JOURNEY INTO DESTINY
By Raksha
"There are things more precious than safety.
Loyalty is better than logic,
Hope is better than despair,
And creation is better than destruction."
--John Koenig, "The AB Chrysalis"
Space 1999
Cybertron; 9 million years B.P.
Life in Polyhex City was deteriorating
rapidly, Soundwave reflected as he fired on the
last of the retreating Autobot marauders. It
had begun with isolated incidents along the
outskirts of the province -- the occasional
raid, the odd liberation of a prison camp --
but just recently had the insurgents dared to
attack the capital city itself. For the
longest time the civil war had restricted
itself largely to the equatorial regions,
giving those as far north as Polyhex a false
sense of security. Even when the attacks began
in the outer regions of Polyhex Province,
Soundwave and the others at DeceptiTech
Laboratories had viewed them with a sense of
removed unreality -- as something that would go
no farther, and wouldn't dare to invade their
day-to-day lives. When the hit-and-run attacks
began in the city itself, the obvious could no
longer be denied: the war had come to Polyhex.
Perhaps not full-force and complete with
clashing armadas -- but war none the less, and
every day the Autobots dared more and pushed
farther inward.
Lord Straxus, Imperial Warlord of Polyhex
and nominal Supreme Commander of the Decepticon
forces, had wasted little time recruiting
warriors for perimeter patrol, once the attacks
began to creep closer to his own stronghold,
Darkmount. He'd had plenty of Decepticons to
choose from; certainly there was no lack of
candidates from the prestigious War Academy
that shared fame with DeceptiTech Laboratories
and Watch Central as one of the entire planet's
recognizable landmarks. But Straxus, with his
usual lack of foresight, had insisted that
*every* citizen of Polyhex City put in rotating
shifts of perimeter patrol duty -- even those
who were probably less-than-qualified.
Soundwave himself had previous battle
experience from years earlier -- the cannon he
wore on his right shoulder bore mute testimony
to that, even during the last few years of
relative peace -- but looking around at the
other members of his squadron, he could easily
pick out those who had never known anything but
civilian life. Some of them fired a few last
ill-aimed shots after the Autobots who had
vanished amidst the battle-damaged buildings.
Several eager young warriors, not yet
graduated from the Academy, leapt forward to go
after them. "Forget it," snapped Slicer, the
officer in charge. "They're gone."
Disgustedly he holstered his weapon and
motioned to the squadron to continue on its
former patrol course.
Soundwave followed the others, somewhat
relieved that his more poorly-trained comrades
had no more immediate cause to play with their
laser guns. He thought it foolhardy, anyway,
to press scientists, repaireons, technicians,
archivists, and the like, into combat duty. As
for himself, his old training came back to him
quickly; he found he still had an aptitude for
it, but no longer an appreciation. He was a
scientist, not a warrior. As head of
DeceptiTech Labs, he'd already had several
clashes with Straxus over how the progressing
research should be handled, and therefore
thought it best *not* to voice his opinion
about the patrol duty policy. As the weeks
passed, whatever little respect he'd retained
for Straxus had faded rapidly -- the warlord
remained holed up in his fortress, leading by
decree rather than example, and had not once
led a single patrol squadron against the
Autobot raiders.
Soundwave marched on with the others.
They passed a collapsed transport ramp that was
uncomfortably close to the heart of the city.
A band of Autobots had hit it last week, and
melted back into the night before the closest
patrol unit could even get there. Looking at
the shattered and partially-molten shards of
the ramp, Soundwave came to a decision.
Tonight, under cover of darkness, he was taking
Celene and the kids and getting out of here.
She would protest, of course, at the
notion of leaving behind the state-of-the-art
research facilities where she had aspired to
her greatest work. The leading expert on
proximal and remote sensor-systems, Celene was
dedicated to her research to the point of
distraction. As long as she could immerse
herself in her work, the outside world was
barely real to her. She hardly took note of
the recent hit-and-run skirmishes, except to
protest indignantly when her shift at perimeter
patrol came up. "Who does Straxus think he is,
taking up my valuable research time by having
me play toy soldier?" she had fumed. "How much
of a threat can Autobots possibly be, anyway?"
Soundwave had calmed her in the most effective
possible way - by taking over her shift
himself. *How much of a threat were the
Autobots?* he mentally echoed her question.
He'd had his own doubts at first, being wrapped
up in the world of DeceptiTech himself - but
since the initiation of the patrol shifts, he'd
already seen more than he wanted.
He was not going to raise his family in a
war zone. They would go north, perhaps to
Celene's home city of Vestia, with its rather
primitive research facilities. But they would
be safe there, for a while at least. If
necessary, Soundwave was prepared to keep
moving indefinitely to stay out of reach of the
spreading conflict. Regardless of Celene's
arguments, they would set out tonight---
A massive explosion shattered the air and
shuddered violently through the ground. Those
warriors who were not thrown off their feet,
including Soundwave, spun in alarm toward the
source of the sound. The blast had taken place
fairly close, just out of sight behind some of
the taller buildings and spires. A huge column
of black smoke poured into the golden afternoon
sky, quickly joined by billows of white smoke
that seemed to originate from secondary
explosions that rapidly followed the first.
A surge of panic electrified Soundwave
into action. Before the other warriors could
even react, he sprang into the air and flew as
fast as he could toward the blast site, weaving
his way around spires and towers. The
explosion couldn't have come from DeceptiTech,
he tried to convince himself desperately, even
as he knew, with a cold, horrible certainly,
that it had. The location of the smoke
columns, the continuous secondary explosions,
made the source unmistakable.
He rounded the last obstructing building
and was met by a seething inferno. Black,
acrid smoke poured from every entrance, window,
and air-access portal of the multiple
interconnected buildings of DeceptiTech Labs,
and out of many gaping openings that hadn't
been part of the original design. As Soundwave
landed and pushed his way to the forefront of
the frantically milling crowd, an entire
section of the complex collapsed in on itself.
A blast of heat shot out toward the crowd,
rippling the air, and Soundwave momentarily
staggered back from it. Secondary explosions
continued to rip through the inter-linked
buildings as various weapons-labs and chemical
stores went up.
Soundwave sent out his thoughts,
telepathically searching for Celene. He almost
blacked out from the excruciating pain and
terror that met him in response. By all the
Life Forces, she was *in* there...!
He bolted for the nearest entrance,
blindly oblivious to the smoke and flames that
boiled toward him.
Something caught his arms from behind and
jerked him to an abrupt stop. Soundwave pulled
frantically, struggled and kicked against the
restraint behind him. The grip on his arms was
like a vise and wouldn't budge. "No,
Soundwave!" demanded a voice close to his
audial sensor. It took him a moment to link
that voice to Ultimus Maxim, one of his top
scientists, who had grabbed him shortly before
he could plunge into the burning building.
"Celene!" he cried, still trying to pull
away. But Ultimus Maxim was a large, powerful
Decepticon, considerably bigger than Soundwave,
and his struggle was useless.
"She's dead already!" Maxim insisted.
"Nothing could survive that. No sense in
*your* dying too!"
She *was* dead. After Soundwave had felt
her overwhelming pain and terror, her mind had
blanked out like an extinguished light. She
couldn't even know that Soundwave was with her
at the end, as she was no telepath. Numb with
shock, he slumped against Ultimus Maxim, who
held him now only for support.
They stood for what seemed like an
eternity, watching the laboratory complex
consume itself in smoke and flame. When the
damage-control units arrived and began to
battle the blaze, Soundwave turned away. "How
many got out?" he asked Maxim.
The big Decepticon was covered in black
soot, with singed and partially molten armor.
"Not many," he said gravely. "Just those of us
who happened to be close to an exit.
Electrovolt and Reflector and Blueshift and--"
He broke off, fighting pain and anger. "All
those lives," he said incredulously. "All that
research. Celene. Soundwave, I'm so sorry--"
Soundwave pulled away from him. He
couldn't deal with sympathy right now, nor with
Celene's death.
He couldn't deal with it even hours
later, when the damage-control crews had
extinguished the flames, and began to sift
through the rubble to look for bodies amidst
the smoking wreckage.
* * *
Soundwave motioned the damage-control
crew away and crouched down in the smoldering
ruins. He stared expressionlessly at the body.
This molten, twisted thing, with blackened eyes
and an expression of horror still frozen on its
face -- this could not possibly be Celene, with
her bright-gold optics, who had been so full of
vitality and passion. Numbly he reached out to
touch a bit of the silver-white plating that
had been charred almost black by the flames.
His hand trembled. Beyond the engulfing
numbness he sensed that he stood at the edge of
a vast chasm of pain and despair. It would not
take much to plunge him into that pit. But he
fought it, clinging to the pain-deadening
sensation of shock. He could not give in to
grief. Not now. He still had
responsibilities, now more than ever. But his
optics dimmed and he could not bring himself to
move, to leave her.
A choked gasp behind him brought him back
to his senses. He turned to see Selenia
standing amidst the wreckage, the very image of
her mother, the silver-white plating glistening
in the sunlight. An expression of horrified
disbelief twisted her features into nearly a
duplicate of Celene's. Her optics were huge
and bright with horror, fixed on Celene's dead
form. Soundwave rose quickly and went to her,
trying to turn her away from the scene of
carnage, but she felt rooted to the spot.
"I came when I heard about the
explosion...." Her voice was a whisper and
ended in an inarticulate cry. She began to
shake violently.
Soundwave put his arm around her
shoulders and gently, insistently, steered her
away. "You should not be seeing this," he
said.
They emerged from between the twisted
metal of partially-standing walls, still
radiating heat. Soundwave was surprised to see
a small group of the surviving scientists still
lingering around the ruins. Ultimus Maxim
seemed to have taken charge of things,
directing the damage control crews as they
carried away what bodies they found, and
guiding the other researchers who still hoped
to pull something salvageable out of the
debris.
All of them looked shaken and exhausted,
and Soundwave was aware that he had been
neglecting his duties as director of the
laboratory. "Go home," he told them softly.
"Rest. It falls to me to oversee all of this,
not to you."
