts stationed him and themselves to one side, out of the way, as the four Autotbots were reclined on med berths, either under their own power or with assistance.

Leaving the three less damaged soldiers to his junior medics, Ratchet worked on Sunstreaker, cussing and ranting the whole time with a vehemence that would blister even a hardened frontliner's audios. Prowl was left to wait, which was fine with him as his damage was only on a par with what he had gotten during the attack on Praxus.

Praxus…

Prowl shuttered his optics and focused on the physical pain gracing his frame to distract himself from that open emotional wound. His very existence was still too tenuous to allow him to deal with extreme emotions.

He watched with enforced calmness as Ratchet finished stabilizing the golden Twin. The CMO then took a quick tour around the other berths, checking on the mechs occupying them and on his subordinates' work. Once satisfied, sharp cerulean optics locked unwaveringly onto Prowl.

Prowl stiffened as the medic made a beeline for him, noticing that his two escorts discretely stepped away, if not out of the danger zone, at least closer to its perimeter. However his guards stiffened in turn when Prowl moved even the slightest which forcibly reminded Prowl he had very little leeway.

It was by sheer force of will that Prowl did not flinch or protest when rough hands jerked him forward, the larger mech literally lifting him off the ground to all but slam him onto a med berth.

Prowl did not move as sensory energy itched over his frame, unable to take his optics off the medic's furious snarl.

Then Ratchet's optics widened as he took in the damage that had been dealt to the former Decepticon. While not as severe as the other's - it was roughly as bad as what Springer had suffered - plus the added agony inherent in any doorwing injury. It was enough to show that the defector had actually fought alongside the others.

"I am ready, Medic." Prowl said softly but with subdued steel to his voice that was more prominent than usual.

Ratchet blinked at the low, softly spoken words and refocused on the 'patient' still sitting motionlessly in his grip. Red optics turned up slightly to meet his own before falling again.

Ratchet felt a flash of indignation and he growled. "For what? Sunstreaker is my priority here. Not you."

Doorwings flicked slightly, hinting at intense discomfort but never did Prowl attempt to get out of the CMO's grip. "You stipulated I sustain damage of at least fifty-percent that of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. You also outlined very clearly what the consequences would be if I failed to meet that requirement. I estimate my damages are only roughly thirty-percent Sideswipe's and twenty-three-percent Sunstreaker's." He paused for an anstrosecond. "Unless I miscalculated. What is the damage assessment on Sunstreaker?"

Ratchet, optic's wide, answered without thinking. "His right arm is slag and will need replacement from the elbow down. Most of his abdominal plating is burned clear through and I'll need to rebuild his pelvic complex."

Prowl's optics shuttered briefly before he met Ratchet's gaze again. "Then my damage is only eighteen-percent his. I gave you my word I would submit to your salvage efforts if I did not meet your expectations."

And pit, but it was burning his chassis to be all but a slave to his ethical subroutines.

Ratchet was blinking at him in something that looked like shock. "I…"

Prowl grimaced, ignoring the stares his two guards were giving him. If he had no way out of what was coming, he wanted it done as quickly as possible, even if only to salvage what he could of his pride. "I have disconnected primary neural sensory wires to my exo-frame, including my doorwings. You may begin to…"

"No!" The shocked and horrified exclamation from the medic interrupted him. "Prowl… I… I didn't mean… Well, I did mean it, but only if you came back and it was clear you just let them take a beating without helping or slag like that."

Prowl blinked in surprise. He remembered no such mitigating clause, then he stiffened as sensory energy brushed over him again; the CMO confirming his earlier statement about disconnecting his neural sensory grid from his exo-frame.

The ex-Decepticon was clearly damaged. Primus only knew how much pain that doorwing was causing even with the neural grid completely disconnected. Yet here the Praxian was, volunteering for an exo-frame harvest? Just because he had agreed to accept a clearly out of bounds punishment?

Yes, Ratchet remembered the threat, knew he had threatened exactly that. But he had had no real intention of following through with it. Unless, of course, it was clear the former Decepticon had double-crossed them. Then, and only then, would he have done so, and in a sparkbeat.

Ratchet lifted a hand to the smaller mech's shoulder to offer reassurance, but hesitated when anxiousness, perhaps even fear, flashed through red optics. Even so, the Praxian never twitched.

