Small Sacrifice

The tides of battle will always turn upon a millisecond of timing, upon the decision made in that instant before pulling the trigger or pushing the button. Tactics take time; they rely on the field decisions of commanders- of soldiers.

To obey, to shoot. To flee.

On the battlefield an instant can become an eternity, can turn into a lifetime of ‘should-have’s and ‘could-have’s. Less than a minute can create a legend, just as easily as a hundred year siege, or a thousand year reign of peace.

And in the rush of time, the small sacrifices will be forgotten, in the time it takes to pull a trigger.



                      Cybertron, The Beginning of the Third Cybertronian War

“Autobots! Start pulling out– we can’t afford to lose any more fighters over this outpost”

Prime’s orders came just as Jazz  realized he was down to the last charge in the laser rifle he’d been issued when they‘d started this doomed venture. Only a few more shots and he’d have to rely on his skill in dodging, luck, and– his amber-gold optics scanned the field around Retoris– his new friends. Not that constantly relying on the brothers was thrilling to him, but it was just nice to know that the first two Autobots he’d seen weren’t going anywhere.

Besides. Jazz  rather liked them, despite what others kept listing as their shortcomings.

In the crossfire he hadn’t been able to even catch a glimpse of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Jazz wasn’t a front-line fighter like the pair of them, so it really wasn’t a surprise that he’d lost track of them. It was, however, a surprise to catch a glimpse of red and gold so far into the advancing Decepticon troops.

“Prime–“ he called, “The twins are surrounded out there–“ The Autobot commander was covering so that the medic– Ratchet– could start hauling an older red Autobot that he recognized as Ironhide. Jazz could see that there was nothing that Prime could do at that moment, so he stepped around the broken wall he’d been using as cover, and started trying to pick off the nearest Decepticons.

Jazz was so focused on the red and gold, that he failed to notice when one of the jets fired a plasma grenade– not until the object bounced against his foot. It took his attention away from where the flash of red had disappeared in the sea of Decepticons, just before something- someone hit him from behind.

“Shut off your optics–“ The familiar voice warned, a shade too late.  “Don’t look at–“

The explosive went off, turning  the world brilliantly white for a moment, before fading to pitch black.  Jazz didn’t even have time to wonder what had just happened, before the hot shrapnel started falling, knocking him offline.

                          *                                  *                              *

“We got a transmission leak from the ‘Cons,” Ironhide was grumbling somewhere. “ They’re plannin’ on sendin’ Sunstreaker an’ Sideswipe to Pavilion t’be hunted. They ain’t likely t’be in good condition or they’d be performin’ a public excecution.”

Vaguely Jazz remembered seeing Sideswipe go down in a sea of Decepticons. Sunstreaker wouldn’t have retreated after seeing that– and there was nothing that Optimus Prime could have done to get to them– not with the injuries and low supply of ammunition.

“How’s the kid doin’?”

Kid?

“His optics were damaged with the flash–“ the familiar voice of Ratchet was somewhere hovering around him. “He was probably looking right at it when it went off. ”

Oh. Jazz realized. Ironhide was talking about him.

“Other than that he should be coming online shortly.” Jazz heard the medic moving towards him with a slight grind of metal against metal. The fighters weren’t the only ones who’d been injured– he realized, trying to force his optics to turn on, and see where he was.  “He’s awake– Jazz, it’s going to be a while before I can fix your visual sensors properly. You might as well relax, and stop trying to force it.”

“Where am I?” Jazz asked, before he could stop himself. A stupid question, he chided himself. In the outpost halfway to Iacon, where they’d set up a quick-repair station. He could hear other voices, and the familiar way that they echoed off of the reenforced walls.

“Kalis station.” Ironhide’s voice was to his left, giving him the answer he already knew. “Yer lucky Wheeljack saw th’ grenade and pulled ya out o’ the way.”

Jazz instinctively turned to look towards Ironhide.

“I know– but Sunstreaker an’ Sideswipe?”

