Author's Notes: So this chapter sure was late! Sorry about that folks… I have been trying to work on my actual novels in my free time, and that is only in the rare minute I find myself not at work. No big deal, I'll see if I can get something else out earlier to make it up! But for now, please comment and enjoy!
Date: February 7th 2021
Cybertron
Soundwave
Soundwave was disoriented, having to realign from the sudden flood of information he had previously been missing. The more familiar being the Bond, slamming his subconscious full force. But Laserbeak's chatter wasn't added to the chorus of input. Docked in his torso, exactly where he was before the experiment. But at this time, he was in stasis. Soundwave felt the reason in their lingering connection despite his minicon's prompt to power down. Soundwave's mind went into the simulation alongside Rhea's, and their connection ceased. Just as he experienced while in the simulation. Not like death, or even the decision to close the Bond temporarily. But as if Soundwave merely ceased to be. It equally unnerved Laserbeak, so he opted to be unconscious until Soundwave came back.
He sent a gentle and apologetic pulse through the Bond to rouse his minicon while Rhea pulled off her head set and shook off her own dizziness from her place on the window. "You ok?" she asked him gently.
He was surprised how long it took him to respond. It should have been an easy 'yes.' Then they could move along. But he wasn't sure. He was in his real body, but he was still overwhelmed. Stuck in contemplation over the mix of alien feelings he was still struggling to identify even after conducting such thorough research on the topic.
But he needed to report to her something. "I am adequate."
She did not look convinced. He should have settled on a more convincing adjective. But she didn't push the topic, or him. He appreciated that.
As Laserbeak roused from his elective stasis, Soundwave built a quick feedback barrier between them, shielding his minicon from the swirl of strange new emotions. Laserbeak had made it clear, in no uncertain terms, he wanted no part of this experiment. This way, he wouldn't be forced to experience those odd human sensations second hand. Soundwave wasn't sure how long he could continue the feedback barrier, but it would do temporarily until he settled on a more permanent solution.
Another comm ping. The same one that interrupted their shared time in the simulation rang again. It also interrupted the flood of demanding questions Laserbeak was getting ready to bombard him with. He was far from shocked when Prion mischief was the culprit. Back to reality and back to work. He assumed it would be a difficult transition.
"Am I invited to today's show?" Rhea wondered as she hopped out of her seat. "Going by the five messages sent to your comm, and then to mine trying to reach you, I assume it is worth checking out."
Good, she wasn't headed straight back to Earth. They would have at least a little time to remain together. "I would most appreciate the moral support," he said with a shrug.
She stood on the edge and waited for him to retrieve her. "Happy to help. Just let me slip into my Cybertronian self and we'll hit the cosmic trail."
He lifted her from the table and put her on his shoulder. He allowed himself a moment to linger in her presence. He recognized these feelings. A small non Cybertronian presence activating touch receptors in the crevasse between his chest armor and mesh. He looked forward to her switching, so he could experience her field as well. Between the two of them, they were swapping realities to better experience each other. It was confusing, but he decided he didn't mind it.
Date: Present day, September 29th 2021 early evening
Steven
They hadn't even made it through the small bar's entrance, Ben basically dragging Steven by the wrist the whole way, when he saw them. The familiar pair of elderly men seated at the bar under a fake palm tree, bickering about something trivial over a few glasses of beer.
"Max?" Steven said with a start.
The gray-haired ex General turned around, just as surprised. His friend Oliver did the same, far less startled.
"Steven? Since when have you been a drinker… Christ, you look like shit," Max commented after taking an extra few seconds to observe him closer.
Whatever nervousness Steven harbored fell away and he was left annoyed instead, "Thanks, I hadn't noticed," he pulled Ben inside, "I've been trying to call, and you haven't answered," he added with a grumble as he took a seat to Max's left.
Max shrugged his slouched shoulders, "I've been busy. I'm also famously unreliable."
Oliver leaned around his back to say, "By busy, he means he had a heart palpitation scare and was too stubborn to get it checked until I forced him to."
Max waved the ordeal off when Steven was staring at him in shock, and a good deal of disappointment, "Doctors said I was fine. Just had to stop my excess drinking."
Every pair of eyes fell onto his three empty glasses. Max snorted, "I said 'excess.' This is my normal amount. It's bad enough Oliver here is babysitting my every damn order."
"He's sadly not wrong," Oliver sighed.
Max leaned back to observe Ben who was still standing behind Steven. His thin, unkempt eyebrow rose curiously, "But I see I did miss a good deal in the past week… What would poor Rhea think of you moving on so quickly?" He asked, focus landing on Ben's grasp around Steven's wrist.
Steven yanked himself free after shoving Ben into the chair next to him, "She's why we're here. I haven't put up her information at this location yet. This is just an associate from work."
Ben leaned fully over Steven with a hand extended towards the two elders, his usual smirk wide as ever. "I'm Ben Gilvezan! Or at least that's what it says on my military papers. Nice to meet you both."
Max continued sipping at his beer, but Oliver was polite enough to reciprocate the handshake, "I've heard about you, son. You're the soldier who has near total amnesia… And I knew your papers looked familiar. You were one of the last recruits I trained."
Ben fully gasped. He abandoned Steven to hurriedly seat himself to Oliver's right. "You knew me?!"
Oliver grinned, "In fact, I did. You were part of the last division sent overseas under my command. You were in the service for about three years before being sent to the fort in Germany. You were a remarkable soldier and a quick study."
"Not according to the committee they put together to investigate his circumstances," Steven said grimly. "They think he went awol."
