Alright, my friends. I want to thank everyone for your kind support of this story, especially if you are still with me after such a long delay in getting this posted. I have good news and bad news.
Bad news: Yes, it has actually taken me 3 months to get this one ready, and unfortunately I have not even taken the time to do anything but a brief edit of it. The only reason I have not devoted more time to the editing process was because it has actually been sitting on my computer for a month waiting for me to do the little bit of editing I have been able to do. I have, for the last three months, quite literally only had 1-2 hours (or less) every other weekend to work on this story. I sorta kinda made the judgement call that you guys would prefer to have the story sooner rather than later, even if there are grammatical errors, seeing as it would probably be another month or two if I waited to go through my usual editing regimen. If that was a strategic error and you would prefer I take that time in the future, feel free to let me know, just know it will even further delay updates in the future because the $%*& RL schedule that has led to this delay will not change for the foreseeable future.
Now.
The GOOD NEWS: If everyone is still out there and still interested in reading and reviewing this story, I am convinced that it will reach 1,500 reviews with this chapter. Thus, in appreciation for your support and dedication as readers - without whom I would have no reason to write - I wish to offer in reward for whoever writes the 1,500th review the privilege of selecting the topic for the next one-shot spin-off of Turning Points. Rules: No slash, nothing not in keeping with the story or characters therein... though I might consider a spoiler... maybe. Heck, if you just have a burning desire/idea in the transformer universe you'd like to see, I'll even consider that too (still no slash or crackish stuff). If you want to be able to discuss your idea and help me refine it if necessary and such, please be signed in... if you aren't, I'll do what I can with what you give me.
Alright, enough talk...
Bluestreak looked up at Prowl, an unsettling mixture of hard to define emotions flicking through his processor and spark too fast for him to follow. He had looked forward to getting to spend the night with his guardian, especially after he had learned about the hardships the older Praxian had endured. It was bad enough that he fretted over Prowl's absence whenever he was away, but the thought that he would be deprived of Prowl's comforting presence even when he was on the base…
"I am sorry, Bluestreak." Prowl said quietly, the regret in his optics was real and probably very deep.
Bluestreak forced himself to nod, pulling in a long vent of air. "I know. You have your duties. I… it's just that… I…" Bluestreak shuttered his optics briefly before opening them. They fell onto the new rank etchings on Prowl's collar strut and he could not stop the pride that swelled within him.
Young blue optics flicked up to search his guardian's "But, if you are the highest ranking mech in your department now, doesn't that mean you get to do what you want? Can't you take the time off and have others do the work?"
Not that he expected any different, but the solemn shake of the red-chevroned helmed still felt like a stab into his spark. "I am sorry, Bluestreak. But the higher rank I am given, more responsibilities are also given to me and the more demanding my duty becomes. Unfortunately it means I will not get to spend as much time with you as we would both prefer."
"Then I wish you didn't have any rank again. We had lots of time together then." He trembled and a weak keen escaped his engine.
Prowl did not say anything to that, he merely knelt and drew Bluestreak closer, holding him gently. It was awkward for the tactician, but it was what the youngling needed and he collapsed into the strong arms holding him and sobbed, his engine hiccupping. It was only as he got his systems better under control that he consciously noticed the gentle croon coming from Prowl's engine.
For some reason it did not even surprise Bluestreak that Prowl was not upset with him that he wished he would be demoted.
"I shouldn't have said that." He murmured into Prowl's chassis.
"You were truthful." Prowl replied and Bluestreak was sure he detected a hint of approval in his guardian's voice. He had no way of knowing that Prowl was glad his charge had the courage to be completely honest and that he was maturing enough to realize how inappropriate voicing such a sentiment was.
"Still… I meant it, I still do…"
"You don't mean it." Chromia said softly from where she had been all but forgotten in the doorway of her and Ironhide's quarters. "Not really. You just don't want to loose more time with him."
"I…" Bluestreak drew back from his guardian and cocked his helm as he thought. "I guess that might be right."
"Besides," Chromia shot Prowl a pointedly sharp look. "It isn't like Prowl's normal duties carry him into a war zone, not all the time. And now that he has his own office, there is no reason you cannot join him there from time to time. Is there?"
Bluestreak was staring at the blue femme and did not see the way Prowl frowned minutely. Behind him, Prowl started to speak but Chromia cut him off.
"I don't mean right away. Let things settle down in the department, let mechs get used to the change in command but…" Her optics narrowed almost threateningly. "There is no reason something can't be worked out, especially since that is where you will be spending most of your time now. No. Reason. At. All."
Prowl might have objected, but he was wise enough to stifle any immediate words of refusal as he felt the full weight of Chromia's attention. Then Bluestreak looked up at him with optics bright with hope and he felt his resistance soften just a little.
"Perhaps." Prowl allowed.
Relief caused little doorwings to sag a moment before the youngling leapt at him and scampered up his frame to latch onto his armor. "I'll be good, I will. I won't get in your way and I won't keep you from doing your work. I promise."
"In fact," Chromia offered with artificial casualness, "If you can take the mechlings, both of them, from time to time, it will free me up to rejoin the Femme Contingent. Occasionally."
Prowl's optics narrowed but he said nothing as Bluestreak's enthusiasm only grew. "Ooh, Bumblebee will enjoy that. And we can be quiet as we study. Yes, it might even be easier to study in your office than in Bumblebee's quarters because here there are so many fun things to do besides reading that sometimes it can get distracting. But if we are in your office there won't be that much that can distract us. It might even help Bumblebee more than me because…"
"Come, sparklet." Chromia interrupted, tweaking his doorwing gently. "It's past time for you to recharge and we need to let Prowl get back to work for the night." She paused, frowning, then looked at Prowl. "When was the last time you recharged?"