When the hand was friendly, not tearing or prying, those ruby optics widened slightly. Ratchet nodded, confirming Prowl's realization he was not in immediate danger. "While no longer life-threatening, Sunstreaker's condition is serious. Your repairs will have to wait."

Prowl blinked again, doorwings twitching stiffly, then he nodded. "Of course. I understand…. Thank you, Ratchet."

Ratchet smiled ever so slightly, even more briefly, a flicker of understanding and sympathy that surprised the tactician further. Then he straightened, his optics adopting that slightly unfocused look of a mech speaking over his internal comm..

Prowl waited patiently for the medic to finish his conversation and did his best not to react visibly when those bright blue optics finally focused back on him. "Prime wants to see you."

Ratchet looked at his two escorts, then at Prowl, then back to the heavily armored warriors. "I've got it from here, mechs. Dismissed."

The two glanced at each other then one nodded. "Yes, sir."

Within moments both were gone, but Prowl could not relax, especially when Ratchet pinned him with a hard look. "Don't move."

Prowl did not move. He watched, nothing but his optics flicking back and forth in order to follow the CMO as he again moved among his subordinates, assigning tasks and establishing treatment priorities. Sunstreaker was settled into a medical stasis so that his condition would not degrade until Ratchet could return.

Soon enough, perhaps too soon, Ratchet was standing in front of Prowl once again. "Come with me."

Then the medic was moving. Without giving himself the opportunity to think about what might lie in his immediate future, Prowl followed. Silently, Prowl stayed a respectful distance behind Ratchet as he was led through the base, not to the brig where he was half expecting to be taken, but to the operational command deck. Eventually, Ratchet entered a briefing room.

Prowl's vents stalled for just an astrosecond before he stepped fully across the threshold. Optimus Prime was not alone, accompanying him were Jazz, Ironhide, Smokescreen, Ultra Magnus, Red Alert, Blaster and Hardstrike. As Hardstrike was not on the command team, Prowl assumed he was there to be debriefed as well.

The table was solid and well constructed and was, oddly enough, circular in shape. That one, doubtlessly insignificant detail, startled Prowl enough to make him notice it, as Megatron would never have utilized such a table simply because it served to equalize all who sat at it. Upon second thought, Prowl realized it actually made sense in that it also ensured that every mech seated at it would have a clear view of everyone else.

Satisfied and thus dismissing the trivial observation, Prowl looked toward the Prime only to be pointed to one of two empty chairs, one that had enough space on either side to separate its occupant from the others at the table.

"Sit." Prime's deep voice filled the chamber and left no room for argument or even hesitation.

Silently, not letting his sudden tension show, Prowl crossed to the chair and did as ordered. Prime nodded to Jazz, sitting three mechs to Prowl's right, and Prowl felt the chair magnetize, locking him to it. He stiffened subtly, doorwings flaring half a centimeter but no more before he caught himself. This was not a brig, but clearly he was still under suspicion.

Prowl looked at the Prime and nodded ever so slightly, acknowledging his assigned place, his doorwings dipping slightly into a properly submissive stance.

Optimus considered him even more closely then, optics narrowing, carefully looking him over. The large cobalt and crimson mech clearly noted the more obvious injuries Prowl had suffered. Then his gaze shifted to Ratchet with hints of something Prowl almost wanted to call anger flicking across blazing azure optics.

"Why has he not been repaired?" He demanded of his CMO.

Ratchet grimaced. "Necessity." He answered simply and without apology, apparently unperturbed by his leader's irritation; which surprised Prowl anew. Ratchet continued, "There were others far more injured who required immediate interventions. He will survive."

Prime took an astrosecond to consider that then looked back at Prowl. "My apologies, Prowl, I was unaware you had sustained such damages."

A hard look was cast at Hardstrike who, unlike the CMO, ducked his head with an appropriate amount of chagrin.

Prowl, for his part, acknowledged the Prime's statement. "I have lived with worse, sir. And there were others who were in much more need of aid. I am content to wait until their injuries have been seen to."

Prime considered him for a long moment then nodded. "I believe you know why you are here?" Prowl indicated he did. "Please, tell us what happened during your patrol."

Drawing in a full system of air, Prowl did as he was asked. He was precise and succinct but careful to maintain an entirely professional manner. Though he noted how his repeated warnings were dismissed, he did not reveal the constant harassment and teasing the Twins had indulged in simply because, as far as he was concerned it was not truly relevant.

