Under the Plating - 2 of 2
Title: Under the Plating, Second Half
Sequel to Skimming the Surface
Universe: loosely G1 cartoon after the appearance of the Constructicons on Earth.
Rated: PG - what is that, now? K+.
Pairing: not the main storyline, but Jazz/Prowl in the background.
Author's Notes: Recognizable Characters/Names belong to Hasbro/Takara. I’m just playing with them. Starrunner is not me just a namesake, one of my offspring.
Continued from First Half, a few hours later.
-X-X-X-
His audios were working again. Someone far away was asking, "Did you deactivate him?" The voice was cold and hard.
Another voice, "No, him Starrunner recharge now." Definitely the Dinobot, Swoop.
Better able to focus, he recognized the next voice as Number Four: "What're we gonna do with him?"
The cold baritone answered: "That depends on him."
The medic, Ratchet: "Do you want to talk to him now, or can it wait a few more hours while he recharges?"
There was a pause, then "It can wait." Another pause, then "Escort him to my office when he is motile." Starrunner thought he should recognize the cold voice; maybe it belonged to the one who had ordered Swoop to fly him here. He heard at least one Cybertronian leave the room.
Ratchet's voice: "Jazz, I almost hope the poor slagger doesn't come back on-line on his own."
Number Four: "Why's that Ratch'?"
Ratchet, moving farther away: "Right now, he is not a transformer. What you see is what you get." Pause. "Swoop, have you finished removing that propagule from Snarl's servo yet?"
Swoop: "Ya-awk! Yes, him Snarl almost done. Mangrove sprout did no damage to wiring."
Another voice: "Me Snarl leave now?"
Swoop: "Soon, when me Swoop secure last panel."
Starrunner got the idea someone was standing near him even though he had not heard one approach.
Ratchet: "Decepticon technology and ours parted ways a long time ago, Jazz. Even if I had liberty to fully repair him, I couldn't do it reliably without completely revamping his transformation sequence. Wheeljack's excited to have a modern 'Con transformation cog, but you know how his reverse-engineering projects go." Pause. "Poor slagger."
Number Four replied, sounding like he was standing right beside Starrunner's table: "He doesn't look bad at all, Ratch'."
He heard another approach his table. Turned out to be Ratchet, saying, "We do what we can. Other than his transformation cogs and his transceiver, he's complete." Pause. "According to this scan, he's back on-line, too, just listening again. Aren't ya, ya piece o' slag?"
Bringing his optics on-line, Starrunner answered the question as his creator taught him, "Sir. Yes, Sir." Number Four was standing with Ratchet on one side of his table. Both were looking at him with concern.
Ratchet's optic ridge twitched. He disconnected a pair of leads with a twist, saying "What did I tell you about that 'Sir'-slag?" and watching carefully for his patient's reaction to the movement.
Starrunner's face registered the pain but he didn't flinch. He accessed his memory banks to answer, "You said, 'Name's Ratchet.' Sir."
Looking satisfied with his handiwork, Ratchet replied to Starrunner but looked at Jazz, "That's right, smart aft, call me Ratchet. Jazz, you can take him out of here whenever you're ready." Then he turned back to Starrunner to add, "Knock it off with the formal Cybertronian, Sparklet, it won't help you."
"Yes, Ratchet." English, this time. Starrunner looked confused, watching Ratchet expertly disconnect all the other lines that had been attached to his systems and close the associated ports that had been open while he was off-line. Finding his energon levels at over ten percent now and his form essentially intact, Starrunner reminded himself to move only slowly, to remember that he did not really know these Cybertronians and even if he was feeling more spry than the entire last week he should not make any fast or presumptuous moves.
-X-X-X-
Jazz noted the expression on Starrunner's faceplates and agreed with Ratchet that he had to be a sparkling, certainly less than a vorn aware, possibly as young as the Dinobots. Perceptor had scanned the data storage media thoroughly, declaring it to be a collection of seemingly random media including a few movies and music and some files that looked like Decepticon home-movies of unknown transformers. No viruses, nothing particularly interesting to the Autobots. Jazz turned on one of his charming smiles and drew the canister of media from a pocket, watching Starrunner for any reaction to seeing it.
Starrunner recognized the canister in Jazz's hand and raised his optics to Jazz's visor, looking outright hopeful. Of what, Jazz could only guess. He offered the canister to the young mech, saying, "What do you think of Alien?" It was one of the movies in the collection, and one with which Jazz was familiar.