Ultimus Maxim shook his head. "No,
Soundwave. You go home -- take your daughter
out of here. DeceptiTech is gone now, and your
responsibilities are to your creations. You've
done so much for all of us ... now Blueshift
and Quantum and I will take care of the final
stages."
Soundwave was going to argue, but
Selenia's shaking under his touch convinced him
otherwise. He nodded silently and turned away,
leaving the last remnants of the lab in the
hands of the researchers with whom he'd worked
for so many years, leaving many others who
would never work again.
* * *
The Crystal Columns apartment complex was
unscathed, glimmering in the evening sunlight
as though no tragedy had occurred just a few
blocks away. Without speaking, Soundwave and
Selenia took the anti-grav lift up to the 25th
floor, where the door to their residence slid
back and let them enter.
Ravage melted out of the shadows to meet
them in the entrance hall. "*I was at the
Labs*", he sent to the two of them
telepathically. "*I know what happened*". His
thoughts were guarded, some great darkness
concealed behind a mental curtain. Soundwave
tasted the faint undercurrent of grief in his
creation's telepathic whisper ... oh, he could
easily forge past the flimsy barrier of mind
and see for himself exactly what Ravage thought
and experienced just now, but that was not his
place; each of them had to deal with their loss
in their own way. Ravage, proud and
independent and already an accomplished
traveler into a violent underworld of war that
Selenia had never known, needed more than
anything to retain the privacy of his own
thoughts. Soundwave accorded him that respect,
as always. For the briefest of moments he
conveyed a sense of reassurance: *Whatever else
happens, I am here; we will survive the rest
together.* Then he pulled back and maintained
telepathic conversation on the most superficial
of surface levels.
Selenia crouched down on the floor next
to Ravage and wrapped her arms around him,
leaning against him. She had stopped trembling
and had slipped into a sort of dazed apathy;
she just sat there silently with Ravage,
staring at nothing. Ravage leaned his head
against her in attempted comfort, but his eyes
were on Soundwave. "*What now?*" he wanted to
know.
Soundwave glanced around the sparsely
furnished rooms. The windows were situated so
that light streamed in, giving the feel of
warmth and color. The place might have been
comfortable, if it had looked a little more
lived-in. What furniture there was, was
elegant and stylish, with no superfluous
frills; the walls and floor sparkled, polished
and dusted. Soundwave and Celene had
practically lived at the lab, and the only
rooms that looked inhabited were the computer
room, littered with data cartridges, print-
outs, and other take-home work -- and Selenia's
room, cluttered with an adolescent's typical
inability to keep her personal space in order.
Soundwave almost expected to see Celene dart
out of the maintenance chamber, hurriedly
polishing a last dull spot on her helmet and
proclaiming that she was late for work,
hurriedly leaping out the air-access portal....
No. Celene would never again be late for
work, and she would never again return to this
place. Soundwave knew that he could not stay
here either, where everything reminded him of
how much effort they had put into their
research, and how little time they had actually
devoted to each other. And Polyhex was no
longer safe. He had to think about Selenia and
Ravage.
"We will go elsewhere," he said, though
he was not sure where.
Ravage picked up on the uncertainty in
his thoughts. "*There is only one place we can
go now*", he responded, with a certainty that
brought Soundwave to attention, even though he
knew what Ravage would say, and knew he would
disagree.
"*The equator.*"
"Impossible," Soundwave replied aloud.
"Straight into the war zone? Look at your
sister -- imagine *her* there."
Selenia's head came up, and her eyes
regained some of their focus. "I can take care
of myself," she said with the barest trace of
indignation.
"*The whole *planet* is a war zone*,"
Ravage countered, as though Selenia had not
spoken. "*We can no longer run from the
conflict! We've got to join it, and we've got
to join it on the winning side!*"
Soundwave sighed. He'd had this
conversation with Ravage before. In recent
years, Ravage had become more and more of a
mystery to his family, often disappearing for
months at a time. Soundwave knew that he often
went to join the haphazard equatorial army of a
regional warlord with whom he had somehow made
contact. Soundwave knew of him -- Megatron --
he'd been famous in the State Games years ago,
even fought in the Polyhex arena once or twice,
where Soundwave had taken his family to enjoy
an occasional afternoon of gladiatorial combat.
He'd dropped out of the Games unexpectedly,
though, and later re-surfaced as an ambitious
territorial ruler. During the ever-shorter
stretches when Ravage returned home, he'd tried
to convince Soundwave and Celene to accompany
him on his next trip, to meet this commander
whom he thought so highly of -- to join into
what Soundwave considered pure insanity. They
had been safe here in Polyhex, after all.
"Your Megatron is only a minor warlord in
a region that boasts half a hundred others, all
fighting among themselves," Soundwave pointed
out for the dozenth time. "How can you
proclaim him to be 'the winning side'?"
Ravage disentangled himself from
Selenia's loose embrace and leapt up onto a low
cabinet, bringing himself closer to Soundwave's
eye level. "He's not like any of the others,"
he insisted, speaking aloud on this rare
occasion, his voice a low, soft growl. "He
will rule the Decepticons some day, I guarantee
it, and afterwards the whole planet. If we
want to survive, we must stand with him and not
against him!" Ravage's eyes burned with a
conviction that Soundwave had seldom seen in
him. "*You want to leave this place anyway,*"
he continued, slipping back into telepathic
mode, calmer, more persuasive. "*We may as
well go to the equator, where I know there's a
place for us. I don't want to stay here any
more than you do.*" For a moment Ravage's
control slipped, and Soundwave caught the
sadness in his thoughts when his mind touched
upon Celene.
Soundwave considered Selenia, who
remained on the floor, watching Ravage with an
odd intensity. How different her life would
become, if they were to move so far away, into
such a different world -- out of the only home
she had ever known. Just a short while ago
she'd been accepted at the War Academy; she'd
been excited and happy, counting down the days
until the start of her flight training. Would
she even *want* to leave Polyhex?
She turned her gaze on Soundwave, her
expression anguished and desperate. "Let's get
the hell out of here," she whispered.
* * *
*South*, Ravage directed them, in the way
he best liked to communicate with his creator:
a mental touch, easy as a glance, a word, a
concept, an image; *South, toward the scarred
plains that stretched between the crumbling
cities.* There, Ravage assured Soundwave again,
lay their hope for the future.
They took the tunnel transport, the
network of transparent tubes that criss-crossed
Cybertron's underground like a vast, complex
web ... generally running just below the
surface, though sometimes diving quite some
distance downward, or even running above ground
alongside the skyways and overpasses.
Insulated in their hulls of clear polymer, the
long, cylindrical transport cars swished almost
soundlessly though their passages, their
courses precisely directed by computer control
from central hubs in the largest cities ...
though in outlying areas, the linkages often
broke down and had to be directed manually.
Through a system of failsafes and protective
redundancies, it was actually rare that the
high-speed tunnel cars collided; but more and
more, tube travel became dangerous due to
threat of terrorism and bombings.
It was, however, the fastest route across
the planet barring a shuttleship, to which
Soundwave had no immediate access. At the
Polyhex tunnel station he boarded one of the
cars with his creations and several dozen other
Transformers. If not for the indefinable sense
of tension hanging in the air, the buzz of
conversation that was perhaps more muted than
normal, the movements of the crowd that were a
little more jerky and nervous than usual, it
might have been a normal day like any other --
robots riding to work in the outlying areas,
being transferred to new stations, visiting
friends and relatives.
Soundwave found a compartment with three
empty places, seated himself by the window, and
tried to blend in with the crowd. For all
anyone knew, he too was just travelling to work
in the outskirts. Ravage was silent and
unreadable, taking his place in the seat across
from Soundwave and sitting statue-still by the
window, his optics on the entrance to their
compartment were others came and went at
random. Selenia kept her head down and her eyes
averted, sitting closely beside Soundwave. Her
arms wrapped around herself, her right wing
brushing almost, but not quite, against
Soundwave's shoulder, she looked as though she
had encapsulated herself off from the rest of
the world. Soundwave reached to lightly touch
her arm, but she flinched without looking up at
him. How was he to tell his creations that if
he had acted a day sooner on his concerns,
their mother would be alive now and riding with
them?
He noticed Ravage looking at him, and
sensed the familiar brush of telepathic
contact, a little less guarded, a little more
open. There was no accusation in his gaze, no
blame ... Ravage had seen his share of combat
in his wanderings, and knew where the enemy
lay. In Ravage's thoughts there was a tightly
reigned undercurrent of hatred for the
Autobots, a silent vow for revenge. More than
that, Soundwave sensed in the link that Ravage
for all his independence and outward composure,
desperately needed his creator to maintain a
calm equilibrium from which he could draw
support. Soundwave determinedly filtered all
traces of grief and uncertainty from his own
thoughts -- there was no time for it anymore --
and sent Ravage a sense of reassurance,
confidence, encouragement. In return Soundwave
sensed the equivalent of a flicker of soft
light from Ravage's thoughts, an honest
gratitude, a bond of affection. Momentarily
content, the robotic panther curled up on the
seat and let his optics dim, though his audial
and olfactory sensors remained on the alert.
Selenia had fallen into a restless sleep.
Soundwave turned his attention to the rhythmic
change of imagery that flashed past the window,
and considered their future. They passed great
cities, some protectively domed, some fallen
into disrepair or damage, visible during the
stretches that the tube ran at ground level.
When underground, anything from barren plains
to populated towns might have been streaming by
above them, and there was no way to tell. On
occasion the car seemed to shoot up into the
empty night as the passage rose higher, the
transparent roof showing a panorama of stars
that spiraled past; then they would plunge into
darkness again.
Soundwave noted that as the tunnel car
slid southward, the composition of their fellow
travelers changed. At each stop they consisted
less and less of slightly nervous business-
class passengers, and more of haunted refugees
fleeing the war, and scarred mercenaries and
polished professional soldiers heading into it.
Soundwave looked around at his small family,
allowing a flicker of concern to surface in his
most private thoughts. Refugees, mercenaries
... weren't they, perhaps, a little of both?
Selenia moaned softly in her sleep, her
hands twitching as though to ward something
off. Soundwave reached out and put a hand on
her shoulder, hoping to comfort her with the
touch. Instead she started awake, casting
about, disoriented, optics brilliant in horror.