Oliver's face became deadly serious. A very rare and legitimately frightening occurrence for the normally levelheaded man, "Not if I have anything to say about it. I'll be contacting this committee personally to put in my say."
Ben was practically beaming, "Thank you, sir! I could really use anything you may know about- Wait! Sorry, we are here for Steven's girlfriend he refuses to marry! Have you two heard anything around here about her?"
Oliver ordered a small beer for Ben, "In fact, we haven't. And we have been here-" he gave Max an annoyed look, "Often."
Steven was running on even less sleep than he had at his disposal when first talking to the two ex-military geniuses a few weeks back. But unlike last time, he felt ready, "Are you both sure, you have no information about Rhea?"
Oliver shook his head, "Unfortunately not. But we have been spreading the news… Asking around…" He trailed off. His gray blue eyes focused on the amber ail in his glass as he swirled it around the rim just before it would tip out. Max was equally quiet, glaring at his beverage and slowly putting it down.
Steven caught Ben giving him a confused glance. "You guys ok?" he asked. They didn't answer.
It was happening again. The odd event that occurred the last time he spoke with the two on the boardwalk outside the retirement home. A strange trance had overtaken them. Maybe there was a new medication all the retirees at the home were required to take? He couldn't imagine Max taking such a thing willingly. He didn't even take his blood pressure meds without a fight. But unlike last time, Steven wasn't the only witness to the event. Ben was shaking Oliver's shoulder gently, trying to rouse him.
The glaze of Oliver's eyes lifted, clarity returning in a sudden burst. He looked around, noting Steven and Ben, seemingly reorienting himself. Max roughly put down his glass before Steven could demand what was going on. Max was awake too, and his eyes were alarmingly intense.
"I'm more worried about you," Max insisted in a gruff way, and he made sure to point at Steven's chest. "You said you weren't resting. Probably not healthy."
"I really don't care about myself," Steven growled.
"That's not healthy either," Ben felt the need to add.
Steven ignored the commentary and retained his glare on Max, "Rhea vanished without a trace, and everyone around me is either worthless, or knows something and aren't telling me. I think you two are the latter. I want to know why."
"I don't know where your Rhea is," Max grumbled, "But I have questions too. About you. How much do you know."
"I don't know anything!" Steven hissed. He almost slammed his fists into the counter as he jumped to his feet. He was making a scene, but he didn't care, "That's the damn problem! I'm in the dark! One day everything is fine, I'm living my life and I'm, dare I say, happy! Then the whole world turns upside down!"
"You really don't know anything, do you?" Max huffed. He was pained, laced with guilt. It made Steven squirm.
Oliver's hand came to rest once more on Max's shoulder, "Don't."
Max yanked himself free with a growl. It was like déjà vu, an exact breakdown of their first encounter on the boardwalk. Ben was just looking on in confusion. This time, however, Max turned towards Oliver as if he was ready to swing on him.
"You care for him. It's still too soon. If it falls apart now, there will be nothing we can do from here," Oliver insisted.
Max's whole face wrinkled in a swirl of conflicting emotion. If Steven wasn't so mad at him, he would be worried about his health. With another growl, he spun away from Oliver and held out an open palm to Steven, "That note you have. Have you checked it recently? Give it here."
"Stop, M-" Oliver started to protest.
"For once shut up and trust me!" Max thundered over his shoulder.
Steven scowled, but he did procure the note from his pocket. The words hadn't changed for a few days, but he always kept it on his person, just in case. He unfolded it, not intending to give it over to Max regardless of if it changed or not. But it had.
'Trust him,' was written in his own careful penmanship.
Steven gritted his teeth. His fingers clenched around the note as frustration bubbled in his gut. Poor Ben sat by, hopelessly confused, but also refrained from interrupting.
"It says to trust me. So, believe me when I tell you information I give to you know will only hurt your chances of seeing Rhea again, or knowing what is going on," Max explained, gentle this time. "I am currently in a very awkward position. I thought I could help more, but we are unable to do anything unless the fragging stars align in a very perfect sequence. It's frustrating, but I also know you're smart. Smarter than me for sure, and most others… You said that note of yours was written by you? Well then, if you don't trust me, trust yourself."
Steven glanced at the note again. In that brief second it had changed. 'She's looking for you too. Wait to be found.'
"Seems you already have a plan," Max hummed. He picked up the glass of beer and turned it in his grip, examining it from all angles as if he didn't recognize it as his beverage. "I feel like I should apologize for the cryptic act, but you were the one to say I shouldn't ever apologize. I'm just taking your advice." He said with a tired snicker and sipped the drink. His expression pursed, clearly not enjoying the taste, but he carried on drinking it.
Max swallowed, placed his drink down and sighed with satisfaction, "You give the bartender a picture of Rhea yet? That should help here at least," he thought. His original clarity was gone. His eyes far less focused, and the previous conversation seemingly gone from recent memory.
Steven sat back heavy in his chair, observing the same thing from Oliver. Like the trance broke and they were back to normal. Was it normal? Was any of this?
"You ok, Steven?" Oliver asked gently, "You look pale. You said you went to the doctor, right?"
Ben was looking between the two elders, then back at Steven for some form of clarity. Steven wasn't going crazy. The young soldier had witnessed that. And going by his bewildered expression, he was just as puzzled. The only person who could attest to the strange encounter was a possibly brain damaged half drowned soldier with amnesia.
At this point, none of those details mattered. Because in the first time in weeks, Steven didn't feel quite so alone.