In the interest of full disclosure, he had been careful to include such details as how long the Twins had taken fire before he arrived on the scene of the ambush, as well as the fact that he did not know how long they had been under fire in their hiding place before he had arrived.

Even so, no sooner had the sound of his voice faded into silence than Hardstrike sneered. "He is a Decepticon. He would say anything to get his way."

Prowl stiffened at the accusation, looking down. He was about to quietly accept the verbal barb, understanding where Hardstrike came from. But something stirred, both in his processor and his spark. Silent acceptance had been all he had done since he had been brought to Iacon in an attempt to show he was not a threat. Suddenly it was not enough.

He looked up, something in his gaze drawing everyone's attention though he looked nowhere but at the Prime. "Scan my processor to confirm my statements."

It was the closest he could let himself come to begging.

It was enough to stun every Autobot in the room. They looked at each other for a long moment before Optimus recovered enough to speak.

"That is a generous offer, Prowl. But you should know that it is protocol for all defectors to have their processors scanned following their first mission. That scan is going to happen anyway. Thank you for volunteering, however." A regal nod was sent his direction.

Prowl was still stiff but returned the gesture respectfully.

Optimus looked between his CMO and head of Special Operations. "Ratchet? Jazz?"

Ratchet released a vent and stood. "Alright, Prowl. Come with us back to the med bay and…"

"Excuse me." Prowl politely interrupted the medic. "Is it not true that the data you retrieve from my processor will be shared with those in this room?"

It was a humiliating question to ask, but the medic's nod confirmed its validity. Prowl frowned slightly. "Then why not perform the scan here?"

Ratchet's optics widened. "Well, for one, privacy…"

"Privacy is a non issue." Prowl nodded toward Jazz. "As I have been reminded, I am a prisoner of war. One with limited parole liberties, but a prisoner all the same. It is more efficient to just run the scan now."

Ratchet frowned, clearly unhappy and suspicious to a degree Prowl could not at first understand. "Efficient? For who? The equipment to allow for active back up is in the med bay. Without it, Jazz will have to do the scan completely alone."

Prowl's confused frown mirrored the CMO's borderline accusatory one. "An activity he has already performed. As have you. Why is it now considered an unacceptable risk?"

Ratchet's look actually darkened and Prowl felt a flicker of fear but stamped it down. The CMO started to answer but the Prime cut him off.

"Our experience has proven that many mechs in your position have chosen to attempt attacking the one performing the scan at this juncture. For whatever reason, it has happened before." The Prime was looking at him closely and Prowl again felt that impulse to simply trust the other mech. "Not to mention, the… circumstances following the conclusion of your first mission are far more suspicious than most and to that your abilities and it is even more imperative that we not take chances."

There was no apology in the Prime's voice and, strangely enough, Prowl found a vague sense of comfort in that. It was the knowledge that the Prime believed firmly that his decision was right and that he would not waver simply based on a well-spoken argument. Even if the action they feared he might take was illogical for him to attempt.

It was easy for Prowl to respect a leader such as that, even if that decision went against him personally.

Prowl nodded once, a surprising amount of deference in that one, simple gesture, though everything else about the mech remained impassive. "I see. As you wish then."

Red optics came back up to meet the Prime's. "If I may however, for the record?"

Optimus blinked, and he was not the only one. It was clear to all of them, even those who had not been privy to the details of Prowl's evaluations to that point, that Prowl was no typical junior-level or grunt defector: he spoke and acted like an upper level commander. After a moment the Prime indicated for the Praxian to continue.

Prowl's gaze never wavered from the Prime's as if willing his words to be believed, though outwardly he maintained a charade of cool unaffectedness. "I volunteered for this processor scan before I knew it would be required. Regardless, I already agreed to the terms of my parole and integration within Autobot forces, which stipulated processor scans at your discretion. That alone is reason enough for me to submit without objection. Though I understand the apparent necessity of strict precautions, for what it is worth, I give you my word that they are not necessary."

His words echoed into silence as they all stared at him. Then Ratchet cleared his vents and pointed toward the door. However, Jazz never released the magnetic field holding Prowl to the chair. When medic and tactician looked at the saboteur, Jazz shook his helm, considering Prowl with thoughtful optics.

