Chapter ten
Authors notes: Just so our readers know... we will never abandon this story until it's completed. Yeah, we take forever to update. I've been busy, and so has the other author, and we oftentimes can't push ourselves beyond some simple (but yummy) smut.
Anyways, thanks to: Chikku-Chikku (sorry I didn't get to reply to you!), Xenophobic Doll, Supermoi (so many reviews at once, we could barely keep up!), Autobotally45, toro red, Megacheesedoodle, aniay, and aquila333 for your wonderful reviews. They really are inspiring to us, even though it takes ages to update at times. But hang in there!
That accursed, thrice-damned bond was proving to be too much. Soundwave was wasting enough energy just by trying to keep it blocked. He was in pain, his vents expelling super-heated air and his systems laboured as he dug his hand into this chest. The last thing he needed was to project his emotions towards Optimus Prime – and even if he were to seek relief from his bondmate, he would receive none.
"Hurry up," Soundwave wheezed, his orange optics blazing and overpowered like a pair of miniature suns.
"Nearly there," Frenzy assured between gritted denta, his words muffled.
The Cassetticon held two wires between his dental plates and their connector jacks stuck out from between his lips. The third wire linked him to his Master, a short but thick cable that wound through the broken glass of Soundwave's chestplate from where Optimus Prime had broken it earlier.
"Any luck?" Rumble questioned, practically squished from where he was kneeling on the berth between Ravage and Soundwave's thigh.
"Sure," Frenzy replied and he grabbed one of the wires in his mouth, this time connecting it directly to the telepathy-blocking device that sat close to Soundwave's lasercore. "It's a sneaky little fucker this one. It directly sucks up his power and stores it into a high-capacity cell, and then uses his own energy to shock him when the connectors disconnect. There's 'lil hooks in its connector points that shock 'im when—"
"Get it out," Soundwave said with a strained voice.
"Can ya access it?"
"Yes. Device: requires third party access. Rejects my signature automatically."
"Pah!" Frenzy spat out. "It's one of those types then."
Frenzy's mouth worked from side to side, his expression pulled in great concentration. Occasionally, Soundwave would violently twitch and he'd hiss loudly but it only made Frenzy more determined at his task. Electricity would arc over his fingers and Soundwave would double over from the electrical discharge his body would give out because of the device. Frenzy would then be forced to stop for a few moments, just to allow Soundwave enough time to recover.
"Continue," Soundwave ordered hoarsely after his shoulders stopped shaking.
"Boss…" Rumble worriedly began. "Ya sure ya can get—"
"I know what I'm doin'," Frenzy snapped. "Sounders, I'm gonna transmit the code over to ya so ya can help me out here."
Soundwave took a deep breath before nodding. "Affirmative."
"Yeah but if it's hurting him and if it won't come off…" Rumble argued and he glared at his brother.
"Continue," Soundwave insisted.
By the time Frenzy broke through the tiny device's defences, Soundwave was visibly trembling. The little symbiote actually managed to shock himself in the process and he let loose a short yelp as he fell backwards and off from the berth. Soundwave grunted when the wires were ripped from his ports.
"Fraggin' glitch-ridden piece of slag!" Frenzy swore up at the obnoxiously coloured ceiling from where he was sprawled out on the floor.
With ill-concealed glee, Soundwave was finally able to rip the contraption away from his body. He looked ready to crush it in his fist but then suddenly changed his mind. After staring at the small, innocuously-looking box that lay in his palm, he calmly clipped it back to his chest. Though Frenzy had successfully fried it, the telepath still needed to keep up appearances to the Autobots. He shut his chestplates and leaned back against the berth.
"Get up. Someone is approaching."
"I hope it's not yer charming bondmate," Frenzy grumbled as he jumped back up onto the berth.
"Negative."
The door swished open, revealing Ratchet with his nasal ridge stuck into a datapad he was holding in front of his face. The medic muttered something dark to himself before he looked up and his mouth parted slightly at the sight of Soundwave.
Ratchet said nothing right away as his blue optics assessed the damage on Soundwave's form. It wasn't too bad, but there were dents and mechblood. Not to mention Optimus' blue and red paint scrapes everywhere.
Clearing his vocaliser and waving the datapad in his hand, he said, "When I said to garner his attraction, this isn't what I meant."
The door didn't shut behind the medic, however, and in the frame, Blaster leaned lazily and couldn't help the slight smirk that curved his lips up at the sight of Soundwave. Next to the defensive telepath pedes, Steeljaw's optics glared into the room.
"Hey, hey, what's this? Looks like someone's not in the game," a voice suddenly said.
On top of Blaster's head a symbiote had crawled up to get a good view of the occupants of the room. It was Eject, and on Blaster's shoulder, Rewind peered in as well, the pair both instantly zooming in on Soundwave's symbiotes.
Ratchet raised his hand and looked over his shoulder at the two symbiotes perched on Blaster.
"Silence," the medic demanded. "I can handle this myself."
"Prowl said—" Blaster began.
"I don't care what Prowl said. I outrank you, now get the fuck out!"
Blaster shrugged his shoulder, still pointedly smirking at Soundwave before his overbearing defensive capabilities left the room as he turned and left. The door shut finally, and Ratchet heaved a deep sigh. Instead of heading towards Soundwave, he went over to the telepath's cassettes instead.
"How've you two shits been? Am I going to have to repair you as well?" the medic snapped before he grabbed Rumble's chassis and pulled the little mech closer.
"Hey!" Rumble yelped.
A tiny silver wire appeared from Ratchet's wrist, and he roughly removed a panel to reveal the shiny row of ports on Rumble's side. When the medical line plugged in, Ratchet reached over to Frenzy who was sitting protectively next to his twin. The medic gripped Frenzy's face with his other hand to turn the symbiote's helm from side to side before he let him go.