Date: February 15th 2021
Rhea
The Autobots needed a Decepticon representative of semi high standing. Soundwave was busy, but when was he not these days? Sharpshot drew the short straw and had to go deal with the latest Prion issue. Something about the Minicon Autobot leader Sparkplug waking from recharge sloppily welded to the Decepticon flagpole, with the inconspicuous words 'Doomitron's vengeance!' scratched into the ground under him. That only left Starscream as an option.
So, they decided to stretch the rules a little, and asked Rhea to be the representative. She didn't blame them. Starscream made even the simplest problems an Olympian undertaking to conquer. She only hoped she was somewhat qualified for the task. She figured a good start was arriving to the requested destination as a Cybertronian, and she had company in the form of Laserbeak locked into her back plating. So, she wasn't totally going in alone.
Arcee was the first to greet her on the other side of the Bridge. The location was the War Memorial Satellite orbiting Cybertron. Considering the circumstances, Arcee didn't look too upset. Maybe just tired and annoyed.
"How bad is the damage?" Rhea asked.
Arcee shrugged, "Eh, it could have been worse, I guess. A few nasty words graffitied onto Optimus' statue over the tomb."
Rhea walked with her and saw the damage herself. She rolled her optics. "Real mature. I'm sure whoever did this think's they are very funny."
Arcee cracked a smile, "Oh you know they are already bragging about it in every bar they stumble into. This was their magnum opus. It's all downhill for them from here."
It was also hard to refute the vandals were Con. Much like with Doomitron's handywork, it had a clear Decepticon emblem painted across the statue of the late Prime's chest.
Rhea crossed her arms, the motion giving a little metallic click, "Welp, I've seen enough. Just send over the invoice for the damage and I'll allocate the funds wherever you want it to go."
From behind the defiled statue, Smokescreen popped his helm out, "Really? That easy? Old Iron Hide was going nuts saying this would take whole cycles to settle."
Rhea managed her usual snort, only using a tad bit more effort with her vents, "Yeah, having a friend married to a Con Lord has its perks. Any security footage of the perps?" she asked Arcee.
"Yeah, but their faceplates and sigs were masked and their paintjobs temporary. Two larger builds and a Minicon for sure," she shrugged, "The Memorial is only a month away. Bots are getting rowdy, that's all."
Rhea still accepted the security feed when Arcee pinged it to her. It really wouldn't be hard to track down the three idiots, even with the lengths they took to stay hidden.
"What are they looking at?" Bumblebee's voice chimed in as he walked through his own Bridge. He was grinning wide. "Life in prison? Shot into the nearest star?" he joked.
"Con prison is brutal, take it from me," Smokescreen reported.
Arcee gave him a pointed look, "Smoke, you were on a Con prison ship for like, an afternoon before escaping."
"It was in space, so the afternoon was a long one," Smokescreen reported.
"They'll probably get a week of community service," Rhea corrected. Smokescreen seemed disappointed with the prospective punishment for their perps, until she added, "Our community service program is currently taking place in Predaking's territory, sifting through acid rain rusted scrap metal. By hand."
That appeared satisfactory for Smokescreen.
Rhea walked forward, going to try to rub away the lowest words adorning the statue's left ped. The words broke into pixels and crawled away from her, reforming their original derogatory meaning out of her reach. That trick was common for Cybertronian graffiti. This would be annoying to remove. She didn't envy whoever would be stuck with the task.
"So, where's Soundwave?" Bumblebee asked, a hint of his usual nosiness behind his curious grin.
"Catching up on paperwork. At least that was what he was doing when I last saw him," Rhea sighed again.
'He already caught up,' Laserbeak grumbled to her, 'His side of the Bond just vanished. That can only mean he is again dabbling in that horror ridden simulation. That, or his Spark snuffed out. Either way, good riddance.'
Rhea tried not to snicker. If she did, she would have to explain to the Autobots why she was laughing at nothing.
She thought she felt a lack of Soundwave's presence in her Cybertronian brain. They had come to learn when he logged into their little private human world, his side of the Bond went dormant. It still wasn't totally clear why that happened. The easiest explanation was probably the one he posed when they first attempted the simulation. Humans didn't have symbiotes, so it just shut it off for a time. A fact that horrified Laserbeak and left him feeling only a little bitter about. He never missed an opportunity to remind them. She assumed Soundwave's intentions were what caused his insistence for Laserbeak to accompany Rhea. He didn't want to leave the poor guy high and dry.
'Well, you have me at least,' Rhea offered as she followed the bots towards the tombs. They were unlocking it to make sure there hadn't been any internal damage.
'Thankfully. Though you intend to abandon me too to go in after him once this nonsense is settled,' he grumbled.
It was hard to hide intentions when their brains were linked, 'I kind of have too. I'm sure he arranged this so he could figure things out on his own, but Frankie said he shouldn't go into the simulation alone. No bot should. It's not exactly advised.'
'Here's hoping he gets stuck in there,' Laserbeak spat. Though he must have regretted that thought, because she felt an instant pulse of shame. Remorse, or fear of being reprimanded. Probably both.
She didn't have any intention of telling, and as Laserbeak pointed out, the Bond was suspended for a time, so Soundwave would be none the wiser to that train of thought. And seeing as how they had come to the decision Laserbeak would be filling in for any children she would have had as a human, she did not intend to be the disciplinarian in the parental relationship. She was cool nerd mom all the way.
'It's never to late for you to come in with us,' she offered.