After a moment, Jazz spoke. "I'm willing ta take tha risk." When the others started to protest, he held up a clawed hand. "Ratchet is here an' can slap 'im into stasis lock if needed."

Prowl managed to keep his own surprise off his faceplate as Jazz gave him a none-to-pleasant smirk. "Of course, don't expect me ta make it easy for ya to do anythin', even if ya wanted to."

Despite himself, Prowl found a tiny, barely there, answering smirk form on his own lip plates. "I am fully aware of what you are capable of, Jazz. I do not expect you to take unnecessary risks."

Jazz stood and, even though Prowl logically knew better, the very movement was intimidating. With a quiet ex-vent, Prowl lifted his hands to place them on the table, wrists crossed, in clear view of all. It was as much a statement that he was not going to fight Jazz, as it was an unintentional reminder that this time he was not cuffed.

As Jazz drew closer, Prowl quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to be seen as inadvertently challenging the saboteur. He also slid aside the panel covering his dataport; one more reminder to those in the briefing room that he was doing this willingly.

Mirroring the same approach he had used in the cell, a silver and black hand was braced against the tactician's damaged shoulder as Jazz slid his cable into Prowl's port.

Though he was braced for the sensation, Jazz's presence fell against him like a battering ram. The Praxian cringed as, unlike during his initial interrogation, Jazz did not pause to evaluate the firewalls. Instead, Jazz hit those firewalls in a full out attack, not letting up. Prowl kept himself from snarling in irritated surprise, understanding what Jazz had meant when the silver minibot had warned he would not make it easy on him.

Very well, if that was how Jazz wanted to approach this scan, there was nothing Prowl could do to change it. He had given his word. It took an act of will to gather his own focus enough to obediently lower his firewalls.

As expected, once the barrier was down Jazz struck with the same ruthless efficiency Prowl had faced during his interrogation. This time, however, Jazz did not limit himself to technical data. Personal files, emotions and motivational files were accessed as well.

As he had promised, according to the terms of his parole, Prowl made no attempt to protect or shield any file, memory or thought. He pushed aside the embarrassment and humiliation of the situation with his own brand of ruthless resolve even though he could not keep from grimacing slightly.

To his surprise, as soon as Jazz realized he was meeting no resistance whatsoever, the saboteur relaxed his own mental stance. The pain digging into Prowl's processor eased dramatically as Jazz placed his defensive subroutines back into standby mode. Prowl released another vent, this time in mild relief. It did not make the experience any less invasive or humiliating, but it did make it less agonizing.

Then Jazz's presence froze, as if in sheer disbelief. Prowl unshuttered his optics – which had closed at some point – and looked at the saboteur in question. Then he 'looked' at the file Jazz had just finished perusing. It was the memory and related files pertaining to what had happened between him and Ratchet in the med bay. The tactician could feel Jazz's surprise at what he discovered. Then those piercing blue optics shifted from him to the CMO.

Ratchet, apparently unaware of what the look was for, spoke quietly. "Don't forget the scenario we wanted confirmed."

Jazz nodded sharply and looked back at Prowl. Prowl tensed imperceptibly, waiting for the head of Autobot Special Operations to strike again, in search of whatever the medic was referring to.

Instead the Autobot spoke. "Right. I want your memories concerning the last simulation Ironhide put you through."

Blinking in surprise of his own, even though he did not fully understand the significance, Prowl hastened to highlight the path to the requested files. He could not deny the Autobot's legal right to ask for whatever he wished. That was the term of his parole. In reality, Prowl was surprised he had been asked rather than the files just accessed.

As if sensing that fleeting thought – which he probably had – Jazz suddenly dove back into his processors. Prowl grimaced, caught off guard, but did not dare resist the invasion. It took a moment, but he was quickly able to identify what Jazz was looking for: anything having to do with Bluestreak.

With that understanding, not expecting it to do any good or to even be acknowledged, Prowl highlighted all relevant files. Jazz froze again, but only momentarily, glancing at Prowl. But the Praxian had shuttered his optics once again; the clear discomfort Jazz knew the tactician to be in not reflected greatly in his external demeanor.

Jazz quickly, but gently retrieved data from only a handful of the new files Prowl had highlighted and then was gone.

Prowl could not help himself. As the Saboteur retrieved his cord, the tactician leaned forward slightly, resting his weight on his forearms as his vents heaved in response, trying to cool systems stressed from the painful mental intrusion. The Autobots gave him time to recover, a kindness Prowl did not expect.