Prowl blinked at the abrupt change in topic, but he knew better than to argue it was not her business when there was genuine concern in her voice and optics. "No more than a joor or two at a time since before we left for Simfur." He said softly.
Her optics widened and she glanced back inside her quarters. "No wonder Ironhide came in and all but fell into stasis." She looked back at him, lip plates pursed thoughtfully. "Should you be doing such important work as exhausted as you must be?"
Prowl studied her for a long moment. "In an ideal world, no. But nothing I will be doing tonight is that strenuous. I appreciate your concern, but I will be fine." Then lower he added. "Besides, I doubt this will be the last all-night session we will be faced with as a department."
"The situation is that bad, then?" Chromia was almost whispering.
Prowl paused, considering how much he could or should tell her. "In many ways. At the very least it is poised to become much worse than we have yet seen."
"I don't like the sound of that." She gingerly took Bluestreak as the youngling allowed himself to be transferred into her arms.
The tactician grimaced, "I fear you will like it even less after the briefing tomorrow."
… … …
Prowl pulled a datapad out of subspace as he walked to the tactical command center and quickly started prioritizing what he had to do. High on the list was talking to Smokescreen about organizing a smooth transition of command – and of course making sure the younger mech was truly doing alright with the reversal of their positions. At the very least, he knew he owed Smokescreen an apology. Best to get that out of the way as early as possible. He was almost entirely focused on his datapad when he walked through the doors.
The absolute silence that greeted Prowl when he stepped into the tactical command center made him halt mid-step. It was not the normal quietness of mechs focused on their work, it was the unnatural stillness of a room braced at attention.
Startled, Prowl glanced around and then looked questioningly at Smokescreen.
The gray and white Praxian smiled. "The tactical division welcomes you back to Iacon, Commander Prowl."
Despite his apprentice's expression, Prowl's brief visual survey of the room had shown that not everyone was as pleased. Prowl released a vent, nodded to Smokescreen and then focused on the room at large.
"At ease everyone," He spoke calmly and mechs' postures relaxed even if no one was truly at ease. "Yes, it is true that the Prime has promoted me to Department Commander. I assure you, I am the same mech you have already been working under. Please continue your assigned duties."
The others quickly went back to work with the exception of Smokescreen. Prowl looked at his apprentice, unspeakably grateful that the younger mech had already seen to the transition of power. In some ways, however, it made his next move more difficult. Prowl met Smokescreen's optics and then looked pointedly at the office…his office now. With a tiny bob of his helm, Smokescreen headed that direction.
Prowl followed closely and gently palmed the door control to shut the porthole behind them. Even once that was done, Prowl did not move to sit behind the desk. Instead, he stared at it for a moment then turned to face Smokescreen – only to find that he was being watched carefully in turn.
Prowl released a vent of air and stepped toward the younger mech. "Smokescreen, please accept my apology. I have no desire to supplant you. You have earned your post as Department Commander."
Smokescreen's optics shuttered briefly and then his armor relaxed, settling over his frame and his expressions softened. "Thank you." The words were gentle with compassion and gratitude then his lip plate quirked upward and he gave a self-depreciating shake of his helm. "You were the Second in Command of the Precinct tactical division before I was even sparked. You are far more qualified for this position than I am."
Prowl started to protest but Smokescreen stepped toward him, putting a hand on his arm. "Prowl, I know you well enough to know you will probably hold having been a Decepticon over yourself for the rest of your existence. But you know as well as I that if you survived a spark scan on the matter, you don't have the right to beat yourself up any more."
For several long seconds, Prowl did not – could not – move. For some reason Smokescreen's words, or perhaps the reminder that his experience in Simfur was known of by others, brought all of it crashing over Prowl again. In the span of only a handful of astroseconds he remembered the probing alien presence of the Priest followed an instant later by the tearing pain of Soundwave's attack and the utter helplessness he had felt as motor control of his frame was stolen from him one line of code at a time.
"It was so close…" Prowl heard himself saying with a shake of his helm. He felt a shudder to pass through his frame, unsure why he would speak of this to Smokescreen when he had allowed no one else to see it – not even Jazz. "The viral attack Ratchet mentioned; it was dormant coding implanted by Soundwave at some point prior to my defection. It was not sleeper programming, rather it was solely designed to over-write motor controls but without the ability to affect core or cognitive functions."
Smokescreen gave a shiver that mirrored Prowl's. "Primus, Prowl… I… I had no idea."
Both mechs fell silent, Prowl looking at the desk while Smokescreen considered his mentor. Knowing Prowl as he did, Smokescreen could see the toll his experiences in Simfur had taken. Likewise, he knew what it was taking for Prowl to 'open up' like that and speak to him about it. He tightened his grip on Prowl's arm, redrawing the older mech's gaze.
"That doesn't make you any less the best mech for this job." Smokescreen was deadly serious as Prowl's optics searched his for any hint of subterfuge. Smokescreen met his mentor's gaze without flinching as he continued, "Look. Despite everything that happened between us, you have my full support. You are the best tactical commander the Autobots could ask for and, as far as I'm concerned, it will be an honor to serve under you again."
For the briefest of moments, Prowl allowed himself to lean just a little into Smokescreen's supporting hand. "Thank you, Smokescreen."
Smokescreen smiled, though it was a more relaxed one than he had worn in the Prime's office. "Now, I bet the Prime wants you to brief the other commanders on the outcome of your recent mission."