It was the closest thing to feeling nauseous as a robot alien bird could get, and she got a clear pulse of it as he almost gagged from the mere thought of it, 'I am sure I can find activities to entertain while you are both occupied in, there.'
Now in real danger of snickering, she had to cut the conversation short as they entered the somber space. The locks to the tomb were intact. Thankfully, the three vandal losers had some sense at least and hadn't attempted to tackle the intimidating series of locks. Rhea was actually needed to open the final door. The door had to have both Autobot and Decepticon Reps present to unlock it. She had never done so before, and felt like she wasn't exactly high enough ranking, but she did have the codes to do so.
The last thick panel slid away, and they walked down the few steps to reach the crypt. Everything was as it should be. Both faction leaders lay peaceful across from each other, beams of light from above illuminating their bodies.
The Autobots were whispering amongst themselves, so Rhea took the rare opportunity to get close to the two famous bots. Laserbeak's pull was very strong towards Megatron. She obliged him.
If he were standing, and not laying still with his optics shut, Megatron would be very intimidating. Though he was polished and free of naturally occurring rust, many deep scratches and dents were left. If she didn't know that was how he was meant to look, she would have thought the vandals got to him too. But this was how the Decepticons knew him. Battle worn with the scars to prove it, so they didn't fix it after his death.
'Master Soundwave so badly wanted you to know him,' Laserbeak said softly.
She nodded. 'I have a lot I would have wanted to ask him,' she admitted.
Laserbeak chirped with a curious pitch.
She shrugged, 'Not like I would speak intelligently on the topic. Maybe about the war. How he and Soundwave became so close. I'm not sure.'
'He had changed a great deal since we saw him, before the "Shadow Zone" incident. It even surprised Master Soundwave… Though, Lord Megatron had changed many a times over the course of the war, and before it.'
'I imagine war does that. Again, I only can assume.'
'We all did. Master Soundwave also. Myself included. I was far less neurotic,' he confessed. He was joking, finding some place in the somber topic to lighten the mood. She let it be and smiled.
'Sorry, I can't picture it.'
He tittered a light laugh, and she pulsed a wave around him. She had discovered it was very similar to a hug. He reciprocated the action, and they remained watching the resting war lord for a moment more. Rhea was careful as she laid a feather light touch on Megatron's chest plating. "It was rotten luck I never got to see you before you moved on. Soundwave never shut up about you. You didn't want to come back, but you did, and you saved Soundwave and the others at the cost of your life. That's the only lasting legacy that matters to me. Thank you."
She pulled away and stepped off the platform, leaving the dead to rest. She felt yet another pull, this time from the field of the Autobots. They were watching her back, and she felt a little self-conscious, though didn't know why. They too were surrounding their own fallen leader.
"You never really got the chance to see Optimus, right?" Bumblebee asked and waved her over. It was peacetime, and she wasn't even the same species, let alone a part of the war when it was happening. But standing as the Decepticon representative, with the purple emblem on her shoulder, she felt a little awkward invading the Autobot side of the tomb. How many times had Megatron, the bot she had just been speaking soft praises to, tried to kill this guy? Hell, how many times had Soundwave and Laserbeak probably tried to blast him?
But she felt it would be rude to refuse. She approached quietly and stopped short right behind Bumblebee. The body of Optimus Prime was only a helm shorter than Megatron. Sporting a much more colorful earth paint job. He also had the face of a leader. Someone truly caring and carrying untold burdens so others didn't. It was a lot to put on the impression of a corpse, but it was an involuntary series of thoughts and she just rolled with them. She also took note of the ancient relic of the Primes rested in his hands over his chest. The Star Saber. Something only a Prime could wield, much like the mystery relic resting under the minicon factions currently ripping each other apart on Prion. It lay totally dormant in the hands of its final bearer.
"You would have loved the guy," Smokescreen insisted, "Everyday, he could just, pull out these crazy inspiring speeches. Didn't matter about what," The sound of someone else entering the tomb made Arcee look up. She was unconcerned with whoever was coming down the steps, so Rhea didn't bother turning away from Smokescreen as he stood extra straight, about to take on the persona of his leader, "Autobots," he began in a comically deep inflection, "when darkness falls over the shadows of the world, only light can scare away the evil and bring back… the light."
"Keep workshopping that," Arcee suggested with a groan.
'I disagree. From what I recall, that was basically spot on,' Laserbeak offered.
"That wasn't near low enough to sound like OP," The voice of the flirtatious Autobot Jazz was finally enough to bring Rhea about face. Jazz wasn't alone sauntering down the steps and strutting up to the Autobot side. The large and round bot who could see the future. Maccadam was with him, looking a little less chipper than he usually did. Though he did lighten when he noticed Rhea.
Jazz walked by them, retracting his optic band so he could wink a blue optic at Rhea before stationing himself at Optimus' side. "All life, no matter how small," Jazz began, straining to reach an even deeper inflection, "Is free and deserves to be… Or something like that," with that last part his voice returned to normal.
"Freedom is the right of all sentient beings?" Rhea offered, though didn't attempt the voice.
"It's very sad, actually disappointing, that the Decepticon representative is the only one here to get the AUTOBOT Leader's most famous quote right," Arcee vented.
Maccadam placed a light hand onto her shoulder, "All in good fun. If Optimus was the laughing type, he would be doubled over," He then placed his free hand on Rhea's shoulder, careful not to touch Laserbeak, who was bristling at his presence. "I'm glad you came to visit. Optimus would have been happy to meet you. It made the graffiti prank worth it."
