Never Give Up - Part 1 of 12
Title: Never Give Up
'verse: G1
Rating: T/PG-13
Length: 50k, 12 chapters
Characters: Jazz, Prowl, ensemble
Warnings: angst, cybertronian profanity, mild Prowl/Jazz, violence
Summary:
Certain things should be unthinkable. Nothing truly is. With Shockwave involved, Prowl and the crew of the Ark are forced to confront the shadows that can lie in a mech's spark.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction, based on the 1983 cartoon series "Transformers", produced and owned by Hasbro and its associated companies. Characters and situations are used without permission and with no profit accruing to the author.
Author's Note: I've been working on this on and off for a while - mostly in my angstier moments. Since I finally managed to bring it to something approximating a conclusion, I thought I'd post it. I should be posting daily - comments, suggestions for improvement or critiques are welcome. Even a word or two of feedback (positive or negative) can be useful to me as a writer, and would be very welcome indeed. I hope you enjoy reading - even if I should probably be apologising for springing this chapter on you...
Chapter 1
"Yet again you fail me!"
Starscream was a battered heap at Megatron's feet. The Seeker was past the shrieking stage, reduced now to a pained whimper of protest. Shockwave's audials were truly grateful for that.
Watching, smirking behind his faceplate, the mech made no move to intervene. Soundwave mirrored him on the other side of their Lord's throne, his dimmed visor suggesting he wasn't even bothering to watch. Starscream had been more than usually rebellious of late, and punishment from Lord Megatron was thoroughly appropriate.
Up to a point.
Careful to mask the thought behind his usual barrage of white noise, Shockwave pondered his options. The battered red and white plating was a satisfying sight, but satisfaction was fleeting. Seeing Starscream offlined didn't fit in with his plans at present. Having the Seeker out of the way would be to his advantage, but the potential effects of Starscream's deactivation on the other Seekers were unpredictable. The continued effectiveness of one of the Earthbound jets in particular warranted careful consideration. Shockwave had worked too hard and long on this project to permit a key tool to be damaged now.
He stepped forward, and was aware at once of Soundwave's focussed attention. He ignored the pressure on his processor, confident in his precautions, and cleared his vocaliser with a cautious whirr.
"My Lord… if I might make a suggestion?"
Megatron's fusion cannon glowed hot. His optics didn't move from the trembling Seeker at its focus, and his voice was a dangerous growl.
"Shockwave?"
"It occurs to me, Lord Megatron, that Starscream's laboratory would be of a certain use in the endeavour we discussed on my arrival."
The red glow brightened, lighting the room, the fusion cannon humming a little louder.
"Then I will ensure it is vacated."
"Ah…" Shockwave hummed, tone non-committal. Megatron's glare didn't fade, but there was a sour expression on his face as he glanced at his lieutenant. This was a familiar routine: his punishment of Starscream interrupted, his officers or enemies or fate itself conspiring to rob him of the ultimate satisfaction. It was a while though since Shockwave had found himself the one saving his rival's thrusters. "My Lord, if I may… as long as my presence is required on this organic world, then perhaps Cybertron…?"
The fusion cannon's whine rose to a crescendo, Starscream cowered, and for a moment everyone present thought that this time the intervention had failed. Then Skywarp took a step forward, a strangled cry escaping him. Megatron's optics rose to the black-and-lavender Seeker, before swinging back to Shockwave, as if reminding himself of his lieutenant's proposal. Megatron's optics flickered, considering. The warlord's grey servos rose in a flourish of impotent rage.
"Get this pile of wreckage fixed and ship him to Cybertron."
"My Lord…" Starscream whispered, reaching out with a shaky hand.
Megatron knocked the hand aside. The large mech crouched beside his second-in-command, taking hold of one wing and giving a sharp twist.
"You will remain in Darkmount at all times." Putting a Seeker beneath Cyberton's skies, unable to take wing and spiral up into their dark expanse… Shockwave regarded his malevolent lord with frank admiration. Starscream whimpered, looking towards Skywarp and Thundercracker. His wingmates stepped forward instinctively, only to come to an abrupt halt as Megatron's gimlet gaze returned to them. "Starscream will travel alone. All other Seekers will remain here."