A worried look, more appropriate for a mech in an enemy medical facility, passed Starrunner's face. He looked at Ratchet, who was walking away after closing up his last bit of dermal plating. "Ratchet? May I sit up now?"
Surprised, but schooling his expression to be stern, Ratchet looked back at him and said, "Medically, you're clear. No transformation, no radio. Ask Jazz." Ratchet continued on deeper into the room to check Snarl over now that Swoop was finished.
Starrunner looked from Ratchet's retreating form to Jazz and back, making the connection in his processor that Number Four's name was Jazz. Returning to look up to Jazz's visor, he answered Jazz's question before asking his own again, "Sir, I find Alien fascinating. May I sit up, Sir?"
"Yes, do sit up. You can have this back now if you want," Jazz held the canister out to Starrunner.
Sitting up, Starrunner took the offered canister gently and without opening it to verify its contents, attached it to a bracket on one wing.
Jazz didn't know many transformers who preferred bracketry to subspace anymore and tucked that bit of information away. He tried to draw Starrunner into conversation. "I've seen that movie, myself. The premise is interestin'. What about it got your attention?"
Grateful the Autobot was in no hurry get down to Starrunner's purpose in seeking him out in such a populated area, Starrunner thought for a moment before replying. "The humans imagined a species that would be as dangerous to Cybertronians as to themselves, Sir."
This was the second time this mech referred to their race where others would refer to their faction. That was as odd as the use of bracketry for storage. "Yeah, acid for blood. Like walkin' smeltin' pits. And they made the animals about our size when they're full grown. About the size of you an' me. You're kinda small, for a Seeker; what's your alt- mode?" Jazz turned the conversation where he wanted.
"MiG-29, Sir."
"MiG. Russian make. Aren't the other Seekers here modeled on American fighter jets, like an F-14 or somesuch?" Tone purely conversational.
"Yes Sir, the Trine that accompanied Lord Megatron aboard the Nemesis are now F-15s." Starrunner looked around the repair bay, studying the ceiling before trying to make optic contact with Jazz through the visor. "They make extensive use of subspace, Sir. Like Soundwave and his Casseticons, their modes require quite different volumes."
Registering that Starrunner had brightened and dimmed his optics on the word 'Casseticons', Jazz angled his face slightly toward the ceiling, still watching Starrunner closely. "Our comm specialist thinks he might be able to put some small 'Bots to work and carry 'em around like Soundwave does." He tilted his head back down to make it clear he was looking at Starrunner levelly. "I tell 'im he'd have too much trouble keepin' track of 'em, if they were half as slippery as the Casseticons. I bet they get away from Soundwave all the time now?" He could do that too, purposely brightening his optics a few percent on 'track', 'Casseticons' and 'now'.
"Yes Sir," Starrunner replied softly, "as humans say, they climb the walls and swing from the rafters."
Again, the slightly brighter optics on the words 'yes' and 'rafters'. Having spent his share of time in the shadows aboard the Nemesis, Jazz smiled cannily. "Prowl will never go for that, then - they might get loose in his office and trash the place. Can't have that. Speakin' o' Prowl, I think I'm better off takin' you to the brig." Brighter optics on 'his office' and 'taking', Jazz had no intention of taking the 'Con to the brig just yet. This was fun. If there were a Casseticon listening from the ventilation system of the Ark, though, he wanted to send him on an errand. Rustling noises in the ventilation system were fairly common and generally dismissed as animals. Jazz thought he heard small noises almost constantly, but no one else seemed to, so he dismissed them. If Starrunner were right, thank Primus the ventilation system was independent of the hallway layout - a watcher could not follow a moving conversation. "Stand up slowly and hold your hands out, wrists together."
Looking disappointed, Starrunner slowly levered himself off the repair table. He tested his knee a bit as Jazz picked up a set of energon bonds from the supplies Ratchet had left laid out beside his table. Starrunner recognized his damaged transformation gear cluster. Before Jazz activated the bonds, he asked impulsively, "Sir, may I have that?" and indicated the mangled cog.
The odd request made perfect sense to Jazz - it always struck him to see parts of his body lying around, even when they'd been replaced already - so he assented. Starrunner tucked the bit of metal away inside his canopy, then held out his wrists to be bound. Again, no subspace pocket accessed. Jazz set the restraint in place and energized it. "Go on toward the door," Jazz directed his charge.