"You are safe, Selenia," Soundwave
assured her calmly. "I am here."
She stared at him blankly for a frozen
instant, then flung herself into his arms,
sobbing inconsolably. "Celene!" she cried, her
voice muffled against his chest. "Oh Soundwave
... every time I dim my eyes I see her like
that...."
"I know," Soundwave said very quietly as
he held her. "So do I."
* * *
[BEGIN FLASHBACK]
The silver-white female flyer stood in
the doorway and peered a bit suspiciously into
Soundwave's small, well-lit office.
"Come in, Celene," he beckoned her. "I
have been looking forward to meeting you."
Though his voice probably betrayed none of it
to her, the words were more than professional
courtesy; he had indeed been curious over this
brilliant scientific mind whose work he had
followed with such interest, and whose name
seemed to evoke so many strong reactions in
research circles.
She stepped inside, her movements
controlled and tense as though geared for
battle, her gaze direct and forceful. She
barely glanced at the seat positioned
conveniently before Soundwave's desk, even when
he gestured to it, and instead took up a
standing position behind the chair, from which
she regarded Soundwave with steady golden
optics. She nodded curtly, the faintest
concession to cordiality. "Soundwave," she
acknowledged. "I must admit I was a bit
surprised to be summoned to the illustrious
DeceptiTech Labs. After all, I've been working
in the outlands at Xeratech and Trillennium
Research. What could I possibly have to offer
you, at the biggest research institute on the
planet?"
"I believe you have a great deal to offer
us," Soundwave replied. "Or else I would not
have requested your transfer." He leaned
forward slightly. "You see, I am most
interested in your theories on nanotech and
mircosensor technology, and how this might be
tied into cerebral neurocircuitry in a living
being. I know you have run the simulations,
built simple symbolic models. The work should
be taken to its next logical phase."
Her optics narrowed. "If you've been
reading up on this stuff at all, you *know*
what that would take. The resources, the
energy, the trillions of nanocomponents. The
years. Neither Xeratech nor Trillennium was
willing to allocate the needed funds and lab
space, no matter how much I harangued them.
Instead they told me to set my sights lower, to
'apply myself to something useful.'"
Soundwave nodded. "I am aware of your
... difficulties ... with other research
institutions." He had put it tactfully. She
was about to be fired from Trillennium when
Soundwave had her transferred, the director
only too happy to be rid of her.
Celene's optics flashed bright for a
moment. "Difficulties?" she demanded. "I'm
trying to accomplish something that's never
been done before -- an intelligent living
sensor array with the ability to gather
information and store it or send it back, to
make decisions, to operate alone -- to
infiltrate at will, to take what an enemy
doesn't want you to know and to plant what you
want them to believe -- now there is a weapon
more deadly than a new cannon or a more finely-
guided missile. Surely something that would be
of interest to Decepticon High Command, what
with all the paranoid talk of the Autobot
threat rising again someday. And there are so
many other applications -- imagine what we
could learn about sensory systems alone! But I
certainly can't work with a few scraps of
semiconductors, a handful of left-over cerebral
circuits, and a corner of a lab bench, least of
all with some paper-pushing administrative type
looking over my shoulder and telling me how to
do my job." She glared at Soundwave pointedly,
as though he represented the collective of
every laboratory administrator she had ever
clashed with.
He merely brightened his optics a bit in
a smile, though he knew she could not read his
expression. "I entirely agree with you," he
said.
"What?" she responded, caught off-guard.
"Celene -- DeceptiTech employs 269 highly
trained scientists and engineers. Supporting
them are 783 skilled technicians. Each one of
them has been screened for suitability, for
what I believe they can offer to this
institution, and by extension to the Decepticon
species. Not only technical knowledge is
important, but creativity, vision. Individuals
with goals, with dreams. I do not believe in
interfering in the natural creative drives of
such individuals. There are ongoing projects
to complete, of course, and the most suitable
scientists must be assigned to each -- but
within those constraints, there is often room
for the unconventional. And when someone comes
to me with an idea we had not previously
considered, and it seems workable, it seems
valuable -- then I will do my best to see that
resources are allocated for its pursuit. I
should like to think ... that you would find
yourself at home in such an environment."
She listened, immobile, her expression
wavering between suspicion and hope. Perhaps
she had heard similar promises before.
Soundwave pushed his chair back from his
desk and stood. "Come with me," he said.
She followed him out the door and into
the spacious corridor. She cast the occasional
doubtful glance at Soundwave, but said nothing,
her optics flickering a bit in thought.
Soundwave made no conversation either, but
likewise cast an occasional glance at her,
noting her reactions. Her gaze darted toward
the smooth, polished metal walls with their
many branching corridors, past the many doors
to laboratories and storage rooms; she tilted
her head to listen to the faint sounds of
equipment and machinery that hummed behind some
of the barriers. Though she was trying not to
show it, she was a little awed by the size of
the complex, and the numbers of scientists and
technicians that passed them in the hall.
After a number of turns they reached
their destination. A door like all the others
slid back to admit them into a large room with
multiple workbenches and complex equipment
lining the shelves. Two Decepticons looked up
from an energy-flow meter, one plated in an
unadorned gray-green, the other in deep orange.
The gray male nodded formally to Soundwave; the
female smiled and said brightly, "Hi
Soundwave."
"Greetings Nightstorm, Shrike," Soundwave
addressed them in turn. He indicated the
silver flyer beside him, who was more intent on
taking in the lab than on its occupants. "This
is Celene from Trillennium."
"Celene!" Shrike exclaimed, stepping
forward and reaching to take Celene's hand and
shake it in welcome, despite the fact that
Celene had offered no such gesture. "I've been
reading your micro-sensor theories.
Fascinating stuff! It's so excellent that
you'll be coming to work with us!"
Nightstorm nodded in agreement. Though
he kept his usual reserve, he said, "I too look
forward to working with you. I have long
wondered if it was possible to enhance the
scope of sensory technology to the degree you
write of. Having reviewed the data at
Soundwave's request, I believe it can be done."
Three identical little robots stepped out
from behind one of the lab tables, one of them
holding a datapad which he handed to Soundwave.
"Everything's ready," the three of them said in
unison. "The neurocircuitry coils, the
nanochips, the particle filters -- as many as
you want, in storage. Magnifiers, micro-
welders, threshold-detectors--" two of the
little robots gestured around the lab -- "all
set up and ready to go."
"Well done, Reflector," Soundwave said to
the three as he glanced at the datapad, and
then passed it to Celene. "Here is a list of
the supplies and equipment that is available to
you. I believe you will find everything you
need to begin work on a prototype. If
additional items are needed as work progresses,
I will see that they are made available.
Shrike and Nightstorm are experts in sensory
technology, and will be part of your team.
Other individuals have expressed interest in
working with you as well. Reflector will keep
you supplied with materials and can familiarize
you with the lay-out of the lab complex."
"And he'll lend a helping hand or six if
you ask him," Shrike added with a grin.
"You will of course have complete
autonomy as group-leader," Soundwave continued.
"I require periodic updates on your progress,
and of course if you have specific concerns,
you may always come to me. Beyond that, you
have use of whatever you require. I believe
the facilities in this laboratory will be
adequate to your needs." He looked at Celene
appraisingly for a moment. "Provided you wish
to work here."
Celene looked around the lab in amazement
-- a spacious, clean, bright room stocked with
the latest of modern equipment, of the type,
Soundwave knew, that was not available at
Trillennium or most of the smaller research
outfits. Her optics flickered in astonished
disbelief. With a determined effort she
recovered her composure and said, "I think ...
the facilities will be adequate, as you say."
[END FLASHBACK]
* * *
The tunnel car came to an abrupt halt.
Soundwave and Ravage were awake instantly,
Selenia taking a bit longer to struggle upward
from blissful unconsciousness as she was
disturbed by Soundwave's motion. "What is it?"
she murmured sleepily.
The heavily-armored Decepticon soldier
who had been sharing the compartment with them,
was on his feet already and headed outward.
"'Bots must've blown out the tracks," he said
over his shoulder, casting the three of them a
dubious glance, as though noting that they were
very out-of-place and questioning their ability
to survive.
Ravage growled softly, but he was gone
already.
"End of the line!" the tube-conductor
shouted from somewhere near the front.
"Everybody off!"
Soundwave kept hold of Selenia while
Ravage walked very close beside him, and they
followed the stream of passengers toward the
exit hatch. The clear polymer of the tube was
shattered into a jagged-edged opening, the
ground a short distance below. Ravage leapt
down lightly, while Soundwave put on a short
burst of his flight engines, carrying Selenia
along with him.
The other passengers, some muttering
curses, disappeared around them into the dark
alleyways between the rubble of buildings. The
dimming starlight, the faint light of early
pre-dawn, glinted on a jagged edge of the
shattered travel tube above them, with the
tunnel car hanging precariously half out of its
passage. The remaining part of the tube, which
should have led them further southward, was
nowhere to be seen. Instead, half a building
had collapsed in its path, the scent of cold
explosive-residue and recent conflagration
still tainting the cool, still air.
All was silence around them. Soundwave
listened intently, but if there was anything
living nearby, it was not moving. Which was
entirely possible, of course. He remembered
cities like this from his army days, shattered
husks of what they once were, with the original
inhabitants dead or gone -- cities that were
now the realm of scavengers or half-starved
battle units, who lurked in wait to fall upon
anyone that crossed their path, to gut them for
fuel and parts.
Ravage looked up at his creator, his
optics glowing like red coals in the shadow of
the travel tube. "*Megatron's forces are
camped just outside of Diolyden*", he informed
Soundwave. "*That's where we must go.*"
Soundwave checked his internal
chronometer, calculated the time that had
passed during their journey and the speed of
the tunnel car, and pinpointed their current
position. From there, he determined their
continued course. He opened the hatch in his
chest so that Ravage could transform and enter,
sliding neatly into place as a compact data
cartridge. He felt the merging of the neural
linkages as Ravage patched himself in, in order
to look out through his creator's eyes while
they traveled. Soundwave took to the air, and
Selenia, a shimmer of luminous white in the
gray morning, transformed and flew alongside.