"Watch it doc!" Frenzy said loudly. "No need to manhandle the merchandise!"
After a few moments of discomfort, Ratchet disconnected from Rumble and pulled a cube of specially prepared energon out of his subspace. He placed it next to Rumble.
"Drink this. It'll help with your new systems. It tastes terrible…don't you dare spit it up," Ratchet warned him before he moved to the side to tap at his datapad screen with a finger.
There was a short stretch of silence and the Cassetticon twins glowered at Ratchet resentfully, hiding from behind Soundwave's bulk. Except for Rumble who was still hooked up to the monitoring machine. Then Rumble finally grabbed the small cube in his hands and took a sip. He made a face and stuck his glossa out.
Ratchet rolled the light in his optics and then turned around, and at that angle, was able to see the wound on Soundwave's back. His optics flared and he stepped closer, his fingers probing the wound.
"Your protoform is damaged. Did Optimus do this?"
"Affirmative," Soundwave said, obliging the Autobot by bending forward.
Soundwave didn't elaborate and he didn't need to. His exposed optics were dim and he avoided looking at Ratchet as much as possible, in an attempt to keep the medic's attention off his face. The damage spoke for itself; the plating warped from where Prime had dug his fingers into the seams of his back and pulled back, their edges scraped and scratched from where Soundwave had been fucked roughly on his back earlier. There was also a faint stench of electrical burning that clung to Soundwave's frame, from where he'd been shocked several times.
Ratchet made a noise in his vocaliser, deep and distinct. "We'll have to get you down into the medbay right away to have it repaired. It's deep…if it gets infected, you could die. Earth is a cesspool of infectious diseases…even for us."
At that, Soundwave slowly stood up. The Cassettes shifted; obviously ready to follow but he held his hand up. They stopped and obediently settled back in their places. Soundwave turned to face Ratchet expectantly, waiting for the medic to leave the room so he could follow.
In the medbay, Ratchet took Soundwave to a private room, with Blaster hanging around outside of the doorway like a dark aura. Blaster's hostile gaze remained fixed on Soundwave, daring him to make a move but Soundwave refused to meet his stare. Instead the telepath had his optics averted. Soundwave was strangely obedient when the Ratchet directed him to lie on his front.
Ratchet gave the Decepticon a mild sedative and began removing the plating around the key area so he could work unobstructed. When more of Soundwave's protoform became visible, Ratchet was dismayed by what he found. Long, thin wounds were criss-crossed everywhere, and it wasn't hard to guess what they were from. Ratchet touched a particularly deep one with the tip of a finger. The scar tissue was thick and hard. However, to the medic's trained optics, it was easy to see the wound had struggled with infection before it had finally healed.
"Was it Megatron who did this to you?" Ratchet couldn't help but ask.
"Negative," was Soundwave's laconic reply. When Ratchet didn't continue, evidently waiting for more, Soundwave was forced to elaborate. "Megatron: lacks patience for that. Cause: my previous Master. Discipline session."
Ratchet didn't expect more, and he didn't ask for it. Instead, he nodded his helm and probed at the scar tissue further to examine it. Once he was satisfied with the results, he moved onto the freshly damaged piece and began to tenderly clean the affected area with a solvent and a rag.
"I'm going to talk to him about this. It's ridiculous. I have enough work to do," the medic complained, his lips pulled into a deep frown. Ratchet then paused for a moment. "Unless you like being in here."
"Optimus Prime: my Lord and Master. My body is his to do with as he wishes," Soundwave said.
Ratchet did not pause in his work again and put the dirtied rags next to Soundwave's side. The wound was completely clean and ready for work.
"That reasoning might work in the Decepticons," Ratchet replied. "Here however, it does not. You have just as much value as anyone else."
The medic pulled out a small container from one of the refrigerating units. It made a small hiss when he twisted the safety cap off.
"Liquefied protoform filling," Ratchet explained, tilting the container over to Soundwave so he could show him the silvery substance inside.
Soundwave didn't say anything so Ratchet began to apply it in the small hole on the Soundwave's back until it was completely filled. When he was finished, Ratchet sat down next to the berth on a chair, waiting for the substance to dry and bond with the damaged metal.
"I know you don't understand now. But you will in time," the Autobot finally said, breaking the silence that had reigned in the small room.
Soundwave's fingers flexed against the berth's surface. The protoform filling was causing quite a bit of discomfort as the molecules began to bond into his own living metal.
"Lord Prime," Soundwave began and his monotone really emphasised the blankness in his voice, "has specified that I am here under his grace alone. My current value: nil."
Ratchet mulled over Soundwave's words for several moments, looking back to the opened door. Blaster was not actively looking through, but Ratchet knew he was standing right by the doorframe. He stood up and palmed the door close. Ratchet then returned to his spot and moved his chair closer to the berth.
"I think you need to know some things. Very important things that I'm not happy about and a lot of the others aren't happy about either. You can tell everyone I said these things and I'll deny it up and down…and make your life miserable. Do you understand that?"
One of Soundwave's bright optics cycled into focus as he transferred his attention onto Ratchet. "Correction: Autobot CMO's word above mine. Implications: understood."
Ratchet stared hard at Soundwave's face for a few moments, and then he leaned forward to start speaking in a low whisper.
"A long time the Autobot Council has been ruled by someone other than themselves. We, I, suspect this, along with a few other commanders. We're not sure by who, or for what reason, but it's become plainly obvious to me that the Autobots have been infiltrated from deep inside."
Ratchet's optics flickered and he looked away for a moment to take a deep breath.