“Prime’s workin’ on it, Jazz. Pavilion’s nominally neutral, but we’ll think o’ somethin’.” Not a trace of doubt in those words. It should’ve been a relief, but it wasn’t.

Jazz frowned, listening to the soft sound of movement, the sensation of air displacing as a door opened and closed. Someone else had entered, he realized. He sat up slowly, adjusting to the lack of visual information with difficulty. Vision, he thought, was something that most people took for granted. Like he had.

“There’s a way in an’ out.” Jazz said slowly, “I know th’ city– Protihex had me there for a couple o’ cycles gatherin’ info on th’ place for a deal.” He could hear the slight movements as Ironhide moved– probably to look at whoever had just come into the room. “There’s a li’l place on the south side o’ town, where they keep th’ prisoners before they’re hunted.”

“Do you know anything about the security in that area?” The soft commanding voice inquired. Optimus Prime. “And do you know a way in and out of the city?”

“I could get in an’ out– no problem. Got a few contacts in the guard, an’ know a few ways t’get to Gold district.” Jazz shook his head, “But s’far as security– I’d have ta see who was posted. They always have a couplea plants in any crowd.”  He turned towards where he could hear Ratchet muttering something too low for most audial sensors to pick up. “Yeah. That about describes it.”

“Would you be willing to go?”

“O’ course.” Of course he couldn’t not go.

“Hold on a minute. You’re not going anywhere, Jazz.” Ratchet protested.

“He can’t go–“ Ironhide speaking at the same time.

“But there’s a li’l problem.”Jazz sighed, turning towards Ratchet. “There ain’t nothin’ you can do ‘bout it here, is there?” He could almost feel the questioning stare from Prime, and Ratchet glaring at him.

“I could patch things together, but... slaggit. No.” Ratchet was shaking his head, and Jazz could hear the slight grind of metal against metal again. “Without the right tools and parts, it will only be a temporary fix.”

“Temporary’s fine. Jus’ so I can get in an’ out of Pavilion.”

“Yeah, and with the way things are in your optical system right now, I’ll be lucky if I can fix it in Iacon– you could end up with a burnt out visual cortex.”

“An’ if I don’t try this, Sunstreaker an’ Sideswipe could end up with a whole lot worse’n that.” argued Jazz. “”I may be the only chance they got, Doc.”

“I can’t replace a cortex, Jazz. It’s part of your laser core– “

”I understan’ that.” Jazz shook his head, “I’m the only one who’s got a layout, an’ contacts. I owe ‘em– they saved m’life almost as often as you have. They’re my friends, an’ I can’t just let ‘em die like that without tryin’.”

“Jazz, we can try and find another way.” Optimus spoke from the foot of the table. “There’s still time.” Ironhide was nodding in silent– or somewhat silent agreement.

“Not if they’re gonna be hunted.  The ‘Cons’ll put ‘em in as soon as they can. The ‘prey’ is usually pretty bad off b’fore they get to the grounds.” Jazz appealed to Prime, looking directly at where he could hear the voice coming from. “I know what I’m gettin’ into– sometimes ya just gotta take the chance.”

Silence.

“This goes against ...” a sound of Ratchet stepping away from the table. “I’m supposed to be making sure that you’re working right, not...”

“I know the consequences, an’ I’m willin’ t’take the risk. “ Jazz said solemnly. “Thanks fer tryin’ to look out for m’best interests.”

“Hold still.” Ratchet told him gruffly, as something touched his face. Automatically, Jazz reached up to find out what it was. “Don’t touch. If you’re going to insist on doing something as stupid as this, I’m going to try and make sure there’s a chance.” Ratchet did something and stepped back– then Jazz heard the clank of tools. “Don’t you dare take that off, even for a minute.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“This will probably sting-“ Ratchet ignored him, placing a hand on the side of Jazz’s head. “And I don’t think either of us needs an audience for that.” A pointed statement, and the sound of someone exiting the room followed shortly.

“Let me know when you’re ready.”   A second exit.