"Indeed," Prowl canted a look at Smokescreen. "However, as my second in command and my apprentice, you need to be briefed as well."
Prowl gestured toward the guest seat and Smokescreen slid into it eagerly. Prowl looked at the remaining chair, the one behind the desk, and hesitated before lowering himself into it. Smokescreen was watching him with a distinct smirk dancing in his optics.
Prowl narrowed his own optics, but not in serious reprimand. "This is the situation as it now stands…"
… … …
It did not take Prowl long to detail what had happened in Simfur and the plan he and Jazz had developed for the Allspark's protection and evacuation from Simfur. The younger Praxian's optics grew increasingly wider throughout the explanation. When Prowl had reached the end of his impromptu – yet still customarily concise and thorough – briefing he fell silent and watched his apprentice.
Smokescreen stared at him, his mouth hanging open. Then he closed it, smiling slowly. "That's… ambitious. I like it."
The door entry request chine sounded before Prowl could reply.
Smokescreen started to grant entry then looked at Prowl sheepishly in silent apology as Prowl bade the mech enter. It was Trailbreaker.
Smokescreen looked between his former second in command and his current commander. He could easily read Trailbreaker's expression thanks to long vorns of familiarity and, with a glance at Prowl, quickly took his leave. The gray and white tactician did not ask for permission to leave, but Prowl did not call him on his lapse, recognizing Trailbreaker's expression as easily as Smokescreen had.
Trailbreaker watched Smokescreen leave, his nervousness visibly spiking once he was alone with Prowl; a fact that concerned the Praxian. Wordlessly the newly promoted Senior Commander gestured Trailbreaker to a seat and then watched as the other mech lowered himself down with obvious stiffness.
"Something is on your mind." Prowl observed, his tone gentle though internally he was dreading where this conversation would probably go. Once more he silently wondered how he would be expected to actually get anything accomplished if he was constantly having to deal with doubts as to either his loyalty, character or otherwise. Apparently even from mechs who had already come to know him.
Prowl resisted sighing air through his vents as Trailbreaker failed to calm down. The other mech was looking everywhere but at him.
Very conscious of his new authority and the power that came with it – and having been on the receiving end of abuse of power – Prowl was careful not to do the same. He spoke to what he felt was the spark of the matter, his tone deliberately free of emotion. "My promotion was a rather sudden thing."
Trailbreaker nodded, still too nervous to speak.
"Even though I have been Second in Command of the department for nearly a vorn," Prowl continued. "You, and likely others, are uncomfortable with my being the Department Commander."
Looking down miserably, Trailbreaker nodded again.
Prowl released a vent of air. He was not surprised – had expected this really – but that did not give him any better ideas for handling the situation. He was at a loss, especially considering that he would have thought the headway he had made with Trailbreaker as a teacher should make this easier, at least between the two of them. One thing Prowl did know; he needed to determine how deep the problem ran and how widespread it was. With the way Trailbreaker's field was flickering nervously, he would need to tread carefully.
Prowl spoke quietly, "How many?"
Optics widening, Trailbreaker pressed his lip plates together and hunched forword just enough to telegraph he expected reprimand for his refusal to divulge that information.
"Hmm," Prowl considered him closely. "But you are here to act as their spokesperson."
Trailbreaker nodded again, still not meeting his optics.
Prowl leaned back, deliberately assuming a non-threatening posture. "Speak."
Lip plates parting in an attempt to do exactly that, Trailbreaker cleared his vents and a visible tremor shook his frame. "Um…"
"What have I done to engender such fear?" Prowl asked softly, his own optics wide as his processor cast about trying to figure out why Trailbreaker would be reacting like this. There was no answer from the mech in question and Trailbreaker still would not meet his gaze.
In an instant Prowl was reminded of First Aid, though the comparison was more sparkfelt than logical, and he realized it probably was not anything he had actually done. Rather Trailbreaker's fear was probably related to the sudden nature of the change and his fear of the unknown. Yet the other tactician was also acting overly submissive as if not wanting to risk angering him. If others were equally afraid, it would hinder the unit's effectiveness.
With blazing clarity, Prowl knew that if he could not rectify this situation he would have no choice but to resign from his post, for the sake of the unit and all those who depended on them.
"Trailbreaker, look at me." The order was firm but not harsh.
Trailbreaker stiffened, but Prowl said nothing as the other mech slowly forced his gaze upward. At first the optics that met his were timid and hesitant. However, as Prowl did nothing but continue to hold Trailbreaker's gaze, his own optics calm and confidant but also honest, some of the tensioned eased between them. Trailbreaker's frame gradually relaxed, his posture straightening and his armor flaring a little with relief.
Prowl waited until he saw the other mech's lip plate twitch into the hint of a self-depreciating smile before he nodded in approval. "Now, what are your concerns Trailbreaker?"
"They were foolish, sir. I can see that now." Trailbreaker lifted a hand to gesture dismissively, his field flaring with embarrassment.
"Are you sure?" Prowl asked. "Will your colleagues agree?"
Trailbreaker hesitated then nodded solemnly. "Yes, sir. Well, I mean, there is plenty of evidence that… Uh… Anyway, as the highest ranking mech it was only logical that I…um…" He trailed off, his frame heating.
Understanding hit Prowl like a physical blow and his spark clenched. "As the highest ranking mech you took responsibility of determining potential dangers and intercepting those dangers."
Trailbreaker flinched and looked down with another nodded.
"I see." Prowl paused. "Trailbreaker…"
Prowl waited until Trailbreaker forced himself to look up at him again before continuing. "It is my policy to maintain an open door for such matters, as well as any other issues related to our shared function and purpose. Please assure the rest of the department of this."