"Yes Sir," Starrunner acknowledged, moving slowly toward the door, optics downcast and body language defeated.
"Hey, Ratch'! We're headin' out now," Jazz said, voice pitched to carry to Ratchet at the back of the shop.
"Good!" Ratchet replied. Then, before Jazz had taken two steps toward where the Decepticon waited, Ratchet added, "Shouldn't you have another 'Bot with you? Prisoner protocol and all?"
Jazz smiled mischievously as he glanced back over his shoulder to answer. He wouldn't mind letting Prowl lecture him later on the protocols he was about to ignore. "Nah, Ratch', we'll be fine!"
There was hurried conversation in the back that even Jazz's sensitive audios couldn't sort out. Jazz drew even with Starrunner and had one hand on the door actuator and the other firmly on Starrunner's elbow when they heard someone walking quickly toward them. Turning, Jazz began, "Now, there's no need - " but was cut off.
"Awwk! Me Swoop go with." And when he thought Jazz was going to protest again, "Ratchet say!"
Starrunner looked hopeful again. Swoop wore his usual happy, open expression. Jazz resigned himself to losing the ground he'd gained with his informant: surely Swoop's presence would prevent him getting any information out of Starrunner while they walked. "Okay, Swoop, let's go."
Jazz was wrong about Swoop's effect. Swoop walked behind them and Jazz decided to let Starrunner walk without keeping that firm grip on his arm. Starrunner actually spoke first in the hallway, at low volume, surprising Jazz. "Sir, does the climate control system follow the passageways here?" he asked.
"No, not on this level," Jazz answered, matching Starrunner's volume.
"Did you observe the Casseticon above the repair bay, Sir?"
Swoop registered Starrunner's quiet question and squawked. Jazz shushed him quietly. "No, I didn't see him. Which one is it?"
"Laserbeak or Buzzsaw, Sir. Do you know that approximately seventy-five percent of the time there is at least one Casseticon inside the Ark, Sir?"
Jazz looked at him, disbelieving. "We know they get in, but it sounds like you're saying they have a permanent duty cycle goin' in here." Jazz steered them around a corner toward the offices. This bad news was a relief for Jazz: he'd been to Ratchet twice to get his audios checked, thinking he was hearing things that weren't there because none of the others heard what he did.
"Yes Sir. Laserbeak, Buzzsaw and Ravage work mostly six days on followed by two days off when Soundwave comes over to get them and take them home to report and have some R-and-R. Sir."
Swoop made a little bird noise behind them, slowing his pace to look up at the ceiling tiles. Jazz glanced at him briefly and slowed down with Starrunner who seemed to be trying to match Swoop's pace. "Almost there," he said.
"Are you sure Prowl's office is free from eavesdroppers, Sir?" Starrunner's quiet tone remained level despite the nervous posture.
"We'll check it out when we get there," Jazz answered distractedly, coming to Prowl's office door. He decided to work the chime rather than just key it open like he usually did.
Jazz had just enough time to recognize the look on Starrunner's face as one of distress between hearing Prowl's professional-sounding "Enter," and the opening of the door. Prowl had opened the door remotely; he was just sitting at his desk behind a set of datapads and his console. Jazz saw nothing that should have spooked his charge.
-X-X-X-
The cold voice that had asked about his deactivation when he came on-line said, "Enter." He could place it now: it reminded him of that Constructicon, Scrapper. Suddenly in a bit of a panic - surely this cold-voiced Prowl was their resident torturer! - Starrunner stood stock still. His energon pump faltered a cycle. Deactivation, he had prepared himself for; treatment like he knew Hook and his brothers could dole out, he had not. Hadn't the other Seekers sneered that the Autobots didn't have that in their sparks? But they also said Prowl had a logic center that could put any Decepticon's to shame. Wasn't it logical to take everything a Cybertronian knew rather than allow him to choose the information he shared?
Number Four proceeded halfway into the room. Swoop stood behind Starrunner, looking down at all three Cybertronians in front of him. Prowl looked up from his desk, making optic contact with Number Four, seeming to ignore Starrunner. "Do you intend to leave him in the hallway?" Prowl asked.
Number Four replied, "No," and turned to Starrunner. "Come on in with me," he said, his smile almost encouraging. Starrunner started moving again, knowing he'd left himself out of options.
Prowl looked up, registering Swoop's presence. "You may go now, Swoop. Thank you."
