Chapter Text
Cooing and babbling turned quite suddenly into crying, alerting Shockwave that she was in fact dissatisfied with her lot in life. Her development was exactly on track, a fact her caretakers were immensely content with; this was the stage now however of her moving much more than before. First crawling movements were praised up and down, as was her ability to make differing vocalisations, though still void of language. As of now that empowered her so that she could crawl her way to the walls of the baby gate in Shockwave’s lab and scream out of the bars of her prison until the cyclops in her line of sight would address her.
Shockwave looked up from his datapad. Sure, having his magnum opus suddenly cancelled left him with nothing to do, but the ever so logical mech refused to do absolutely nothing in his free time- it was impossible to allow. He placed the academic journal on his hips down on the desk and walked toward the gated off corner of his lab that housed L1T73-1 while she had her allotted tummy time after a nap.
“Arise, L1T73-1, what is it that you seek?” he called, peering down at her past his chest plating. The tank knew that it was too early for her to properly walk and speak on her own, but he had researched that speaking to sparklings may encourage them to try until they can form coherent speech. Also, if his sparkling was truly half of him, then she may as well be a genius and that some miracle could occur for her to be a prodigy in her field. The field of being a baby, for now.
Her wailing paused as she recognized the movement coming near her, and turned to alternating phases of scrunching and relaxing her face, squeezing and unsqueezing her fists. As she was growing over the Earth months she had spent here, she was becoming increasingly aware of her own frame. Her nubby and underdeveloped wings swatted the air, threatening to give her the gift of flight when the time came; and give her creator the strife of a lifetime keeping up. Her green chevron was a new discovery for her, and the audial fins on either side having the capacity to move independently of the rest of her helm was vastly entertaining. Now when she listened, or chose against it, her audial fins flicked around. Sometimes one could see exactly when she stopped listening to something as they flattened and turned away.
As of now, she seemed too bored and fussy for her containment, seeking attention and comfort and the field registry of life- warmth. Being a baby meant her predisposed coded behaviour was anchoring; staying near the frames and voices she was familiar with and retaining their care. Truly, sparklings did not understand fear the way an older bot would, but they could register pain and danger- particularly abandonment. So she cried until her creator seemed close enough to grab her.
He picked her up, optic bearing into her. The scientist noted her development but he was terribly eager and curious to hear anything and everything that she had to say. Her knowledge was perfectly untapped, and that was something sacred to Shockwave. He found her ability to learn extraordinary, the most advanced creation he had the pleasure to keep to himself.
“ኢት ፍላይ ዣ ፍላይ ቯ ስዊም ሶ ስላት ሪድ ስላት ሶ ጥ ስዊም ስላት አ ስንግ ሊስን ድሬቪ ወሬት ሊስን ድሬቪ ዣ ፍላይ ቯ ሶ ኮክ ፍላይ ኡ ታክ ስላት ሶ ኡ ፍላይ ድሬቪ ወሬት ቯ ስላት?”
The cyclops’ audial fins twitched back and forth, waiting for any response from the sparkling in his arms.
Her little optics stared out at him with adoration, while digestive enzymes leaked out the corner of her mouth. Rather than answer, she mouthed at one of her servos, dragging the wet hand to Shockwave’s arm to make a satisfactory loud smack noise, amusing herself.
Shockwave’s finials flicked back in disgruntlement. “Perhaps another time-” he murmured while pulling out a cleaning rag from his subspace to clean himself and the bitty jet’s faceplate. The tank returned to his seat with L1T73-1 seated in his lap while he resumed his light reading.
She seemed to grow content in the new angle, crawling just under his chest like it was the lip of a cave, protecting her from the elements as she fidgeted and rolled and played with her own face because to her it was truly brand new.
Shockwave received a low priority notice, a private message from Soundwave. [Query: How are you?]
[There is not enough reading material on this planet to satisfy my lack of work, but L1T73-1 is taking it nicely, growing evermore satisfied with my ability to give her my undivided attention.] Shockwave pulled his datapad aside and captured a snapshot of his view and sent it to Soundwave as an attachment along with his message. There was nothing but the scientist’s oversized chassis and L1T73-1’s little legs and stubby wings sticking out from underneath.
Shockwave had no ability to know that from his office, halfway across the base, Soundwave laughed to himself, finding humor in the image. He could barely see her past his chest, and wondered how he was able to keep track of her himself. He wrote back quickly.
