Obvious exits:
<E> East leads to Access Corridor.
<S> South leads to Equipment Storage.

Tempest arrives from Access Corridor.

Soundwave has finished fixing up Starscream, who's asleep on one of the repair tables. Soundwave himself is over by the repair bay computer terminal, putting in the report. Without looking up from his task, as is his habit, he intones, "Greetings, Tempest."

Tempest slinks in, looking greatly unsettled by something.

Tempest looks over Starscream's sleeping form, her mouth frowning but otherwise saying nothing. She loses interest in him, and coils up in the softest chair she can find, her gaze distant.

Soundwave tap-taps softly at the keypad. "I found it interesting," he muses, almost as much to himself as to Tempest, "that in Megatron's ... absence ... you were attempting to coordinate our energy input to some degree."

Tempest startles awake and says, "I'm in no mood to starve. I've had it with that. And I know how hard it is to raid for fuel when you're so weak you can hardly fly."

Soundwave nods. "You were coordinating the others as well, though. I am certain Megatron would find that a credit to his example."

Tempest says, "That I've done before too. And while everyone else was willing to wait around for Megatron to come back and save the day, I..." She pauses. "I'll confess to you. I've seen shuttle explosions like that before. No survivors. I was convinced he was dead. And if he was ... we had to move on, or we wouldn't make it."

Soundwave finishes up his report and regards the screen for a moment, checking it over one more time. He tilts his head slightly. "True. Decepticons require a strong leader."

Tempest says, "I didn't see I had a choice ... well, maybe I did. Stay or go. But after "Stay", there was no choice... I figured, if I was staying, to make the best of it." She smiles a little, wryly. "As it turns out I was wrong."
Tempest adds, "Wrong in that Megatron wasn't dead after all."

Soundwave says, "Fortunately." He shuts down the screen and looks over at Tempest. "Do you know how often Megatron's enemies had written him off for dead? How often his own allies had acted in haste?" He indicates Starscream with a slight motion of his head, as a case in point. "And how often his friends and followers were uncertain as to his fate? I cannot claim to have known with certainty myself, that he had cheated death yet again."

Tempest says softly, "No, I don't know."

Tempest grins wryly. "I take it this is a habit of his though, and something I'll have to get used to."

Soundwave sighs. "It is indeed becoming a habit of his, but one does not grow accustomed to it."

Tempest frowns again, thinking of something. "It bothered me. More than just a matter of survival, more than a question of what we were going to do next or what if the Bots hit us with a raid."

Soundwave says, "I have been meaning to have a word with him about his miraculous-survivor game. It makes for a dramatic entrance, but it is possible to push the odds too far." He adds after a moment's consideration, "Not that my opinion on the matter will have much affect on his actions."

Tempest winces a little, that evidently hitting a nerve. "Yes. While the rest of us have to sit around here and worry and wonder..." She seems restless, getting up, pacing the room like a cage. "It's fully within his rights as leader and makes perfect sense ... what makes no sense is why it bothers me so much."

Soundwave looks almost puzzled. "Did you think it did not bother the rest of us?"

Tempest stops. "Well, it's always unsettling for a trooper to lose his leader, but that's the way of business somehow ... then you're stuck with the concern of finding another one, or making your own way. I mean more than that. Something that ... ah..." It's hard for her to say this. "Something more than business."

Soundwave says, "Megatron has a personal influence on many individuals. It is more than a matter of losing a competent leader. Aside from the fact that Megatron himself holds the cause together and we would face, at the very least, the threat of a power struggle among the Cybertronian warlords if he were to disappear. It is, as you say, more than that. Many Decepticons on Cybertron would find their symbolic inspiration gone, but those of us who have served with him directly, would be losing far more than that."

Tempest nods. "And that's what's bothering me. I care entirely too damn much."
Soundwave guesses, "And this is a problem because of the potential of losing those you care about."

Tempest sits down, not too far from Soundwave, rests her head in her hands and nods again. "I think so..." She looks lost somehow. "I don't understand."

