Mirage had always imagined the outlier power of telepathy would be so useful in moments like this. He would know exactly what Jazz was thinking. True, for his slippery comrade it would require an exhausting length of concentration but eventually the Polyhexian would make sense. As much sense as he could ever.

"Is this where I confess to Soundwave you won't tell me anything?" Mirage asked, trying not to sound like he minded being messenger. Whatever pas de deux the Thirds were doing was doubtless significant to them. For himself, he was quietly boggled and surprisingly out of patience. "Jazz, if something has happened on Earth, if mecha are in danger, you must say so."

"Nah, I don't think I gotta 'must' anything." Jazz remarked ruminatively as though they were discussing philosophy on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. "That's always been your problem, 'Raj. You think stuff matters." He vented, shifting against his bonds. "Everything's just slag, in the end."

"I know you don't believe that." The Towerling replied tartly. "Or neither of us would be here." At his tone, Tempest sat up and hissed warningly at whoever had annoyed his foster carrier. Mirage soothed him with soft caresses to his wing buds. He probably couldn't see Jazz but he could hear perfectly well.

"Fierce little widget, isn't he?" The infiltrator chuckled. He contemplated the bare walls before saying casually. "Wonder if Sounders wants one?"

"Not with you." Mirage snapped. He didn't like the implication of his former superior's oh so idle thought. Jazz had done worse, offered more, to get intel. He wouldn't actually go through with it, sparking himself for the sake of an Op or to hold the bitlet hostage for Soundwave's cooperation. Surely not. Probably.

"What did Thundercracker offer you? A get out of jail free card? Golden cage?" Here he smirked. "Forbidden romance of star-crossed lovers pining through the long years of war?"

"You are spouting nonsense and you know it." The noble didn't stand to storm out of the room. He didn't move from his seat regardless of his frustration. Mirage didn't want to abandon his friend, assuming they still were. "I didn't carry Tempest. Thundercracker did. There were complications when the sparkling unfurled. Soundwave has a theory." His optics narrowed. "Which doesn't surprise you, does it? After all, the Autobots have plenty of real doctors."

"Could be." Jazz shrugged. "Could be."

"I am sure I could make a decent case that according to my parole strictures, I should disavow all knowledge of your antics and hand you over to the authorities for interrogation and likely a force download." Mirage said just so it was said, as unfortunately for Jazz the noble absolutely could make that case. Whether he could convince himself it was the right course was the obstacle. "Please."

"'Cracker like you on your knees?" The Autobot 3IC arched a brow, using all the human kinesics he knew irritated his high caste comrade. The smirk morphed into a knowing leer.

"My conjunx's conduct has been beyond reproach." He said stiffly because that was what Jazz was really asking, in the most impertinent way. The Polyhexian guttersnipe couldn't simply inquire. He had to make Mirage squirm. For his part, the noble would like to have said no one else had offered impertinence either but that would be a lie. "There have been comments but no actions from anyone else."

"Yeah, that don't surprise me." Jazz hummed, another irksome habit. "Even if there weren't official charges, there's always an officer who'd find out." 'Cons were quite prepared to cull their own if someone crossed a line. Off-record, in the shadows, nothing said outright, but word got around. "Glitch is, something bad gotta happen first if you're in the revenge industry."

"It isn't as bad as I had feared." Mirage knew that wasn't a ringing endorsement but Jazz had a well-honed 'bullshit detector'. "The cultural differences have been difficult to parse and I have rarely felt so gauche but I do believe the Decepticons are sincere. They want to rebuild Cybertron, to build peace."

"And ain't that a shiny sprocket." He fidgeted then sighed. "I believe you, 'Raj. Well, I believe you believe. 'Cept that's not enough. We gotta be more sure."

"You aren't ever going to be sure enough." The spy asserted. "Not enough for Prowl or Ironhide or any of the other ideologues." Mirage moderated his field as Tempest grew restive again. "Add religion into the debate and we'll be arguing until the heat death of the universe." The civil war had dragged on for much the same reasons. "It is enough to send a science team under truce for joint research into whatever it is that brought you here."

"May be." Jazz conceded. "May be not." He shivered then stood up, restraints falling away. With a jaunty salute to Mirage, he bolted for the door. It shuddered open under the proximity hack the infiltrator had been working on while he freed himself.

The noble reached across to the duress alarm and pressed it. Nothing blared, slammed, or flashed. He stayed in his seat. Soundwave was there in a klik. It was nearly impossible to read the Host. There wasn't even a ripple in his field. He escorted Mirage out of the facility back to the bomb shelter, mute the whole way.

Perhaps it was the spirit of Unicron, perhaps just Jazz's influence, but the noble was thinking in jumps. One in particular of those random hops of inspiration linked his awkward chat with Ravage to the suggestion of a scientific truce. Alongside went proximity induced resonance, which if Soundwave had found in his research then the Autobot brains trust absolutely would have discovered.

"Only the Decepticons stationed on Earth, specifically the ones on the Ark raid, would be affected by the stasis resonance." Mirage said before he could reconsider the benefits of silence. "Similarly, only the Autobots on the Ark." A fraction of the survivors from either faction and none of the Neutrals. "Granted the war has been hard on everyone, but we have a star now. It's only a matter of recuperation."

Soundwave said nothing. They cleared the security airlock and stood in the hall as though waiting for an air raid siren; still and dreading.

"But that won't help the High Command, will it? Or the ranking specialists. Megatron's power base." The spy could name half a dozen Decepticon generals trusted enough to command their own fleets who would also be in a position to challenge for leadership of the faction. All of whom would be coming back to Cybertron. "Everyone else will see Megatron encouraging peace and procreation. While not doing so himself."

Mirage looked down at Tempest, who met his optics with an inquisitive chirp. The seekerling was quite happy nestled in their fields but he was hardly an all-in endorsement of the new armistice. None of the other officers had produced. No one was publicly putting down their weapons or making themselves vulnerable.

Thundercracker would've crawled if Mirage had demanded it. He would have clipped his own wings and grovelled if it meant his sparkling thrived. But he was the only one. Not even his trine had joined him.

An Autobot had.

"You need everyone to see the High Command committed to civilian life, and you can't do it." Mirage could not bring himself to meet Soundwave's gaze though he could feel the heated weight of it. "You need us for the peace to hold. Or some warlord who's been nominally 'Con during the long silence will think this a feint, or worse a weakness and will move against Megatron."

"Affirmative." The Communications Chief, the Head of Intelligence, the loyalest Loyalist, the old comrade from the Pits of Kaon, spoke as though the glyph was treason.

"Regimes are often overthrown at points of transition, aren't they?" A fragile new democracy getting swept aside by a junta, a purge of the Old Guard by a power broker with fresh forces. "Cybertron won't survive another war." The planet had barely survived the last one, wrung dry and barely habitable. "There's some speculation on how close to extinction we are."

"Too close to risk further conflict." Soundwave stated. Many mecha had viewed transporting Cybertron via space-bridge into stellar orbit as a last ditch plan. It was, quite literally. The next solution was to abandon their homeworld entirely, a gambit that may have extinguished them as a species regardless.

"Let me contact Skyfire." Mirage urged. "He'll believe me, and he may be able to persuade some of the scientists and medics to come even if Autobot High Command is unwilling." He was unsure what Jazz would tell Optimus Prime or what different version he'd tell Prowl. "Let me brief the other 'Bots who surrendered. If they know how bad the circumstances are, they'll want to help."

"Your optimism: laudable." The 'Con's cynicism was visible from space.