The enforcers made no further mention of Soundwave's other symbionts as they escorted him, though uneasy optics sometimes slid to the skies. The enforcer command center had been blasted into the base of one massive tower, and had perhaps once been a hanger or storage facility of some sort, to judge by the side of the entrances, now mainly sealed over with thick sheetmetal armor. Weapons dealers and rambling, unpowered hovels were common in the surrounding broken alleys. The civilian enforcement sigil was branded boldly into the corroded iron above the garrison, but none of the enforcers seemed to wear it themselves.
Struggling empties and virus dealers were dragged in or out, rarely under their own power, and enforcers cast sidelong glances at Soundwave's unbound frame. Inside, the lighting was nearly as poor as outside. Metallic shrieks issued from one tall passageway; Barricade led them in the opposite direction. A door hatch irised open on a room so spartan, it likely served as an interrogation chamber - just two seating platforms, one with attachment links for stasis cuffs, arranged on either side of a metal table which itself was solidly bolted in place. "If you would, Soundwave?" Barricade gestured to one platform, as he laid several cubes on the table. He took a flask from another enforcer, who retreated - probably to stand just on the other side of the hatch.
"For them as well?" Barricade asked, spilling a measure of clear blue energon - probably strongarmed from some merchant - into two of the cubes.
"Negative. Offer appreciated, but unnecessary." Not strictly the truth-not on the minimal rations they all received-but a polite answer dictated by caution, nonetheless. The energon did not appear contaminated, but Soundwave was too experienced to trust anything given to him by a strange mech. Much less a strange mech who obviously had an agenda of his own. His systems could handle a fair number of contaminants; his symbionts, less so.
Soundwave sat, and surveyed the room in all its battered, stained glory. One way in and out, and walls thick enough that the dents made by angry mecha hadn't even buckled them at the seams. He wondered if the close confines were intended to be an additional, subtle intimidation all their own, or simply were a side effect of the enforcers' obvious lack of resources.
Ravage did a brief circuit of the space, noting the tiny hidden lenses that denoted cameras and the inset pickups for audio surveillance. He sent a brief databurst to Soundwave, sharing what he'd found, then silently crouched in his master's shadow, with only the scarlet gleam of his optics betraying his presence.
Soundwave picked up the cube closest to his seat, giving Barricade a spare nod of thanks. Despite the risk, offered energon was too rare to waste, and refusing would antagonize the enforcer besides. He studied the energon within for a moment-clear-filtered and gleaming blue-white, it appeared to be good quality mid-grade, far better than anything he could afford on a regular basis-then took a cautious sip, letting it slide over the filters at the back of his intake as autonomic processes kicked in, checking for adulterants. While the analyses were running, he watched Barricade.
"Your desk, quite tidy," he said mildly. If this was an enforcer's office, he'd paint himself gold and call himself Prime. "Query: conversation, official in nature?"
Barricade's centermost two optics shuttered momentarily, perhaps a gesture of amusement - though one very subtly... different from most of his other apparently reflexive movements. "Don't think there's any need for that, do you?" Barricade answered, picking up his own cube. His seating platform was a little taller than Soundwave's - though not enough to make up for their height differences. The enforcer's faceplates, originally mass-produced, were not particularly mobile, his expressions difficult to read. "Mechs denting each other up is pretty common down here. So is bureaucratic inefficiency. Turns out, the protest that, ah - Stoplock? - filed has already been misplaced." Barricade tipped his cube up, swallowed. Good faith gesture, check. Something easy now, open-ended, conversational. "It's less common to find directive-level mechs down here of their own will."
Interesting. Assuming the enforcer was telling the truth, he'd saved Soundwave a fair amount of inconvenience. Which left the question of what Barricade wanted in return ….
Ratbat shifted minutely, watching the black and white enforcer with narrowed optics. He was well aware of the usual exchange of favors and blackmail that the lower ranks of Iacon's civilian security divisions used to supplement their increasingly limited allotments of energon and supplies. And yet-somehow, he didn't think this was just another backroom deal. Whatever Barricade was fishing for, he wanted it badly enough that he hadn't resorted to the usual strongarm tactics. Instead, he was going out of his way to court Soundwave's favor. Curious.
"Objective, not to cause trouble," Soundwave replied. "Mention made of other carrier mech seen in vicinity of this mine. My concern: symbionts and host still missing, possibly requiring rescue." Truthful enough, and easily corroborated by his very public confrontation with the mine overseer. Whether or not Barricade believed him, of course, was another matter entirely.