[She is fascinated by you. In fact: She recognizes the walk to your lab- it invigorates her. I wish I could share your lack of work. I can only eagerly anticipate it later. Until then, I have nothing to share.] He sent, regardless, a picture in return. His was only the deep purple of the Nemesis base floors that supported the screen he worked at, and his sparkling-less arms and chest down.
The tank observed the image longer than he probably should have, not understanding the meaning, or irony behind it. He uploaded the image to a separate datapad and held it down for L1T73-1. Maybe it was meant for her.
[Perhaps we should trade, though I have no skills when it comes to tending to the emotional needs of Lord Megatron; or, as Frenzy so eloquently put it, ‘scrubbing Megatron’s butt or something’. It is apparent that your joors put into overtime allude to a deeper dilemma with our leader.]
[Increased workload: Directly related to Megatron’s state of being. His habits have been… strange. However: New plans in progress. I will update you personally when I am off my shift.]
L1T73-1 took no interest in the screen, or the flattened image of what she couldn’t really recognize as Soundwave, and pushed it away. She preferred, instead, to try and scale her creator’s chest, failing as she searched for something.
Shockwave kept a servo on his sparkling as she moved about. [Do grace me with the details at your disposure, Soundwave. This cannot carry on longer than it already has.]
[We have been throwing ideas at the wall. Some are sticking better than others. An attack on a human resource site is imminent; you will know as I do.] His message was straightforward, and gave the impression he didn’t fully know for himself what Megatron was thinking.
L1T73-1 was unsatisfied with being held, fussing with agitation. It clicked for Shockwave that she was expecting to be fed and offended she was not.
[If that is the case then success is paramount to appeasing our soldiers and their functionality. Speaking of which, I must satiate a little soldier’s appetite before it reaches its full zenith. I fear she may cannibalize at any moment] he unknowingly joked, only referencing his folly in assuming that sparklings could cannibalize a long time ago.
The scientist rose with sparkling in hand, placing her back in her gated area. Long past were the days he could simply set her on the counter without the threat of her crawling right off while he prepared her fuel.
Soundwave laughed from his office, though the fuzzy sound only carried so far. [In that case: Beware your digits.]
The sparkling herself watched the room with big bright optics, curious. She liked to watch her sire. She wasn’t capable of understanding his role in her life, how he was a part of her very conception, but recognized him as essential- and someone she was deeply fond of. She rolled around between her stomach, supported mildly by her forearms, and her side, kicking her way towards the edge of her gate again.
[I will cease my narration and allow you to return to your work. Adieu, Soundwave.] Shockwave sent his final message with an attachment of his servo outstretched, bottle in hand in front of L1T73-1, capturing the way her face lit up when food was within her line of sight.
Soundwave responded only with a small smile formed through text based lines and curves.
L1T73-1 was enthused, more than happy to be grabbed and held and fed, probably one of her favorite things to do, as is popular among babies.
Behind Shockwave, the hydraulic hiss of the lab doors opening alerted him of the presence of a figure entering his lab.
“Hello, Shockwave.”
Shockwave turned around, sparkling in arms while he fed her. “Lord Megatron- how unexpected of you to be here, at this hour- ever-” his audial fins were perked up but the cyclops’ optic dimmed in suspicion, holding L1T73-1 closer to his chassis than usual.
Megatron’s gaze moved down to the sparkling, a glimmer of surprise betraying him. “Ah… I forgot about your offspring,” he mused, chuckling to himself. “I am surprised that is remains to be here. I assumed you may have disposed of it by now,” he paused and thought about something. “Yes, it is for the best it stays in good health.” He walked forward, examining it with a critical optic, not daring to touch it yet.
“Soundwave has refused to allow me to terminate her existence, allowing me to see through her full potential to our cause as she learns and grows.” His optic darted across the gunmetal mech up and down to try and sense any ulterior motives that may give themselves away in his leader’s body language. “Can I be of any assistance for you, Lord Megatron?”
Megatron chuffed. “Yes, my dear Soundwave is easily attached. Always has been- part of his code, I would assume. Why, I almost raised Ravage you know, I was there when she was only a crawling helpless thing, and she rested between my armor to recharge while her carrier ripped out the throats of his opponents…” he tossed in with a grin, digging for the mech to find trust in him. “Back in the pits… times change, yes, but consider me an ally, Shockwave, in all that you do.” A grey servo reached out slowly, like one would a wild animal to brush against her helm with the back of his digits. “His proclivity towards life so small has always been an advantage, so I trust it will remain to be,” he added, a reminder of his priorities.