Swoop looked from Prowl to Number Four, then watched Starrunner cross the threshold into Prowl's office. "If you Autobots need me Swoop come back, call medical," he offered. Starrunner cast his optics back at Swoop with a look of despair.
-X-X-X-
After opening his office door, Prowl made a show of ignoring their prisoner even while he cataloged what he could about him. He was definitely the fourth Seeker seen during the skirmish in Africa, the one whom the Twins reported nearly shaved Sunstreaker off of Thundercracker in a vertical dive, the one whom he himself watched pull first a battered Starscream then an uncooperative Grimlock out of the muck. In the bright office light, Prowl could see Ratchet had made repairs to the Seeker's wings, the black-on-black wing markers were nearly obliterated. Perhaps someone had tried to remove them by force. Still addressing Jazz, Prowl said, "Have a seat." Why a mech who showed no fear of Grimlock should look at him as if he were the Unmaker himself, Prowl had no idea.
Jazz's smile broadened, he knew exactly how they were going to play this, despite what Prowl said earlier. "Starrunner," he said, and indicated the chair on the right in front of Prowl's desk. After the jet answered with a 'yessir' and was settled in the chair, awkward with his hands bound, Jazz took the chair on the left.
Prowl began. "Why are you here?" addressing Jazz, clearly.
Jazz answered, "Starrunner here has offered information."
Starrunner only looked down at his hands and waited, wondering why he was allowed to sit in this office during their conversation.
"What sort of information does this Decepticon offer you?" Prowl asked, keeping any indication of purpose out of this voice. No hint of curiosity, suspicion or even disdain.
"So far, he's told me we're under surveillance by Casseticons fifty percent of the time," Jazz offered, deliberately misquoting Starrunner to get a reaction. Starrunner did not disappoint, looking up immediately, first at Prowl, then at Jazz, fear in his optics. Starrunner did not make a sound, though, even though he obviously wished to make optic contact with Jazz. Jazz gave him an opening, "Isn't that right, Starrunner?"
Starrunner looked flabbergasted, unwilling now to even turn his face in Prowl's direction. Prowl knew Jazz would have changed something about what their informant said, testing him, probably subtle like one particular Casseticon or the percentage. Starrunner did not want to contradict Jazz for some reason, but he finally answered the question, "N- no, Sir. Close to seventy-five percent, Sir." English, but in the style of the formal Cybertronian. The demeanor made sense to Prowl now: someone had trained into this youngster the extreme deference shown superiors before the last Golden Age.
"How do you know this is true?" Prowl asked, still addressing Jazz.
"I heard that faint rustling in the ventilation system again, above the repair bay, right before Starrunner here insisted he saw movement." He turned to Starrunner with an encouraging smile, "Laserbeak, correct?"
"Yes Sir, or Buzzsaw." Starrunner fidgeted a bit.
"And I planted the seed that we were goin' to the brig. If he's right, might be able to catch a spy in the air ducts there," Jazz offered.
Starrunner again looked down at his hands. He cycled air through his intakes quickly: this waiting for the worst was driving him to overheat.
"The brig. That is reasonable. You know, there's only one way into that section of ductwork." Prowl brought up the comm desk on his console. Blaster was still on duty - his jovial response came through clearly. Prowl got straight to business. "Send the cleaning crew down to the brig. Tell them to go quietly and have the Minibot in the group enter the ductwork at the last junction en route. And Blaster," Prowl paused, reaching the conclusion that even if it were only local animals as they'd all assumed, they needed to police the ductwork more often, he added, "tell them to go armed in case the animal is not biological."
"Oh my, oh my! Will do, Prowl. Are we expecting a kitty-con or a birdie-con?" Blaster sounded like this was the most interesting thing he'd heard all day.
Prowl made optic contact with Jazz and dimmed first one optic, then the other quickly, the transformer equivalent of rolling his eyes. No one else had a chance to notice, Starrunner was still staring at his own hands and Blaster was calling up the roster for the current cleaning crew. "Avian-type, Laserbeak or Buzzsaw. But they should be prepared for anything."
"I'll get 'em rollin' on it, Prowl. Today, all three are Minibots." Blaster sounded like he wanted to say more but thought better of it.
"That's fine." Prowl almost cut the connection, then reconsidered, seeing concern flash across Jazz's face, "Put two of them in the duct and send a Dinobot to the brig with the other one." Knowing Blaster was about to ask which Dinobot, Prowl added, "Grimlock. He knows how to be quiet." Then he closed the connection and addressed Jazz. "If you are right, the Decepticons not only know your informant is missing, Jazz, but they know where he is. How is this useful?"