Megatron stood. Turning his back on the bewildered trine, he strode from the room without another word, Soundwave falling into step behind him. Shockwave waved briskly from Thundercracker towards his damaged trine-leader, before beckoning to their third.
"Skywarp, come with me."
He didn't let his satisfaction show in his voice, and his mono-opticed facemask hid it from view, but it was there nonetheless. The tool he needed was in his servo, the biggest potential distraction banished. Finally he had a chance to break the impasse on this organic world once and for all. Lord Megatron's attention would return to where it should have been all along: Cybertron.
That was a goal Shockwave could believe in. He would bring his lord and master home and return their homeworld to its true glory. And if the broken frames and sparks of Autobot pests paved the path to that goal… well, that was no more than an incidental pleasure.
Prowl shivered as Jazz ran a stealthy servo up the edge of one door-wing. The Praxian jumped, spinning away from Teletraan-1's monitoring station with a satisfying mixture of irritation and amusement.
Jazz sniggered, unrepentant in the face of his best friend's frown. The saboteur leaned back in a relaxed slouch against the terminal's chair, hands spread open in front of him. The command deck lights, dimmed to reflect the pre-dawn world outside, glinted off black and white plating and the grin that never failed to disarm.
"Hey, you land a mech on nightshift for an orn and he's gotta find his amusement where he can."
A frown warred against the barest hint of a smile on pale faceplates. The smile won. Prowl's door-wings rose, flaring for a moment before settling with something approaching a flutter.
"Must I remind you that such contact is not only presumptuous, but also wildly appropriate for Autobot officers whilst on duty?"
Jazz's visor flickered in something that was almost a wink. He pushed out of the monitor chair and gave an elaborate stretch before leaning against one of the stalagmites that had grown through the floor during their long sleep. "Ah, but that's the thing, Prowler. You may be on duty, but as of, ah, oh point seven eight breems ago, I'm not."
Prowl's optics dimmed, the huff of air through his vents one of fond exasperation. "Given your obvious lack of stimulation - before now - I take it nothing of interest happened during the night?"
The question, despite the phrasing, was a necessary part of this routine. Jazz's casual shrug didn't disguise his serious answer. "Not a lot. Had a movement sensor go offline, coupla miles out. Might rattle Red Alert's circuits a bit, but I was watchin' half the night and there ain't been another short, or even a hint on the perimeters."
Prowl nodded. With the Ark's ten mile, five mile and three mile boundary rings intact, even their zealous security director would probably accept that missing a single square, a few hundred yards across, from the inner surveillance grid was not an imminent emergency. "I'll assign a repair crew…"
"Nah." Jazz produced a replacement sensor from his subspace with a flourish. "I'm headin' out to watch the sunrise before turnin' in for a joor, and that sensor's in as good a place as any. Won't take me more'n a minute or two to tackle two birds with one stone."
Wrapped in an organic metaphor or otherwise, it was a fair solution. Prowl nodded, settling into the monitor chair Jazz had abandoned.
"I will never understand your fondness for adopting human idiom."
"I know." Jazz grinned, subspacing the sensor and heading towards the door. "But that ain't gonna stop me tryin' to convert you." He paused, glancing over his shoulder. "Up for another round? We can fit a movie in when you get off shift an' before I go on?"
"I'm afraid I must ask you for a 'rain check'." The tactician pronounced the unfamiliar phrase with careful precision. "The disappearance of Starscream and current silence from the Decepticons is making Prime rather unsettled. He's asked for a tactical projection and infiltration strategy, ready for deployment against the Nemesis."
"So you gotta pull a double?" Jazz grimaced sympathetically. A hint of a frown showed on the Special Ops mech's face, as barely-there as Prowl's smile had been a few minutes before. "'Kay. I'll give the Nemesis thing some thought too."
"Jazz, I'm sorry..."
The other officer's low chuckle filled the room. "No probs, mech. A 'bot's gotta do what a 'bot's gotta do." He shook his helm and turned away, raising a hand in farewell. "Maybe tomorrow. Don't work too hard, Prowler."
"Have a good day, Jazz." Prowl was already leaning over the keyboard, running the morning checks. He paused long enough to glance over his shoulder, only to realise the Ark's bridge was already empty. Unconcerned, he went back to the terminal, completing his routine without another thought. As Jazz said, there was always tomorrow.