If Shockwave had an optic ridge it would be raised to the heavens upon digesting Megatron’s frivolous examples of his past experiences with sparklings. It was meaningless to the scientist but he decided to listen anyway if it made the warlord happy.
“I have come to check in on my lead scientist. I know that the termination of our latest project has been… a great loss for both of us. I believe we need to begin work on new plans. I will divert whatever energy or resources is required. In fact, I am in the process of such. The foolish Autobots have no true scientists, only that bumbling Wheeljack and his lackeys- we hold the greatest advantage. You must see it my way, Shockwave,” he insisted, coming closer to stand face to face, or face to optic.
“If we do not act on this advantage we will lose the war. Draft a new weapon. Biological, chemical, incendiary, I do not care what you devise, but I will not stand idly by and let this slip out of our grasp. Your work begins now. You will communicate with me over this, you understand? If need be, I will assign you aid. Is that satisfactory for you?” he asked, glancing down at the sparkling. “I can assure the ship's cooperation with it,” he threw in as a peace offering.
The flattery to Shockwave’s ego would’ve had the mech head over heels if he hadn’t been preoccupied with other matters when Megatron didn’t need him. He had found a new purpose, perhaps once that could consume his entire life. “To confirm that I am understanding you correctly, you are giving me full range on this future project, including the necessary resources to complete it at my will?”
This sounded of course way too good to be true, but something that the tank would take and run with as far as possible with it. For once, his consciousness on the matter weighed on him, maybe too much than he liked it to.
“I am giving you the opportunity for great advances on your work, if you supply me with the confidence it will destroy the Autobots, and that miserable Prime… give me plans, and we will discuss their confirmation. Consider it as an offer. Think it over. I want to know the precise moment you have something for me,” he said as he turned for the door, interest in the sparkling waning for the cycle. “I trust you will not disappoint,” he added.
“I see- you will have my drafts shortly, my liege. We will discuss it further then.” The scientist watched him leave, hoisting the sparkling over his shoulder and gently patting her back after setting her bottle down.
The lab doors shut as the warlord’s steps faded away, leaving the purple mech and tiny, bright little sparkling to their own. She was squirmy but appeased, and having nothing else to do and a system regulation she couldn’t understand yet telling her she was content, she curled close to sleep, little wings drooping as she waned from consciousness. When sleeping, or held, her legs tucked close to her like a baby turbofox. One day she would sprawl out, legs free falling, as Shockwave had read in his many books and articles. A sign of change, of aging, and growth. Her growth was a paramount topic between himself and Soundwave, who was always quick to update the scientist when new milestones were met, menial as they were.
Shockwave glanced at the little figure asleep on his shoulder, soft pats turning into small circles that he rubbed into her back in between her wings. The tank only needed one gentle digit to do it. He exvented and returned to his seat. Planning was for later, naptime was now. Before getting comfortable, he sent a snapshot of his view of L1T73-1 to Soundwave.
[Lord Megatron must have escaped from your gaze because he had just paid me a visit.]
The response was swift. [Lord Megatron: Has been wandering the halls.]
[Observing.] he corrected himself in a second message. [I did not anticipate his observing of you. Did he need something?] Soundwave sent a little message attached to the picture directly, a lone Cybertronian sigil that stood most translatably to any other language as joy, or elation, as a note that he saw and enjoyed the photo.
The large mech tilted his helm back and offline his optic to rest a bit while continuing to communicate with the TIC. Properly looking after L1T73-1 was tiring but dealing with Megatron in one of his fits of mania was exhausting. [Excessive retelling of his experience of Ravage while she was a sparkling, and a request for me to create a weapon that will destroy the Autobots. A vague request that he guaranteed resources and cooperation with.]
There was a pause. [Megatron: Stopped by to be nostalgic? Strange. He was present, yes… he gave you a blank cheque on a new weapon?] he asked with some incredulousness.
[“Practically raised Ravage.” Lord Megatron has never given me such an offer. It is safe to believe that he may be malfunctioning.]