"I'm sure he's got more data for me, don'tcha, Starrunner?" Again, Jazz playing mediator.
"Yes Sir, I do," Starrunner replied, choosing to keep his head and optics down.
Conspiratorially, Jazz leaned closer to the young mech and said, "I'm tryin' to help ya. But you have to start talkin'."
Prowl gave Jazz a look that said, 'Don't make promises we can't keep,' but refrained from comment, letting Jazz exert his charisma on this stranger.
Remembering how he'd started the conversation in medical, Jazz prodded, "How'd you come by your jet-mode? MiG, right? That's different from all the other Seekers we've seen here."
Starrunner glanced at Jazz sidelong, then returned his optics to his lap. Prowl reached the conclusion that it was more likely an elaborate deception than Decepticon science had produced such a creature.
Then Starrunner started talking. Jazz encouraged him occasionally as he softly, formally, explained that he was the first new Seeker to be sent to Earth to expand the Decepticon presence. His creator chose his alt-mode to be the most widely used fighter jet, so he could blend in more places. He was more efficient, using almost no subspace technology in either mode, but he was a smaller Cybertronian and did not innately garner the fear and respect the larger Seekers immediately commanded. He was openly considered a failed experiment - jet planes on Earth always drew the attention of the public, it seemed - so an entire Trine of Cybertronian jets were en route who weren't even going to bother taking on an Earthly form. Soon the Autobots would be facing six experienced Seekers. "I met them before transferring to Earth, Sir. They are easily meaner and stronger than the three already here." He was warming to his topic: he hated the other Seekers at least as much as they hated him. "Sir, I have video of the three in-bound Seekers. May I show you?"
Prowl and Jazz were both watching and listening to Starrunner closely. Starrunner looked up and met Jazz's visor. Jazz glanced at Prowl, then met Starrunner's optics, "Yes, o' course! What type o' file is it?"
Starrunner slowly held his bound hands out to Jazz who deactivated the restraints. Without hesitation or extra movement, Starrunner removed the canister from its bracket on his right wing and gently removed the hard disk to lay on his lap, then the CDs, then shook the smaller items out into his palm. Setting the canister down beside him, he selected one USB drive and offered it to Jazz, saying, "We converted it to a RIFF, Sir."
Jazz took the tiny proffered drive and gingerly handed it to Prowl who set about attaching it to a hub he used as a buffer on his console. Turning back to Starrunner, he said, "We? So someone at the Nemesis knew you were comin' here?" Prowl caught the slight change in Jazz's vocalization that signaled the end of his term as the 'good cop' and wondered if his prey noticed.
Starrunner had caught the subtle shift. His faceplate betrayed his distress. "Sir?"
"You said, 'we converted it'," Jazz let the smile completely leave his lip components. Prowl deduced from Starrunner's expression that it was the first time since seeing Jazz in medical.
"Ye-es, Sir. My friend Cobweb helped me. He - is better with computer interfaces than I am. He does not know I am here. Sir." His speech was speeding up in his distress, nearly rivaling Bluestreak. "The other Seekers intended to deactivate me - I let them think I crashed in Mongolia, Sir." Starrunner looked positively frightened.
"You brought this data with you, set yourself squarely on a route we patrol. You planned this out in advance." Jazz consciously strove for clipped, cold words, turning the table on their guest.
Prowl pretended to be completely focused on the task of opening up the file, waiting for Jazz to send the young Decepticon in his direction. Jazz pushed: "Why did you ask for me?"
-X-X-X-
Spelled out in a tone nearly as offended as Starscream could muster, his actions sounded downright malicious. Number Four continued: "Why did you ask for me?"
Taken aback by Number Four's sudden change of tone, Starrunner glanced Prowl's way only to find he was focused tightly on coaxing the file off the little drive. Starrunner looked desperately back at Number Four but the visor revealed nothing. Starrunner still stared over into it hopefully. "Because you always do reasonable things. Sir! I've never seen another Cybertronian behave as consistently sensibly as you." Prowl looked up at that, and Starrunner noticed immediately, making optic contact with him hopefully. Now addressing Prowl in earnest, Starrunner continued, "Sir! N-not that I've seen other Autobots in action more than once each, but, Sir! Compared to the representatives of the other camps of Cybertronians on Earth, Number Four - Jazz - has been consistent. Reasonable." Starrunner looked back down at the mess of storage media in his hand and lap, "Honorable."