Over the next days they found it more
advantageous to walk or hide out by day, so
they were less visible from below and less
likely to attract stray shots, and fly by
night, so they were less likely to encounter
trouble on the ground. While travelling on the
ground, Soundwave would release Ravage, who
scouted ahead and around them, sometimes
returning with small fuel tanks full of
energon. Soundwave did not question their
origin, though the torn connections and dark
stains on the surface told him all he needed to
know. Somehow he could not manage to be
greatly bothered; it was a matter of survival,
and he could not bring himself to value the
life of a wandering Neutral or a lost street
urchin or a stray Autobot above the lives of
his creations.
As he carried along the ungainly fuel
tanks, Soundwave mused that there surely must
be a way to condense the energon into a more
portable and concentrated form; knowing the
molecular structure of energon, he felt sure
it could be achieved. But whether he would
ever again have time for such pursuits, he
did not know.
Once when they had stopped under the
remains of a flightway to rest, breaking out a
small container of energon, they were
surprised by a big unmarked warrior who jolted
out of the shadows and lunged for them, his
optics fixed greedily on the energon and his
weapon powering up to eliminate the
competition. Soundwave's old battle training
kicked in reflexively as he spun and fired a
blast of brilliant plasma from his shoulder
cannon, severing the attacker's head. The
robot froze in mid-forward-rush for an instant,
then collapsed, twitching and sparking.
Soundwave calmly seated himself again and
reached for the energon.
Selenia stared at him, aghast. She'd
never seen her creator speak a harsh word, let
alone use his shoulder cannon in this manner.
She had in fact never given any thought to why
Soundwave wore such a weapon to begin with, had
only the vaguest inkling that he'd had a
different life before she was built.
"He would have killed you for these few
scraps of energon without a second thought,"
Soundwave explained. He sighed, and the
harmonics of his voice softened. "You may as
well grow accustomed to it. I dare say you
will be seeing more of it, where we are going.
Eat now. Do not be concerned. I will take
care of everything."
* * *
[BEGIN FLASHBACK]
Soundwave tended to arrive at the
DeceptiTech complex early in the morning, some
time before the other scientists came trickling
in. This morning, however, he was surprised to
see a small crowd lingering around the main
entrance, made up of some of his top
researchers and their most dedicated
assistants. Even as he angled downward from the
flightway, Soundwave could see that their
expressions ranged from outrage to stunned
disbelief. Something drastic had occurred. In
the gray light of pre-dawn, he caught a flicker
of silver-white, agitated movement among the
others.
Celene stormed to the front of the group
as Soundwave landed, and shoved a datapad in
his direction. "What's the meaning of this?"
she demanded.
Soundwave scrolled through the text, even
as the others came crowding around him, all
talking at once.
**" --shut us down now when we're this
close-- "**
**" --does he think he is-- "**
**" --did you know about this-- "**
**" --what are we going to do-- "**
Soundwave allowed the tumult to break
over him in silence as he read through the
cancellation order from Straxus, which
effectively pulled funding for 70% of the
ongoing projects at DeceptiTech. His
justification was that the expenditure of
resources was bringing in too little return --
resources which were needed against the rising
Autobot threat. Soundwave sighed inwardly.
He'd seen this coming for a while now, but he'd
been unwilling to compromise the integrity of
what DeceptiTech stood for, by adapting the
institution even further to Straxus'
preferences and turning it into a productions
plant for cheap weapons. The Decepticon
Supreme Commander simply did not understand the
processes and methods of science, and how
thorough research in the present could pay off
exponentially in the future. Straxus was a
warlord who'd achieved his command status
simply by being more powerful than all his
opponents ... and while a leader needed power,
he needed more than that, in Soundwave's
opinion, if he was to achieve the order and
prosperity that had long been promised to his
species.
He looked up at the others and stood in
silence. Gradually, their flustered questions
and demands and implorations died down, until
the group of them stood motionless in the first
light of the dawn, all optics trained on him.
Into the tense stillness he said simply, "I
will take care of it." He handed the datapad
to Ultimus Maxim standing next to him, and
turned to take to the air, in the direction of
Darkmount and an unscheduled audience with
Straxus.
Take care of it he did, though it took
many hours of patiently explaining to Straxus
why each and every one of the projects he was
shutting down, was going to be of benefit to
him and to the Decepticon cause in the future.
Finally the Supreme Commander relented and sent
Soundwave on his way with most of DeceptiTech's
funding restored ... his motives being by then
more driven toward ridding himself of the calm
and relentless voice of reason that countered
his every pronouncement with irrefutable logic.
Soundwave was not going to question Straxus'
motives, as long as he could bring good news
back to his waiting researchers. By the time
he landed at the complex again, he'd worked out
a way to stretch the new budget so that the
cuts would barely be noticed. Somewhere near
the top of the list of priorities, was Celene's
Project Sensor-Spy.
[END FLASHBACK]
* * *
They arrived at Megatron's camp on the
outskirts of Diolyden at high noon. The
equatorial sun was dazzling in its heat and
brilliance, an intensity that was unknown in
the higher latitudes, which underscored the
unfamiliarity of their situation. Ravage led
the way between the hastily-constructed
shelters, moving with impunity past sentries
and marginally attentive warriors. The
sentries nodded to him in passing, some
respectfully; obviously they knew him, and by
extension anyone who traveled with him was
accorded free passage.
The majority of the troops were gathered
at the west end of the camp, their shouts and
clamor leading the new arrivals right to them.
As they drew close, Soundwave could see that
they were intensely focused upon something.
The clash of heavy bladed weaponry came from
just beyond the assembly of warriors. Ravage
slipped unnoticed between their legs and
vanished into the crowd, but Soundwave had to
shoulder his way as unobtrusively as possible
between the others in order to get a view of
what was going on. Selenia clung tightly to
his arm and followed in his wake, casting
occasional nervous glances around her. None of
the others seemed to notice them, however, as
they were intent on watching the combat being
played out on the level plain just ahead.
Two impressive Decepticon warriors, one
in blinding silver armor, the other in deep
fiery red, swung massive bladed weapons at one
another. Soundwave recognized the silver one
instantly as Megatron -- the same battle
stance, the same controlled power and
surprising speed, even the same weapon, a
tremendous, heavy, broad-bladed scimitar, that
he had favored years ago in the State Games.
The other, Soundwave did not recognize, but the
two opponents were almost evenly matched in
size and apparent strength. Both of them
fought in the manner common to large and well-
armored Transformers of great power, a style of
attack that concentrated on straightforward
brute-force frontal assault. The red
Decepticon was bulkier and was using his
additional weight to his advantage, though
Megatron was faster and more likely to turn his
opponent's moves against him. Judging from
their multiple leaking slashes and cracked
armor plates, as well as great gashes in the
ground around them, the two had been at it for
some time already.
The watching crowd cheered with each
strike, apparently no longer caring who struck
the blow as long as the impact shuddered the
ground beneath their feet and the clash of
metal rang out like the crash of a battering
ram. One red-and-silver flyer who stood in the
front row to Soundwave's right, watched the
combat in absolute silence, his optics fixed on
Megatron's every move. In his arms he held the
massive black barrel of a fusion cannon, and he
seemed to clutch it more tightly at every
strike of axe and scimitar. He flinched when
the red combatant followed up an axe-blow with
a forward rush that threw Megatron completely
off his feet. They went down in a cloud of
dust. An instant later, Megatron was up again
and swinging the scimitar in a hail of double-
handed strikes that carried the force of his
full power behind each blow ... driving his
opponent back and then to the ground,
continuing the relentless barrage, hacking
downward savagely. It was as though Megatron
had finally decided "enough of the game," and
condescended to finish the job. Soundwave had
seen him use this same tactic in the
gladiatorial ring, stringing the inevitable
victory along in order to make it look good.
But when the dust cleared, Megatron was
crouched on the ground next to his dead
opponent, clutching the imbedded scimitar for
support as his optics flickered noticeably
darker in exhaustion. This had been no
gladiatorial game; he'd had to fight hard for
this victory.
A tall shadowy figure, wrapped in long
wings that trailed almost to the ground,
stepped out from among the cheering crowd and
approached Megatron. Almost instantly the red-
and-silver flyer beside Soundwave shot into the
air and came down between Megatron and the
other robot, taking up a protective stance and
glaring at the dark figure.
Soundwave's highly-tuned audial sensors
picked up what only the flyer was meant to
hear. "I don't need a bodyguard, Starscream,"
Megatron growled indignantly, and pulled
himself up along the hilt of the scimitar.
Starscream obligingly stepped aside, though he
remained lingering nearby, keeping suspicious
optics on the cloaked figure. Almost as an
afterthought he handed Megatron the long black
fusion cannon, which the silver Decepticon
slipped back into place on his right arm.
Megatron too seemed suspicious of the
black-and-gray robot, pointing at him with the
tip of the scimitar and demanding, "Unfurl your
wings, Shadowlord. Or I'll see for myself what
you're hiding under there."
Shadowlord unwrapped the long cloak-like
wings from around himself slowly and
deliberately until they were curved fully out
to both sides, his huge white eyes looking at
Megatron in an expression almost of innocence.
"I am unarmed, Megatron, as you can see."
"Of course," Megatron said. "Just like
you had FireForge's best interests at heart
when you maneuvered him into combat with me,
I'm sure." He nudged the dead Decepticon at
his feet as he spoke the name. "In any case,
it's done. As subcommander you inherit his
territory now that he's ... departed ... and in
return, your loyalty and your troops are mine.
Don't ever forget it." He cast a pointed look
at his dead opponent, and then looked back to
Shadowlord significantly.
"But of course," Shadowlord said
smoothly. "I function for you and you alone."
The barest hint of a smile curved his lips as
he turned and re-joined a small waiting
contingent of warriors, whom he led into the
sky and out of the camp.
The other spectators had already drifted
off, their entertainment concluded with the end
of the battle. Megatron caught sight of
Soundwave waiting quietly, with Ravage seated
at his feet, and strode toward them. Selenia
peered around shyly from behind Soundwave,
still nervous and wary in this strange place.