She looked down at the resting Autobot leader, "I guess, I should apologize for that personally. Promise we'll have it cleaned up," she told the still bot, a little awkwardly.
"Eh, he would have shrugged it off," Maccadam assured her.
She took his word for it. But she decided the new commers arrival was a better time then any to make her escape. It was quiet, but she was feeling overwhelmed regardless. She usually wasn't bothered by death. But something about the two bots laying still in their light beams were too similar of a time long ago she seldom allowed herself to recall.
Two times, in fact. The light shining through the church window as she strained to look over the edge of a coffin. Once with her dad at her side, sobbing over her mother. The second memory, she looked down on him. He was still, just as Optimus was, and she was standing at that coffin alone.
She had placed the remaining pieces of her dad's transistor radio on this same satellite when she was younger, not long after the memorial was built. She decided she would check on that spot too before heading back to Kaon and rescuing Soundwave, if he needed rescuing.
She thanked the bots present, apologized again on behalf of her adopted faction for the graffiti and headed for the stairs.
'Much as you did not know Megatron, but you respect him, I harbor the same sentiment for your creators,' Laserbeak informed her as she knelt in front of the large Earth tree on the surface of the Gardens. In eleven years, it had grown a great deal. Of course, from this perspective, she was about as tall as it was. And her transistor pieces were no longer in the grass, but instead starting to meld into the bark.
'My parents?' she assumed he meant. Of course that was who he was referring to. She was thinking about them, so he would feel those memories.
'Correct. I have respect for them in two parts. One: for withstanding the chassis shuttering spawning ritual of your people to combine the DNA needed to forge you. And two: Passing on the extensive knowledge and technology to you that allowed you to locate, rescue, and eventually form a Bond with my Master.'
She smirked at the transistor pieces and gave the wing over her shoulder a pat, "It was cool of them, no doubt. If there is anything still corporeal enough of them to hear that compliment, I'm sure they appreciate it." She hoped there was, anyway. At this point, it wasn't totally out of the realm of possibility. Cybertronians had a confirmed afterlife they could measure, and Autoclave had a means of seeing the souls of organics, herself included. Where those souls went after death, she didn't know. She hoped it was someplace close to wherever the All Spark dwelt.
Bumblebee
"Rhea seemed sad. Hope we didn't throw too much at her in this one visit," he divulged to the group.
"She's durable," Maccadam assured him, "She is more concerned about her Conjunx at the moment."
"I'm more worried about how much trust they apparently have in us," Jazz admitted, effectively stepping all over the previous sentimental moment.
That confession sounded very dubious, and he was also no longer standing next to them on Optimus' platform. Bumblebee hurriedly turned, and saw Jazz hovering over Megatron's remains, a very worrying smile present on his face and a writing implement in his clutches.
"No worries. He will not do anything, regretful," Maccadam promised with a sigh. Even with future vision, he didn't exactly sound one hundred percent certain on that.
"And again, we are reminded why there are rules for everything now a days," Arcee grumbled before grabbing Jazz away from the war lord. She apparently didn't want to risk it. "You are the reason we have to have a Con rep in here with us in the first place."
"Not me personally," Jazz said, twirling the stylus between his digits.
Yes," Arcee snatched the stylus, "You personally."
It was a better time than any to vacate the premises. Jazz's jokes aside, Rhea's departure meant they were not allowed to be here alone. Bumblebee gave Optimus a final wistful smile before assisting Arcee in the daunting task of dragging Jazz out of the tomb.
The many locks cycled and shut behind them. Hopefully, it would be the last time it would open until the Memorial, where it would be heavily guarded, but left open so anybot could come and kneel before whichever leader they were there to see. He was nervous for that day, even though he had already participated in a few previous. Wheeljack had been right. There was no way he wasn't going to cry again when he did his part of the eulogy. He wondered forlornly if there would ever be a time when he wouldn't cry? Maybe the one hundredth Memorial? Four millionth? He smiled at that thought. Imagine. Four million years of peace. He looked forward to it.
Bumblebee spotted Rhea standing from under one of the Oak trees Agent Fowler had donated to the Memorial Garden when it was first built. She looked lost in thought or was talking to Laserbeak in her head. But then she answered a comm, vented a sigh, and a Bridge opened and she left.
"Marital trouble?" Arcee assumed.
Maccadam laughed. "Nope. That was a call from Sharpshot. They needed some sort of documentation to threaten court martial for the spitfire of a Minicon on Prion. Soundwave is busy, so she's doing it."
Smokescreen blinked at him in shock, "Scrap, you really do know everything!"
Oddly, Maccadam's grin fell flat. He usually loved talking up his ability, "I would have agreed, if it weren't for worrying events that point to the contrary."
Arcee put a hand on her hip, "You still stuck on that fight at your bar? That's ancient history Maccadam, stop lingering on it."
The old bot rubbed his jaw hinge, "There have been more attacks in Kaon, you know… I haven't seen those coming either."
"Is that normal?" Bumblebee asked, "Have you ever missed visions before?"
"No," he huffed. "It is alarming. I still don't know the cause," he must have realized he was standing in a long and tense silence with multiple pairs of optics locked onto him, because he put the smile back on, "Enough of my short comings though. Any news from the old Megatronus? Has he said why he's stuck in between dimensions and needs a rescue?"
"Nope. Nothing that detailed," Bumblebee explained.
Maccadam hummed, "So, are you ever going to let him out?"
"NOPE," Bumblebee said along with Arcee, Smokescreen and Jazz all at once.