“Now you are going to lie back, and not move.” Ratchet told him. “This isn’t as easy as it sounds.”

Ratchet was wrong; it hurt like slag. At least there wasn’t an audience.



*                          *                     *

“Psst... Sunny?”

A grunt.

“You okay, Bro?”
Another grunt.

“I’m sorry ‘bout draggin’ you into this.”

Sideswipe finally heard a stirring on the far side of the cell, and caught a glimpse of yellow, as Sunstreaker pushed himself into a seated position against the wall.

“If you don’t slagging apologizing, I’m going to come over there and slagging knock your head off.”

Well, at least Sunstreaker’s vocalizer wasn’t broken. The brief glimpses Sideswipe had gotten of his twin before they had been tossed in the bare metal room had made him worry. Most of the paint was scratched or gone, along with a good chunk of Sunny’s right arm. He hadn’t even fought back when one of the guards kicked him.

Sideswipe knew he wasn’t in much better shape himself. They really didn’t need to use the chains on them.

“Sunny?”

“What?”

“We’re in deep trouble this time, aren’t we?”

Silence, then a clank, where Sunstreaker had let his head hit the wall.

“Whatever makes you think that, skidplate?” Sarcasm dripping from his voice, as his optics studied the ceiling.

“Think anyone’s coming to get us out?” Sideswipe tried to see what his brother was looking at on the ceiling.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Sunstreaker replied, “And maybe you ought to start using your head for once.”

It was Sideswipe’s turn to grunt.

“You still got your arms, right?”

“Yeah...” slow comprehension started to permeate the fog, as Sideswipe started to focus, and pull his hands back into his arms.

“So try and use that piledriver of yours for something other than slagging show.”

The pile driver blades were still there, and locked into place with a grunt and a click.

“On it... what then? There’re probably a few hundred Decepticons between us and Iacon.”

“Just shut up and conserve your energy. We’ll just have to see how many more we can take down.” A smirk crossed Sunstreaker’s face, and Sideswipe could feel his own smirk returning, as he began working on the length of chain keeping him from the door.


*                          *                     *

The lower gates had been no problem. Despite the increasing numbers of Decepticons appearing in the lower city, no one had informed them of the smuggler’s routes in and out of the north quadrant. Other than the extra purple sigils in the crowd, it really hadn’t changed since the last time Jazz had been there.

Brushing at the new paint, Jazz was glad, once again, that he’d insisted that he get a quick coat of dark blue. The white would have stood out like... well... a lightbulb in the dark. Not to mention, covering the faction emblem was saving him a few extra glances. No one here was giving him a second look, even with the visor.

The slight haze of blue had taken a moment to get used to– and the slight blur to the edges of his vision. Jazz was, if nothing else, adaptable, and now it only bothered him when he thought about it. Adaptability– it was how he survived.

Covertly signaling to a pair of shadows, he casually meandered towards a side street, passing beside an old landmark in the middle city districts. This was the arts center of town– the upper classes toured this area regularly. Even frequently– if he could get to the tavern that he knew of, Jazz was sure he could find exactly where the twins were being held. Ironhide and Pipeworks would probably be impatient to just go– but if they could get an exact location, it would be so much the better.

Jazz stepped inside the Moons tavern, and studied the patrons carefully. A casual amble towards the bar at back of the room took him near everyone. Each group he encountered, he slowed down, listening carefully, while keeping a smile on his face.

Games. Paint jobs. Quality. Trade.

Nothing he could use, so he kept moving.

More games. A complaint.

He sat at the bar, carefully sitting next to a pair that he recognized as being from the towers– one of the hunting towers. Jazz smiled, ordered something, and listened.


*                          *                     *
        Ironhide was twitching.

It’d been an hour since Jazz had gone into the little tavern, signaling for them to wait outside. An hour that they didn’t have.

“Shoulda gone in with him.” Ironhide muttered, half to himself.

“He’s the one who knows what to look for. We’d just look out of place.” Pipeline told him, leaning against the side of the building, and trying to look inconspicuous. “Just have to trust that he knows what he’s doing.”