"I see." Barricade tilted his cube, one pair of optics following the thick slosh of energon contemplatively. Strange. The carrier responded as if he had nothing at all to hide. Which, given the subject at hand, was nothing short of bizarre. It had been a very long time since anyone had bothered even trying to play the innocence chit with him; Barricade found it rather refreshing. "And what leads you to believe he is - they are - in need of rescue?"
The results of Soundwave's analysis came back: the energon was clean. Or at the very least, uncontaminated by anything Soundwave was familiar with, and he doubted Barricade had the resources-or the need-to try and poison him with anything more exotic. Taking another, deeper draught from his cube, Soundwave took a moment to savor the taste. It might not be high grade, but it was clean and smooth and charged his systems with a subtle kick he hadn't felt in … longer than he cared to remember.
"Symbiont remains, found in tunnels," he finally said baldly, making no effort to hide the truth with polite circumlocutions. "Minebreak's offlining, recent. Rest of cohort, still unaccounted for."
The bare statement gave Barricade momentary pause. How could the carrier know what had happened in a place he'd never been? But then, the big mech's injured symbiont looked agile enough to get itself almost anywhere, as cassettes tended to do. During the war, there'd sometimes be half a dozen scattered around the battlefield, doing Primus knew what. Getting a mech as big as Soundwave into the mine, however, clearly was proving rather more difficult for them. The enforcer weighed his options a moment. Well now. So long as the carrier was being so forthcoming... "What do you suppose they were looking for?" Barricade asked, tone casual, alert for even the smallest of tells. Soundwave, unfortunately, gave him little to work with. Unless 'stony incomprehension' was a tell.
"Name of Minebreak's master, currently unknown," Soundwave replied. It was surprisingly difficult to admit how little he knew about the missing mecha. In a way, it felt like a personal failure. How could he not be able to find out something as simple as a mech's name-especially the name of a fellow carrier-mech? He tilted his head, concealing his unease. "Unusual, that a chronicler team entered mine without your knowledge. Symbiont death, also apparently unknown. Query: nature of your interest?"
Ratbat shifted uneasily, a movement so small as to be imperceptible. If the enforcers were responsible for Minebreak's death-or worse, if *this* enforcer was responsible-Soundwave's tactic of answering questions with questions might very well backfire. He disliked being trapped in this tiny room, being questioned by an arrogant enforcer. He disliked even more knowing that it was his fault they were here in the first place.
Barricade stilled, a momentary and appraising pause. Interesting spike over baseline there. He tilted his cube in contemplation, touching each edge idly against the metal tabletop - corner, corner, corner... a faintly abashed, non-threatening sort of fidgeting, easy to read but not too obvious. Barricade's optics slid away from Soundwave for a few beats, as if the enforcer were decompressing old archives. "Don't know how much of the Parhelion theatre you remember," he said, "or the Telorian campaigns. But quite a few of your class served near the front, bringing intel back from impossible places. Saved all our skidplates, more than a few times." The enforcer glanced briefly to Soundwave's symbiotes. "Your missing mech is Amplitude. Don't know how he gained access or what he was looking for. Do know that chroniclers were slagging useful once. Should be again."
Amplitude. The name was familiar, though the mech hadn't ever been one of Soundwave's intimates. He queried his symbionts, pinging them the name. As always, he relied upon their memory more than his own, and once again, his faith proved justified.
/Amplitude .../ Buzzsaw replied after a momentary pause. /Investigative researcher. He was known for tracking down data other mecha wanted buried-he loved secrets, the more explosive, the better. Worked under the auspices of upper-level Enforcement sometimes, some data-mining-was even involved in a few military and senatorial investigations. Had a cohort known for getting into trouble and loving every minute of it./ He hesitated. /Minebreak … is an odd fit for a carrier like that./
/Amplitude's cohort was small-if he had lost a symbiont, or more than one symbiont, he might have been desperate to find replacements,/ Ratbat suggested, cold practicality overcoming his reluctance to mention the possibility. A carrier's status was determined by their symbionts, and no new chronicler mechs, carrier or symbiont, had been created for many vorns. Their class had been dwindling for some time; it was not impossible that desperate need might have forced a symbiont to accept a carrier's offer, regardless of how ill-matched they might have been.