"Ah… Shockwave?"
Skywarp's whining voice was an irritation, a distraction Shockwave could well do without. He didn't so much as hesitate as he strode past the Seeker, leaving Megatron's audience room behind and stalking through the dank corridors. He tuned the Seeker out with the ease of many vorns' experience commanding the high strung frame-type. There was no good reason for Skywarp to have waited outside the audience chamber, or for Shockwave to acknowledge him. His participation in this exercise was necessary, rather than welcome.
"Shock-waaaave! It's now. TC says he's there already. We have to go now."
The whine penetrated despite Shockwave's efforts, and the gun-former's vents stilled. Now? He'd expected Thundercracker to contact him directly, but - he realised with an all too familiar feeling of frustration - that had been before his lord and master summoned him to voice his displeasure about the incompetence of the Decepticons, cassettes, Seekers in general and Starscream in particular.
Shockwave's loyalty never wavered. If Lord Megatron wished to vocalise his analysis, then his Cybertronian lieutenant wouldn't dream of questioning that decision, but he had to admit the timing was problematic. With his firewalls banked against Soundwave's probing and his com-link deactivated out of respect for Megatron, Thundercracker could have been trying to get his attention for breems or even joors without success.
His irritation with the second Seeker dogging his heels faded, and he merely nodded, feeling a certain satisfaction that the two had accepted his command. Informed self-interest was always a powerful motivator. Without Starscream to stand as a barrier between them and Megatron, Thundercracker and Skywarp were vulnerable. The pair remained somewhat safe only so long as Shockwave deemed them useful.
How long that would remain the case was an open question. Thundercracker's main task in Shockwave's strategem was the one he'd just completed. The only reason Shockwave had involved the blue-armoured flier at all was because Skywarp didn't have the patience for high-altitude surveillance.
"Ah… Shockwave? Sir?"
Shockwave cut off the Seeker with a single, raised hand. Signalling the lab door with his identity, he strode through and reached for the case on the workbench. He inspected its contents with a scan of his single, sharp optic. The power-pack pinged in response to his query, the housings were clean and awaiting their fragile cargo. Nodding once, he shut the case with an economic movement before subspacing it and stalking back to the lab door.
"Charge your null-rays."
A rising whine filled the air, Skywarp not questioning the instruction. He'd certainly been briefed often and carefully enough to appreciate the relevance of it. The Seeker forced power into his trine-leader's inventions, bringing them up to the brink of firing, eliminating the fraction of a klick of reaction time that would otherwise be required.
Venting hard, Shockwave took up a firing stance, his own weapon set for low power and wide-dispersal, and then turned his back to Skywarp. For once the idiot seemed to realise this wasn't the time for a quip. The black and lavender Seeker was thankfully brisk as he slipped an arm around Shockwave's waist.
"Be ready."
Skywarp huffed a vent in agreement - their target wasn't a mech to face unprepared - before beginning a sing-song countdown. "Three… two… one…"
The world changed around them. Skywarp's null-rays were already blanketing the area as trees faded into sight, and cool air - churned up by their sudden arrival - played across delicate wing sensors.
Seconds passed. Skywarp stilled his weapon.
Silence lingered.
Nothing moved, least of all the saboteur propped up against a rock outcrop and facing the garish pink-and-orange clouds that marked an imminent sunrise. The Autobot had to have been hit by several null-ray blasts within klicks, forced into deep stasis before he even registered their presence.
Excellent. So far, Shockwave's plan had been executed faultlessly. It was more than he'd calculated probable from the young Seeker he was reliant upon.
Nonetheless, Shockwave stood still and cautious, his own weapon trained, but resisting the urge to fire. Leaving evidence here wasn't part of his plan. Instead Shockwave squinted through the flat, pre-dawn light, searching the unpredictable Autobot for any sign of movement, before pulling away from Skywarp and striding across the small clearing.
Kneeling by the insensate mech, he pulled the case from his subspace. Laying it on the grass beside him, he flipped the catch before looking down at his frozen captive, every movement clinically precise, feeling no need to acknowledge that his complex strategem was underway without a hitch.
The same couldn't be said for his Seeker tool.
"It worked!" Skywarp's mouth fell open, his arm-rifle still raised as if he didn't quite believe it.
"Indeed."