[That is a stretch; however, he was an essential part of her early life. She would likely not be here otherwise, and for that I am eternally grateful. His new behaviour… is uncertain. I fear he is having… a form of psychological deterioration. Processor degradation. But this may not be said aloud.] He reminded both of them. That would border on treasonous to say out loud. Soundwave was not treasonous. [Perhaps a visit to one of the medics.]
[His visit with me may have put him in a better mood, which means that he may dismiss you earlier than expected. That is a positive. Though I fear that may actually make my hypothetical trade become a reality if he expects me to work diligently on a new weapon that he expects to learn every detail of when the information arises.]
[We will have to see. If you are not busy when I am off duty, we can meet for a period, and discuss.] he offered somewhat vaguely. [If you would like.]
[I would like to, I await your company.]
The rhythmic sound of L1T73-1’s ventilators, slow in her recharge, were like a lulling pull, drawing Shockwave into the sea. There was a long, sleepy, slow silence. There were the once in a while grunts of the lifeform on his shoulder struggling to move and giving up to rest again. There was the sound of the doors opening, and light steps trodding in to stand beside him.
Shockwave’s optic faded into light as the picture of Soundwave drawing nearer and nearer became clear. He didn’t mean to fall asleep but the sparkling on his shoulder had a powerful grip on his processor these days. His audials clicked forward while his systems rebooted from recharge, causing the large mech to lazily shift L1T73-1 to cradle her in his cannon arm, hoping to not wake her.
“Soundwave…” He grogged. “Your abilities in stealth exceed my vigilance-”
A servo landed gently on his shoulder, before moving down to cannon, where the baby lay. “If they did not, I would be out of a job,” he joked, seeming a bit tired. If he wanted to spy on the mech it would be different, but that was an unnecessary detail. This was casual conversation, as he learned over time. His optics took in the sight with a confusing sort of affectedness. She was resting, and so was he, when he so rarely seemed to. It drew upon him some feeling of undue warmth- a sense of ease. Security, maybe, if it could be so simple. Not a feeling one should have when prowling the Nemesis, surely, but behind a steel wall that was alright, right? He’d have to consider it more later.
“My shift: Ended. Your work has no schedule,” he said more as fact than any other. “But I believe you are due for a break.”
“If L1T73-1 were awake, I’m certain that she would be delighted to see you, quite vocally.” The tank arose from his seat, joints clicking into place and plating creaking under his own weight from standing up too quickly and being subjected to gravity. A common happening with more mature mechs, for Shockwave was no spring chicken.
“She had spent the entire day toying with my attention by testing her vocalizer with absolutely no repose until now. Only natural since her playthings have been destroyed- I suspect that she has grown out of them anyway,” the cyclops murmured, setting her in her newly commissioned cradle-like berth, stepping back to watch over her.
Soundwave considered helping him up, but decided it may appear patronizing. “Yes, she has reached that phase of vocalisation. I recall, when Rumble and Frenzy were at such a stage of development, that even docking them could not cease it. Instead, I heard it from both outside and inside.” He exvented deeply in memory. “Unenjoyable in any circumstance, but intolerable on a mission. I used to have to leave them behind.” In a way, he regretted it, but what else could he have done? “They managed.”
He stood over her crib, servos moving across it in thoughtful inspection. He thought it good that this one was bigger, anyway. Cautious not to wake her, he spoke softly. “It is ideal this way for her.”
Shockwave saw no ill in her volume, despite being sensitive to sound. Hers was a noise he favored. “It is necessary for the strengthening of vocal components. Earlier, she became aware of her own wings and found it exceedingly humorous to use them to smack my servos when trying to grab her,” he relished, with his own pseudo wings on his back perking up.
“She is already astoundingly intelligent,” Shockwave continued, proud to relay the information as if Soundwave wasn’t already privy. “Far more complex than I have anticipated.”
The communications officer watched him with amusement. “Agreed, she is astounding. Perhaps: She will become an astute scientist as her sire, clever and knowledgeable,” he hummed. He sometimes teased the idea of her potential, remembering that unlike his cassettes, she would grow far larger and more independent than they would.
He liked to wade in the mech’s pride, pouring in as much of his own as he could. “Her skills would be unmatched, raised with such diligence.”
The scientist turned his helm to glance at Soundwave. “You think I am clever and knowledgeable?” Of course Shockwave knew he was clever and knowledgeable, but something inside his processor itched to fully understand what Soundwave thought of him. It mattered, of course, to rate his performance in raising L1T73-1 and maintaining their partnership. Further still, no mech could ever make heads or tails of how the illusive communications officer truly felt about things, including his fellow Decepticons.
