Title: A dangerous game
Rating: T

Summary: Games aren't so much fun when someone dies; but is Jazz really responsible or is someone else playing games at Iacon Academy?

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I don't profit from this

Chapter 7

Jazz was considerably more nervous than he let on as he unspooled a data cord from his wrist. This wasn't like interfacing for pleasure, which would involve them both being linked to each other through secondary ports and was far more familiar and comfortable for both of them. This was making use of a primary port, used almost exclusively by medics during upgrades. Get something wrong here and he could do some serious damage. Possibly irreparable.

On top of that, he was less than certain he knew what to do once he got in there.

Besides, the whole thing upset him. What Icon was doing should not work, it should not be possible to make a mech act outside his nature. If he had found a way around that, who knew what else might be lurking in that code?

He looked up, about to make a joke to lighten the mood, but then saw that Prowl had already opened a port in the side of his neck: not just any primary port, but the one with the most direct access to a mech's programming. Primus knew that Jazz would think twice before letting someone else connect up there, particularly someone he had only just met, but in the short time he had known Prowl he'd learned that the mech always did things differently to most.

Left speechless, he remained silent and plugged in. As their systems synched, he settled on his knees beside Prowl's chest, one hand resting on the prone mech's chest, fingers rubbing in small circles. The gesture was intended to make the other mech relax, but it did not have that effect. Then again, Jazz supposed there weren't that many mecha who could relax under these circumstances.

An alert popped up on his HUD, letting him know he was properly connected and requesting an override to bypass Prowl's firewalls. But before he could even begin to consider how to work around that, it disappeared. Prowl was letting him in; an immeasurable show of trust that Jazz could not be sure was justified. Now beyond the firewalls Jazz was beginning to get data through the connection. Prowl was not nearly as calm as he appeared, and yet his thoughts and processes were eerily ordered.

"Ready?" Jazz asked.

"Of course." the response came immediately, along with a flurry of processor activity that Jazz did not bother to examine.

There was no more reason to delay; he was sure that this was the best option, that to do it the other way would only expose Prowl to more danger, and his opinion of that had not changed. So he had to get on with it.

Pausing only to make one final prayer to Primus that he did not mess this up, Jazz dialled down his external sensors and set to work.

As the breems crept slowly past, Prowl found himself considering the ceiling once more, though this time he felt less inclined to move - staying right where he was now was his best option. He had lost track of how many times he had been in this position, though in those situations it had always been skilled medics connected up to him. Here he could only hope that Jazz's knowledge and experience were enough not only to get rid of the malicious code, but also to avoid doing any other damage.

Sometimes he could partially feel what Jazz was doing. It was a sensation he had no words for; not quite a touch or a sound, but similar. A tickling in the centre of his helm, a twinge in his cortex. Twice he saw lines of code appear on his HUD in complex programming script that he could not parse, but each time they vanished within clicks.

9.742 breems along, suddenly there was a change. Jazz stirred faintly, then slumped strutlessly down on top of him.

"Jazz?" he called, not sure what had happened or if it were safe to move.

There was no response.

"Jazz?" he tried again, this time moving his shoulder to shift Jazz's head just a fraction.

Still no response.

Prowl considered his options carefully, and concluded that he did not have any. Moving even to change position would risk disconnecting the cord between them, and might do serious damage to either of them. Sighing, he resigned himself to waiting until Jazz came back online, and began counting the tiles again.

It took another seven breems, almost as long again as the initial wait, then Jazz groaned.

"Jazz?"

"Nngh. What happened?"

"You went offline."

"Oh. Uh, any reason you're huggin' me?"

"I did not want you to move unwisely in your disoriented state and forget that we are still connected."

"Huh? Oh. Right. Um, thanks."

Prowl let go and Jazz sat up cautiously, carefully backing out of his firewalls and then disconnecting the cord. Relieved to at least have his processor to himself once again, Prowl also sat up, impatient to know the result.

"Were you able to find and disable the code?"

"Hmm? Yeah, it's gone. You're safe."

"Then why are you so distracted?"

Jazz froze for a moment, then shook his head.

"Jus' thinkin'. Didn't think it'd be that easy. Never knew a mech's processor could be so organised. So. What's the plan from here?"

"I will need to contact my supervisor. He will organise for Icon to be arrested and the equipment impounded. You will need to be taken to the nearest station to give a formal testimony but after that you should be able to resume your studies without further disruption as long as you swear never to use this skill again. Obviously you will always be monitored in case you choose to break that promise."