Soundwave sent her a sense of reassurance
through their mental link, and then focused his
attention on Megatron.
Despite his injuries, the leaking fuel
drying in dark streaks across his plating, he
moved easily, swinging the scimitar a bit,
radiating a supreme confidence in his power and
abilities. On close inspection the color of
his armor was just a shade or two darker than
Selenia's, his optics brilliant scarlet and
intense, or perhaps just alight with the thrill
of a recent kill. Soundwave sighed inwardly.
A warlord sustained on combat prowess. Just
like Straxus.
Megatron flickered a glance at Ravage,
the barest trace of an acknowledgement, then
regarded Soundwave. "So you are the one Ravage
has told me so much about. Finally come to
join us, have you? Excellent. We can use
someone like you. I don't normally trust
scientific types, but your creation is
talented, and his word counts for something
around here. He's served me well. Do
likewise, and you'll be rewarded beyond your
wildest imaginings -- when Cybertron is unified
under *my* command!" His optics flashed bright
for a moment.
Soundwave regarded the silver warlord a
little dubiously, reminded of what Straxus had
said of Megatron once during a conference: "An
upstart who feeds his troops promises he can't
possibly keep -- a megalomaniac with delusions
of grandeur, who will one day come snapping at
my heels to Polyhex and be squashed like an
Insecticon." With a contemptuous flicker of
his optics, he'd added the old proverb,
refering to Megatron's less-than-illustrious
city of origin: "Nothing good ever came out of
Perihellia."
Megatron seemed barely to notice that
Soundwave hadn't yet spoken one word, and
instead looked up into the sky where the red-
and-silver flyer, Starscream, had transformed
to jet mode and was tracing elaborate spirals
through the air. Angling sharply down, he put
on a burst of speed and shot forward between
two rows of makeshift barracks, nearly at
ground-level so as to send warriors and
sentries scrambling out of his way. Arrowing
straight towards Megatron, he reversed thrust
at the last possible moment, transforming as he
did so, to land on his feet in a cloud of dust
directly beside his commander. A mischievous
grin played about his mouth and danced in his
optics. He was barely older than Selenia.
Megatron looked at him and shook his
head, faint amusement flickering in his eyes
though he tried not to show it. "My Air
Commander, Starscream," he said to Soundwave by
way of formal introduction. "Showing off for
the new arrivals ... or at least I *assume*
that's what that dumb stunt was all about," he
snapped in mock-irritation at Starscream,
reaching out as though to swat him on the side
of the helmet, but the flyer, apparently
accustomed to this maneuver, danced neatly out
of his reach.
"Going to have to be quicker than that,
Leader," Starscream taunted playfully.
"Yeah, yeah. Next time I'll weld your
wings on backwards and see you wreck havoc in
my bivouac *then*," Megatron replied casually.
He turned back to Soundwave. "You'll find my
Subcommander, Shockwave, in the field
headquarters in the white building. He'll give
you your assignments, get you settled in.
Probably start you off in repair bay, Ravage
says you've got an aptitude there." As he
spoke, he caught sight of Selenia peering
cautiously out from behind Soundwave. The
light in his optics changed a little; he tilted
his head slightly, smiled at her.
Soundwave did not like the way Megatron
looked at Selenia, and moved unobtrusively to
shield her from view. After what she had been
through lately, the last thing she needed was
to be leered at by some uncultured warlord. To
his amazement, though, he noticed that she was
smiling shyly in return. He had not seen her
smile since Celene's death.
"I think you're going to fit in nicely,"
Megatron decided, addressing Soundwave once
more. He walked off into the camp, swinging
the scimitar a little in one hand.
Starscream looked after him, a brief
scowl crossing his features. Then he regarded
Soundwave, his crimson optics narrowing a bit
in disdain. "So you're the new medic, eh?
Good. We can always use an extra repairs
tech."
Soundwave did not bother to explain to
Starscream, nor to Megatron, that repairs were
only a small subset of what he might offer
here.
* * *
[BEGIN FLASHBACK]
Night. Soundwave was well aware that it
was late, but for the last hours he'd been lost
in his task, taking the welcome peace that came
to the DeceptiTech complex after hours, and
putting it to productive use. With methodical
exactitude, he sorted and filtered the last
week's activity reports that were generated by
the many projects under his supervision, filing
each one twice -- once in standard scientific
format, instantly recognizable to Decepticon
researchers all across the planet ... and once
in a format that would be acceptable to Lord
Straxus. He entered the last databit and saved
his files, withdrawing the connection linkage
back into the tip of his left index finger, and
breaking his direct tie-in to the computer.
He allowed his thoughts to drift into a
review of Project Sensor-Spy, the one that had
grown most interesting to him. The
fantastically complex task of enhancing sensory
circuitry and tying it into the voluntary
neurocircuits so that practically every micron
of the resulting robot became a receptor for
information, required many months of delicate
work. With the proper equipment and resources,
as well as enthusiastic assistants and
Soundwave's typical hands-off approach to
management, Celene had been able to construct
the beginnings of a working prototype in far
less time than she'd projected. As abrasive as
she had been while first coming in, as much as
she'd seen anyone in authority as an enemy, she
none the less won the respect and dedication of
her team very rapidly. Once she came to
realize that she wasn't under constant threat
of having her funding cut off, nor that
arbitrary edicts from above were going to
interfere with her work, she had settled down
and become almost personable.
Soundwave often stopped by the sensor-spy
lab to check on progress. He'd always had a
fascination for how cerebral circuitry worked -
- perhaps his telepathic abilities and self-
taught training in repair work, pre-disposed
him toward such an interest --- but he lacked
the precise knowledge of how it all came
together. In Celene's work he saw for the
first time in great detail, the actual physical
components upon which the complex mind of a
Transformer was based.
Much as Celene initially bristled at his
presence, once she came to realize that he was
there not to criticize, demand, or hurry her
along, but instead that he was genuinely
interested, she began to readily answer his
many questions. In the process of working on
her task, she showed him step by step what each
infinitesimal chip and wire was for, and why it
had to fit together exactly just so ... and
Soundwave would watch, and nod to himself, and
seal the information away in his mind, never to
be forgotten. In time, the lay-out of the grid
and the arrangement of the datachips became
intuitive to him, and it seemed only natural to
pick up the tiny bits of circuitry and wire
with needle-tipped tools, slip them carefully
under the magnifier, and string them together
with the micro-welder, all in their place.
The first time he'd attempted this,
Celene had angrily demanded to know what he was
doing, claiming that just because he was the
lab director, didn't mean he could come in and
try his hand at her work; in response he'd
simply shown her a perfectly-strung sequence of
parasympathetic relays. She stared at it
speechlessly for a moment, and he filled the
silence with "The basic circuitry is time-
consuming work. If I assist, you are more free
to assemble the experimental segments." So it
happened that Soundwave came to be peripherally
part of the sensor-spy team.
He smiled a bit at the memory as he
dimmed the lights in his little office and
stepped out into the corridor, making a final
round of the complex before the short flight
home. It had become habit, this last once-over
to make sure that all was well. Occasionally
he came across scientists or techs who had lost
track of time in their pursuit, or were caught
in the midst of some discovery, and labored at
their workbenches, enjoying the peace and
solitude. Soundwave was not in the habit of
disturbing them. He would pause at the door,
observe for a moment, nod to the individual if
they happened to look up and catch sight of
him, and then move on.
A light was on tonight in Celene's lab.
Not unusual, as she was one who often stayed at
her task well after everyone else had gone
home. Soundwave paused at the door ... and
then decided, just this once, to step inside.
Celene looked up, startled to hear footfalls,
her optics blazing bright gold for a moment.
"Oh, it's you," she said, relaxing again.
"Surprised to see you about so late."
Soundwave came over to join her at the
workbench, his optics flickering a little
brighter in amusement. "We paper-pushing
administrative types have responsibilities to
meet too, you know."
Celene winced a little, averting her
gaze. "I did call you that once, didn't I?
Well how was I to know that you were a
scientist forced to double as a bureaucrat
rather than a bureaucrat who thought he knew
something about science? That's all I'd ever
run into before. Soundwave, I-" she took a
breath and lifted her head, meeting his gaze
steadily. "I'm sorry I misjudged you so badly
in the beginning. You've been very good to me,
to all the scientists here. You've fought for
us, you understand what's important here, and
your door is always open to deal with concerns.
I shouldn't have categorized you before I even
knew you."
"It is as you say, Celene -- you had
never known anything else. It is
understandable that you would have expected
more of the same. I am pleased, however, that
you seem content here now."
"Content!" Celene smiled. "You're the
master of understatement. This is what I have
always wanted to do with my life, *this*." She
indicated the carefully arranged coils of
neurocirciutry arranged on the table before
her, the filamentous wires converging on the
partially complete cerebral core which was
hooked to sensory inputs and outputs, which in
turn were constantly being monitored for power
fluctuations by the bank of machinery set up
around the circuits like a protective barrier.
"When the body casing is complete and it comes
on line, it's going to be able to tell us so
much about the world it perceives, maybe
knowing sensations that we can't even imagine.
It's ... it's really going to be a living
thing, that's slowly coming clear to me as I
work on it."
She stepped away from the lab table and
went to another, pulling a sheet of print-out
from underneath several others, and beckoned
Soundwave closer. "Here's the body casing
we've settled on. Something that can get in
and out of small spaces unseen and unheard,
something that can defend itself if it has to,
something small and agile and fierce. The body
is a replica of a MechPanther, a rare and
elusive predator that once existed on Cybertron
... though of course the mind will be so much
more." She held the blueprint up for Soundwave
to see, an outline of a sleek feline creature
with gleaming fangs, retractable claws, and
eyes like elongated diamonds. "Picture it in
black," Celene said with a triumphant smile.
Soundwave nodded. "Most impressive.
However, if I may make a suggestion--?"
Celene frowned at the blueprint as though
wondering what changes Soundwave might make to
the design.
Soundwave reached out and gently took the
blueprint from her hand, placing it back on the
table. "It is very late, and you have been
here after hours every night for the past two
weeks."