It clicked for the spy that Shockwave was more than receptive to praise, his ego thriving when stroked properly. He had no intention to abuse that fact, but it certainly made what he already thought that much more novel. “Yes. You are, historically, the best scientist the Decepticons have had, and produce results far beyond my technical understanding,” he said as he turned more to face the purple mech. “L1T73-1 is intelligent, interesting, and enjoyable company. Perhaps: The technofruit does not stray far from the tree of origin,” he suggested with a little tilt of his helm.
Shockwave felt his optic burning more brightly in a way that he couldn’t control. He glanced down to his own pedes to process. It felt good to be rewarded for his feats, every process was a prize to be won but this was different. The large mech had been rewarded with Soundwave’s acknowledgement simply for existing as himself.
He tried not to laugh directly, but shook slightly in a silent chuckle, finding shyness to be intriguing from the esteemed scientist. Glancing between the mech and the sparkling, Soundwave spoke in a low tone. “I intend to divulge today’s matters. Where should we discuss?”
The large mech snapped out of his thoughts and gave the communications officer a nod, prompting him to follow as he walked away from the crib. A little ways away was the seat Soundwave found Shockwave resting, joined by another little sofa in between the adjacent chair, that was new, and a little coffee table.
Soundwave was curious when he got more furniture, or how. The why seemed clear enough- Megatron was speaking lately of spoiling the scientist into cooperation, when his passing whims of coercion failed to make sense to himself. He approached, before stalling and ejecting Laserbeak, who flew out with a small thiwp of wind on her trail. She seemed to have already been given direction, and nestled herself snugly over the lab security camera, before plugging into it locally with a small cord beneath her wing.
When her carrier felt satisfied, he eased into the seat and rested comfortably. “Megatron speaks of striking on human resources, but his planning has been… subpar. We have narrowed down to several locations, and will likely attack on separate dates,” he started, half uncertain.
Shockwave watched the bird cassette while he sat down, his frame lurching deep into the seat that housed his mass well enough, despite Soundwave practically swimming in his own seat. “I suspect that he is only inspired to launch this attack to fuel his new weapon project that he has assigned me, not to sustain the troops needed to execute this excursion, He isn’t using his processor enough to plan carefully. Something else is on his mind.”
The mech across from him nodded, weary. “He is not thinking ahead at all. Our fuel is dwindling, and these may be only more losses from spent soldiers. He has ceased his visits to Cybertron, yes; now he roams the halls of the base all night. He talks to me at all joors, but nothing of what is causing this, only plotting and seeking total destruction of the Autobots.” Soundwave sounded exhausted- probably because of how his time spent at Megatron’s heels has been at an all time high. “I’ve never seen him so… aimless. Uncoordinated. Senseless.”
The scientist thought for a moment, he never took Megatron as the manic type, that was Starscream. Maybe it was age that caught up to the average mech, maybe the warlord was simply returning to his roots and everyone else had fallen to astray.
After some deliberation, the tank spoke up, “I am certain of one thing, which is that Megatron is responsible for the destruction of my cloning project and your Ratbat.”
Soundwave was quiet after, unreadably so. He sank further into the seat. “I do not hope for that to be true. My investigation has given me no leads in any direction. Any evidence was scrubbed in our absence. I cannot say for certain.”
The purple mech leaned forward in his seat. “Think about it, Soundwave. It couldn’t possibly be Starscream this time- he was the leading champion for this project, for better or for worse. No other mech had any other motive that would outweigh the consequences.”
Shockwave couldn’t understand why Megatron would do it though. What lingered in the back of his processor was whatever Starscream was rambling about in their last meeting with their leader. Starscream’s references to long distance calls, frequent trips back to Cybertron, the switch up in motive, and how the Air Commander accused Soundwave of knowing about these odd behaviors too. Especially when they’ve come to a sudden halt out of nowhere.
Soundwave looked away for a moment, an uncanny nervousness. “He never harmed the cassettes. Prior to this,” he added. He felt uneasy swallowing the pill of it. “Perhaps I should investigate what Starscream knows.”
“Perhaps he feels entitled to do so when necessary, like corporal punishment performed by a parent. Socially, it is more acceptable that way, if the parental party deems the punishment necessary, especially when high levels of availability during upbringing are present.” The scientist played back an audio clip of Megatron- [“Why, I almost raised Ravage, you know.”] for Soundwave to better digest his point.