"I know this is a fact. I served under Sentinel Prime, I've seen the way the Council has…changed. How Optimus has changed. Once, when I was repairing him late at night from a wound to the chest, I could feel this strange and dark energy being emitted from the Matrix. Optimus used to be so kind…now though…he is twisted and dark."
Soundwave's stare was unnerving. "Why are you telling me this?"
Ratchet reached out and brushed a hand across Soundwave's dermal plating. "I think you've been dragged into something very huge. I feel you had no prior knowledge of this, and I feel you deserve to know." The medic then looked beseechingly at him. "Please. If you know this is the Decepticons' doing, you must tell me. The few who have been questioning the Council's actions have been…disappearing."
At this, Soundwave laboriously pulled himself up into a sitting position. Though his lower face was hidden behind the curve of his mask, his optics were surprisingly expressive. "Permission needed to ascertain the truth of your statement."
Ratchet cocked his head to the side for a moment until he understood and nodded. "I have nothing to hide."
The telepathy manifested within Ratchet's cortex so smoothly that it gave the impression it had always been there. With amazing precision, it plucked out the knowledge it required before it sought out Ratchet's intentions.
"I have no recollection or information of the Decepticons controlling the Council," Soundwave finally said after he had stopped sifting through Ratchet's head. "If they are, then they would have acted differently. This is not their style. Nor Shockwave's." Soundwave paused for a moment and settled his gaze elsewhere in the room before adding, "I have felt the Matrix. It is not an experience I ever wish to repeat."
Ratchet seemed to slump over in relief. But at the same time, this newfound knowledge brought many more questions to his mind.
"I shouldn't have spoken to you about those things," Ratchet said suddenly, his optics bright. "Vector Sigma will know. He'll know that I told you."
The medic wiped a hand across his face.
"You know now what I suspect. You cannot pass this information on to anyone else. Do you know how upset the Council is over you? A telepath in their midst? They would have found Optimus Prime bonding with Megatron to be more acceptable."
The digital notes of Soundwave's odd laughter filled the room. "Optimus Prime having me on a leash: a great tactical advantage. Cease worrying: I can easily erase this session from my memory banks and place it into storage."
"If you are comfortable with the knowledge that your bondmate is being forced into actions that aren't his own, that he's basically … a drone, then I can't make you care otherwise. However, they will never accept you. They will have others watching you all the time. In the end, well… I don't know. I am surprised I haven't been…caught for treason already. I have spoken about this issue to a few others."
"Medic," Soundwave interjected. "If my bondmate had it his way, I would be either shackled to his berth as his whore or executed by his servo. Please do not insult me by insinuating that I am not aware that I will be watched. I am not a mech that is to be trusted or accepted. And vice versa. It is what has kept me functioning since my creation."
"I'm not insinuating that you don't know you're going to be followed around," Ratchet said.
Now frustrated, Ratchet stood up to look at Soundwave's back, finding that the filling was completely dry. He took a metal sanding block out of his subspace and gently began to file down the uneven edges until it was just as smooth as the rest of the protoform.
"I'm just worried for my own safety. The safety of those I care about. I know that the Council has been concentrating closely on me lately."
"Then you would do well to keep your mouth shut on this matter," Soundwave said. He tapped the tip of his index finger on the berth, placing emphasis on his words. "Location: your ensuring safety. Earth's remoteness and your high status help keep you alive. Your disappearance would not be taken well."
Ratchet's lips twitched, but he didn't say anything else as he clipped Soundwave's plating back into place. The bulky medic reached up and patted Soundwave's helm, however, it wasn't done in a condescending manner.
"Okay youngling, you're all fixed up. I've got the measurements for your tapedeck, but you'll have to wait until that's repaired. Tell Prime the next time he does that I'll kick him where it hurts."
The orange optics flared with annoyance at being called 'youngling' but Soundwave didn't say anything beyond that. He slid off the berth to stand up with one quick, graceful move before tilting his helm to one side.
"I require a new visor. Current one: unsalvageable."
Ratchet turned from where he was cleaning up the mess from the simple procedure.
"You'll understand that I don't keep red visors in stock, Soundwave. I might have a blue one somewhere. Otherwise you'll have to ask Jazz if he has one."
"I have no preference in the colour," Soundwave dispassionately stated.
And he stood there, waiting.
Ratchet seemed surprised at the statement. "I figured you Decepticons were all die-hard for red optics and visors. But sure, I'll ask Jazz for you."
"Unnecessary," Soundwave promptly answered, not appearing particularly bothered. "I will make one when provided with the materials."
The medic palmed the door open, and the pair stepped out to Blaster, who was leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed. He looked extremely bored, though his optics still followed Soundwave like a cyber-hawk when the telepath turned to unhurriedly walk back to his room.
The Autobots' third-in-command stormed into Prowl's office with his plating gleaming harshly under the bright lighting, clashing horribly with the orange walls. Prowl on his part didn't even warrant his fellow officer with a glance. The tactician just seemed fixated on whatever was written on his datapad.
Jazz placed his palms on the edge of the desk and hunched his shoulders inward so he could lean forward. "What's going on, Prowl?" He leaned down even further, deliberately pushing himself into the other mech's personal space. "Or rather I should ask, what's going to happen?"
Prowl sighed, as if he was dealing with a rude sparkling. "Do you mind?"
"Mind what, Prowler?" Jazz asked, with thickly faked innocence and an equally fake smile.
It was then that Prowl abruptly tossed aside his datapad with a sharp intake of air through his vents. He glanced up irritably. "It depends upon the Council and Prime, not us."