"How do you know th--"
"I know these things. My suggestion is
that you give yourself the rest of the night
off. And I shall do the same. There is an
all-night refueling stop not far from here that
serves excellent hot energon. I would be most
pleased if you would agree to join me there."
Celene looked taken aback for a moment.
Her gaze darted to the prototype cerebral
circuitry, then to the litter of blueprints,
then back to Soundwave, her gold optics
flickering faintly. "I suppose I ... well this
is rather ... yes, you know, I think I would
enjoy that," she finished, the light in her
optics steadying as she ended her words with a
smile.
[END FLASHBACK]
* * *
Repair bay was a tent set up on the inner
perimeter of the bivouac, outfitted with
several workbenches, tables, a row of converted
recharge beds, and additional mattresses in
storage that could be unfurled as resting
places for patients when the existing spaces
ran out. SkyDagger, one of the resident
medics, had given Soundwave a brief overview of
the facilities and equipment available
(pitifully inadequate by DeceptiTech
standards), and then left him to familiarize
himself further while she saw to other matters.
It was obvious that the repaireons here had
done a lot with a little, stretching their
minimal resources as far as they possibly
could. Although there weren't many tools
beyond the most basic of survival needs, all
were kept in top condition, and all work
surfaces were clean and accessible.
Ravage had disappeared into the camp to
resume old contacts, but Selenia hovered around
her creator excitedly as he looked through the
storage bins of spare parts.
"Do you think he noticed me?" she asked
for the third time.
*He noticed you, alright,* Soundwave
thought to himself with faint annoyance as he
riffled through replacement circuitry ranging
from neural filaments to memory chips.
Although he had raised much of his mental
shielding, Selenia's insistent question
whispered through the mental link between them.
Finally he resigned himself and looked up from
his inventory. Selenia was watching him
expectantly. She was interested, alive, happy.
So different from the withdrawn and terrified
child who had made the journey from Polyhex.
"So what do you think of him?" she
persisted, almost bouncing on the balls of her
feet. "Talk to me, Soundwave!"
How to phrase it so as not to totally
crush her adolescent infatuation, and with it
the start of her healing process, while still
discouraging her from actively pursuing a quest
that could only end in sorrow? "I think ...
that my powers of judgement are not currently
at their best," he replied carefully, for this
was undoubtedly the case. "Nevertheless, you
must keep in mind, Selenia, that Megatron is a
commander fighting a war, and one with certain
... ambitions ... and as such he has a great
many responsibilities and concerns. I do not
believe he would take time out for much ...
distraction."
"Oh," she said, momentarily crestfallen.
Then she brightened again. "But we don't
really know that for sure yet, do we? I mean,
we barely know him, still."
*Quite right*, Soundwave thought, and
resolved to keep a surreptitious optic on
Megatron in hopes of learning more.
* * *
[BEGIN FLASHBACK]
It became ritual for them to stop at the
refueling station after hours, to the point
where they became a common sight to the
servers: Soundwave and Celene at their table in
an out-of-the-way corner, in the comfortably
muted light, often spreading print-outs or
datapads or bits of circuitry out on the table
before them for discussion in the course of
their meal. It happened that Celene would
sometimes place her hand on Soundwave's forearm
while making a point in conversation, and it
happened on occasion that Soundwave would take
her hands in his to calm her from some
temperamental outburst, and in their way they
grew close and comfortable with one another,
though neither spoke of the matter. Their
conversations centered around the project,
always the project, which had since been
redubbed "Project Ravage" by its designers in
the realization that the prototype, once
infused with life, would have a conscious
identity, and as such, it would need a name.
"I've been worrying about something,"
Celene said one night after they'd both been in
the lab many hours, Celene all day and then
well into the night, and Soundwave after the
complex quieted for the evening and his other
duties were complete.
Soundwave regarded her calmly from across
the table, enjoying his energon while he waited
for her to continue.
"You know how we've been talking about
what Ravage will experience once he comes on
line -- well, what if his sensory modes are so
far beyond ours that we have a hard time
imagining what he perceives?"
Soundwave nodded. The closer the
prototype had come to completion -- the more
recognizable it became as a robot with the
addition of endostructure and muscle cables and
optic lenses -- the more the design team came
to refer to it as "he" and "Ravage" rather than
"it" and "the prototype." Soundwave had to
admit that he felt a personal connection
himself, with the mass of convoluted circuitry
and endostructure that lay in wait in the
laboratory, every day edging closer to being
ready for the vital spark of life. He had seen
the process of life-infusion a number of times
-- in fact he had supervised it on several
occasions at DeceptiTech as Decepticons with
new and experimental functions were brought on
line -- and there was always something
compelling about it, something that drew him
and kept him fascinated and wishing to be
closer to it. With Ravage, he had built and
installed components with his own hands, and
perhaps that was why he wished to be present,
at least in some capacity, when the first light
flickered on in his eyes. It would be a most
interesting experience....
"What if his perceptions are so
different," Celene continued, breaking in on
his thoughts, "that he can't even communicate
what he senses? Think about this -- we've
absolutely packed him, not only with recording
equipment, but with audial, tactile,
electromagnetic, chemical, olfactory,
gravimetric, and night-spectrum scanners, and
the ability to process the input from all of
those senses at once. With his cloaking and
damping fields, he may be able to go just about
anywhere on the planet and bring back
information on just about anything, but how's
he going to convey it to us?"
Soundwave tilted his head in thought.
"Yes, I see your concern," he said. "And it
may be a valid one. He has a voice module, but
whether it will even seem appropriate to him to
converse in that manner, remains open to
question. We will not know until we put him to
the test, how well he can interface with
standard playback equipment, even though he is
designed for such. I believe your real
question is whether his mind will be too alien
to relate to."
"Right," Celene confirmed.
Soundwave smiled. "Do not be overly
concerned. I suspect that I will be able to
reach him, if necessary guide him toward easy
communication with others. I have ... some
experience in these matters."
"Oh?" she reached for her chalice of
energon, regarding him curiously.
"I am a telepath, Celene. Were you
unaware of that? I know the subject has never
come up in conversation, but most of your co-
workers know--" He stopped upon seeing the
look on her face. The energon chalice had
frozen halfway to her lips, her mouth slightly
open as though to take a sip, her optics fixed
on him in a look of pure horror.
Slowly she put the chalice back down and
pushed herself back from the table. "You're a
telepath," she repeated, barely above a
whisper. Then her optics flashed bright as she
continued in a louder, more openly angry tone,
"So *that's* how you were able to manipulate me
into taking the post at DeceptiTech -- by
looking into my mind, pulling out the very
things that you could best bribe me with, and
innocuously offering them to me as though it
was a coincidence! Is that what's going on
*here* too, Soundwave? Did you monitor my
thoughts and decide that my curiosity about
you, made me vulnerable to exploitation, and so
you pursued that as well? What's your real
motive? Perhaps to end up in control of
Project Ravage yourself??!" She'd risen from
her chair as she spoke, staring at Soundwave as
though he were some horrific monster that might
leap up and dismember her at any moment, one
that she was slowly backing away from rather
than risking any sudden moves.
Soundwave regarded her in complete
amazement. "Celene, I can assure you that I
would never violate the privacy of an
individual's mind without dire cause, and I
have most certainly never scanned you. Or else
surely I would have known the outcome of
revealing my ability to you--" But she was gone
already, bolting for the door past surprised
waiters and somewhat irritated customers.
Soundwave looked after her, stunned.
He'd experienced a variety of reactions to his
telepathic ability, and while he'd never gone
out of his way to advertise the fact, he had
never seen fit to keep it a secret either; it
was simply part of who he was. During his days
in the battle units, his comrades had sometimes
regarded him with initial suspicion as they
wondered, like Celene, whether he was helping
himself to their innermost thoughts and using
them to his own ends. But even those who
steered clear of him for a while, eventually
came to realize that his word of honor was
inviolate -- that, if he claimed he was not
invading their privacy, then they could be
certain of the truth of his words. Eventually,
most of his associates came to regard the
ability as practically normal -- a talent that
was useful in its place, like any other.
A response like this, he had never gotten
nor expected. Upon reviewing the matter, he
realized it was perhaps inevitable that someone
would eventually react with more revulsion than
most ... but he would never have thought it
would be Celene. He felt an unexpectedly sharp
stab of disappointment. For a highly-trained
telepath and someone who had always considered
himself an accurate judge of character, it was
not a situation he had imagined ever to find
himself in.
* * *
He circled the skyways of Polyhex for the
rest of the night, and came in early the next
morning to find her waiting for him in his
office, downcast and contrite. "I did it
again, didn't I?" she burst out before he could
even say anything. "I made a judgement on the
barest amount of information, and didn't stop
to think about the truth. There's plenty of
things you might have taken advantage of or
goaded me with, if you really were riffling
through my thoughts like a common lecher. You
could have maneuvered Project Ravage out from
under me months ago if that had been your
intent, and yet at every turn you were
supportive and encouraging. Not just to me,
but to everyone I've seen you interact with.
I'm disgusted with myself, that I was willing
to throw away everything I've come to know
about you, on the weight of one revelation and
my own preconceptions about it.
"The only thing I can say in my defense
... is that my life has been the Project for
the better part of a year, and while I've loved
every moment of it, the late nights and intense
hours have taken their toll on my good
judgement. As we close in on the end, I've
worried about all the thousands of little
things that might go wrong. I've worried about
the major things that might go wrong -- funding
cuts, priority shifts, someone else taking over
-- that the floor would be pulled out from
under me at the last moment, that I would be so
close to seeing my work complete, and then
facing emptiness. And then ... this is a
terrible thing to admit, Soundwave ... then
I've worried that perhaps Ravage would come to
life and only you would be able to speak to
him, closing me off from him altogether." She
ventured a glance up at him, and then lowered
her head, unable to meet his gaze.
Soundwave brought two fingers gently up
under her chin, urging her to look at him.
"Celene," he said quietly, "there are solutions
to every problem. Ravage will have a great
deal to tell the world, and a great deal to
tell you, his creator. It is entirely possible
that it will take a telepath to fully
communicate with him. But that does not mean
that his messages will be lost. Now here is an
option. Tell me what you think of it. Ravage
is designed to transform into a data cartridge.