“I would doubt that if, say, Dirge were to deliver punishment to your cassettes, it would be deemed acceptable. The cassettes have a high chance of retaliating in fact- but- the implication is more acceptable if a familiar face were to deliver the same level of violence, with little to no need for retribution from the cassettes.”
It shouldn’t surprise Soundwave. It was well within the warlord’s character, the mech being prone to fits of violence against his subordinates- even he himself had faced it, but his swift retaliation had put the thought out of the mech’s processor ever since. He simply felt that the cassettes were an outlier. The normally unreadable mech’s spark sank, and it showed in his slumped posture, leaned into the chair arm and legs tucking up into his side as he spoke. “Your reasoning is impeccable,” he said, dismally. “The damage done to Ratbat was no reasonable punishment. But it is likely that you are right.”
“The entitlement that Lord Megatron seizes over you and therefore your cassettes allows him to deliver violence how he sees fit in order to advance in his objectives.” Shockwave exvented, taking in Soundwave’s change in demeanor. He didn’t enjoy it at all, and documented it into his internal memory files for data gathering purposes. He leaned closer off the edge of his seat and offered his servo by resting it on the arm of Soundwave’s chair.
“Ratbat did not deserve to be caught in the crossfire of Lord Megatron’s outburst caused by this descent. I will do everything in my power to cushion the blow for you and yours… And ours, in order to maintain good health and safety.”
With a slow heavy movement, Soundwave took the offer, holding it close to him, close enough that Shockwave was aware of the natural radiating warmth of the communication specialist’s frame against his servo. “Your unending support has been a great comfort in these times,” he admitted, though he looked off to some unidentified blank point instead of the bright optic to his side.
There it was again, that deep burning from Shockwave’s optic. He glanced aside as to not cast a red light over Soundwave. The scientist’s internal heating and cooling mechanisms worked perfectly fine, but he had come to realize that feeling the cassette player’s warmth was unlike any kind of warmth he had felt before. It felt like he had been living in subpar temperatures that took a toll on his circuits for as long as he could remember until any part of his frame met with the smaller mech’s. Then he felt his systems reboot, cogs and joints no longer stiff and brittle.
“Our partnership is of great value to me, especially when chances of survival are greater in numbers. I would not entrust L1T73-1 with anyone else on this ship.”
Perhaps it was the fact that the tank was subjected to reside below sea level, mixed with the draftyness of an air circulation system in need of maintenance.
Shockwave could feel the deep rise and fall of the system vents in Soundwave’s frame as he sighed, finally regaining his ability to look at the scientist directly, gaze scanning over the mech’s form. “The feeling is mutual. If we are right, I do not know what can be done about it. I know what should be done, going forward,” he said with a quiet tone, leaning his helm in to make sure the tank could still hear him.
Shockwave returned optic contact with the TIC with his audial fins flicked forward to indicate that Soundwave had his full attention after he got ahold of himself.
“We cannot take ill-planned actions. Our own or ordered,” Soundwave said flatly, hoping his point got across without too much criminality on his glossa. “We are not sufficient in materials, resources, or energon. That is of greater priority than projects we cannot afford. I’m sure you have had the same conclusion.”
The tank nodded, “Agreed, it is within our duty as lieutenants to steer the Decepticons away from ruin. Especially with what is at stake,” he murmured, peering towards the cradle that housed the sleeping sparkling in the distance.
Soundwave’s gaze followed, watching the silent bed as she rested. “I will be taking the initiative to oversee these strategic strikes, among other things, as need be. You will be the first to know of things.” His statements were simple, but it was obvious how cautious they were.
“Until then… is there anything else you would like to do?” he asked, wondering if it would be fit to steer the conversation into something lighter after such a troubling topic.
“I assure that you will take great caution if you are to be at ground zero,” The scientist reminded, not because he thought that Soundwave was incapable of handling himself as a warrior and a strategist, but as a token of good will and luck for the cassette player.
He thought for a moment, scanning his empty laboratory, nothing of interest catching his optic. The large mech figured that there was nothing entertaining about hearing about how he had to get up every five minutes to sign for an order. “Is there anything to report from your household?”