“We haven’t got th’time t’wait around here all night.” Ironhide drawled. “If he’s not out in five, I’m goin’ in after–“

The faint sounds of someone singing reached the little alleyway, as the door to the tavern opened, and a familiar blue mech wandered out, half leaning on another mech, who seemed to be mostly white.

“...Two moons over me, will be my constant light...” One voice with a soft rasp, strong and steady, one slightly warbling, “And if ever I should roam, the twin moons in the night, will ever welcome me home...”

“He’s drunk.” Ironhide stared, scowling. “How could he... why?” Pipeline put a hand on his shoulder, keeping the indignant mech from leaping out at the visored mech.

“Wait a minute– “ he said. “Jazz wouldn’t do that–“

”You can see him, cantcha?”

The pair wandered to the edge of the road, laughing. The white and blue patted Jazz on the shoulder, grinned, and staggered off, transforming as he went. Jazz staggered his way towards the side of the building where Ironhide and Pipeline were waiting for him.

“What do you think you’re–“ Ironhide began, angrily, stopping as Jazz shook his head, still grinning almost triumphantly. “We’re not here ta go bar hoppin’.”

“Got the address.” Jazz told him, smile running away with the force of the anger. “An’ I ain’t bar hoppin’.” He folded his arms, looking down at Ironhide. “Not while I’m workin’.” The sway was gone, as he pointed. “They’re bein’ held in twelve. We gotta hurry though, scheduled fer huntin’ tomorrow, an’ from what th’mech tol’ me, Sunny wasn’t even fightin’ back.” He started for a seemingly random street.

Pipeline shrugged, and started to follow, leaving Ironhide to stare at Jazz with bewilderment, before he had to jog to catch up.


*                          *                     *
“Now what?” Sideswipe retracted his pile driver, and fell to one knee. “Window?”

“Rest,” Sunstreaker told him, pulling Sideswipe over to lean against the wall next to him. “You’ll need to conserve your energy.” He patted his brother on the shoulder.

“Yeah...”

“Just have to wait for the right moment.”

*                          *                     *

Gold district wasn’t hard to find– a nearly straight shot from the Moons, and right behind the newest piece of architecture to grow in the city. Not exactly grow, though, since it looked more like a big box had been carelessly dropped in the middle of what was once a park, next to the hunting grounds, opposite the ‘kennels’, where the prey for the hunt were housed.

Jazz shook his head, studying the smaller buildings for a few minutes, while Ironhide and Pipeworks lurked behind.

“We’re gonna need a distraction, while I pick that lock, an’ get ‘em outta there.” Jazz said at last, “They should at least be able t’make it as far as the Moons– so ‘Works can take a look, an’ get ‘em out.”

“For Primus’ sake, why don’t we jus’ go in an’ start shootin’– that’ll give ‘em somethin’ to think about.” Ironhide was still a little steamed about the act that he’d pulled back at the tavern, it seemed. “‘stead of all this sneakin’ around.”

“Guards there–“ Jazz pointed, “An’ in the crowd.” He dug into a compartment, and brought out a small object, and handed it to Ironhide. “If ya act casual-like, ya can get it on th’back o’ that big ol’ buildin’, it looks t’be a barracks, an’ head back t’ the Moons wit’ Pipeworks.”

“I can do that.” Ironhide admitted gruffly. “Don’tcha want someone t’be a lookout?”

“Shouldn’t take me long t’open it up– jus’ gotta keep ‘em busy, an’ the attention on the barracks ‘stead o’ the kennels.” Jazz produced a second bomb. “Timer ain’t very long on ‘em, but it should give ya time t’get away, an’ fer me t’get into place.”  He gestured towards the sidestreet near the smaller buildings. “When I’m there, hit it, an’ get movin’.”

Ironhide seemed to want to object– but Pipeworks just nodded.

“I understand, Jazz.” Pipeworks patted Ironhide on the shoulder. “No more casualties than necessary.”