My internal circuitry is designed to record,
process, encode and decode information of many
sorts. One of the storage devices I can make
use of, is a standard data cartridge. With
some internal alteration, Ravage and I could
link directly, and I could translate anything
he might wish to convey. It sounds complicated
and awkward at first, but consider it a
prototype association, something that may serve
as a model for new ways to apply the sensor-spy
technology. A test of how well one might make
use of the element of teamwork in this concept,
in order to enhance its future uses even
further."
Celene's golden optics went bright with
amazement. "You would undergo a structural
alteration for this project? It's that
important to you?"
Soundwave's optics brightened a bit in a
smile. "I realize you are no telepath, Celene
... but I would have thought it would be
apparent to you by now."
[END FLASHBACK]
* * *
Soundwave heard their conversation from
some distance away as he approached the field
headquarters, its flimsy aluminum walls letting
sound pass through almost unimpeded.
"Just because you've got the hots for his
daughter," Starscream was saying, "you bump him
up in rank and put him in charge of
communications?"
"Don't be absurd, Starscream," Megatron
replied, his tone tolerant and a little bored
more so than annoyed. "I put him in charge of
communications because I've reviewed his
records -- he served under Thresher starting in
26671, and then Shatterstar afterward when they
re-took Polyhex, and he's got a list of
commendations *this* long -- decryption of
enemy transmissions that no one else could
crack, encryption codes that it took the
Autobots years to figure out, messages
transmitted intact through conditions where
shouted words from someone standing next to you
would have gotten lost, you name it. I'll be
damned if I bury him in repairs when he could
be this useful at the com station."
"Okay okay, I get your point," Starscream
said. Then he laughed, and pestered, "So tell
me about Selenia. I've seen you look at her."
Soundwave slowed his steps a bit, curious
to hear the reply, and equally curious that
Megatron had a working knowledge of recent
history, something that most regional warlords
couldn't be bothered with. Each one commonly
thought he had invented modern battle tactics
as they stood -- and as for accessing records
on underlings, they typically left that to some
low-ranked lackey and then barely deigned to
listen to the resulting report.
"I look at plenty of females," Megatron
grumbled in response to Starscream.
"Heh, sure, but this one hasn't
conveniently thrown herself at your feet yet.
What are you going to do about that?"
"Oh get *out* of here, Starscream, and
leave me alone, I've got things to do,"
Megatron growled with a trace of irritation.
Soundwave continued more rapidly, not
feeling right about using his enhanced
abilities to overhear private conversation,
even if it did concern his daughter. He would
say this much for Megatron, while he had thrown
more than a passing glance in Selenia's
direction over the last week, he hadn't yet
tried to use his command position to take
advantage of her adulation ... much to
Selenia's disappointment.
Soundwave entered the headquarters
building, a makeshift structure of metal siding
that housed cobbled-together computer
equipment. Datapads and written plans were
scattered about on the huge table at which
Megatron and his command staff held their
meetings ... though from Soundwave's
observation, Megatron's version of a "formal
staff meeting" tended to be a quick
consultation with Shockwave or Starscream
somewhere between one battle and the next, and
the headquarters building was more of a private
retreat for him, where he withdrew when he
wanted to make undisturbed plans. Starscream
apparently was always welcome, but Soundwave
knew he was intruding.
He considered briefly how to properly
address his current leader. Most regional
warlords cherished overblown and pretentious
titles, though even the lowliest of Megatron's
underlings seemed to most often address him
just by his name. This, however, seemed a
privilege of familiarity that Soundwave, as a
new arrival, did not feel at liberty to take.
"Commander," Soundwave finally selected as a
greeting, inclining his head toward Megatron
slightly. "My apologies for disturbing you."
Megatron leaned back in his chair at the
computer terminal and smirked slightly, whether
out of amusement over Soundwave's formal mode
of address, or over Starscream's conversation,
was difficult to tell. "Come in, Soundwave.
We were just-- that is, Starscream was just
leaving." He shot a pointed glare at
Starscream, who had not budged from his place
at the edge of the conference table, letting
his legs dangle down over the edge.
"I was?" he asked in surprise.
"You were," Megatron confirmed.
Starscream reluctantly slid off the edge
of the table and sidled past Soundwave out the
door, glowering at him as he went past.
"You need not have dismissed Starscream
on my account," Soundwave said.
"You wouldn't show up here unless it was
something important," Megatron said. "I know
because I've been watching you. Besides,
Starscream was talking nonsense. Great kid,
but there's only so much of that I can take at
a time." Megatron dismissed the subject with a
motion of his hand. "Anyway -- what have you
got for me?"
"It concerns the satellite link on the
communications station, and the encryption code
generator that functions during enemy
surveillance. There is a way to change the
wavelength of transmission so that the Autobots
will have difficulty intercepting the signal in
the first place. I merely require your
permission to implement the changes."
Megatron regarded him intently for a
moment, then said, "Show me."
Faintly surprised that the warlord would
even take an interest in such mundane matters,
Soundwave nodded, and led the way to the
communications station. The main access panel
was already removed, and he pointed out
precisely what he intended to do, beginning in
simple terminology, but Megatron quickly
interrupted him with a very pointed technical
question. Surprised again, Soundwave obliged
with an equally technical answer. They spent
the rest of the afternoon this way, Soundwave
rewiring the transceiver and explaining each
step of it to Megatron, who listened with great
interest and seemed to have no trouble keeping
up with the details.
Soundwave was forced to revise his
initial evaluation. This was no Straxus. It
was obvious that Megatron had no formal
training in science and engineering, but what
he lacked in education he made up for with an
almost instinctive understanding of the
workings of complex technology, and an
overriding desire to learn more. Several times
the conversation sidled away from
communications systems; Megatron was
particularly interested in weapons design, and
mentioned several half-formed theories on how
existing weaponry might be made more efficient
-- bigger, better, more destructive. "We'll
have to get together on this sometime, build
some prototypes," he said, his optics
flickering bright scarlet with enthusiasm.
Soundwave looked dubious. "Some of what
you propose," he said cautiously, "has not been
attempted before."
"Then it's about time somebody got to
it," Megatron replied. "I know some of this
stuff can work. All I need is for a scientist
-- someone like you, for instance -- to check
over the details."
Soundwave sensed a change in Megatron
suddenly, something closing down, some line of
communication severed, as though the silver
warlord regretted the easy exchange of ideas
over the last few hours, which Soundwave had
found himself quite enjoying.
Soundwave looked up questioningly.
Megatron had drawn back, watching him with a
strangely mistrustful expression. With
upgrades to the com station complete, Soundwave
fit the access panel back into place and then
stood. "Is there some other manner in which I
can assist you, Commander?" he asked, puzzled
now over what had brought on this sudden cold
distance that he perceived.
Megatron's fiery scarlet optics darkened
perceptibly. "You ran DeceptiTech Labs in
Polyhex, as I understand."
"Affirmative."
The next question was almost hesitant.
"Did you ever work with a scientist named Sigma
Drakona?"
Soundwave tilted his head slightly. "She
was employed at DeceptiTech for a while.
However, nobody worked *with* Sigma Drakona.
One either worked for her, or worked against
her. Unfortunately for her, I worked against
her."
"Explain."
"She felt she stood outside the rules.
She was a risk to everyone near her. She
continuously tyrannized her team into
completing dangerous and unauthorized research.
When a sustained chain reaction in her lab got
out of hand and exploded, killing two of the
attending scientists, I sent her on her way.
She next went to the research facility of a
weapons manufacturer, where she was
subsequently killed in a mysterious explosion
that destroyed the entire complex." Soundwave
regarded Megatron curiously. It was not his
place to inquire about this unexpected line of
inquiry, and yet Megatron had seemed so
conversational for the last few hours, so
approachable in a way that Soundwave would not
have expected, that he chanced the question,
despite the inexplicable change in manner just
now: "Why do you ask?"
Megatron's darkened optics flashed bright
again. "None of your concern," he snapped, and
turned to stalk off, leaving Soundwave utterly
perplexed.
* * *
[BEGIN FLASHBACK]
The laboratory that had always been so
brightly lit, so clean and sterile and orderly,
was now softly illuminated in a dim, muted
light. The temperature had been raised a bit,
the clutter of intimidating microcircuitry
tools and welders had been returned to storage,
and the looming hulks of the conductance meters
and feedback receptors had been banished to
distant corners of the room. Even the other
lab benches had been pushed back slightly, to
clear a space around the table in the center,
where the entire room seemed to come to a focal
point.
Ravage lay on the table as though he were
resting comfortably and yet still alert to his
surroundings, a sleek, compact figure in deep
black and matte silver. His head rested on his
outstretched forepaws, his hind legs were
tucked up against him, his ears were pricked as
though listening for the faintest sound. Only
his optics remained dark, the slanted diamonds
of the lenses opaque in a deep ruby red.
Soundwave watched as Celene made the last
connections to the activation ports in center
of Ravage's forehead, and strung the silvery
cables outward around him like a web. Then she
moved with deliberate steps around the table
and took up her place near Ravage's head. She
looked around at the other scientists who had
been part of her team, who had worked on this
project for so many months, regarding each of
them in turn: the microsensor specialists, the
nanochip engineers, the cloaking technology
experts. Finally she sought out Soundwave, who
had taken up a position opposite her. She held
his gaze for a long moment, and then smiled.
"I believe we're ready," she whispered, as
though any louder sound would break the
reverence of this moment.
Soundwave and the other Decepticons
reached down, each picking up the nearest
silver infusion cable. Access ports in helmets
slid open, cables were connected up ... and
Soundwave found himself lost in a dazzle of
sensation. He detected very clearly the
individual minds that were there all around
him, each one with its unique "voice" and
"touch"; he followed along as the others
experienced a faint taste of what a telepathic
surface scan was like, linked to one another as
they were and suddenly knowing each other
without putting it into words. He himself was
familiar with the sensation, of course, but
there was something more here, something which
was new to him. He could literally trace the
path of pulses of glowing life-energy that
converged from the surrounding robots and
toward the still form in the center, that
loomed in his consciousness like a black-body,
absorbing all power. Instinctively knowing how
it was done, he transmitted life-energy of his
own, adding it to that of the others, all the
while observing every moment even as he
experienced it, for permanent storage in his
memory banks.