Satisfied, Shockwave allowed himself just a moment of relaxation. One finger traced a delicate helm horn, almost caressing the mech's slack faceplates.
"And now, my dear Jazz, you're all mine."
It was mid-morning when Optimus Prime wandered onto the command deck of his downed spacecraft, greeting his second-in-command and in search of his third. Not that he was in any hurry. Jazz was off-duty after his night on the monitors. The invitation Prime held in his servos, for an Autobot representative to open a county fair, could almost certainly wait until the most likely volunteer came back on-shift. On the other hand, if the mech was around, there seemed little point in delaying a response. The real question was whether Optimus could track him down, one way or the other.
Given the disparity between human time scales and their own, it wasn't unusual for Autobots to skip recharge for two or more days - a bad habit Jazz heard about from Ratchet almost as often as Prowl. The difference was that while Prowl was often to be found in his office during those extra hours, Jazz would be using his to explore their new world, or liven discussions in the Rec Room.
Optimus had already checked the latter option. Now he contemplated the bright morning sun shining through the Ark's hatches, and wondered how quickly his tactical officer would see through his pretext if he drive out into that warm light to find Jazz rather than simply comming him.
"Teletraan-1, please locate Autobot Jazz."
"Autobot Jazz is not aboard the Ark." Teletraan's smooth response was pretty much what Prime expected. The frown that ghosted across Prowl's calm face wasn't. The Praxian smoothed his faceplates but the surprise remained in his half-raised door-wings. He leaned forward in his chair so he could see around Optimus Prime's bulk and scanned the screens above his head.
"Peculiar."
"Prowl?"
"I understood Jazz to say he intended to recharge this morning." Prowl tapped one of the smaller screens thoughtfully. "He left here en route to replace a faulty sensor, and observe the sunrise, before retiring." He paused, looking up at his commander. "It would appear the sensor is still faulty."
"And Jazz isn't back."
"It wouldn't be the first time his plans have changed at short notice," Prowl noted. Optimus nodded slowly. A sudden decision to explore further afield, or join another mech's endeavours, could explain Jazz's absence from his berth. Neither Optimus and Prowl could believe such a change of plan would permit the failure to patch a hole in the Ark's sensor grid first. They knew their friend and fellow officer too well for that.
"It wouldn't be first time he's fallen into recharge watching the sunrise either," the Prime offered in counter-suggestion.
Prowl hummed an uncertain agreement. "I did not suspect he was that tired."
"You're talking about Jazz? I could fetch him if you want him." That was Bluestreak, wandering through the bridge on his way out. "I'm running kinda early, and I'm sure Bumblebee and Spike won't mind if I'm a minute or two late anyway."
"Thank you. That won't be necessary," Prowl answered without hesitation.
Bluestreak's door-wings wavered for a moment in a relaxed shrug. The mech headed onwards towards the door, talking as he went. "Well, if you're sure. I guess I really ought to be going, after all, and I hope you get off duty sometime soon, Prowl, and you too, Prime. It's such a nice day that it seems a shame to be stuck inside."
"Indeed." Prime smiled behind his faceplate, his optics warm. "Thank you, Bluestreak. Enjoy your day"
Silence returned. Prime's tactician echoed the quiet sighed that escaped his vents. Jazz would not recharge well away from the shelter of the ship, lacking both the optimised electromagnetic fields surrounding his berth and the sense of security that came with them. Most likely he'd wake very nearly as short of energy as when he dozed off. On the other hand, as Prime and Prowl had learnt long before, sending an unprepared crewbot to rouse their Head of Special Ops was… unwise.
Jazz didn't react well to surprises. Prowl was generally safe waking his friend. Prime could do it too… if Jazz was sufficiently relaxed and confident in his own safety. Otherwise, the larger mech's bulk and height tended to trigger unpleasant connections in the Ops mech's half-awake processor.
If the saboteur was hiding his weariness from his closest friend… Optimus shook the thought away, wary of second guessing his third's mental state. It was always difficult to tell what might be hidden behind that carefree façade.
Prowl didn't give voice to his own similar thoughts, but they were written in his body language. The tactician watched until Bluestreak transformed at the Ark's outer hatch and took off at a leisurely pace, before speaking.
"Prime, perhaps I should go…"
"Prowl, you're relieved. I'll watch the monitors until you're back."