"Really, Maccadam, do you want to deal with whatever he will bring on the off chance he's a cheerier bot then he was the last time he was planet side?" Arcee asked, brow ridge risen so far she was probably straining to make her point.
He shrugged, perhaps a little melancholy. "Bots can change. Sometimes you just need a little faith."
Jazz scoffed. "Yeah, bots can change. Sure."
Maccadam slapped his back and laughed before Jazz could carry on down that angry tirade, wherever it was headed. "You really shouldn't do what you're thinking of, but I can't stop you! Any who, I'm headed out. More research is needed to figure out the missing pieces in my visions… And I am far from the research kind of bot, so it may take a while. You bots keep sticking together, just in case, and call on me the next time Megatronus gives you a ring."
"Um, why?" Arcee demanded.
He waved over his shoulder as he left with a pep in his step, "I am fully unwilling to tell! Good day bots!"
Jazz grumbled, rubbing at his shoulder where Maccadam slapped it. "There goes a guy who knows way too much for anybot's good," He vented a sigh then headed out towards the Garden's Space Bridge. "I'm out too."
"And where are you headed?" Arcee asked, a little suspiciously.
He turned around to shrug at her, and flash a far to innocent grin, "Spy stuff! And like Maccadam said, I fully intend to do it and frag the consequences."
Bumblebee watched him go, a sinking feeling in his tanks. "Something tells me, this graffiti event is not going to be the only problematic thing that happens today."
Soundwave
Free time was usually a fleeting fancy for him. Not as though he minded in most circumstances. Empty time used on himself was in most cases, a waste. But this time spent on himself was not for recreational activities. And that was how he justified stepping away from his duties the moment he had a chance to.
He still had to remind himself to breathe, but it was getting easier. So was walking alone. Not having a living spark around him, artificially created or otherwise, helped considerably. He didn't have to suffer the indignity of having a gawking audience as he tripped or fumbled.
He had made sure to log into the human simulation only when every possible reason for his temporary absence would not be questioned. He had Rhea and Laserbeak handling whatever grievance the Autobots had. Sharpshot would sort the most recent drama out on Prion. And Starscream was busy with the continued restoration and expansion of Slaughter City. True, it had been eleven orbital cycles and most of Cybertron's cities were well on their way to full restoration, and Slaughter City was only about fifty percent complete. But that place had never been exactly… Complete to begin with. And that was even before Arachnid and her infected swarm almost leveled it.
So, he was covered, at least for a little while.
He had done more research between visits to this virtual reality. So, he had more context to rely on. And as he had been almost every time, he was horrified and confused. Because trying to dissect all human nuances without Rhea present was almost impossible, no matter how much he studied on the subject.
He was not in for long before he identified increasing discomfort in his simulated throat. If he had access to his internal network, he would look up the cause. But a human didn't have instant access to Trillabites of information. And he didn't have enough luck to have a cell phone to look it up.
With a growl, he waved the air and pulled up the drop menu to log out. He'd leave, figure it out, then go back in. Primus, he did not last long in this little exercise.
His optics opened. The window in his quarters greeted him, Cybertron as busy as always just as he left it. Though he no longer felt the tightness in his throat, he carried his irritation out with him. His sights found the little human sized pod on Rhea's platform, where it stayed most days unless they ventured farther from the planet's outer orbit. It was still in use, Rhea's human body in stasis inside. He sat up from his place to place a very gentle hand on the pod. Vulnerability be damned, he should call her.
An opinionated little snort carried into his audios from behind him. And the voice print stuck in his brain pan like a spear, because under no circumstances should he hear that voice inside his private locked quarters.
He shifted out his gun and aimed it dead center at Jazz's Spark.
The smug Autobot saboteur leaned against the opened doorway. He was unconcerned with the buzzing blaster aimed at him, instead focused on the key card he was flicking up in the air and catching again. "I gotta tell ya, Wave. It was real tempting. I had the best opportunity to kill ya in that unconscious state I found ya in a bit ago. REAL tempting."
Soundwave still didn't know how he got in, and now he was unnerved by the thought of the fool just watching him for who knows how long.
The only thing that kept Soundwave from opening fire was the Treaty in the back of his mind, but that arrogant little grin on Jazz's face was making that an easy truth to ignore. Then Jazz caught the card for the last time and raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender.
"You have bought yourself ten kliks to explain your presence here before I terminate you, Treaty be damned," Soundwave informed him.
With his servos still in the air, Jazz started to twirl the access card in between his fingers. "Oh, you know me. I was snooping, happened across this code for your little tower here. I wanted to see if the code was legit. Looks like you'll need a new passcode Wave. We can call us even, for when you hacked into the Autobot Space Bridge to get into our base back on Earth a klik back."
Soundwave almost didn't even remember that. It was to check on Rhea… and it was hardly any of the Autobot's personal quarters he warped into. "You have five kliks left. What do you want?" he snarled.
Boldly, Jazz stepped further in, though he at least had the presence of mind to keep his hands raised. He looked around the room as if he were browsing a store to make a casual purchase. His visored gaze landed on Rhea's elevated platform attached to the window. He smirked at it. "Your girl said you Con's were good for fixing OP's statue. Or at least forkin' over the money for it. She seems like the honest type, but I just wanted to make double sure we understood each other."
"A dispute over owed compensation seems the trivial thing that could have been easily sent over a comm. Three kliks left," Soundwave said.
"Yeah, this ain't about the Shanix," Jazz said. His smile finally dropped. "The big shindig of a Memorial is happenin' soon. I'm here to tell ya to keep your people in line. They already vandalized Prime's statue. What else they gonna do in the meantime?"