-X-X-X-
That was logical: the sparkling was looking for a leader and had found his options lacking. Prowl chose to address the Decepticon directly now, no use continuing to ignore Starrunner now that Jazz had traded roles with him. "That's the core of it, is it not? You are obviously quite young. Socialized as a Decepticon only briefly." He paused to let that supposition sink in. Then, to ensure the 'Con was off-balance in the conversation, he asked a sensitive question in an expressionless tone as if it had bearing on the situation, "Do you know if your spark has worn a different form or did your creator receive it directly from Vector Sigma?"
Prowl could tell Jazz was shocked by what he'd just asked the mech, but even other Autobots wouldn't have been able to read Jazz right then - that's why Jazz always wore the visor when others could observe him. Starrunner was speechless. Shaking slightly, he dropped a data chit to the floor. "Go on and put that away," Prowl directed, trying to add just a touch of kindliness to his vocalization, "and then try to answer my question."
Starrunner complied, slowly putting the items from his right hand in the canister, followed by the items he'd set on his lap where he sat. His hands shook. He carefully capped the canister and reattached it to its bracket. Then he looked on the floor for the stray storage device. Thankfully, he saw it under his own chair, where he could reach it. He picked it up and offered it to Prowl directly. "This one contains a copy of the data Shockwave keeps on suspicious activity on Cybertron. Sir. I brought it to Earth because Shockwave wanted me to give it to Soundwave, but Soundwave would not accept it from me. Told me to erase the data from my memory, Sir. Shockwave thought it was important even if Soundwave doesn't - maybe it will be useful to you."
Prowl accepted it and placed it in the hub. "I see," he said, "you followed Soundwave's order by erasing it from your memory banks only after making a portable copy." Good: Starrunner obviously assumed that was another strike against him. Prowl continued before Starrunner had a chance to speak again, "Now, answer my question."
Starrunner returned to the pose he'd adopted when his hands were bound, staring down at them. "Sir, I do not know. My creator refused to speak on it and punished me for asking."
The air in the room seemed to crackle with tension at that moment. Prowl reveled in it, having purposely stirred it; a glance at Jazz showed that he was at his most calculating. Prowl returned his attention to Starrunner. "When have you observed Jazz?"
Starrunner's gaze flicked to Jazz, then back to his folded hands. "Sir. When Number Four - Jazz - when he infiltrated the Nemesis. I-I've seen him several times, Sir. I followed him as best I could. He..." Starrunner trailed off. Cycling air through his cooling system a little faster, he continued, now looking at Jazz, "Sir, you always went solely for the target I would have chosen, for the one project in work at the time that was most ... wrong." He looked back down at his hands, tightly clenched in his lap, then back up at Prowl. "Sir, Number Four could have killed us all, any of the times I saw him in our base, but he didn't. He got in somehow, worked his way to the latest planet-destroying device or Cybertronian-mutilating weapon and sabotaged it. Not our life-support system, not any necessary structure, just the ... latest abomination." He stared down again, then off-lined his optics. Softly, he added, "Number Four came in and took out the thing I knew I should destroy, but was too frightened to take action. Sir."
For at least a full minute, the only sounds in the room were the vital systems of three transformers. Somewhere deep in the Ark, someone fired a blaster.
"Well," Prowl said, "that answers the question of the spy in the air duct."
-X-X-X-
Processing Starrunner's words, "...when he infiltrated the Nemesis... I've seen him several times," Jazz's bad temper ceased to be put-on. He was stunned by what he perceived as his own incompetence: as the Autobots' espionage expert and saboteur, he should have never been noticed by his prey, let alone identified and monitored. How had this Decepticon followed him on his forays? The last several times he'd been to the Nemesis, he'd developed an unreasonable fear of discovery, a sense of being watched that began around the residence deck and continued until he'd accomplished the mission. Unable to detect a watcher, Jazz had convinced himself it was his imagination. What a fool he was, he thought, to have somehow been detected by another transformer! Worse than that, he had been unable to locate his observer.
The sound of the blaster brought him back to Prowl's office and their prisoner.