A tiny, relieved smile lightened Trailbreaker's countenance. "Yes, sir. By your leave, sir?"
Prowl nodded and watched Trailbreaker move toward the door. In doing so he was reminded of the timid mech who had been afraid to synch with him when he had first been assigned to the tactical division.
"And Trailbreaker?" Prowl called out before the other mech reached the office door.
"Sir?" Trailbreaker looked back, relief still evident in his expression and voice.
"While I respect what you did just now, it is my hope such a thing will not be necessary again." Spoken calmly but with just enough of an edge to make it an order.
Trailbreaker straightened, but thankfully did not loose his newfound confidence in his new commanding officer. "Understood, sir."
… … …
Ultra Magnus was at his place next to Optimus Prime – who had Elita One on his other side – as the other mechs filed into the briefing room. Chromia was one of the first to arrive and silently took her place behind Elita One. Ratchet and First Aid were next, followed closely by Silverbolt and Air Raid then Ironhide and Jazz. Red Alert and Inferno came in a few minutes later followed by Blaster. Smokescreen and Prowl entered right on the communication officer's heel struts. Ultra Magnus could not help but notice that the two tactician's arrival was noticeably earlier than when Smokescreen had been running the department. While it was true that Smokescreen, as a tactician, valued punctuality, Prowl was a great deal more precise in that regard.
The second thing the Commander noticed was that Smokescreen looked more relaxed than he had ever seen the young Praxian. Likewise Prowl conducted himself with more… poise? Confidence? Maybe.
Turning his primary focus away from the two Praxians, Ultra Magnus instead watched the others and their reactions. He was not the only one to notice the slight change in dynamics between the two tacticians. Of course, that dynamic was clearly illustrated in the way that it was Prowl who hesitated a nanosecond before slipping into the chair as Smokescreen stood behind him.
There was an uneasy shifting in some of the mechs at the table, but Prowl did not give any indication that he noticed. Ultra Magnus glanced at Optimus in time to see a smile in the Prime's optics.
"First, as you may have noticed, there has been a change in command within the tactical department." Optimus nodded to the black and white tactician. "Prowl has been elevated to Senior Commander and has assumed leadership of that department."
Stunned silence filled the briefing room for two spark beats before it was broken by the Arialbot commander: "That's is rather… sudden, isn't it?" Silverbolt's armor shifted over his frame.
"Not really," Ironhide answered, his posture deliberately relaxed. "The troops have been hearing his voice on the comms during battle for a while now. It shouldn't be that big of a change. At least not practically."
"I grant that he has fulfilled the responsibilities of Second in Command of the tactical division above reproach, but…" Red Alert began only to be cut off by a flick of the Prime's fingers.
"The decision has been made." Ultra Magnus spoke firmly. He had given his word to support Prowl's elevation, but that did not change the fact he still had his own reservations. "However, I am curious as to how things are going in the tactical department in light of these changes."
All optics darted back to Prowl who cleared his vents. "There were some… concerns… initially, sir. But I believe they have been dealt with."
Ultra Magnus frowned. "What kind of concerns?"
"I am unsure." Prowl's expression mirrored Ultra Magnus', but the Commander noted that there was no hesitation in his answer; no attempt to evade answering the question. "The spokesperson for the concerned parties declined to share the details with me after deciding they were irrelevant."
Ultra Magnus' were not the only optics to widen at that statement and the large blue and silver mech hesitated before continuing. If it were not for Prowl's history he would have been willing to leave it at that, perhaps even share a small chuckle at the irony of the situation. But because Prowl was who he was… he could not in good conscience drop the matter. Just in case.
"How did you manage that?" He asked as evenly as he could.
Unlike his previous answer, Prowl said nothing for a long handful of astroseconds and the mask of impassiveness settled firmly over his features.
Then Prowl's field flickered, his armor settling over his frame just enough to telegraph he was not challenging Ultra Magnus. "With all due respect, sir, what transpired was confidential and internal to my department. As the situation is resolved, I do not see that it needs to be re-hashed here."
Prowl was right, Ultra Magnus knew that. But that did not change the defensive flare of his armor at the resistance. Prowl knew his history, he should know he would be under greater scrutiny, especially since he knew as well as any mech that the Decepticons' methods of 'resolving' situations were generally cruel.
Judging by the tense silence that settled around the table, Ultra Magnus was not the only one with such concerns. He watched as Prowl glanced around, taking in their reactions and he expected the tactician to acquiesce as he had always done in the past.
Instead crystal cobalt optics hardened and his engine gave a soft rev.
"Prowl…" Optimus began, his tone a perfect blend of subtle warning and genuine concern.
"Prime," Prowl's optics flashed as he focused on Optimus. "I understand that with my history there might be some question as to how I might handle such issues. However, if I am not trusted enough to deal with such internal matters within my department without oversight then my promotion to Department Commander is, in fact, premature and Smokescreen should resume that position and responsibility immediately."
The words came as a slap to Ultra Magnus and he did not miss the offer implicit in the tactician's statement. Elita One, however was the one who commented on it.
Her engine purred its own challenge. "You would so easily relinquish such a prestigious position of authority and power?"
Prowl's sharp gaze focused on her and it was still flat and emotionless enough to send a chill through Ultra Magnus' lines. "Any personal authority I might have is meaningless if the effectiveness of the whole suffers." He looked back at the Prime expectantly but not arrogantly.
Admittedly disturbed by Prowl's response, Ultra Magnus could not stop himself from pressing the issue. "How can you be sure the situation is resolved if you never heard the complaints?"