"I did not take you for the fearful type, Autobot," Soundwave admitted, "if the thought of a simple upcoming shared event is enough to make your Spark waver, perhaps you should see yourself off world until it is complete."
That brought Jazz's sneer back, "Yeah, fightin' backstabbers and murderers has done a number on my outlook, no doubt. But I'll stay, just to keep a sharp optic on things. It's what I'm good at."
This was pointless. There was no reason Jazz had come. He had no reason he did anything; he was an idiot. Though Soundwave didn't lower his gun, he did allow the energy of his intended blast to dull. "I feel it would benefit you to retreat from here. I have just informed security of your intrusion."
With Soundwave's dimming gun, Jazz found the confidence to let his servos fall back to his sides. "Eh, I figure I still have a blip… Worked so hard to get in here, you not even gonna give me a tour?"
Soundwave carried on glaring at him, not intending to dignify him any longer with continued conversation. But Jazz didn't shrink under the glare of Soundwave's gun. He carried on scanning the room, and again focused on Rhea's human space. "Cute. Humans are. Not just them neither. I spent loads of time exploring all over the universe. I guess that's an exaggeration. Just our little corner of it. You were so far up Megatron's actuator more cycles than not, I doubted you took in much of the sights on board the Nemesis. But man, Sounders, can I call ya Sounders?"
"No."
"Sounders, the kind of life out there is impressive," Jazz said with a sing song vent, "Organic life, non-organic, even other cybernetic organisms like us but from other walks of life! I tell ya, creation is awesome. I met aliens you wouldn't believe out there. Some even older then Cybertron. One strange creature once told me they were around when the universe formed, and they recall before that even. Of course, they could have been lyin' but they seemed the trustworthy type."
He hummed, gazing out onto Kaon as if it were his own Autobot city. His smile faded. "The war we had sucked. No doubt about that. And what really hurts, Cybertron wasn't the only place devastated. There were so many worlds left in ash because your boy Megs couldn't get a grip."
"The Decepticons were not the only ones fighting," Soundwave reminded him.
Jazz shrugged, "True. We were just as guilty, I guess," he gave Soundwave a cold glance over his shoulder, "But I know us Autobots weren't breaking down whole worlds and stripping resources. Conquering all you could touch. That was all you Cons. The war would still be blazing on, if the peace wasn't what was just most convenient for you."
"You always strived to appear as the shining beacon of morality," Soundwave said with a sharp hiss, taking an advancing step, "But I recall seeing you screaming for spilt Energon in the stands as I fought in the Pits. You are no better."
Jazz shrugged again, far from wounded by the accusation. He was also not denying it. He reached out and gave Rhea's chair at her desk a little spin with the tip of his finger. Those grimy fingers went to tap the pod as if he intended to rouse her from stasis. Soundwave pulsed deadly intentions at him before he could reach the pod. Jazz did hesitate. "Is she like, a catalyst? Is that why ya have the human around?"
"What are you inferring?" Soundwave demanded.
Jazz backed off from the window, but crossed his servos, "Like, a cute little face to parade in front of us Bots to make us trust your side more."
"I assure you, that assumption is beyond idiotic. My bond with Rhea has nothing to do with the Treaty, or the Autobots. And it is also none of your business."
"Fair enough… You are sort of convincing me. You have put a scrap ton of work into this little thing you got with the human. I'm impressed. I mean, I know you're stubborn to the Pits, but never would I think you were masochistic enough to put yourself through all this," Jazz made a vague wave towards the place Soundwave had just been seated. He was referring to the simulated reality. How much did Jazz know about it? During that little 'outing' Soundwave had to endure with the Autobots in tow, Jazz appeared so distracted. Making an absolute aft of himself while utilizing a Holoform with the others on Earth, Soundwave didn't think he had heard anything of the conversation when it was brought up. Apparently, he heard enough to start snooping.
"I was worried about the little human when this all started," Jazz admitted. Fragger was looking at her pod again, "I still am but for whole different reasons. I know you. This whole thing is just your want to conquer and control. Same with the little human video game ya got. You ain't doing it for her. You just want to prove you can."
"Whatever convoluted truth helps you achieve an adequate power down," Soundwave said.
"That's not a problem, no worries," Jazz snickered, "Can I ask ya something personal then, if ya care about my peace of mind?"
Soundwave didn't agree to such a thing, but Jazz continued to bluster, "You really do care about her, right? I know it ain't my business, I agree, but you seem so convincing. And on a whim, I scanned that little trinket around her neck, and I thought, 'I'll be damned, he actually gave the little organic his Spark blood! He's serious?! THE Soundwave I have known and been fightin' all this time cares about something other than Megatron? That's so out of character, but wow is it encouraging!' And Primus is she loyal to you in return…"
He groaned, finding the wall near the window a good place to lean as he appeared suddenly burdened. Soundwave was glad he was uncomfortable, no matter how slightly, because he felt violated beyond words. Jazz had snooped into his relationship, and even confirmed their bond by identifying the contents of Soundwave's gifted betrothal necklace. If Jazz knew all that, he must have been looking way to close at Rhea for longer than he needed to be. He had to force the Treaty back into the forefront of his mind, because murder was starting to look very appealing.