Feeling argumentative now - something he'd deny if anyone but Prowl accused him of it - Jazz finally processed the tone of Starrunner's last statement. Stationed with the Earth- side Decepticon command, presented with a Seeker Trine that was the pride of the War Academy in their day, this mech who insisted on the use of the word 'Cybertronian' where others would identify their faction or their subgroup, watched the spy who came to sabotage his leaders' projects and decided that it was the most reasonable course of action. Jazz watched Prowl but slowly addressed their visitor. "Now that you're here, what is it you expect us to do?"
Starrunner did not move. He did not on-line his optics. Jazz thought for a moment that he was not going to answer.
Barely audibly, shaking as if he were vocalizing his greatest hope and greatest fear, Starrunner explained. "Sir, there are a limited number of things for you to do. You might deactivate me, which is better than what my shipmates will do if they find me alive in anything like my current state. That's better for me than if I had not set myself on your patrol route. You might torture me for fun before you deactivate me, which is what my faction will do if they find me and what was likely to happen if you'd left me where I was yesterday." He paused to cycle air through his cooling system a little faster and clenched his fists so hard the metal flexed. He on-lined his optics but kept his head bowed, vocalizing with more certainty, "I have seen enough of your faction to believe that is not the Autobot way." He relaxed his hands and slowly splayed his fingers out on his thighs. "You might turn me out, Sir, which puts me precisely where I was yesterday but better off with my leaks patched and my solar arrays accessible. You might imprison me in your brig, which puts me significantly better off than I was yesterday: under a roof and away from my shipmates." His optics flickered up at Prowl, then Jazz, before he raised his head to look straight ahead, seemingly addressing the wall behind Prowl's desk. "I have been a slave, designed purposefully to come to Earth, antagonize the small creatures and steal energon from the planet. I have some skills, Sir, that your garrison might find useful. You might, logically, extend to me the same opportunity afforded Skyfire, whom the Decepticons call traitor, and allow me a time to prove my worth in my own way."
-X-X-X-
Hours later, Jazz and Prowl walked down to the brig to take a look at the damage caused by Grimlock and the now-contained spy, Laserbeak.
In no hurry to actually arrive there - Brawn's report had been both thorough and entertaining - they took their time. Jazz had partially regained his humor, after taking a turn at target practice outside to clear his CPU of his disappointment that such a sparkling had not only noticed his presence aboard the Nemesis but followed him on his errands. Not once, but several times. He shook his head and said, "I can't believe I'm gettin' so sloppy."
Visor dim and posture less than jaunty, Prowl knew Jazz was going over the missions again and again in his processor, looking for anything his sensors had detected but he'd dismissed. "Have you thought that maybe it is not so much a matter of you getting sloppy but of that one young Decepticon having some exceptional skill?" Prowl offered. He walked with both hands clasped behind his back as he'd seen some humans do, not because it was particularly comfortable or conveyed some specific message, but because it allowed him to casually brush his shoulder against Jazz as they walked without anything overt to show up on the security feeds. He did so at that moment, just to make sure Jazz was paying attention. "It is not always about you."
Jazz looked at him at that gentle jibe. "Well!" he huffed, starting to smile. "It should be!" And he laughed a little. Prowl joined him.
"Sparkling could be dangerous," Prowl began a few steps later. "Skills like that are obviously not good for us in Decepticon control." He held up a hand, knowing Jazz would make assumptions and protest what he thought Prowl was saying if he didn't get the whole idea out in one shot. "Wait. Hear me out. He detected your presence aboard the Nemesis and instead of attacking you or raising an alarm, he watched you, decided you were doing something there he wished he could. This kid basically followed you home from work." Jazz's visor brightened a little at Prowl's use of the word 'kid' - it was normally reserved for Bluestreak. "He apparently has stalking abilities to rival your own. Flew away from all he ever knew, to give us - you - a few pieces of information he thought could prove vital. Sought you out because you came to represent the only sane camp of mechs on the planet." He paused. "Considering that our competition on that score consists of the Decepticons on the Nemesis, the gypsy Insecticons, and the Constructicons in the desert, obviously, I find his logic sound."
"Do you think the others will tolerate him, if we let him try to make a place for himself here?"
Prowl shrugged. "Not everyone in our ranks gets along as it is. He can't be any more trouble than the Twins or Warpath." Prowl named their pranksters and their resident klutz.
Jazz dimmed optics briefly in agreement and they continued down the hall.