The moment of weakness did not last long, a handful of astroseconds at most, before he straightened. His tanks still churning in new humiliation however, Prowl did not otherwise move, nor did he lift his gaze as the collection of leading Autobots continued to regard him in an almost awkward silence.

Each of the observing mechs were well aware of Jazz's skill in the realm of processor hacking. They also knew how uncomfortable such a hack inevitably was. The scan they had just watched had taken place in less than a breem, which could only mean three things. 1) Prowl had not resisted. 2) Jazz had gone full force and full speed. 3) It had to have been almost excruciating for Prowl.

The silence was just beginning to grow nearly untenable for Prowl when Jazz quietly broke it, an indefinable tension to his usually smooth voice. "Was that what ya were expecting?"

Though his systems were cooling, Prowl's response was equally soft. "Close enough it was not a surprise."

Several sets of optics blinked audibly. Then the Prime spoke, his deep baritone voice managing to flow soothingly over Prowl while simultaneously remaining cool and commanding. "Jazz, report."

Prowl suppressed a shudder – he had known the information would be shared with the mechs in the room; just because it was going to be done in front of him changed nothing – as Jazz glanced at him before doing as ordered. "What he reported is true. The Twins ignored multiple warnings to avoid potential ambush sites or even to approach with caution. He did call for back up when appropriate. Said backup also disregarded warnings that their chosen hideout would be overrun before additional help could arrive. His motives were exactly as he stated them and he did retrieve the needed intel."

Smokescreen sneered. "And how did he do that? Walk up to his buddies and ask nicely?"

Jazz's visored gaze snapped to the other Praxian. Prowl stiffened at the accusation but had not been addressed and so he remained silent, waiting for Jazz to answer. "He hacked into one of the 'Cons who attempted to ambush them. He has also already run a tactical analysis on the data he retrieved. Actually, he had that done before Hardstrike even recovered them."

Optimus frowned. "Why is this the first time we are hearing of it?"

Jazz grimaced only slightly, though a certain level of unhappiness all but radiated from him. "He reported his findings to Hound. Beyond that, and based on Hound's reaction as well as everything else that had transpired since, he concluded that his tactical conclusions were unwanted and not trusted."

In the uneasy silence that followed, Ultra Magnus spoke for the first time in this meeting. His voice was not quite as deep as Optimus, nor did it have the same undercurrent of power and authority. "He was right about the other things."

"Indeed." Optimus spoke quietly, looking from Prowl to Jazz. "Anything else Jazz?"

Jazz cast a pointed look at Prowl before turning back to his leader. "Nothin' that needs ta be discussed at this moment. While he may have neglected ta mention some of what happened, everything he did say was completely true."

Silence filled the conference room as all optics focused back on Prowl. After the silence had settled, Optimus thoughtfully addressed the former Decepticon. "Prowl."

In the expectant pause, the tactician forced himself to meet the Prime's gaze. Only then did Optimus continue. "Are you able to find your way back to the med bay?"

The question was unexpected but Prowl gave no hint to his own thoughts as he answered. "Yes, sir."

It was clear to all that Prowl had followed the discussion but he never reacted in any way to being discussed as if he was not present. It made all of them a little uneasy, especially in light of his polite answer.

"Then do so." Optimus' firm tone was all the command Prowl needed. The tactician straightened respectfully, waiting for Optimus to finish. It was a reaction all of them saw. "You will stay there until you can be seen to by a medic and then you will return to your quarters unless given orders to do otherwise."

The magnetic field holding him to the chair released with a low buzz. Prowl stood, his doorwings dipping in a movement of clear deference. "Understood, sir. I will comply."

Then he turned and all optics watched his progress until the door hissed shut behind him.

"What did you not want to say with him around?" Optimus' question brought everyone's attention back to Jazz.

Jazz sagged into his chair, releasing a hard vent. He shook his helm clearly uneasy. "He didn't fight me, Prime. At all. I synched with 'im in full assault mode and while his instinctive defenses were activated, he still intentionally lowered his firewalls for me."

Every mech at the table winced at that announcement. But Jazz was not finished. The hand he had on the table curled into a fist. "He did it 'cause in his mind he had no fragging choice. He had agreed ta submit ta the processor scan and that meant lowerin' his firewalls, which he did."