Soundwave says, "You have a valid concern. This is a war. We are all aware on some level that those we care for most, may not return one day. I can quite understand why one would not wish to take the risk of growing too attached."

Tempest looks away. "And Megatron of all individuals. The one person I should least want around is the one with the most power over me."

Soundwave says, "That is his function. He is the commander. But you refer to something more personal, something that compells you to remain with us."

Tempest glances back at Soundwave. "I swore I'd never have another commander..." She trails off. "Yeah. He's the reason I stay. If he'd pulled anything nasty on me I'd have been out of here long ago. Now ... now I could have left, and didn't."

Soundwave says, "Then you see what I mean about personal influence. There is no shame in it. But I understand your trepidations. We must all balance the benefits and drawbacks of our associations."

Tempest snorts at that and twists the corner of her mouth into an ironic and truly ugly smile before she grows pensive again. "Personal influence," she muses, returning to something that interests her, getting her mind off that last comment and the images it conjured -- /balance ... associations/ -- and thinks instead of this new dynamic.

Soundwave says, "I cannot tell you how much risk to accept, Tempest. I can suggest you do not fight yourself too fiercely."

Tempest looks at him ... struggling again... "I'm scared," she confesses at last.

Soundwave nods. "I know. And I wish I could tell you, as I wish I could tell my own creations, that everyone important to you is strong enough to survive the odds every time, that they will never let you down by dying or disappointing you. Unfortunately I cannot tell such a lie. We do not know. But what are the alternatives? Better to forge no bonds at all? Perhaps, for some. But now the damage is done. Would it not be worse to walk away at this point?"

Tempest winces a little ... the optics shining with rarely-seen emotion. "I ... don't know..." And once again she regains control. "I suppose the only way to find out is to stay around, hm?"

Tempest glances up at him. "Don't be telling this to the whole base, hm?"

Soundwave says, "That would be one way." His optics shade to a slightly brigher tone in a smile. "I can at least assure you that you will have assistance in your journey. And that I will not pass your confidences along to others."

Tempest offers Soundwave a rather shy smile. She pauses, then asks, "So what made you so inclined to help everyone?"

Soundwave says, "Interesting question. Megatron once told me in some annoyance that I could not keep taking in all the hopeless cases that crossed our path, in hopes of healing them and turning them into something worthwhile. And perhaps he is right - but I do not view them as hopeless cases. I detect a potential in some individuals that I feel can be developed. Those individuals deserve the chance to do so. I would not extend the privalege to 'everyone', surely, but if something can be salvaged, I feel inclined to make the attempt."

Soundwave says, "There are those who must lead the charge, and those who must salvage the wounded to fight again, after all."

Tempest looks at him intently and raises her hands to the sides of her helmet. Having come this far ... perhaps he's right, the damage is done. "I wish..." And she lifts off the helmet, and the shadows around her optics melt away, and the face of a girl looks up at him, a girl with a pale lemon helmet underneath the yellow spired one, a softly rounded construction instead of the heavy, sharp, hooked shell helmet she usually wears everywhere. Not knowing what Soundwave saw when he first repaired her, she can only assume he doesn't know. "I wish I'd met you when I still looked like this."

Tempest rests the battle helmet on her lap and crosses her arms over the helm, looking up shyly at Soundwave.

Soundwave seems unsurprised by her appearance, but then it's hard to tell whether that's just his manner, or whether it's a view he's seen before. He does, however, acknowledge the trust that it took for Tempest to willingly remove a piece of the armor. "I wish I had found you in the ruins at the time," he says quietly. "And yet - your experiences have made you who you are. If you can deal with the pain and take strength from your triumphs, you are ultimately the stronger for it."

Tempest laughs a little, but it's warm... "I'm probably a better fighter this way. Oh, you should have seen me try to use a sword way back when. It was only slightly better than my current shooting..." A grimace, but the optics sparkle.

Soundwave 'smiles' again. "Then there is hope for your shooting."

Tempest peers at him and then laughs, recognizing a joke. "I hope so. Practice should pay off."