"What? That's it?" The smile slid off Jazz's faceplates, replaced by a very cold expression instead. "We have slagging' Soundwave here and just so you know, Megatron is not happy about it. Prime's off somewhere and it ain't here in the present with us and oh…I nearly forgot. Something about them being bonded? Compute that, if you please."
Prowl leaned back in his chair, working his shoulders from side to side so his doorwings could be properly positioned. "Well, yes, it is that simple. I'm refusing to overanalyse the situation until I've been debriefed by Prime. And since he's currently—" Prowl tapped a key on a holopad in front of him and an image popped up, "—sulking alone in his room, presumably crying to Magnus and begging for forgiveness , we have no choice but to wait. Soundwave's watch has been posted, Ratchet's been tending to him…there's nothing else to do."
Jazz's expression did not change for a long moment. He straightened up from his menacing pose and wiped a heavy hand over his face, knocking his visor askew. "Prowl. You don't seem to understand the… gravity of the situation. We don't even know if Prime's been compromised, or if Soundwave has an infectious disease, or—"
"Or what?" Prowl snapped, cutting him off. "It is what it is."
Jazz jabbed a finger forward, dangerously close to Prowl's face. "You're acting stupid. Have his mind powers affected you already?"
The offending finger was smacked away. "Don't be idiotic. I'm perfectly sound." One of Prowl's icy optics brightened. "Have you been affected by his mind powers?"
There was a derisive scoff. "Oh please, don't start. I'm not in the mood."
Prowl diverted his attention back to his datapad. "Well that settles it. I'm not in the mood either. Goodbye, Jazz."
But Jazz refused to leave or take the bait. "Has Ratchet told you how…?" He paused, his lips twisting briefly. "How complete the bond is?"
"Too complete to break," Prowl answered promptly. He quirked his lips in displeasure, tapping his fingers on his desk. "For the time being, Jazz, you need to obey your superior officer when he gives you an order. Prime will debrief us when the time is right."
The saboteur did not appear at all impressed or satisfied with the answer he got given.
"There you go again," he sighed dramatically. "Completely out of touch with reality." Jazz's voice hardened. "Do you even know what's going on out there? The crew is edgy and their curiosity is gonna get the better of them so if Prime delays, then there's a big fat chance that Megatron will do the grand announcement for us. And he ain't gonna soften the blow. Have you spoken to Prime at all? Or do I have to do the work around here?" he added snidely.
Prowl appeared offended at the words, and he slapped his palm down harshly as he stood up. This time he was the one pointing the finger – right into Jazz's curved chassis.
"I know how to do my job," he said aloofly, pushing the saboteur back with pure strength alone. "I know you think you're superior to me, whether or not that's due to our past personal relationship I don't know. However, I am second-in-command, and you will treat me as such. Badmouth me in private, soldier."
Jazz's visor brightened at one edge, giving him an almost haphazard look. He glanced over his shoulder, then casually looked around the room before settling his gaze back onto Prowl.
"But we are in private, sir," he smirked. "You frigid bitch."
Prowl's expression was mutinous. "You are close to the end of my patience, saboteur," the tactician hissed.
Jazz continued to smirk insolently. Then Prowl changed his tune.
"You'll never fuck me again," Prowl said lowly, and smoothed his palm over the metal of Jazz's chest from where he'd been jabbing at it earlier. "I know you want to… I can taste it when you get like this."
Jazz's smirk vanished.
The saboteur's energy field rippled aggressively and he grabbed the hand that was on his chestplate, squeezing the digits harshly in his palm as he yanked Prowl towards him. Prowl's mouth twisted, parting so he could protest but Jazz cut him off by kissing him. It was hardly a kiss however, more like Jazz seeking to conquer Prowl's mouth by shoving his glossa inside and slanting his lips wetly against the other mech's.
"You slagging—" Jazz abruptly broke away with a loud curse and held his hand up to his bleeding lip.
Prowl had bit him.
Prowl smirked and licked Jazz's blood from his lips. He padded slowly around the desk, his blue optics locked on Jazz's visor. The tactician stood close, letting Jazz feel his arousal and resentment.
"Were you imagining me on my knees? Or on all fours like Prime's so fond of? Or perhaps it was something even darker…I can make all of your wishes come true once you submit to me and admit that I am your superior."
Jazz stared intensely for a moment before he began to chuckle. "Please. I ain't that desperate to fall into your trap. You're just three layers, Prowl. And I deconstructed you long ago. Peel them back and underneath you're nothing. I think you know that better than anyone else."
Jazz then smiled sweetly, the sort of smile he usually gave his enemies before attacking them. Prowl smiled back at the words and edged himself on the top of his desk to pull Jazz forward.
"You know me just as well as I know you," Prowl whispered, drawing his hand across the saboteur's abdomen to touch his codpiece. "You know that I want power…and I'll do anything to get it. But you… you weren't ever good enough to compete with me. That's why I ate you up and took second-in-command from you. Don't forget—" Here Prowl dug his sharp tipped fingers hard into Jazz's protoform from underneath a piece of armour, "—you have problems too."
One of those mentioned problems manifested itself when Jazz actually leaned into Prowl's hand and gurgled out a moan from his vocaliser. But he was still smiling, and it was now a full-fledged grin that stretched his mouth across perfect, white denta.
"You know…" Jazz drawled out, deliberately grinding his interface panel against Prowl's. "That we both lucked out there. That 'Con leapt over both of us and managed to snag the first prize." His nasty grin indicated that he knew something that Prowl did not.
"Oh Jazz…if I had been pursuing Optimus Prime, I would have bonded with him long ago," Prowl replied, unimpressed with Jazz's new tactic. "If Optimus has to bond with a Decepticon in order to get off the way he wants to…good for him. That's all that Decepticon is… a sex thing."