With a weary ex-vent, Jazz rubbed his faceplate with one hand. Then he looked at Ratchet, his blazing gaze making the medic sit slightly straighter. "He was serious, Ratchet. Dead serious."

The others buzzed quietly in puzzlement, but Ratchet only blinked. Then he nodded, spurring Jazz to continue. "He came ta tha med bay expectin' ta be stripped ta his protoform and he was honestly cooperatin' 'cause he had given his word ta ya ta do so."

Ratchet had gone stiff as the saboteur continued.

Optimus turned to his CMO. "Explain."

The order was curt. Ratchet sighed and took up the explanation as all optics turned to him. "When Prowl came to get the locks on his weapons and comm. systems released I threatened that if something happened out there and he wasn't at least half as slagged as the Twins when they came back, I'd… um, strip him of every usable part and dump him in the brig in his bare protoform. It was meant to be a deterrent to setting them up or attempting to avoid combat if they happened to find any"

Ratchet cleared his vents. "As you might've guessed, both were far more slagged than he was."

Everyone else stared at Ratchet until Optimus spoke again. "That is not in accordance with Autobot Protocols, Ratchet."

The touch of disappointment, as well as the truth in the Prime's words was enough to make the fiery CMO bow his helm just a fraction. "I know. I would not have even considered actually following through unless it was obvious he had betrayed them. I did not expect him to take it so literally."

Ironhide grunted. "What about that simulation?"

"What simulation?" Smokescreen asked with curiosity.

Ironhide's engine revved. "During his initial evaluation he made it to the final Command Series simulation.

Smokescreen's optics widened briefly and then a sneer tipped his lip plate. "Did he sacrifice our Prime?"

The other tactician's tone suggested that was what he expected, but Jazz shot him a look. "He sacrificed himself."

Dead silence greeted that, along with stunned staring from those present who had not been aware of that previously, including Smokescreen, Ultra Magnus, Red Alert, Blaster and Hardstrike.

"Was it a ploy? A trick to gain our trust?" Hardstrike ventured after a long moment.

All optics focused back on Jazz. The saboteur shook his helm and looked up at Optimus. "No. He ran the calculations and probable effectiveness of over fifteen different strategies and variations but he knew Megatron's hatred for defectors would make him a temptin' target. He truly believed it ta be the most logical option; the option with the highest likelihood of preservin' both Optimus' life and the highest number of Autobot soldiers."

Jazz released a long sigh of air through his vents. "He calculated only a 32.78% chance he would survive such a move, but chose it anyway. And his comment about a processor wipe protocol… its true. And he woulda done it for real."

Hardstrike was staring. "Wipe his processor or sacrifice himself like that?"

"Both."

More silence, this one longer than before.

Finally Optimus broke it, changing the subject. "What did he not reveal during his debriefing?"

Jazz's fingers tapped the table in irritation. "Apparently tha Twins not only ignored warnings, they were constantly tauntin' and harassin' him. And ya know how Sideswipe can be. They even threatened a couple of times to lie about whatever happened on the patrol to get him in trouble. From what I know of the Twins, I don't believe they woulda done so for real. But Prowl… he took 'em at their word just like he did with Ratch. He wasn't even sure he would survive the patrol."

Ironhide growled. "And what was he planning to do about it?"

"Not a slagging thing." Jazz answered receiving mutters and grumbles from around the table. Jazz shook his helm before looking back at the Prime. "Optimus, he wrote a new moral and ethical code and installed it just prior to his deployment. Nothin' major – basically he took the base program from his enforcer coding and reinstalled it. But he did strengthen its integration matrix an' I mean like nothin' I've seen before. He did it 'cause he realized how far his morals and standards had fallen after joining the 'Cons and wanted ta make sure it never happened again."

His gaze shifted to Ironhide. "He started workin' on it after your little deal when he fired at the neutral hostage. He wanted more time ta work on it, but integrated it before his deployment with the Twins specifically 'cause he knew they would push him and he didn't trust himself."

"What exactly is it doing to him?" Prime asked very softly.

Jazz started to speak, then changed his mind. He glanced around the table and cleared his vents. "With all due respect, Optimus, I don't think the intimate details of how his programmin' works is somethin' Prowl would want bandied about by everyone. I'll give the senior commanders that info, but for now I think we should stick wit' generalities."