The Praxian nodded, his door-wings dipping in gratitude. "I will return soon," he promised. The implicit corollary - with their errant officer in his tyre tracks - went unsaid.
"Ratchet!"
Prime reacted to Prowl's call with a start of surprise and a wave of anxiety. It took him several klicks even to identify the call over the senior officers' encrypted com channel. He'd never heard a note like this in his logical tactician's voice: stricken, desperate, half-choked with emotion.
"Ratchet, please…" It was hard to tell whether it was Prowl's transmission that cut out intermittently, or his processor fighting whatever had strangled his vocal circuits. "Prime, I… you… Jazz…"
"Prowl, for Primus' sake, pull yourself together and report!" Ratchet snapped the order out before Prime could. The white-clad medic strode onto the Ark's command deck. Optimus spared him a glance, abandoned his attempts to localise the erratic signal and instead pulled up the coordinates of the broken sensor that started all this.
Ratchet grimaced when only silence met his demand. The medic's scowl couldn't hide his concern as his Prime fell into step beside him, both hurrying for the exit. "Tell me you know where our genius of a second is."
Prime gave a tight nod, sending a databurst to his chief medical officer and then a ping to Prowl's private com channel as he transformed. If there was an answer, he didn't hear it. "You think he's glitching?"
Ratchet stuck tight to Prime's rear quarter as both picked up speed. Sunlight glinted off his white armour and the red crosses he displayed. The ambulance's sirens remained silent for the moment, but Prime knew that would change at the slightest hint of an obstruction. Ratchet grunted noncommittally. "Maybe."
It was a possibility. An inbalance in Prowl's fine-tuned logic centre was rare, but dangerous, particularly if the mech was outside of the Ark's confines. In Prime's limited experience, the sudden silence could well indicate a glitch. Prowl's near-hysteria beforehand though…
Jazz. It wouldn't be the first time Jazz had triggered a logic failure in his friend, although it hadn't happened in a time span encompassing several of this planet's ice ages. Changing tack, Prime pinged his third-in-command's com-link rather than his second's, gently at first, and then with enough volume to rouse a mech from even the heaviest recharge.
Nothing.
Optimus Prime gave Ratchet the bare minimum of warning before transforming, pushing his way between trees and even toppling a young pine in his haste to clear the medic's path. Travelling a mere few miles from the Ark had never taken so long.
"This way, Prime." Ratchet gestured to their right, indicating a bush that had been pushed aside, perhaps far enough to allow a door-winged mech to pass. Optimus followed his chief medical officer onto the narrow path, ducking his head to avoid a hanging creeper that caught on Ratchet's broad grey chevron. The medic's scowl deepened.
"Red Alert can't just put these things somewhere easy to find?"
Despite his concern, Optimus smiled behind his battlemask.
"I believe not doing so is rather the point."
Ratchet huffed air through his vents. The white mech stretched slightly, stiff after twisting between trunks too broad even for Prime to shoulder aside.
"What were those coordinates again? Should be just through…"
Optimus Prime heard it a moment before Ratchet came to an abrupt stop. Prowl's high, anguished keening didn't pause, or even falter, as the Prime clattered loudly into his chief medical officer's solid form, or when Optimus pressed forward to see over Ratchet's helm. The tactician probably hadn't realised they were there. He knelt where his legs had given out, on the edge of the clearing. His face-plates were hidden in his servos, door-wings flat and limp against his back. Prowl's voice rose and fell in a steady wail, all thought drowned out by the sound of pure desolation.
Ratchet's cry of dismay provided a sharp counterpoint. Prime himself remained silent. He wasn't sure his vocaliser would respond any better than his shock-frozen limbs. No one and nothing moved until he nudged Ratchet gently aside and stepped into the centre of the clearing. Freshly-disturbed morning dew dripped from blue pedes as he stopped. Feeling numb from processor to spark, Optimus Prime stared down at the grey frame propped against a rock out-crop, at the blaster that had dropped from Jazz's limp finger-servos and the ragged hole it had torn, discharged point-blank into the mech's own chest-plates.
Dropping to his knees, Optimus Prime forced himself to confirm what Prowl's door-wings and Ratchet's medical sensors must have told them instantly.
"He's gone."