"Amplitude …" Soundwave paused as if he were unarchiving memory nodes, searching for information. Letting Barricade wait, even though his cohort had already provided the information he'd needed at literally the speed of thought. "Had a reputation. Was widely connected, once. This district, the mine, both odd places for him to be." A partial truth; from the data-profiles Buzzsaw had compiled for him, Amplitude once had connections that stretched into both the civilian and the military intelligence services … but that network had long since attenuated into nothingness. No one needed chroniclers now. Not for investigations or anything else.
Barricade's attention sharpened, though his tone stayed neutral. He could hardly fault the other mech for playing games with information. It made this little exchange all the more entertaining. "And why, exactly, is that?"
With the ease of long experience, Soundwave located several old files over the public network - a spotty affair down here - and sent the relevant tagging frequencies.
Barricade's optics widened as he scanned through the cursory public offerings. Oh. That Amplitude. The enforcer had long since dismounted the original files from his quantum storage, keeping only the headings in order to preserve memory space, but a little rapid review recalled just how much of a stir the exposures had caused. During the early days of the war, several civilian and military officials had been caught offering weaponry to an alien faction which, shortly thereafter, proved to be just as aggressive towards Cybertronians as the enemy. The mech who had put the pieces together, infiltrated and uncovered the conspiracy, had received a commendation from the Prime himself. The unfortunate traitors had been subject to the Lord Protector's very personal, and very untender, mercies.
Barricade tapped his talons on the table, processing. This ... this was fascinating. And useful, if Amplitude still excelled at disruption. If he was the same mech. An enforcer-database search for archived images turned up a few high-res scans, all old, dated near the end of the war. Nothing since then, but they matched closely enough with the mine's surveillance feed, and the miners' descriptions.
This could conceivably come back to bite him. To bite all of them.
Barricade had always found opportunity in chaos. And the timing of all this... well. It just couldn't be passed up.
Coming to a decision, Barricade pulled a small object from a slot in his armor. He slid the little chip of silica across the table. The outer casing was complex, highly engraved, imprinted with holograms in at least five dimensions. The transmitter inside had a resonant quality to its field, even presently inactive. It gleamed in the dim light like an artifact from another civilization, far departed from the squalor of the slums, from this fear-stained room. "I am sympathetic. Unfortunately, Soundwave, a mere enforcer doesn't have the authority to permit a mech into the mines. The mine inspectors, due in a few joor, have an entrance key. You might try them."
Soundwave's expression never changed, even as he took the encrypted badge, folding fingers over and subspacing it in one smooth motion. The video feeds for this room must be offline for Barricade to take such a risk-which brought up the question of why the enforcer was doing it in the first place. Frustratingly, there was no way he could ask without giving the game away, not in a room full of listening devices. "Query: likelihood of their cooperation?" he said instead, for the benefit of any audience.
Barricade's laugh was a low, grinding sound. He downed the rest of his cube, left the flask on the table as he stood. "Like I said, you can ask them." A pair of optics slid briefly to the symbiont clinging to Soundwave's shoulder. "When you're finished, the officer outside will escort you to the exit. Now. If you'll excuse me, it sounds like there are some helms which need denting." And maybe, just maybe, a riot to prepare, depending on how much havoc a handful of unwitting mechs could cause. Hope springs eternal. "Amalgamous' own luck, chronicler."
Ratbat twisted around to watch the enforcer leave, waiting until the door had irised shut on the busy corridor. The screaming from the distant cells, he noticed with audials twitching, apparently hadn't ever stopped. /Definitely, definitely glitched, Soundwave./
/Agreed. Also, more knowledgeable than expected./ The ident-badge Barricade had slid across the table was worth a great deal-four orns worth of midgrade at least-on the black market. Yet the enforcer had handed it over as if it were nothing more than an official reprimand for brawling. There had been no mention of recompense, or of favors owed. It all had been just a little too easy, which made Soundwave wonder what other games were afoot.
His first instinct was to pull back, to retreat and gather more information for analysis. Making moves without sufficient data to understand the other players was a fundamentally flawed strategy, and one that could easily lead to disaster.
But one symbiont was already dead. Others might be dying, trapped and unable to free themselves. They didn't have the time for Soundwave to test the waters he had waded into; he would have to trust in his own abilities, as well as his cohort, to see this game out to the end. Barricade's gift, unlooked-for and laden with expectations as it was, would get them in; Soundwave would just have to ensure that he got them back out.