Perhaps a bit discomfited by Prowl's reaction as well, Smokescreen jumped in before Prowl could answer. "He came out of Prowl's office laughing at himself for being so stupid, sir." The younger Praxian focused on Optimus as well. "Prowl is right, sir. You either trust him or you don't. Personally, I'm relieved to be back under his command. Other than you, Prime, he's one of the best leaders I've ever served under."
Ultra Magnus blinked, unable to deny that Smokescreen's last point stung, at least just a little. Even more so because he knew both tacticians were correct. And he had given his word to support Prowl's elevation.
"He's proven he knows his function." Ironhide interjected into the uneasy moment of silence, meeting the optics of every mech at the table briefly before focusing back on the Prime. "And he's proven his loyalty."
Jazz nodded forcefully. "He was Head Tactician in Praxus for several hundred vorns before tha war. I know he can do tha job and I know we can trust 'im."
Ratchet cleared his vents before lifting his chin and darting his own glance around the table. "I trust him and have for a while. He will not abuse his authority."
Behind him, First Aid nodded vigorously but said nothing as it was not really his place in this setting.
"We have been trusting him with the care of a sparkling since he arrived." Chromia interjected, irony thick in her voice. "It would be silly to claim we can't trust him in this."
Elita shot her Second an arched look before tapping a finger on the table. "With all due respect to Smokescreen, the rank is really only symbolic. We've been trusting him with a great deal of the same function for nearly a vorn now. The only difference is that now he is senior in the department."
"I agree." Inferno spoke quietly from his place behind Red Alert, who glanced back at him in surprise.
Silverbolt was frowning, but his look was more thoughtful than anything else. "I have to admit we've lost fewer flyers in every battle he's directed. I don't see a reason why that would change."
Air Raid's engine revved and he crossed his arms unhappily, but he said nothing out loud.
Ultra Magnus found himself studying the table as he quickly examined his own reaction to the situation. He realized that his opposition was not to Prowl; it was merely an aversion to the principle of the matter – a former Decepticon being given that degree of personal authority over mechs – nothing about Prowl individually. That did not mean he would fail to act swiftly if any suspicions arose to even suggest Prowl might be abusing his authority.
The Commander spoke slowly. "He has not given us reason to doubt him." Yet, he added silently to himself and then gave himself a half-sparked rebuke for his pessimism. Prowl had offered to take his place as a prisoner of the Decepticons. Even if it had not been an offer made just for his sake, he doubted Prowl would have done so if there had been any trace of Decepticon thought patterns remaining in his processors.
No, Prowl was one of them and he was even willing – at that moment at least – to believe that any abuse of power Prowl might exhibit would probably be an unintentional holdover from his time under Megatron. In such a case correction should be easy.
"Indeed," Optimus smooth bass voice interrupted Ultra Magnus' musing and he turned his attention back to his leader as the Prime continued. "I am pleased this matter is settled. There are some important developments which you all need to be made aware of; developments that will change the very nature of this war and why we are fighting."
Absolute stillness blanketed the briefing room as even Air Raid stilled his systems. Likewise, concern lanced through Ultra Magnus as he waited for the Prime to continue what was obviously the original intent for holding such a secured briefing in the first place. But the Prime merely let a tiny smile touch his lip plate as he looked steadily at their new Head Tactician. "Prowl?"
Ultra Magnus blinked, then rebuked himself again. Of course, Prowl was their senior tactician now and he had been on the Prime's team to Simfur. He was the logical one to deliver this briefing. As he made that realization, Ultra Magnus' respect for his leader inched even higher as he realized that having Prowl deliver this briefing so soon after his elevation also served to cement the Praxian's authority and his position to the other senior commanders.
Despite his previous reservations about Prowl's promotion the Commander could not restrain a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk. Optimus could be downright devious when he wanted to be.
"Yes, sir." Prowl answered professionally and all business-like, with not even a hint of what he might have been feeling in regards to the previous discussion. Ultra Magnus knew what Megatron wanted with the AllSpark, so he was peripherally aware of the growing horror of those who were not already aware. Instead, he let his processor briefly mull over what he knew about the mech delivering the briefing. If Ultra Magnus had not seen the tiny, tale-tell indications of surprise as the various commanders had voiced their support, he would have considered the black and white tactician to be completely impassive about the whole matter.
He had suspected, after the incident between himself and Prowl in the underground training arena, that the seeming emotionless air the tactician affected was only a mask he used when he felt threatened. What he had seen here, and was seeing, only confirmed that observation. It was strangely reassuring to know that Prowl – especially in the position he now occupied – experienced emotions just as any other mech would.
With a mental shake, Ultra Magnus forced himself to focus more fully on Prowl's briefing itself… and almost wished he had not.
"… For that reason," Prowl was saying, "The AllSpark will need to be moved on an ongoing basis. At least until a method can be found to mask it's energy signature."
Prowl went on to detail the logistics of such an endeavor and it was truly astounding. Especially when one took into consideration that the vast majority of the mechs involved would have no idea exactly what it was they were doing or how their part fit into the whole.
"This is a twenty-vorn plan." Red Alert said suddenly. "How can you possibly plan that far ahead?"
Prowl glanced at the Security Chief blandly. "It is a twenty-vorn framework. It is not so fixed that modifications cannot be made to fit evolving circumstances."
"But why two decavorns at all?" Inferno asked. "I mean, we could win the war by then and it won't be necessary at all."
"While such a scenario is possible, it is unlikely." Prowl said with quiet gravity and a hint of reluctance to speak such words.