Prowl brushed shoulders with him again. "That was a good idea you had, to place him under 'house arrest' with that locator chip on his wing. I helped Wheeljack test it while you were outside: if he strays beyond the common room, his work area, and the direct route between, the alarm will trip and the Autobot on comm duty will send enforcers. Wheeljack decided Starrunner can work at opening up the forward sections of the Ark deeper into the mountain while we gauge if he is what he claims to be." Prowl paused, considering whether Jazz would tolerate his next suggestion or not. "If things go well, he might make a good addition to your team. After all, none of us can detect you when you put your processor to it, but he did."
Jazz accepted that last remark without comment. Something deeper was bothering him, but he'd focused on being detected to try to avoid it. "You know what really dampens my spark, Prowl? The thing he said about being a slave. Being created for a specific purpose by the Decepticons, being fitted with a body specifically for that purpose. I mean, none of us chooses the body he's sparked in, but the whole reason we're Autobots is to choose how we use what we have. Even the Dinobots have chosen to remain here with us, and they briefly went over to Megatron for a taste of the Slag-maker's way. They couldn't have been brought back by any force we could muster: they went and saw with their own optics the difference between Megatron and Optimus. That's what it really comes down to, Prowl." Jazz stopped in the hallway. Prowl stopped a step later and turned to look at him. "We are just as guilty of creating slaves as they are. Cosmos, specifically, comes to my processor. We haven't been good enough to him. I know he was with us long before his original body was destroyed, just needed a new working frame to be animate again. But maybe that's worse. Has anybody even bothered to ask him if he's okay with being in orbit for days on end? If he feels any sense of accomplishment, purpose, being our relay satellite and remote sensor suite most of the time? If he would rather we'd left him alone in stasis?"
"I don't mean to dismiss your concern for Cosmos, Jazz, but he believes in what we're doing and does what his form is now uniquely equipped to do." Prowl started walking again, then stopped after a few steps when Jazz remained stationary.
"No one's form limits him so much to just one task, like Cosmos', not even Warpath or Seaspray!" Jazz protested.
"I disagree," Prowl frowned, processor racing. "Omega Supreme cannot come inside the Ark yet he does not leave for accommodations more to his scale. Under normal circumstances he is limited to sentry duty and an occasional turn in orbit to give Cosmos a break. Skyfire is an explorer by nature yet remains here on a planet he can circle in an hour, pulling mostly sentry and orbital duty, like Omega. With the exception of Swoop, the Dinobots are limited to the roles of sentry and brute labor, when they aren't chosen as our front line. Grimlock aspires to leadership: I'm not even sure the other Dinobots follow his lead reliably. Bumblebee is often the only one of us who can investigate human facilities: he goes because he knows this. He is not one we will send to counter Devastator, no matter how much he might desire the fight." Realizing his logic might not be obvious to his friend, he lightened his expression and added, "As stealthy as I can be, and much as I might like to, I don't ask to join your team on missions because it requires the ability to improvise. In that circumstance, my logic center would be a liability." Jazz looked like he might dispute that, but Prowl allowed a slight self-deprecating look on his face and continued, "Cosmos, like the rest of us, recognizes the uniqueness of his talents and the necessity to use them. Maybe you should talk to him when he has liberty in a few days. You're just the one to ask him how he finds his duty cycles: I don't know a single 'Bot who could keep a secret from you if his spark depended on it." Prowl smiled slowly, seeing he was bringing Jazz out of the funk he'd been in all afternoon. He delivered his last encouraging idea: "Now we have evidence that you even draw Decepticons to tell you what they know."
Jazz smiled, visor back at nominal brightness. "Yeah. That just goes to prove that programming doesn't dictate so much. Each spark chooses his own way."
They started walking again and arrived at the damaged door to the brig. Prowl began to inspect the mechanisms. "We could reformat Grimlock as a gazelle-bot and he still would have not an iota of grace."
Jazz laughed. For having a logic-only processor, Prowl could come up with some non- sequitur images when he wanted. "Ya mean ya don't think Laserbeak did that?" Obviously Grimlock's work, but Jazz felt up to joking around again.
Prowl forced a blank expression as he delivered his answer, pretending to take Jazz's remark seriously, "I know you will have no trouble persuading him to tell you about the encounter with Grimlock himself, being a captive audience." Still expressionless, he reached out to stop Jazz's forward progress: "On second thought, let Blaster deal with Laserbeak."
Jazz looked taken aback and was about to ask why when Prowl continued, clearly teasing, "We need him to want to leave."
As of 23OCT2007: Continued in Down to the Casing.