“See ya at the Moons in... ‘bout twenty.” Jazz nodded, and headed to his position.


*                          *                     *
Kennels duty was always the worst, reflected the Decepticon assigned to the post. Nothing to do, and the ‘prey’ was rarely lively enough to taunt. He didn’t notice when a blue and white shadow crept up behind his out of the way post, and took quiet aim with a stun pistol.

The guard did notice the explosion, however, milliseconds before the stun-bolt hit him,


*                          *                     *
A rumble outside roused Sunstreaker with a jolt.

How long had he just been staring into space?

Under the yells he could hear through the wall, Sunstreaker heard a soft noise at the door. Someone was opening the door.

“Time.” Giving Sideswipe a rough nudge, he staggered to a position just inside the door, out of the direct sight of whoever was taking so slagging long to open the lock. Sideswipe roused himself, and took the position on the other side of the exit.

Good. Sideswipe was still functioning. The silence of the past few hours had been a little troubling– though it was a relief not to hear that same apology over and over again. Sideswipe had been forgetting conversations– probably because he’d been hit in the head a few times, and not by Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker nodded as the door finally slid open, and a dark figure stepped in. Without hesitation, he swung at the figure’s head, while Sideswipe made a charge for the legs from the other side.

“Sideswipe? Sunstreaker?” the familiar voice called a split second too late, just before his fist impacted with the visored face. Sunstreaker’s fist impacted with a sickening crack, sending their visitor crashing against Sideswipe, and then to the floor.

“Nice .... t’see you too, Sunny.” Jazz told him, pulling the remains of a shattered blue visor away from his face, golden optics suddenly appearing with the usual smirk, and an odd humor. “Wasn’t sure ya’d be up t’somethin’ like that. Can ya both walk?”

“Close enough.” Sunstreaker nodded, pulling Sideswipe up from the floor. “You by yourself?”

“Nah. Ironhide an’ Works are waitin’ in a safer spot.” Jazz rose, moving to the other side of the normally talkative red mech.

“I’m fine,” protested Sideswipe. “Just lost my balance.”

“Good, cause I don’t wanna have t’carry your heavy red aft to the Moons.”

“Moons?” Sunstreaker queried, pulling one of Sideswipe’s arms over his shoulder. He had more energy left than his brother– Sideswipe might complain later, but for right now...

“Tavern.” Jazz stepped away to squint out through the exit. “Try an’ stay quiet, an’ follow me. They’re still tryin’ t’find out what happened in the barracks.”

“Tavern?” The devilish gleem came back to Sideswipe’s optics as the pair started to follow Jazz through the shadows.

“No place you’d like, ‘Swipe. Li’l too ritzy.” Jazz grinned, leading them to a side street. “Wait here a click–“ Jazz told them, still squinting oddly in the light. “Got ta make sure they have pleanty t’deal with, so’s they don’t pick up our trail right off.”

“Hnn.” Sunstreaker watched the dark blue figure dart from shadow to shadow, then toss something into the box-like cell where they’d been stashed.  Not even a pause, and he was returning.

“Got a short fuse on that’un. Better get outta the area.” Jazz told them as he returned, optics glowing softly. “See that overpass there? Leads straight t’the–“ he stopped, catching Sunstreaker’s glance over his shoulder.

“Someone’s coming–“

Jazz turned, and frowned as a white and blue mech casually moved in and out of the shadows, heading for the their former prison. Then said a few words that made Sideswipe’s optics widen in surprise.

“I didn’ think he would seriously try anythin’– I gotta stop ‘im.” Jazz gave Sunstreaker a push. “You two get movin’– I’ll met ya there. Ironhide an’ Pipeworks’ll be lookin’ for ya.” And he dashed off before Sunstreaker could protest the shove.

Watching Jazz’s run towards the open cell door for a moment, Sunstreaker shook his head, and headed towards the underpass.

“Crazy mech.”  He said, pulling Sideswipe along. “Hope he gets out.”

“Sunny?” Sideswipe tried to look back. “We’re not goin’ to just leave him?”