He lifted his arm, inviting Ratbat to climb down to an armored forearm for inspection. The symbiont's wing drooped painfully, the crumpled surface plating binding the joints and making it impossible to fold normally. Several of the tiny antigrav nodes on the surface had also been damaged, and would need replacement. /Soundwave: can make temporary repairs to free the joint,/ he said after a few kliks worth of scans. /Work, will be painful. Flight, impaired until full repairs are made./ He suppressed the urge to order Ratbat home; damaged as he was, there was no guarantee that the little symbiont would make it there safely. And if the worst happened, and Soundwave and the others never returned … a single damaged symbiont stood little chance of survival on his own.
For his part, Ratbat knew perfectly well what happened when he became injured - he invariably got sent someplace safe. And then Soundwave and the others would be wandering around, down here all by themselves, and he knew they'd be inefficient about it. They'd... they'd waste fuel and time and get lost and Primus knew what else, without him. Ratbat couldn't let that happen - not even if he *was* the cause of this particular delay. The little symbiont made his way down Soundwave's armored forearm. /Fix it,/ he sent, carefully taking his vocalizers offline - both the standard range and the ultrasonic one. He settled himself into his carrier's hands as Soundwave brought his other palm up, the whole of the symbiont's body cradled by the length of those cupped talons. Wincing, he spread his damaged wing to its fullest extent, hooking the small end-claw into one of Soundwave's armor seams, to keep the flight surface from accidentally jerking closed. / It will be enough so that I can ride with you or Ravage, at the least. The rest of the repairs can wait until we all get back./
Soundwave nodded, extending his field, pulsing reassurance/concern through their bond. /Necessary repairs, not long to complete,/ he sent, uncoiling several of his smallest secondary cables and pulling a few supplies out of subspace. The crumpled wing plating was punctured through in three places, and mangled in several more. Scanning, Soundwave separated out the disabling damage from the merely cosmetic, which could be left alone. The hampered joint was the main concern-some of the torn plating had been pushed inward, sawing against fine internal wiring each time Ratbat attempted to move the wing.
The first of Soundwave's manipulator cables, blades folded flat, nudged against the symbiont's chest. Ratbat lifted his head obediently, spreading his fragile chestplates to expose the socket there. The carrier's cilia blossomed out to touch the familiar edges of the port, then slipped inside to twine with the waiting connectors. The bladed multitools flared, reconfigured, locking the datacable neatly into place, flush against the symbiont's armor. Ratbat cycled a quiet vent, and laid his head down upon the thin armor of Soundwave's cable, feeling the metal warm as his host prepared the datalink.
Being hardlined by his carrier didn't exactly abate the pain, but did make it... easier to bear.
As with Ravage, the great depth of the little mech's memory well irised open for Soundwave, but this time, the carrier's interest was in the comparatively thin shell of physical sensation, the hardware and software that were the least part of a symbiont's being. Ratbat's firewalls were no bar at all to Soundwave's access - they were essentially the carrier's own, scaled down and simplified for a symbiont's far more limited processing capacity. Soundwave selected the sensory pathways and felt along them, muting a few to ease pain - so much as he could while maintaining sensation - monitoring them all.
A symbiont was small enough that even Soundwave's most delicate repairs could easily go awry, if he could not also *feel* what he was doing.
Those jagged ruptures in the wing plating would need to be removed before anything else. Soundwave bent to the task. The blades at the tips of several manipulator cables rotated, layered together, split into piny pincers. The instruments moved to delicately reach and pull the buckled plating upward, to a position where the pointed edges could be cut free. He worked as swiftly as he could, acutely aware of Ratbat's every flinch and tremble. However, the symbiont never made a sound or tried to jerk away, enduring stoically.
The sharp edges of the punctures now smooth, Soundwave bent the glideplates back into their normal overlapping positions. The fit wasn't perfect-deformed metal surfaces still scraped against each other-but at least now it was functional, giving Ratbat back full use of the limb. After inspecting the other tears for further hidden damage, Soundwave layered metal-mesh over them, sealing off the delicate systems within from outside contaminants. The metal-mesh also would be consumed by self-repair nanites as they did their work, encouraging them to concentrate on the worst-damaged areas.