Jazz gave his flaring aura a dismissive smirk, "Second question, because your reaction is plenty answer enough to confirm the first. You have been teaching your girl how to hold her own, right? She's with Arcee all the time trainin', Laserbeak has her back, literally. That's a good idea. Spot on, Sounders. It's what I would do for a back up plan. Have her learn all she can, just in case. Cuz as trigger happy as you are," he smiled at Soundwave's still buzzing gun, "and how impulsive your people are, the graffiti thing being a big give away, I worry how much longer the peace will really last."
"Considering fools remain in their own territory and out of enemy business," Soundwave hissed, "The Treaty has a good standing."
Jazz nodded a few to many times. He was zoning out again, "Let's hope so… Because if the war hits off, that Memorial will be a thing of the past. Innocent places like Earth will be caught in the crossfire of Con collateral damage. And your girl? I don't see an Autobot sigil on her shoulder. She chose you, and that means she chose the Cons. And you outfitted the poor thing in a Cybertronian suit. That makes her an enemy to the Autobots, if scrap ever went sideways. I don't want that to happen."
Now it was Soundwave's turn to scoff, "If such an event ever came to pass, she would be under my protection. Your misplaced worry has no value here."
"Your protection…" Jazz hummed. Even behind his visor, Soundwave felt his gaze finally land onto him, "remind me, how many Minicons did ya have at the start of the war?"
Scrap the Treaty, Jazz was going to die.
Thankfully for Jazz, and the good of all of Cybertron, the Groundbridge bursting open by the door was enough of a distraction for Soundwave to get his anger under control.
Jazz grinned towards it, ready to go willingly with whatever Con guards marched through to drag him out. It was satisfying to see that smirk fall off when only Arcee came storming through the portal. Jazz even retracted his visor to watch her zero in on him and approaching fast. He was beyond confused. "Cee? How- You portaled into the Con tower?"
"I allowed it," Soundwave informed him and shifted away his gun.
Jaz started, looking to Soundwave again, but this time, far from smug, "You said you called security?"
"I never said it was my security," Soundwave pointed out.
Despite the size disparity, Arcee easily reached up and snatched Jazz by the back of his neck plating. "Why? Seriously, why Jazz? I'll admit, I've been stupid with him too, but not 'invading the Decepticon Northern Tower' stupid!" She started dragging him towards the portal.
Jazz stumbled along, having to strain so he could throw Soundwave a friendly grin, "Nice chat as always, slick! And congrats, ya passed the test! There's hope for ya yet-" Arcee literally hurled him through the open portal and that was enough to finally shut him up.
She growled, left in the din of the spinning vortex. Then she turned back around to Soundwave stiffly. "Rhea promised compensation for the statue clean up, but after this, how about we forget about that and we call us even?"
A few rebellious Cons writing on a statue, and a well trained Autobot spy sneaking into the secured quarters of a Decepticon Lord were hardly on the same standing when it came to seriousness. But after that encounter Soundwave was numb, and he gave her an affirming nod just to end the nonsense.
Somewhat assured, Arcee started for the portal. But of course, because every Autobot always had something to say, she stopped short of walking through. "I should mention, that I heard most of that through Jazz's comm."
"My association with Rhea is just a business transaction with you Autobots. Is that the new accusation?" he huffed.
She shrugged hard, "Maybe for some. Not me. I'm just curious to know what your real reason for doing all this is."
This Autobot was impossible to please. Not like he was trying, but wasn't that what she wanted? For him to try to understand where Rhea was coming from?
"It is for her, and maybe even myself. Am I not allowed to be fickle like the rest of you Autobots?"
She smirked. "Fair enough," Rhea's pod was now under her observation. Unlike with Jazz, Soundwave didn't find it offensive as she studied it.
She spun around, and she was grinning. That was worrying. "And it's admirable what you're doing with the simulation thing. But Rhea dove head first into her Cyberformation, and from what I can tell, you've just dabbled in your own side. Maybe try harder without her having to botsit you through it."
Soundwave scowled at her back as she went to leave. Autobots could never be satisfied. First, he wasn't doing anything, then he wasn't doing enough. The two-wheeler should try assimilating into an alien species in her few free moments while full time ruling a planet.
She stopped again, but this time, didn't turn. "Last thing I swear. But, if it is any consolation, even coming from me, if the war started tomorrow, and we went back to shooting at each other, Rhea will never be in my cross hairs."
"Thank you," Soundwave said, and it was sincere, just as she was.
Arcee chuckled to herself before adding, "You maybe, but not her."
"Maybe?" he echoed. She was no longer serious.
She shrugged, "I don't know. It'll depend on the day you catch me on," and she finally vanished into the swirling light.
The Bridge collapsed, and so did he onto the couch. Well, that was reassuring. Rhea's safety had been on his mind when he considered the war. He assumed most of the Autobots would not be a threat to her, but hearing verbal confirmation was assuring. They were far too sentimental for their own good, but this way, he benefited from it too.
As for the simulation, that little jab was the Autobot's way of praising him. But in all seriousness, he was still hurt. Because he was doing more than dabbling. He was giving it his all, and in his opinion, failing. It wasn't totally unreasonable that he was having a hard time getting the hang of it. Rhea responded so quickly to her Cyberformation because she was so much younger by comparison. She learned of him and his kind very early in her life and was well versed in their language, history and culture by the time she started her transformation.
Soundwave, on the other hand, was taking this up at the age of seven million, or eight million. He had stopped counting at some point as many did. It was why it was so hard for him to change into something totally different. Jazz was right in a way. Soundwave was too stubborn to not come up with a solution.
He vented out loud. Enough rest. He stood back up and began to scan his quarters for any hidden taps or incendiary devices Jazz may have 'accidently' left.