A shiver of delight and amazement as the
faint whisper of a new consciousness came to
him, something hungrily drawing in the energy
being sent to it, eager for more, lapping it up
and coalescing into incipient sentience.
Soundwave mentally glanced around at the
others. No, they hadn't noticed it yet. He
sent the new consciousness an additional surge
of energy, and the eager new mind leapt upward,
followed the trail of input and reached out to
his thoughts....
"*Welcome, Ravage*", he sent, conveying a
sense of assurance and affection.
"*Greetings ... Soundwave?*" the other
sent back, a little uncertainly, though the
words were steeped in trust and wonder.
Although still gaining full awareness, there
was already the framework of personality in the
new consciousness -- bold and independent and
ravenous for whatever sensations its multiple
sensory inputs could bring it. All the other
details would be filled in by experience.
Soundwave felt an unexpected kaleidoscope
of emotions as the new consciousness reached
out to him in a way that only fellow telepaths
had done previously, but this was much more
personal, much more intimate, much more
important. Pride and protectiveness, devotion
and responsibility, the panorama of future
possibilities, chased themselves through
Soundwave's thoughts and were mirrored back to
him by the new mind.
He'd almost forgotten the others in the
link ... they should be in on this. Mentally
he cast about, seeking a fix on their minds
again, trying to draw them in. Celene's
"voice" caught him, drew his attention ... he
knew her in an instant better than he'd ever
known her through the long months of working
together, knew her struggles for acceptance and
progress in the scientific community, saw the
bright starbursts of her passions and heard the
cool blue undertones of her core of certainty
and skill and confidence. She gravitated
toward him, opening herself to him willingly,
her mind alight in joyful colors and vibrant
music. In the depths of the creation-link they
were for the first time fully honest with one
another and with themselves ... their
professional association had been slowly
growing into far more than that, the apparently
accidental contacts, the brush of a wing, a
reassuring touch ... all of it leading up to
this moment.
Soundwave slowly became aware of his
physical surroundings. Celene's golden optics
were brilliant and locked with his. Ravage sat
between them, his eyes glowing, his thoughts
still in faint contact with Soundwave's, as
though not wishing to break the link. The
others slowly disconnected the infusion cables
and stood in respectful silence around the
table, their glances flickering from Celene to
Soundwave to Ravage and back again, quietly
amazed at what they had experienced, or thought
they recalled......
[END FLASHBACK]
* * *
For the first time since Soundwave's
arrival, the camp was under full-scale attack.
He'd been called back to repair bay to fix some
minor damage, and so had no warning on sensors,
until the missiles rained down out of the sky.
Megatron's voice crackled over the short-range
radio link, commanding all armed and functional
Decepticons into battle. Leaving Selenia
sequestered indoors, Soundwave and Ravage
hurried out and plunged into the fray.
Soundwave found a somewhat sheltered
position behind one of the embankments that had
been built up around the camp, and fired over
the top of the barrier along with perhaps half
a dozen other warriors. Ravage slipped off
into the rising dust and black smoke. His
small size and stealthing shields allowed him
to close in on the enemy robots, leap
unexpectedly for their throats, rip out a few
cables and fuel lines, and then vanish again.
For a brief while he remained in mental contact
with Soundwave, then he withdrew his thoughts
and focused solely on his prey.
From somewhere ahead of the embankment,
the fireball of an explosion mushroomed into
the gathering soot. "Someone's taken out one
of the missile launchers!" one of Soundwave's
companions exclaimed. "This is our chance to
break their siege." In a flash of gold and
brilliant laser light, with both guns blazing,
she vaulted herself over the wall and stormed
into the billowing smoke. The remaining
warriors followed, Soundwave among them.
The others were lost from sight almost
instantly, somewhere ahead of him. He filtered
all of his audial inputs, listening for the
footfall of an approaching Autobot, the faint
power-up hum of a laser weapon, somewhere under
the clash and din of explosions, artillery
fire, and cries of pain. More than once his
senses warned him and he spun to fire into the
thick smoke, to be rewarded with the smoldering
body of an Autobot landing at his feet.
Another fireball explosion went up nearby,
another missile launcher taken out. He ran
toward it.
A gust of wind cleared the billowing
smoke just ahead of him. A silver figure
writhed in the burning wreckage of the launcher
-- Megatron, his hands locked around the neck
of a similar-sized Autobot. Again and again he
pounded the Autobot's helmet against the
infrastructure of the mobile launcher,
apparently heedless of the flames that shot up
all around him. Finally the Autobot lay still,
the helmet and optics shattered and cerebral
circuitry spilling out through the cracks.
Megatron staggered up and out of the
wreckage, and Soundwave could see for the first
time that a jagged beam had been driven all the
way through his midsection, piercing an almost
impossibly unlikely junction between two armor
plates. Megatron fell to his knees and doubled
over as though only now becoming aware of the
pain, his hands clutching at the beam and
slipping away from it, the surface wet with his
own leaking fuel. It was a potentially fatal
injury, and Soundwave hurried forward to help,
not even taking the time to put away his laser
gun.
Some preternatural instinct told Megatron
in the midst of his agony that someone was
near, for his head snapped up and his optics
blazed a murderous scarlet. "You!" he snarled
at Soundwave. "I knew I couldn't trust your
kind!"
He somehow managed to bolt to his feet,
slamming full-force into Soundwave. Completely
unprepared for such an action, Soundwave fell
backward, losing his grip on his laser, which
skittered off along the ground. Megatron's
hands gouged into Soundwave's shoulder, the
incredibly powerful grip closing and crushing
the metal, tearing connectors and severing
neurocircuits as he swung Soundwave around and
slammed him headlong into the burning debris.
Soundwave struggled to free himself from
the glowing-hot frame. His left arm was
useless, the pain from his shoulder threatening
to overtake him and send him spiraling into
unconsciousness. Using every bit of mental
training he could muster at that moment, he
forced himself to concentrate, fixing on the
image of Megatron swaying before him and
stumbling forward, apparently with every intent
of finishing the job. In desperation Soundwave
sent out a telepathic scan ... why, *why* would
Megatron suddenly attack him so viciously, when
he had always seemed focused and rational and
even admirable in his way -- not at all the
frothing megalomaniac whom Straxus spoke of.
He caught an image of himself from a
minute ago, mirrored back to him in Megatron's
thoughts: a large indigo Decepticon
brandishing a laser gun in clear threat, the
expression unreadable behind the red eyeband
and concealing facemask -- striding forward to
finish off a wounded Megatron and assume
command of the small army himself, the life
that Megatron had fought so hard to attain.
Mixed into the thought there was an image of
Sigma Drakona and an undercurrent of memory of
unspeakable torment ... the certainty that
scientists were not to be trusted, no matter
how interesting he might find some of their
subjects of study. It was the barest touch of
a surface scan, and it took no more than a
split instant.
Soundwave just barely managed to roll
away as Megatron lunged for him. "Commander, I
came to assist!" he assured.
Megatron snarled and swung a poorly-aimed
fist, and Soundwave scrabbled backwards, away
from the smoldering launcher. "I meant you no
harm," he continued, and then with all the
conviction he could possibly convey, "I am
*not* like Sigma Drakona."
Megatron staggered and sagged against the
brittle beams of the missile frame. The surge
of fury that had powered him in the face of all
physical damage, was fading out rapidly.
Soundwave crept forward again, half-expecting
Megatron to find a renewed burst of strength
and try for another attack, but fuel was
gushing freely now from his wounds, and he
could not be left out here much longer. The
silver warlord flickered his optics as though
trying to clear his vision and gasped
incredulously, "What? Assist?"
"Yes of course," Soundwave said, trying
to pull Megatron up with his remaining
functional arm. Finally it seemed to dawn on
Megatron that he was not about to become easy
prey for a usurper, and he managed to help
support his own weight a little, as the two of
them slowly and painfully made their way back
to base.
* * *
Starscream hovered anxiously near the
repair table while the finishing touches were
put on Megatron's armor. He'd kept up a
running litany of how many kills he'd achieved
against the Autobots, how quickly they were
routed, how few of their mobile missile
launchers they'd been able to take back with
them, all occasionally interspersed with a
worried look at Megatron and some variant of
"You going to be okay, Leader?"
Each time Megatron had answered with a
tolerantly amused affirmative. "You're not rid
of me so easily," he said to Starscream's
latest question.
Starscream grinned. "Was worth asking,
anyway. If the Autobots knock you off,
Shockwave inherits command -- and that would
make me subcommander! What do you think of
that?"
"*You*, subcommander. That'll be the
day," Megatron chuckled. He pushed himself to
a sitting position on the repair table, over
the repaireon's protests, and said, "I'll be
back in action again tomorrow, don't worry.
Now go on, get out of here. I've got some
things to talk over with Soundwave."
Soundwave, on the neighboring repair
table, quietly flexed his left shoulder to test
out the new repairs, and looked over at
Megatron curiously.
Starscream made a rude sound. "What've
you got to say to that tech-geek?"
"That's about enough from you," Megatron
snapped, taking an unexpectedly harsh tone with
Starscream. "Soundwave's the one who brought
me back."
Starscream's surprised expression faded
into a scowl. He shot Soundwave a glare, then
turned and stalked out of the repair bay.
Soundwave looked after the young flyer
thoughtfully. "Something tells me you will
have trouble with him in the future," he mused.
"With Starscream?" Megatron laughed.
"Nonsense. He just needs to learn to think
before he speaks sometimes. That'll come with
time. Did I ever tell you where I scrounged
him up?"
The medics finished patching the other
casualties from the attack, and one by one
withdrew from the repair bay. The base slowly
became still as darkness fell, Soundwave
catching the steady footfalls of the sentries
on their patrol paths. He checked in with
Ravage and Selenia over their mental link,
noting that both were well and reasonably
content. He and Megatron talked long into the
night, about every conceivable subject.
END
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