“He said he’ll meet us at the taverns.” Sunstreaker told him. “And he’d better.”

Jazz hadn’t been kidding about the short fuse. The second explosion lit the sky before they’d cleared the underpass.

*                                      *                                          *

“Quarrel!”

Cursing softly, Jazz ran back to the cell, calling the name again as he found the white and blue hunter just inside the door. Grabbing the other mech’s arm, he started pulling.

“We gotta get out of here–“ Jazz told the other mech, hauling him towards the side street that the twins had so recently abandoned. The explosive made its final warning beep, starting the final countdown.

“Mirage?” The name he’d given at the bar, not thinking he’d encounter this upper class hunter again so soon– even if the young mech had talked about setting Sideswipe and Sunstreaker loose, Jazz had not quite believed that the pampered youngster would ever try to actually go through with it. Most of his type were full of talk. “What are you doing here–“

”Ain’t no time for that–“ Jazz told him, suddenly finding Quarrel resisting his tug. He
turned to give the white and blue a serious look. “Toldja things’d work themselves out– why didn’t ya listen?” The mech was probably still a little overloaded–  “Quarrel–“

The cell behind Quarrel exploded in a shower of light and sound, as the force of the air displacement pushed Quarrel forward into Jazz. A surge of fire raged through Jazz’s optical relays, and the world flickered for a moment, before going black.

Fragments of the building started raining down on everyone in the vicinity.

Too close. They’d been too close.

*                                      *                                          *


The Moons tavern hadn’t been all that hard to find.  What had been hard was avoiding the crowds of emergency types, and the occasional Decepticon heading towards the source of the second explosion. Sunstreaker had been forced to drag Sideswipe into the shadows a few times– but most of the mechs running by had been too focused on getting to the action.

Action. Hopefully Jazz wasn’t going to be a part of that action. He wasn’t built for fighting, like Sunstreaker and his brother.
Ignoring Ironhide’s incessant pacing along the width of the alley, Sunstreaker scowled at Pipeline– who was shaking his head over something on a mediscanner that he kept pointing towards Sideswipe.

“What’s wrong with him?” he finally asked.

“Nothing that I can fix here– he’s got a fuel leak.” The medic put up a hand, as though to ward off Sunstreaker’s deeper than normal scowl. “He’ll be fine– we just have to wait for Jazz to get back, and we can get going, as long as he sits still now.” The last was delivered with a tone that left nothing to argument.

“That goes fer you too, Sunstreaker.” Ironhide chipped in, coming to the back of the blind alley for a moment. “Last thing we want t’do is have t’carry both of ya.”

Ironhide just stared at Sunstreaker, until he sat down. Even Sunny had to admit, Ironhide was right. Now all they were waiting on was...

“What the frag is takin’ him so long?” Ironhide was back to pacing.

“Just hope he didn’t get caught in the second explosion–“

Ironhide wheeled around to stare at Sunstreaker.

“Why would he have got caught in th’second blast?”

“He went back to pull some nimrod out.”


*                                      *                                          *

The scent of spilled coolant, and the acrid tang of burning fuel pulled Jazz back to reality. The fire in his systems faded to nothing– no pain. He could hope that was a good sign. At least it meant he could think clearly.

“Quarrel?” He reached towards the heavy weight on top of him. Found a shoulder. Wet, he noted distractedly. “C’mon, Quarrel, snap out o’ it. We gotta get out o’ here...” Under the muffled roar of a nearby fire, he could hear an echo of footsteps–feel the vibration of footfalls heading in the general direction of the kennels, in every dent on his backside.

“Quarrel.” Jazz said sharply.

“Nngh. Mirage?” The reply finally came, with the lifting of a weight. “What happened?”

“Gotta get out of the area– can ya walk?” He started pushing himself upwards, listening to the clank of debris sliding off of his chassis.
“Barely...” came the answer, “Are you all right?”