With that, Jazz managed to dislodge himself from Prowl's clutches and he stumbled a little backwards.
"Yeah…ya really think Soundwave is going to remain just that. He already got this far. I don't think you get how toxic that mech is. I know. I've seen it. But if you wanna continue thinking that Soundwave ain't a threat while you sit here in yer neat office, then hey, knock yourself out. When he finally has Prime under his control, I won't even grace you with an 'I told you so'."
Prowl's sneer was harsh. "If you think I haven't calculated all the outcomes a billion times, you don't know me as well as you think you do. We must take advantage of the situation. Gather information. Soundwave's true intentions must be discerned somehow, by any measure necessary. I will rip apart his cpu myself if I have to. He is dangerous…however, we must know if Prime can control him. If he can, the danger will be significantly less."
Jazz just snorted contemptuously.
Undeterred, Prowl reached out and grabbed at Jazz's panel one last time. "Don't you want to fuck me, saboteur? But I suppose you aren't mech enough, are you?"
"Nah. I'm afraid that if I stick it in there, my cock will get bitten off," Jazz said flippantly.
"Shame," Prowl replied, and shrugged a shoulder. "All this arguing and posturing has me dripping wet."
The tactician pushed himself off from his desk and straightened up. Just as he did so, the officers' channel came to life.
"Requesting Jazz, Prowl, Ratchet, Ironhide and Red Alert to the conference room immediately," Prime's voice came.
Prowl's optics flickered and he smiled at the news. "We'll get our answers soon enough."
Suddenly, Jazz grabbed Prowl one last time. He shoved his hand between the other mech's thighs to squeeze the hot panel, making sure to place pressure where he knew Prowl's valve would lay directly underneath.
"Don't underestimate him, and never think that you have him under control," Jazz hissed out warningly, pushing his face up close. "This isn't Starscream we're talking about. Soundwave will make you think you've gotten the upper hand and he'll end up twistin' you around, feeding you what he wants you to believe even while your calculations are telling you you're winning. Trust me, tactician. You don't know what the fuck he's capable of."
With that, Jazz gave Prowl one final push and he turned around, leaving his superior's office with a hiss of the sliding doors.
"Right," Prowl snapped at the empty room. "How did I ever manage to survive through two wars?"
The grim faceplates of his fellow officers greeted him the moment Jazz stepped into the conference room. Prowl entered the room a several scant seconds later and veered off to the opposite direction so he could take his customary position close to the head of the table. Red Alert gave the saboteur a passing glance as Jazz padded by him so he could take the seat next to him.
"So," Jazz began, his normal cheerful smile twisting into a wry smirk. "Anyone got a clue what's up?"
Ratchet just gave him a look, which Ironhide bluntly translated into, "Take a wild guess."
Prowl tapped his fingers against the table. "I think it's best we refrain from speculating until we have been debriefed, Jazz."
The saboteur shot his superior a dark look, but said no more. Ratchet hummed in agreement with Prowl. Of course the other mechs at the table knew that Ratchet was privy to most of the new sensitive information that had developed, but they also knew he kept it to himself.
"Slaggit, where'd that mech run off to?" Ironhide grumbled in irritation.
Seemingly knowing when to show up, the doors slid open and all the officers looked over quickly to see Optimus Prime walk in. He called out a greeting to them as he approached the table, but it lacked enthusiasm. The large mech seated himself heavily in his chair and set a datapad he had been holding down in front of him.
Prime drew in a deep breath. "I know everyone here has many questions for me, but feel assured that I will answer them all to the best of my abilities."
Ironhide leaned up and craned his neck so he could see around the bulk of Ratchet's chassis. "Then perhaps you can start by explaining why there's a Decepticon with his own little room in the officers' hallway."
Prime's optics flared in annoyance. "Soundwave's presence here is not harmful. Everything will be explained."
Jazz barely hid a scoff. "How do you know that?"
Red Alert felt it was his time to add to the conversation. "Why is he allowed his own room? This is a major security issue! His symbiotes can run around where they please! He should be locked up in the brig until we can find a way of dealing with him."
"Soundwave has officially defected from the Decepticons," Prime said, carefully keeping his tone even.
Jazz's smirk grew a little sharper. "We know that already, Boss. Megatron's already went up and put a big fat bounty on him."
"Soundwave has also agreed to pass on all the information he knows," Prime continued.
"So he claims. Soundwave could easily be leading us into a cleverly constructed ploy," Red Alert insisted, leaning a little forward onto the table.
Ironhide spoke. "Yeah, Prime…Primus knows that this is the first time ever, but I gotta be with Red over here—"
Red Alert promptly glared at Ironhide, who appeared completely unaffected by it.
"—I mean, a 'Con is a 'Con and in this case, it's Soundwave. How can ya be sure that he isn't going to turn on us?"
Prime's voice was resolute. "Because he swore allegiance to me."
Ratchet, who had been silent the entire time, allowed himself a small smirk. "I've been tending to Soundwave and his symbiotes. He has been nothing but cooperative and helpful with me."
Prime gave Ratchet a grateful look. "Soundwave has been working for us undercover for quite some time—"
"Under whose orders?" Jazz tightly cut in, his tone high. "I have no knowledge of this!"
"Under my orders, Jazz," Prime replied steadily, though Ratchet could see the way Prime was tapping his fingers was indicative of a lie.
"Slag! Complete slag!" Ironhide declared hotly, slamming his heavy fist against the table. "Tell us the truth, Prime. We're too damn old to fall for that."
"Silence!" Prime bellowed, and instantly the bickering ceased. With a sigh, the mech slumped back into his chair and rubbed at his face mask. "Soundwave and I…have been engaging in…a relationship with each other for quite some time."