“Ratbat has returned to full capabilities; his casing was welded shut earlier this cycle. Rumble and Frenzy speak better of you now,” he said, twiddling the mechs still captured servo absentmindedly. “They believe you to be impressed by their coordination and a staunch proponent of them learning martial arts. They have taken some creative freedoms out of your approval.” He said with genuine amusement.
“Is that so?” Shockwave’s audials quirked up. That was certainly progress towards depleting Soundwave’s stresses over the matter.
“Yes, they’ve been telling me how much you would agree that they are battlefield ready and you would agree that they are capable of general training.” He laughed slightly. “At least they are not so opposed to me seeing you, even if their perception of you is rooted in disagreement with me; if I do not approve, surely you do. They’ve rarely behaved like this, but this is an unusual situation for them.”
“As if I have any sort of authority that overrides your decisions for them,” he mused, finding the implication to be so ridiculous that it was funny to him, though he was grateful that the cassettes seemed to lighten up on their adamance for his presence and more pushy towards their growth and personal freedoms, even if it was funnelled through himself.
“Do you ever intend to rear them on the battlefield?”
The cassette player paused, gathering his thoughts briefly. The exhaustion breathed out of him as he shifted slightly in the wide seat to rest more on his side. “It is an inevitability. For as long as we are at war, they will adapt for it. Their preceding cassettes did; they will too. I… only wish to delay it until necessary,” he mumbled. “But they are eager.”
“Your opinion on the matter is that of any fine carrier,” he reassured. “Their existence is rooted in war and physical prowess is rewarded. It is reflected in their taste in human broadcasts. Even their carrier is revered as a warrior, therefore you lead by example. It is only logical that they wish to follow your path to make you think highly of them.” Sure, Shockwave was only slightly regurgitating the advice he had read in instruction manuals for child rearing, but he felt it to be true by the way he saw it occur before his very optic.
The blue mech wanted to believe, with unparalleled confidence, of his superiority as a carrier. He knew it had to be true compared to others he knew. Then again, what poor sparks did he know? He was uncertain, lately, and that unnerved him. He shouldn’t be uncertain. He shouldn’t be taking projects out from under Megatron’s pedes. It was strange times for them all.
Shockwave continued. “It is also clear how easily they are prone to learning by example. Maybe that would be a fitting start. They are notable in their ability towards surveillance after all.”
Soundwave nodded, squeezing the mech’s servo. He forgot, at times, that they knew more than they were born into. They knew from stories and shared memories with Ravage the constant fighting, the hollow greatness he held when he championed over another mech. They were far from separated from it. “Yes; I think it best they begin there, even if training with other soldiers on base.”
The scientist gave a firm squeeze back, mindful of how much more intricate and delicate Soundwave’s servo was compared to his own. “I have a proposition in regards to our upcoming siege.”
He leaned a little closer, assuring him he could hear. “Proceed.”
“If we are successful, regardless of how fruitful, you and I will have a celebration in the confines of my laboratory. A reward for enduring these troublesome times. I’m sure Knockout and Breakdown will have no issue watching over L1T73-1 for a few joors if injuries are at a minimum. If there is no success, then you will rest, and life will go on as usual.”
Soundwave’s visor gleamed in the light as he tilted his helm a little, beaming. “That sounds very rewarding.” He sat up more, stretching his limbs out as they creaked from the odd position he had been in. “Which I should finish my plans for,” he said a bit regretfully, but as he checked the time he decided he needed both time to write and time to recharge. “I’ll have to take my leave for the cycle.”
The scientist gave a nod, “Shall I return L1T73-1 later in the evening at your call to allow yourself the undisturbed time to prepare?”
“Yes, that would be ideal.” He got up completely, cracked a few joints and shook off his near creeping tiredness. With a whistling click, he called Laserbeak down from her perch. She had been asleep, and got up slowly as she unplugged herself from the camera. She swooped down to his shoulder, resting herself there, where she looked curiously at Shockwave. Sometimes there was something strange and knowing in her gaze, and a moment later it would be replaced by blank curiosity, as if it were never there. She looked at him this way, before watching the sparkling instead.
The tank stood, his frame emitting its own set of snaps, crackles, and pops to compete with Soundwave’s. Maybe they were both a bit far from being spring chickens. Silently, he escorted Soundwave, a now common ritual between the two when parting.
Once Shockwave was once again alone, he looked down at his own servo. The lingering heat left behind from the communications officer made it ache less. He opened and closed his digits, flexing them while he examined them, as if he had been touched by King Midas himself.