Optimus considered that for a moment then nodded. "Quite right, Jazz. Thank you for the reminder." A small gesture with two fingers indicated Jazz was to continue.

Jazz released another vent. "In short, it was why he volunteered to put himself under Ratchet's saw and why he cooperated so fully just now. Tha new coding does not let 'im break a promise to those who his systems see as an ally, especially not one who is a superior officer. It also severely limits his ability to even defend himself from a superior officer, unless said officer betrays the side he has allied himself with."

Optimus' optics were slowly widening. "And… we are considered his allies?"

"Yes."

Hardstrike looked like he had just watched his own hand rust and fall off. "That was why he didn't try to stop me when I found them, and Hound and Springer had their weapons aimed at him?"

Jazz simply nodded, his lip plates in a tense line. "Yep. He had thought you were Decepticons 'cause he couldn't detect faction ID or spark signatures. They told 'im ta stand down. He had just done so when ya arrived. Bad timin', that's all."

That was greeted by more silence, during which Jazz took the opportunity to send each commander the data specifically pertaining to their area. He sent Smokescreen the tactical information he had retrieved. Only to Optimus, Ratchet and Ironhide did he share the details of the modified ethics program.

Ratchet's mood quickly darkened as he read the data. Sensing that, Prime dismissed Ultra Magnus, Red Alert, Blaster, Hardstrike and Smokescreen.

Smokescreen stood along with the others, but he paused, looking at his leader. "Prime… These tactical analysis Prowl developed while in the field…" He grimaced, clearly not wanting to continue. "No wonder we had such a hard time. As much as I'm still mad at the mech and don't want to admit it… he truly is very good at what he does. One of the best."

Optimus looked up at his chief tactical officer, taking in the mostly gray Praxian's demeanor. Then he nodded. Smokescreen returned the gesture and left.

No sooner had the door closed on Smokescreen's tailpipe than the steadily building thunderstorm that was Ratchet finally exploded. "The fragging glitch! There is no telling what kind of instabilities he has introduced to his primary neural cortexes. I warned him… I warned him and, and, and the slagging scrap heap will learn his lesson!"

"Worse than an exo-frame harvest?" Ironhide asked, an optic ridge quirked.

"Maybe." Ratchet growled darkly.

"I'm sure he would not have taken such drastic steps, had he not deemed them necessary." Optimus reminded them. "Before you punish him too greatly, try to remember that, where he has come from, medics are not trusted, especially with such delicate work because they would be just as likely to reprogram to their own liking as to assist with requested alterations."

Ratchet opened his mouth to retort then closed it again. After a moment he nodded, standing. "I'll keep that in mind. It doesn't mean I'll change my mind about it though. If you'll excuse me, Sunstreaker still has several joors worth of extensive surgeries ahead just to bring him back from critical condition."

With that the CMO was gone, leaving Jazz, Ironhide and Optimus sitting around a table meant for several times their number.

"This could be a security disaster, if he is ever captured…" Ironhide began.

"He hard coded silence as the only option when the truth is not something that should be said." Optimus corrected, mentally examining the coding Jazz had sent. "So long as he considers us his allies, that tracer program is actually redundant. This new ethical coding will keep him on a much tighter leash. It's a tighter leash than we could ever apply."

He fell silent, engine rumbling softly as he carefully considered all the implications of what they had just learned about their new, resident former Decepticon. "Always tell the truth…" Optimus had warned Prowl…no matter the consequences. Prowl had gone beyond that and had made it impossible for him to do anything else. While Optimus could understand the courage and commitment it had required to take that step, he was still disturbed by the method Prowl had employed. He had all but made himself a slave to his own programming.

The freedom to choose was the right of all sentient beings. While Optimus tried to tell himself Prowl had chosen to surrender that right, it was still wrong that the tactician had felt the need to do so, forever altering his future. Never in a million vorns would Optimus ever even consider asking any Cybertronian to take such a step.

He could only hope that Prowl would not grow to resent having done so and thereby grow to resent the Autobots as a whole for forcing his hand.


Well, I had not initially intended to stop this one here, but it just got way too long, so I had to break it in half. Don't worry, the next chapter *should* be up relatively quickly. Unless real life decides to throw slag in my face. Anyway, I hope all of you enjoyed this and that you will take the time to tell me, one way or another. :)