Everyone at the table had stilled completely. Even those who knew the circumstances did not say anything.
"It was not political in nature, nor was it about the difference in factions. However, I have been able to gather useful information from him. Once I felt that he had given me all that he could, I was prepared to end it. However, the Matrix…would not allow it. It forced Soundwave and I to permanently bond."
"The Council," Ratchet asked cautiously. "What did they say?"
"They uh…" Prime sighed and forced himself not to look away from their stony faces, "advised me to state that he'd been working for us the entire time. Alpha Trion was fully informed about the situation… he said it was interesting in regards to the Matrix. However, I understand that my actions are constituted as treasonous, and am currently awaiting the death penalty… or their explicit approval."
Ironhide leaned back in his chair. "Well that's…that's it, is it?"
Prime's blue optics flashed over to Ironhide. "Yes. That's all there is to it at the moment."
Red Alert wasn't as charitable. His optics were dark and his expression was disapproving. "You revealed Autobot secrets to him?"
Optimus Prime raised his hands defensively. "No! I would never betray the organisation that I love and serve for life."
Prowl, who had been diligently taking notes, raised a hand for silence from the others. "However this may seem on the outside, I see potential for much good to come out of this. Soundwave is a high ranking Decepticon…not to mention a telepath and an excellent communications officer. He can give us invaluable knowledge. And as Prime's bondmate, his own fate is tied to Optimus'."
"What's not to say that he won't just off himself to get rid of Prime?" Jazz asked.
Optimus could finally add in something helpful. "He treasures his symbiotes. If he were to die, they would too."
Jazz looked unimpressed at this knowledge.
"We also have Blaster…is he effective against Soundwave?" Prowl wondered out loud.
"Yes," Ratchet replied. "He has been watching Soundwave carefully."
"In the end, Soundwave has sworn fealty to me. As my bondmate, I am inclined to believe him. I know him. He cares for me too much to kill me..."
Jazz pursed his lips. "He loves you."
Ironhide snorted incredulously at the implications of Jazz's statement.
"No, but we… we're close to each other in a way I can't explain," Prime hurriedly said.
Red Alert had his optics covered with one hand, as if he was unable to comprehend the massive security breach that just slapped him in the face. Ratchet frowned at the Security Director, concerned that the red horns were going to start emitting sparks.
"With all due respect, sir… out of all the Decepticons you had to go with…why him," Red Alert muttered hoarsely. "The worst possible choice you could have gone for next to Starscream. You couldn't have gone for one of the lower ranked ones who wouldn't know what a security algorithm was even if it bit them on the aft…"
"Well, could have been Megatron. Then we'd be in a load of slag," Ratchet replied, and reached over to pat Red Alert on the shoulder. "Don't get too worked up…I've had enough fun in the surgery bay today," Ratchet muttered, giving a pointed glare to Optimus.
Ironhide clicked his glossa. "He means to say he ain't fixin' ya if ya glitch."
Prime rubbed at his face mask again. "I'll take open questions now."
With a creak of his joints, Ironhide shifted his sturdy frame on the chair and turned to face Prime fully. "Yeah, I got a question," he said, tone just beginning to border on insubordination. "Was he worth it? Can't imagine anyone being that good of a fuck for you to risk everything."
The mechs in the room remained silent and expectant, and the filtered air seemed suddenly stale. Even Prowl who would have ordinarily reproached Ironhide for his crass phrasing didn't say anything. They all wanted to know.
Optimus Prime clutched his hands together tightly. "Was he a good fuck? Yes. Was he worth risking everything I have? No. It was a mistake that went too far, and still is."
Ratchet's chuckle was dry and strained. "You're…what's that thing Sparkplug says…only human? Wait that's not right. Only a mech." He then propped his chin up lazily with one red servo. "Well," he declared. "Getting a new Prime would only spell more trouble for me. Primus knows how long it'll take to pummel how I like to work into his thick head. Guess we're stuck with you, Optimus."
It was Ratchet's rather roundabout way of saying that he'd continue to support his leader.
"Do the rest of you…feel the same way?" Optimus asked quietly.
"I see an advantageous tactical opportunity here," Prowl remarked as he arranged his fingers into steeple. "I reiterate that replacing you as our leader would only lead to chaos and anarchy in our ranks."
"Been with you too long, Prime," Ironhide announced gruffly, though it was obvious that he was still angry by the way he had averted his optics.
Red Alert made a small twitch as he felt all attention shift towards him. "Sir?"
"And your verdict, Red Alert," Optimus asked. "Am I guilty or innocent?"
"Sir, how do you plan to announce it to the rest of the crew?" the Security Director enquired, opting to avoid the question completely.
Optimus Prime fell silent for a moment. Though Red Alert didn't directly pledge his support, the fact that he insinuated the next stage of events indicated that he was willing to accept and adapt to the situation. For now it was enough.
"I will have to twist the truth," he sighed. "A white lie if you will."
Ratchet made a contemplative 'hmm' before speaking. "Yes you will. Tell them what you told us. That he was a double agent."
"They'll never fall for that," Ironhide scoffed.
"No, they probably won't," the medic agreed. "But officialising the cover up would turn their rumours and speculations exactly into what they are – rumours and speculations. I'll give out a statement that Soundwave will require a long rehabilitation session to help him 'reprogram' himself back to Autobot life, as he was in so deep that he had to turn 'Con regardless."
"It's the only way I can go about it," Prime added softly. "Soon he and I will be required to appear before the Council and Vector Sigma. There the final judgment will be passed…with the will of Primus I will be allowed to continue my service."
Ratchet swivelled lazily in his floating chair. "Well, you know. Sentinel did some pretty bad stuff too."