An uncomfortable and heavy silence settled over the table at that. Already the war had taken up the better part of a decavorn and here was Prowl saying it would probably last at least two more. Ultra Magnus felt a wave of despair threaten to envelop him and realized he had unconsciously done his best not to admit the scope of their situation, at least not to himself.
After a moment the briefing continued.
… … …
Once the Prime dismissed his commanders after the briefing was concluded and all questions had been answered to the best of his ability, Prowl and Smokescreen returned to the tactical department.
Trailbreaker greeted them near the door and looked at Prowl. "There is a mech asking to see you, Commander Prowl. Says his designation is Groove. Jazz dropped him off. He's waiting in your office."
Trailbreaker might have hesitated, stumbling imperceptibly over Prowl's new rank, but Prowl was not going to point that out. He nodded in acknowledgement of the other tactician's words and Trailbreaker went back to work.
"Groove?" Smokescreen asked. "That's the mech from Simfur, right?"
"Yes." Prowl looked at his apprentice, realizing that now he was the one to decide if he wanted to accept the former Guardian's service in his department. He smiled faintly. "Smokescreen, I want you to arrange an aptitude assessment for Groove. He would like to join our department."
The other Praxian blinked but then nodded his understanding and followed Prowl to his office.
Groove was sitting in the guest chair when they walked in, but he leapt to his feet as soon as the door hissed open.
"Prowl!" Then he hesitated, reading the new engravings on Prowl's collar strut. "Commander? I thought you weren't the department leader?"
Prowl stopped himself from wincing. "I am now." He gestured to his apprentice. "Groove, this is Smokescreen. My… Second in Command. He will see to your aptitude testing."
By that time Smokescreen was smiling in warm welcome and quiet amusement at the young mech's blatant earnestness. "Come with me, Groove."
Groove nodded a little nervously but followed readily. Prowl watched them leave before walking to his desk. Once more, even in complete isolation, he hesitated, staring at the vacant chair. A part of him still felt like an usurper, but Smokescreen had been adamant about his support. Even the other senior commanders had accepted his elevation to department head. The likelihood of him getting out of the position were slim. He had tried.
Taking in and releasing a deep vent he made the conscious decision to stop fighting his promotion and accept it. Something shifted in his perception of the world once again. It was not as if his optics or sensors had been cloudy before, but it was almost as if everything crystallized and settled.
And he had a job to do.
Ideally he would have several strategists he could devote entirely to the protection of the AllSpark. They had done that in Praxus for important individuals or for complex problems. But Prowl knew he was the only one truly qualified to do that. But he was also the only fully trained offensive tactician for battlefield operations. He knew he could not realistically do both simultaneously, especially not when – ideally – two separate teams of mechs would handle each of those tasks.
Something had to change. He needed another offensive tactician, even if said tactician never went onto the front lines. And Fusion was the only one in the department to indicate any aptitude for offensive strategy. But he knew Fusion would need to be handled delicately, at least at first.
Making a decision, Prowl stood again and walked out of his office. He noticed the faint but palpable uptick in tension as his staff became aware of his presence but decided to ignore it. Instead, he signaled everyone to gather at the central station.
Once everyone was there, some more nervous than others, Prowl began. "There has been a dramatic change in Megatron's strategy that will require the unified effort of everyone here in order to find a way to overcome him."
Prowl then very briefly outlined Megatron's attacks on the AllSpark and his suspected plans for using the AllSpark to create an army of unthinking, sentient and sparked drones. He could tell by their nearly unified reactions that many of them were shaken by the revelation, as well as outraged in a few cases. But it was also evident that almost all of them realized it was a situation that was well out of their league and if they looked a little relieved that Prowl was there and – apparently – knew what to do… well, no one said anything out loud.
Noticing the faint shift in the attitudes of his subordinates, Prowl's armor relaxed fractionally over his frame as he began handing out assignments.
To Tailgate, Pacer and Shutter he assigned the task of continuing normal operations and monitoring developments not directly related to the AllSpark. Tailgate, the team leader, initially seemed a little overwhelmed until Prowl assured him that he would be available for questions and to assist them as needed and that if something arose, more mechs could be assigned to his team.
Trailbreaker, Slingshot and Driver were assigned the task of figuring out what was going on between the lines with the Decepticon's attempts at the AllSpark in an effort to determine and predict what Autobot intelligence had not yet discovered.
He then put Smokescreen in charge of building a small team focused on actually protecting the AllSpark as it was in transit from one location to another and when stationary. After cautioning his apprentice over a private comm. to limit knowledge of the full details of those plans to as few of the mechs as possible, he dismissed the tactical staff to their new duties. Groove was still undergoing aptitude testing, but if he tested appropriate for tactical work, Prowl intended to have him join Smokescreen's team: it only seemed appropriate that a former Temple Guardian be allowed to continue that function.
As the gathering dispersed, only Fusion remained. The copper-colored Praxian stood nervously as his comrades left him alone with their new commander. Prowl just watched the younger mech, letting the silence work for him.
Finally Fusion fidgeted. "Sir… wha-what about me?"
"Please come with me," Prowl turned and walked back to his office.
Sensitive doorwings revealed how the young tactician glanced nervously at his co-workers and then followed. Once in the privacy of the office, Prowl turned to look at Fusion, studying how he stood; anxious but at attention. Prowl continued to let the silence hang as he double-checked his decision, not wanting it to be a waste of time.