One last check to numb a few sensory nodes, and then Soundwave straightened. The cilia disengaged a few at a time, drawing up into their sheath, giving the symbiont time to stabilise his own systems. Then the lock-configured blades released their hold, and the cable withdrew, waiting until the little mech could lift his own head before moving entirely away. "Ratbat: status?"
Ratbat shuttered and unshuttered his optics a few times, folding his armor back to cover the data socket. He twisted his helm around to watch as he manipulated the damaged wing. It was stiff, didn't move quite right, and he couldn't feel it a great deal - but it also did not hurt much, and he could fold it. And he'd be able to fly on it, which is what mattered. Ratbat craned his helm up, remembered to bring his vocalizers back online, and squeaked a reassurance.
/All better,/ the symbiont sent, climbing to a more upright position in Soundwave's cupped talons - then his optics narrowed as he cast his carrier a suspicious look. /Except. Not good enough to fly home. Definitely not./ Soundwave's level regard gave him pause. Perhaps he could divert his carrier. /Let's take that fuel with us,/ he proposed, selecting the most interesting - in Ratbat's estimation - distraction in the room. Not, mind, that there were many to choose from.
Soundwave vented a sigh at Ratbat's obvious ploy. /Ratbat, will inform us if injury worsens,/ he ordered, then looked over at the indicated flask. It was tempting, and they could certainly use the fuel, but … /Energon, not ours./ he said reluctantly.
Ravage's snarl was so quiet as to be almost inaudible. /All of this-it feels like a trap./ His bladed tail lashed once. /I don't like it./
/Alternatives, nonexistent,/ Soundwave reminded all of them. Then, on a narrower band to Ravage alone, /These games, not new to us./
/Against tower academics, not warframes,/ Ravage replied, still unhappy. /Now more than your reputation is at risk./
Outside, the two flightframes carved agitated arcs in the dense, smoggy air. They might not be able to see what was going on, but their link to the cohort was not attenuated by this minor physical distance. /A trap? Ravage, can you send us your impressions of the badge?/ Buzzsaw queried. The bond-link thickened with dense sensory transmission.
After some discussion with his class-brother, comparing Ravage's memory with their own detailed recollections, Laserbeak reached out to contact his carrier. /We wish to examine the emblem ourselves, Soundwave. But it seems very like the credentials we once carried./ Well, Soundwave had carried them, technically. Those ident-badges were heavy. /It does not appear to have been tampered with./
Ratbat, secure in the knowledge that Soundwave had found something else to worry him, clambered over his carrier's thumb-talon and started scaling his arm. The little symbiont kept his damaged limb closed, climbing with his talons and the claws of one wing only. Ratbat had spent a great deal of time, over the past vorns, witnessing the rise of the black market, observing the mechs who engaged in trade for goods outside their ration-set. Mecha sometimes exchanged things for influence, for future favors... but not, usually, with strangers. /That glitched enforcer certainly wants something. Since he didn't tell us what, it is likely a thing which our present course of action will net him, anyway./ Pleased with himself, Ratbat at least reached the summit of Soundwave's shoulder... and then noticed the sudden silence over the bond.
The little glideframe looked down at Ravage's narrowed optics and long, long teeth... then over at Soundwave's wary stillness. Oh. /That's... probably not good, is it?/
...
...
Both flightframes took a breem to examine Soundwave's ident-badge, once he emerged from the enforcers' base.
Getting out had been surprisingly easy. A young black-and-white, clearly sparked near the end of the war, had addressed the carrier with nervous respect and escorted him to the same front entrance. The enforcer had even offered further accompaniment back to the main market - though he'd not seemed disappointed when Soundwave refused.
Rather the opposite, in fact.
In the momentary quiet of an alley, the flightframes studied Barricade's 'gift' in exacting detail, with all the sensors they possessed. They uploaded their perfect memory files to Soundwave, let him run the comparisons with his far larger processors. The transmitter identified its bearer as a level three special projects structural inspector - a new title, and not one with which Soundwave was familiar, but clearly a high one. There seemed to be nothing wrong with the badge.
Soundwave could not discount the possibility that the enforcers meant to make some example of him, turn on him, ensure that he was discovered. But retreating was no option at all.
The only way out now... was down.
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Cowrite with HopeofDawn. Barricade's characterization swiped unashamedly from Antepathy's incredible fics! Thanks very much to the reviewers - without you, we'd definitely have given up posting. Thank you, thank you! )