"Thanks, Ratchet," Prime muttered without looking up.
Unsurprisingly, the rest of the Ark's crew didn't take Optimus Prime's announcement well. There had been an onslaught of protests, questions of disbelief and an all-around uproar. But to the relief of the high command, a mutiny did not occur as Prowl had hinted in that matter-of-fact way of his that had Red Alert twitching all over again. At least Optimus could take pride that his crew were loyal to him, despite the upheaval he had placed upon their lives.
To a point.
"Pass," Sideswipe muttered and threw out the holo-cards he held out onto the table. "I'm out."
"Aw," Smokescreen pouted. "No second round?" He tilted his helm towards Bluestreak. "What about you? Wanna play?"
Bluestreak was slyly avoiding Sunstreaker's groping hand. The small-built mech shook his head before he swatted at Sunstreaker's shoulder and moved farther away from the bulky toughliner.
"I'm not very good at playing…no patience for it," Bluestreak supplied, now noticing how he was pushed up close against Sideswipe.
"This day has been slag," Sideswipe declared, smiling devilishly at Bluestreak before he leaned back in his seat and swung his legs up on the table.
The red-coloured twin's optics scanned over to the small mech next to him, and he watched as Sunstreaker murmured out an apology to Bluestreak. His brother had been attempting to get into the sniper's panel for a long time, but the Praxian had yet to yield.
"Pretty fucking much," Smokescreen replied. "Prime loves droppin' the bombs on us…such a great commander he is, getting his rocks off between the enemy's legs."
Bluestreak, who had been hauled onto Sunstreaker's lap, piped up. "We don't know that. It could be that Prime's telling the truth about it you know…and if he did lie, well the rest of the command are going along with it, and obviously the Council is too."
"I wanted to chuck him off of that balcony in the hangar. Talking down to us and sounding like he'd made up that excuse on the trip over…please," Smokescreen said lowly.
Bluestreak shrugged his shoulder. "I don't know…I guess we'll find out what happens soon enough."
Sideswipe rubbed at his chin, attempting to look like he was really pondering something.
"That bitch must have one tight valve. Or he's putting moves on Prime that the mech's never seen before. 'Cause I mean on the outside, he's about as attractive as the Ark's paintjob," the twin stated.
Sunstreaker hummed in agreement and reached in front of himself and Bluestreak for his cube of high-grade. "I would have thought his panel would be welded shut to avoid the temptation. Isn't he like that? All creepy with his monotone. That mech must have an awesome sex voice."
Here Sunstreaker mimicked some noises and the two other mechs laughed, but not Bluestreak.
The gunner's lips were curved into a frown. "How do you know? He might genuinely be a good and compassionate lover…Optimus did bond with him, didn't he? I mean for Prime to pass up Elita and Magnus, Soundwave must be something special."
The others gave Bluestreak a look. Sunstreaker craned his neck to the side so he could stare directly into his optics.
"Hey, you know something we don't?" the yellow-plated twin asked.
Bluestreak began to stammer. "W-Well no. I'm just trying to be reasonable and not jump into conclusions—"
"Want me to remind you how many times that 'Con tried to kill you on the battlefield?" Sunstreaker interrupted, not allowing the mech he held on his lap to launch into a long-winded babble.
"I can understand if it's what he had to do to keep his cover! We've tried to kill him too you know!"
Sunstreaker snorted. "Oh c'mon! Cover? Like hell I'll ever believe that!"
Bluestreak made an annoyed huff and with a jerky twitch of his doorwings, he wiggled off from Sunstreaker's lap. This time he opted to sit on the bench next to Smokescreen. Sideswipe gave the younger Praxian a small smile and held his hands out in a mollifying gesture.
"The guy's rumoured to have some pretty scary mind powers," he said. "For all you know, he's probably weaved himself into Prime's interfacing coding, Blue."
Bluestreak huffed angrily, and rolled the light in his optics like it was obvious. "Don't be so dense, Sideswipe. Soundwave's powerful, but I don't think he could manipulate the entire high command. Especially when there's not even a good way to get to the Council. And even if he did, someone would have to know… at least Blaster. Plus, Prime's got the Matrix."
The others didn't seem to buy it.
"Yeah, Blue, but that's not the point. The point is that it would be much easier to topple the Autobots over with Prime gone. Prowl would take command next and Jazz hates him, so you have a big problem there. Who would replace Prime?" Smokescreen pointed out with an idle drawl.
It was then that Sideswipe placed his hand onto his chestplates, puffing up his plating arrogantly. "I don't know about you guys, but I think I'm the perfect mech for the job. I shall replace Prime. I shall be…" He paused for effect. "Sideswipe Prime. The Awesome. Destroyer of Seekers and wooer of femmes alike."
"More like Sideslag Prime the glitch-head," Sunstreaker muttered under his breath.
"Hey! I'd make the best Prime ever!"
Suddenly Prowl appeared, standing next to Sideswipe. "You'd make a great Prime, Sideswipe…in you being a prime example of insubordination. Or you being the prime cleaner of the lower deck's hallways for having such a smart mouth… am I wrong?" the small black and white doorwinged mech remarked.
Sideswipe instantly sulked as Prowl held a datapad out to Smokescreen, who took it and began reading it over.
"Prowl baby, I was joking!" Sideswipe whined. "You know that! I'd be a terrible Prime and everyone knows that too."
The red coloured twin received a sharp smack on his shoulder. "I am not your baby Sideswipe, and I never will be. Now you really do get to clean the lower deck tonight," the tactician blandly informed him.
Prowl looked over to Smokescreen and tapped the datapad the mech was holding in his hands. "If you could get back to me with these later when you have the chance," he murmured, addressing Smokescreen.