The longer the silence stretched, the more nervous Fusion became. Prowl understood. Of all the mechs who had functioned as his monitor over the length of his probation, Fusion had been the most aggressive in fulfilling that role. Trailbreaker had been won over with reason and openness. Tailgate with persuasion and frequent reassurances and the occasional meek acquiescence. Slingshot and Pacer had been won with patience and a willingness to teach. Fusion alone had held out, repeatedly requiring a capitulation to true and complete monitoring scenarios. Fusion alone had demanded a complete accounting of every aspect of whatever analysis he was overseeing – and had even run his own parallel analysis looking for holes – and then demanded to know the reasons behind any discrepancies.
Where the others had been defensive, wary and sometimes timid, Fusion had been abrasive and, though he had reluctantly accepted Prowl's explanations and indirect tutelage eventually, working with Fusion had been humbling to say the least. His sessions working with Fusion had the most severely reminded him of his place as a probationary tactician, even when he had been promoted to Second in Command of the department.
Yes, Prowl understood why Fusion might be nervous now. He pointed wordlessly to the chair in invitation.
Bright blue optics darted to the chair in question and then back up to Prowl and copper doorwings flicked. "With all due respect sir, I…I'd prefer to stand."
"If you wish." Prowl nodded, though he reevaluated Fusion's body language as he realized something important. The younger mech was not just worried about an unpleasant assignment, he was braced as if expecting a dressing down. "The purpose of this meeting is not to reprimand you, Fusion."
Fusion blinked at Prowl's softly spoken reassurance. "It's… not?"
"No," Prowl allowed a tiny smile. "Unless, of course, there is a reason I am unfamiliar with?"
Rapidly shuttering and un-shuttering his optic shutters again Fusion's vocalizer hissed a second before he could get words to form. "That…um…" Then he gave a brief, self-depreciative chuckle, "No sir, at least not that I know of. But…"
"But what?" Prowl asked when Fusion trailed off.
Fusion hastily looked aside, flaring and cycling his vents rapidly. Prowl waited, letting him take his time.
Finally, after the silence had settled for a full minute Fusion looked back at him but did not lift his optics higher than Prowl's chassis. "I uh… I had no idea you would actually end up being our boss, Sir."
"That makes two of us." Prowl paused. "I did not even expect to earn any rank at all for many vorns, if ever."
Fusion glanced up at his faceplate then looked away again. "If I had known… back when I was… I uh, I…"
"You would have acted no differently." Prowl stated calmly and Fusion's optics snapped up to meet his and Prowl nodded. "You were assigned a task and you fulfilled that task contentiously and to the best of your abilities. You saw a threat and worked hard to expose and protect against that threat. Am I correct?"
Fusion's lower mandible was hanging open by a centimeter as he nodded mutely.
"That is exactly how I would expect you to perform any task you are given." Prowl said flatly. "Thus you trouble yourself unnecessarily. You accomplished your duty – those assigned and those self-imposed. Indeed, you also displayed a latent set of abilities I wish to develop, if you are interested in doing so."
Fusion just stared at him, optics wider than Prowl had ever seen them on the copper Praxian. "Wha-what ability, sir?"
"I believe you have the basic personality and aptitude to become an able offensive tactician, even a field tactician if you so desire."
Fusion actually rocked back as he fully processed what Prowl said. "You… you mean do what you do, sir?"
"Indeed." Prowl nodded once. "It will take intensive training and dedicated work. But you have the processor and the personality for that type of work if you are willing to develop those skills."
"That would… you would have to train me." Fusion stated the obvious. "Personally… uh, you would have to train me personally."
The younger tactician's processor was trying to stall as he attempted to make the offer make sense considering how difficult he had made Prowl's existence from the moment the former Decepticon had been assigned to the tactical department.
Prowl merely cocked an optic ridge. "I am the only offensive tactician in the department right now."
"But… but I… I…" Fusion shook his helm, unable to get the words out; unsure exactly what words he wanted to get out.
Prowl lifted a hand in a calming gesture. "You need not make a decision right here and now. Until you do, however, I want you to review the reports from the Temple Guardians about the attacks on the AllSpark."
Fusion seemed to relax at being given a task. "What am I looking for?"
Prowl started to answer then paused and, hiding a smirk, he asked his own question instead. "What do you think you should look for?"
Fusion thought for a moment, his frame continuing to relax as he focused on his job instead of the unprecedented conversation. "Patterns in attack strategies, common variables that might have lead to the attacks… that kind of thing."
Prowl allowed himself a faint smile as he nodded. "Yes. Those are good places to start. If you find your investigation leads you to another vein of inquiry, feel free to follow it."
Fusion nodded firmly. "Yes, sir."
"Dismissed." Prowl watched as Fusion jumped to his feet and took his leave.
… … …
Prowl was only half-surprised when Jazz stopped by his office as the orn was coming to a close. He looked up as the silver saboteur stepped into the open doorway and paused. But that hesitance was only momentary as he stepped further inside. Prowl could see the muted concern and something that flirted with being open anxiety on the minibot's faceplate and field.
"Jazz?" He asked with some concern, putting the datapad he was working with on the desk.
"Ya got a breem?" Jazz asked and the anxiety Prowl had sensed was a nearly unperceivable tremor in those words.
Prowl frowned but nodded, gesturing to the chair. "Of course."
Jazz came further into the office and then swiftly spun around to access the locking mechanism. Within several astroseconds he had created a hardwire lock on the door that Prowl rightly assumed would be nearly impossible for another mech to undo anytime soon. Then, to Prowl's further consternation, he felt a dampening field settle around them. He cocked an optic ridge questioningly at Jazz as the smaller mech finally turned back to face him.
Jazz took a mincing step forward and slid uneasily into the guest chair. He cleared his vents. He hesitated again, as if not sure what to say, then he finally blurted: "I promised ya an explanation about the monitoring devices in your quarters."