"So you'd put'im on trial?" Jazz asked, his tone slightly peculiar.

"Of course."

Jazz visibly paused, apparently thinking hard, then nodded slowly.

"Right." Pushing himself up to his pedes, he grabbed Prowl's chair again. "Okay, you do what you've gotta do. I'd better go."

"Go where?" Prowl asked.

Jazz smiled at him sunnily.

"Back t'my room, o'course. Can't have mecha wond'rin' how I got in here, now can I? Or what I was up to in here? The gossip chain's even faster'n hypertext round here!"

There was something in Jazz's manner that worried him, and Prowl rose.

"Be careful. Don't confront Icon - not when we're this close to having this resolved."

"Trust me, mech. I ain't gonna do anythin' I'll regret."

Somehow that promise did not seem at all reassuring.

"Jazz..."

"It'll be fine. Now, can ya gimme a hand t'get this panel back in place?"

Two breems after leaving Prowl, Jazz strode down the corridor, intent on his task. He had paused in his room long enough to ruin his own terminal, now he needed to destroy Icon's copy of the gaming software before anyone else got hurt.

He knew that Prowl would not approve. The mech wanted Icon to face trial, but that was too simplistic a view and Jazz could see all too clearly where it would lead.

Gaming was not actually against the law because no-one had ever conceived of it being possible. And once it was known that it was possible to cause mecha to do just about anything - to kill themselves, and others - then there would be no stopping it. Criminals would put vast resources into working out how to do it, and once they did then no-one would be safe. It had to be stopped here and now. And the one saving grace was that Icon did not know enough of how the software actually worked to rebuild if his terminal was damaged.

So that was what needed doing. Even though it would destroy a lot of the evidence that proved Jazz himself was innocent, even though it would hide the truth that Piper and Veneer deserved to have known - that they had been manipulated, rather than tragically flawed in their programming - this had to be done.

He acknowledged no-one as he walked. He didn't care who saw him. Let them tell Icon he was the one who had done this; the mech would guess easily enough anyway. And at least this way he would be able to charge at night without fear that next time he might not recognise the foreign code in time to stop it activating.

Reaching Icon's room he used the code that he had discovered last time and the door opened. As expected at this time of the orn, the room was empty. He moved straight over to the terminal and turned it on. This would have to be done right: he wanted to make sure that even the best data retrieval expert could not rebuild what he was about to destroy. Thankfully, since he had written this software himself in full knowledge that the Academy faculty would not be at all amused by it if they ever found out, he had built in some data destruction sequences. He had thought them to be a failsafe, expecting to use them when he left the Academy, so that no-one else stumbled across the program. They were simple enough to initiate, and should be pretty much impossible to undo.

Keying in several authorisation keys he nodded grimly as the final warning came up. Yes. Time to destroy all of this. He keyed in the final sequence, then leaned back to watch it slowly melt down. But just as his back touched the seat cushioning, a voice intruded.

"What the frag are you doing?"

Jazz froze at the sound of a familiar voice, then turned around to find Icon standing right behind him.

After Jazz had gone Prowl restored the ceiling panel and tidied up, then sat quietly on the side of his berth to think. Jazz was planning something, but what could it be? They had the evidence now, so everything should be straightforward and would be handled by the book.

Jazz's question echoed in his processor, making him feel uneasy. Why had Jazz questioned the fact that Icon would be put on trial? It was a strange question to ask when Jazz knew that Prowl was an Enforcer and that the Enforcers always granted every criminal a fair hearing before they were judged. Not that Prowl expected there to be any mitigating circumstances in this particular situation, but that was how the system worked and it was the only fair way for it to be.

Fair? But of course, Icon was from a noble family. And sometimes the nobles had ways of avoiding the punishments that common mecha would face. Was that Jazz's concern? That Icon's family might ensure that their status was not diminished by these acts and thus cover this up?

Or was it that Jazz was still Icon's friend, and did not want to see his friend hurt this way? In which case... ain't gonna do anythin' I'll regret... Jazz could well be on his way to warn him. Rising quickly, Prowl left his room and hurried towards the communications centre. He had to get the message out quickly.