"Sure," Smokescreen replied.
"Wait, Prowl, come on!" Sideswipe yelled, half standing to go after Prowl as the tactician started to walk away from the table.
Sunstreaker grabbed his brother's shoulder and pulled him back down to sit. "It's your fault, dunce. Deal with it. You ain't gonna get that."
The twins began to bicker at each other until Smokescreen decided he heard enough. With a sigh, he hoisted himself to his pedes. "Gonna have to cut this short, gents. Need to fill in some reports for Hoist that I've been putting off since… forever." He winked and waved a hand dismissively. "Later!"
He left them there, throwing one last amused glance at Bluestreak trying to evade Sunstreaker's affections and proceeded to walk out of the rec room and into the corridor. Smokescreen strolled towards the medical wing of the Ark, a cheerful bounce to his step. But as he reached the final junction, he turned towards to the right instead and ventured even deeper into the ends of the ship.
Smokesceen reached a set of large doors and tapped lightly on the control panel next to them, before speaking into it. "Smokescreen reporting, sir."
The doors opened for him, allowing him entrance into the office inside.
"Sir, you've requested to see me?" the Praxian asked the moment he stopped in front of Prime's large desk.
Optimus had his hands folded, closely watching Smokescreen for a moment. Then, he stood up and went to his energon dispenser. "Yes I did. Please, sit down."
Smokescreen sat on one of the guest chairs, sitting back against the plush surface so he could lounge in it comfortably. Clearly this wasn't the first time he met with Prime under these circumstances.
Prime filled two cubes with high-grade and offered one to Smokescreen as he returned to his desk. He sat down opposite of the mech and sighed heavily. "What have the others been saying about my announcement?" Prime asked before he pried his face mask off and set it to the side so he could take a drink of the rich purple energon. "Obviously not a lot of good… it was quite unexpected."
"You want the brief, to-the-point version?" Smokescreen asked and took a long sip from his own cube. "Or do you want the uncensored, director's cut version?"
Optimus laughed and his blue optics seemed to twinkle. "You know that we have all night to discuss matters such as these… which ever version you feel would satisfy my curiosity the most, Smokescreen," Prime replied as he idly tapped a stylus to his desk.
A loud exhalation of air was heard from Smokescreen's vents. He fell silent – only for a moment – and studied one of the electrum swords that decorated the wall. "Reactions…range from disbelieving, angry, a little betrayed…but mostly shock. I haven't caught any word on overthrowing you but I believe it's because you have the rest of the high command backing you up. The crew pretty much take that as a solid validation point. Time will tell though. Now as for what they're saying about Soundwave…well, heh…"
He trailed off there with a snort.
Optimus stared hard at his cube before looking up to Smokescreen again. "All of the reactions are understandable…it hasn't been any easier for me elsewhere. I would feel betrayed too, however, soon Soundwave will go through the ceremony process to become the Royal Consort. Until then… they can speak ill of him if they wish—"
Smokescreen's sharp optics settled back on the larger mech. "And you're okay with that? Knowing what they say about your Consort?"
"No, I'm not. But until he becomes the official Consort, there is little I can do about it. After the ceremony, they must show him unambiguous respect… he will outrank everyone here except for me." Optimus glanced over to meet Smokescreen's optics directly. "What do you think?"
Smokescreen's mouth twisted a little – perhaps on its way to form a derisive sneer but quickly softened into a neutral expression instead. "Frankly? I don't believe a word you said about him a double-agent for us. Neither do the others of course. Except for Bluestreak, bless 'im. I'm inclined to echo the rest of the crew here…did he bewitch you with his mind powers? Or is he that good in the berth."
Prime let a small smirk curve his lips upward. "Since you have been honest with me, which I appreciate… I suppose I can reciprocate. Soundwave is… the best I've ever had. Perhaps he has bewitched me with his mouth and valve..."
If Smokescreen was surprised at the frank confession, he didn't show it.
"Decepticons will do that to you," the doorwinged mech carefully replied, wondering if Prime would take the bait.
"Double-agent," the Autobot leader smoothly corrected.
"Right," Smokescreen said, and it didn't sound as though he believed it.
Optimus smiled again, and he tapped his fingers on the tabletop. "I appreciate you, Smokescreen. I hope you haven't lost faith in me. I know Soundwave feels the same."
The Praxian seemed to deflate. "Well, I know you're not telling the entire truth…but with the high command backing you, along with the Council, there isn't much I can do, can I?"
"Of course you can do something. You could refuse to serve," Optimus replied.
"And what would you do if I did refuse to continue my current assignments?" Smokescreen countered, leaning forward in his chair to grab a pretty stylus off of his leader's desk. He twirled it around in his elegant fingers before subspacing it with a smile.
Prime allowed it, knowing that it was Smokescreen's way of testing his boundaries. Sometimes the relationships that he held with his subordinates seemed more like a game of politics, diplomacy and heavily layered actions. Faith and loyalty only went so far.
"You would be executed for treason. Just as with anyone else who decides to rebel against me. Or you could renounce your position in the Autobots completely and join the Neutrals…I will not be able to guarantee your safety there. Soon, Soundwave and I will be the Autobot law," Optimus said slowly, his hands clasped together.
"The ruler and the enforcer?" Smokescreen asked. "From The Will of Primus, the Directives of Prime…passage 304…am I correct?"
"Passage 305," Optimus corrected. "I am to be the ruler…and Soundwave will be the enforcer."
"Heh…I do hope he's up for the job," Smokescreen remarked.
He placed the stylus back onto the desk where he had found it.
Also, if any of you readers happen to be going to AA (Auto Assembly in Birmingham) this August, drop me a review or PM! We'll be there! :D