Prowl blinked, understanding Jazz discomfiture, but not the secretive security measures. He kept his expression and tone carefully blank. "You did."
"Yeah." Jazz looked to the side. "Ya know I took most of 'em down after ya… um… crashed that first time. Well, technically after ya were promoted." He shot him a sideways glance but did not look at him fully. "But ya also know I didn't take 'em all out."
"Yes." Prowl murmured.
Jazz's lip plates pressed together for a second before he continued. "Ya never messed with 'em… at all. Even during this last vorn."
Prowl could tell that Jazz was worried and anxious about this conversation, but the brief flicker in the saboteur's otherwise carefully controlled field indicated he was also confused if not a little creeped out. Was it at the thought of Prowl knowing he was being monitored and yet continuing to live normally regardless?
"I know there is a reason you choose to keep an optic on my behavior." Prowl said softly, with all the calm acceptance he had developed for that fact.
Jazz's field tightened and his armor clamped against his frame. "Even though ya were a Lieutenant Commander and Second in Command of the tactical division?"
Prowl studied Jazz carefully, becoming more convinced there was something else going on here than merely the delivery of a promised – if perhaps long overdue – explanation. He released a vent. "That rank and position were provisional and probationary. Continued surveillance was expected and nothing less than a prudent precaution."
Jazz winced at that and he did not meet Prowl's optics when he next spoke. "Your current rank and position aren't 'probationary'."
"Indeed." Prowl grunted but said nothing else, reminding himself he had decided to accept his promotion.
Jazz's optics, unshielded by his visor now, glanced at him sharply then darted away. Prowl's frown deepened; such nervousness was foreign to Jazz and completely unwarranted as far as Prowl knew. Unbidden, his tactical computer pounced on the conundrum and an instant later understanding hit Prowl like a blow.
"You do not want to remove the monitoring devices that remain in my quarters." He said slowly.
Jazz blinked audibly and then, with a visible effort, forced himself to look up at him, braced as if for a strongly negative reaction. "No. No I don't."
Absolute control slamming down over any reaction, Prowl merely forced himself to continue meeting Jazz's worried gaze. He had grown to greatly respect Jazz, regardless of the… unpleasantness… of their initial meeting and relationship. Indeed, he willingly called the mech 'friend' now, even if that was still hard to believe if he thought about it too long. After a few long seconds, Prowl realized that if Jazz was asking such a thing of him, he trusted there was a reason; a good reason. His initial reaction might have been one of betrayal, but now…
"Will you explain why?" Prowl asked quietly.
"Ya have ta know… ta know that not everyone is convinced that ya are really one of us – that ya aren't a sleeper agent." Jazz frowned, his optics irritated. "I… In case something happens, or if another traitor tries to frame you, I want hard proof you haven't betrayed us."
Prowl nodded slowly. Of all mechs, he knew his promotion to Department Commander had been precipitous. "You think the likelihood is high that I would be blamed if either a Decepticon infiltrator or spy causes problems?"
"Or if ya are framed. It's happened once already." Jazz leaned forward, one hand clenched so tightly the gears strained. "Ya are our biggest advantage over the Decepticons right now, even more so now that the AllSpark is at stake."
Prowl let his doorwings flick as he considered that. "Understood," Prowl said at last, "In that case, you should consider keeping similar surveillance of this office as well."
Jazz just stared, his face so blank that Prowl feared he might glitch. Finally he blinked his optic shutters several times in quick succession. "You…what?"
"You expected me to argue?" Prowl asked with a tiny smirk.
"Um… Well, yeah." Jazz blinked again.
"Jazz…" Prowl looked away taking a deep vent at the prospect of putting to words such personal feelings. "Jazz, I trusted you to scan my coding after Soundwave's attack. I was going to trust you to strip the AllSpark data from my memory after the mission due to the security clearance required and the fact I had not yet been granted such clearance prior to the mission to Simfur. You destroyed my firewalls a vorn ago and never took advantage of me when I was defenseless. If you believe it is necessary to use such monitoring equipment, I will trust you."
Jazz's lip plates moved soundlessly a few times, then he looked down to gather himself. When he brought his gaze back up, his optics were warm and serious. "Keepin' secrets is part of my function. It ain't like I actively watch tha monitors. It's just ta have them – something that ain't official ya know? – in case somethin' happens." A silver hand shot out to touch Prowl's wrist, "No one else has ta know I'm doing it. Ya are the first ta detect my monitors. Those blasted advanced doorwings of yours."
The last was said with a wry, relieved smile and Prowl felt himself relax. He did not like the idea of continued monitoring, but he understood and even agreed with Jazz's reasoning. He nodded, feeling more sure of himself and his friend. "Do what you feel you must. I won't interfere."
Jazz released a vent, his armor relaxing visibly over his frame. "I… that's more than I ever thought you'd give me."
Prowl flicked him a tiny smile. "I could say the same, Jazz."
Jazz squeezed the black wrist he still held and then smiled again, though his optics grew thoughtful even as he pulled his hand back to his own lap. "Ya know… we work well together."
"Yes, we do." Prowl gave him a regal nod, wondering where this was going now.
"With your promotion, we'll be working together even more."
"I had considered that." Prowl cocked an optic ridge.
"And?" Jazz asked, his vents flared with a hint of renewed anxiety.
Prowl let himself give into a flash of subdued mischievousness and let it light his optics even though he maintained a perfectly flat expression. "A perk of the job, I'm sure."
Jazz was not sure if Prowl was serious, sarcastic or if, perhaps the taciturn mech was actually… teasing?... him. Was that even possible? In the end, the saboteur decided to laugh.