Reaching the administration block he paused. There was a large crowd and something of a commotion. The hallway was blocked and he heard some of the staff insisting that all students leave the area. Frustrated, he was going to try to push through anyway when he ran straight into Slimline. He hadn't seen her at all, and she hadn't seen him, but now she turned and for a moment their gazes locked. He saw her expression morph from surprise to triumph, then to uncertainty and finally anger in the click before he turned away. He didn't have time to deal with her right now, he had to find a comm line and call for help before Jazz did something that completely destroyed their case.

Thinking quickly, he remembered that there was a comm unit in the commissary, near the oil dispenser. He hadn't used it before because it was so public, but right now he didn't care who saw or heard him. Heading that way he was only two corridors away from his goal when there was a sudden searing pain across his doorwings that made him fall to his knees. Disoriented, he was barely aware of others asking if he was alright, then someone helped him up and guided him away to somewhere he could sit down. The pain passed, and he found himself staring down at wrists and ankles that were now shackled with strips of sealing tape. Trying not to show his nervousness he looked up to see his "resucer", unsurprised to find himself staring at a snarling Slimline.

"What are you?"

It was dismayingly similar to the initial conversation he had had with Jazz, but he suspected this one would not end as amicably.

"What do you mean?"

"Why can't we game you?"

"I don't understand." he responded, then gasped as there was another arc of pain across his doorwings.

She must have attached some electrodes, he realised fuzzily as he struggled to maintain his balance.

"You're nothing special, you're just another mech. So why doesn't it work on you? Why you? And don't think I don't know why you're here. You're here cause Piper called you, didn't he? The slagger. He called you so you could all tell lies about me, well it's not going to work!"

Another shock, and then a fizzling sound. He managed to look up just as she threw a remote control to the ground in frustration.

"Stupid thing." she huffed, crushing it beneath her pede.

For a moment she seemed totally absorbed by the task of reducing the item to nothing but grit, then she suddenly stopped and turned back to face him. She stared at him for a moment, then gave him a sweet smile, slinking over to him.

"Listen, darling. Why don't you just tell me what I want to know and everything'll be just fine? I'm not asking for much, I just want to know why you're here and why we can't game you."

If anything, this sudden moodswing was more alarming than if she had kept yelling at him. Was she entirely unstable?

"I'm here to study..." he began.

She shrieked and lashed out at him, missing in spite of his current immobility.

"You're here to help Piper. Did he know I wanted Jazz to game him? Is that why he called you?"

"Why ask Jazz to game Piper?" he asked cautiously, avoiding a direct answer.

"Piper had to go away." she ranted. "He said I was cheating, he wasn't going to let me pass. I have to pass. Don't you understand? If I fail then I'll have to go back to Praxus. I hate Praxus, with all its stuffy rules and silly traditions. I can't go back there. I won't."

"There are other ways to leave a city, beyond cheating on tests." Prowl pointed out.

She scowled.

"Easy for you to say. Everything's always come easy to you. How could you possibly understand that things don't always turn out the way you want them to?"

Prowl bit back the response that he understood that all too well, and fished for more information since she currently seemed willing to talk.

"So how did Icon become involved?"

"He's trapped too. He's stuck here because there's nowhere else for him to be. Right now. But if he can cause some accidents he can become the heir. He can go home. And he'll take me with him, I'll live in the Towers and learn to hunt and go to parties and never have to worry about funding again. Never ever have to go back to Praxus again."

"I don't understand. If Icon is helping you, why are you still paired with Jazz?"

The distracted look in her optics faded a little and she frowned at him.

"You're asking a lot of questions. Why?"

"I just want to know. If I'm going to die I'd at least like to know the truth."

"The truth?" she giggled madly, notably not arguing with his assumption that she was going to kill him. "Which truth? The truth that Icon's just not good enough to game someone unless Jazz's done it first? The truth that I was the one who caused your accident? Or the truth that Piper turned me down when I tried to get into his berth? That slagger. What could Veneer give him that I couldn't? I needed that grade..."

Prowl kept recording her diatribe, but was not aware of the words as the meaning of those first few sentences washed over him. She had caused his accident? He had never seriously considered that; it was simply bad fortune. But of course she had felt cornered by his ultimatum. And apparently killing someone was not outside her range of acceptable options when it came to resolving her problems.

Which meant that if she did decide to kill him, she would have no qualms about it. Worse, she was seriously unstable, probably had been for vorns and no-one had guessed. Even Jazz now thought Icon was the dangerous one; it had not occurred to them to think it was both.

And worst of all: no-one who cared knew where he was, so there was no-one coming to his rescue. He would have to get himself out of this.

Somehow.