“Head down th’ back street, towards th’ road in back o’ the kennels.” Jazz reached towards the source of the voice, feeling a flinch as he connected with a limb. “No arguin’–“

There was a slight pause, as though Quarrel nodded, and the younger mech started to slowly limp in the direction that Jazz hoped was the right one. He listened carefully to the chaos behind, hoping that their exit wouldn’t be marked.

“Ain’t as many guards as usual.” Jazz commented, trying to keep from running into Quarrel’s back.

“...most of them were stunned... or I would have been to the cell earlier.”

Jazz felt the corner of his mouth slant upwards in a crooked smirk. Impressive, but...

“Any o’ them see ya?”

“No one’s ever seen me coming,” The pride was apparent, though the voice was noticeably weak, “That’s why I’m going to be at the top...”

Jazz felt the other mech stumble, even as the soft echo of their voices and footfalls changed. The pitch was right. They were behind cover. He sunk to the ground next to the base of the building.

“We’re behind th’hunt’s equip lodge?” Jazz guessed, “Now... how bad’re ya hurt?”

Silence.

Jazz attempted to force his optical sensors online again, and was rewarded with a faint, but cloudy image. It was still better than he’d hoped for.  For once, he was glad that Ratchet was wrong. And at the same time–

“I... I don’t know.” Quarrel leaned on the wall next to him. Even the cloudy image told him that it wasn’t good. A bit of shrapnel had pierced through Quarrel’s chest– and glancing at himself, Jazz could see where it had dug into his own. Funny. It still didn’t hurt.

There was a dark fluid covering most of the white on the mech’s chest.

“Jus’ a little further– If we can get inside,  It’ll set off th’ alarms t’ the towers. Security’ll come an’ get you taken care of.” Jazz rubbed a hand over his optics, and started looking for the door on this block.

“... Are you an Autobot, Mirage?” The question came out of nowhere.

“Yeah. I am.” Jazz found the console, and frowned. The keypad for the lock was swimming in and out. It wasn’t like he was trying to get in without setting off the alarms.

“So... you came for them, because they’re your friends...”

“Yes.” Jazz braced himself, and put his hand through the panel with a satisfying crunch.

“... You didn’t have to come back for me.”

“Yeah, I did.” Jazz told him, pulling wires loose from the lock. “Yer onna the ones that we’re tryin’ t’help. You understand somethin’ o’ what we’re doin’, but yer not ready t’leave yer tower jus’ yet.”

“Do you think.... I could ever be an Autobot, Mirage?”

Jazz smiled, moving towards the vague shape slouched against the wall.

“I think ya might,” Jazz said quietly, “Someday– now... where’s th’ pistol ya used on the guards?” Quarrel produced the weapon, “Set it on th’lowest possible charge.” Jazz glanced up, hearing the echo of footfalls in the distance.

“I’d like that.” Quarrel did something to the pistol, and handed it to Jazz, almost as though he knew what Jazz had in mind.

“For now, ya gotta forget ‘bout me... ‘bout all o’ this.”  The pistol was light in his hand, as Jazz pointed it down at Quarrel. “Tell ‘em I overpowered ya.” He pulled the trigger, and the hunter slumped.

Jazz took a moment to touch Quarrel on the shoulder, before stumbling along the fenced edge of the hunting grounds, away from the place he knew that security would be piling through.

“We’ll meet again someday.”


*                                      *                                          *


Ironhide had never been the most patient of mechs.

After hearing Sunstreaker’s brief description of what had happened at the cell, Ironhide had cut loose with a stream of cursing that would have made Sideswipe sit up and take note, had he been in any shape to do so. All directed at a certain white and black mech.

Ironhide had ignored Pipeworks call, and charged out of the alley, heading back towards the district where they’d left Jazz– their survival depended on Jazz’s ability to find that back way out of the city, and he’d jeopardized it for some ornament, who probably would just as soon shoot him as look at him.

“When I get a hold of him...” Ironhide muttered, neatly dodging a pair of fire-control types, taking the long way back from the area, by ducking into a shadow. “I’m gonna...”  

A hand grabbed Ironhide from somewhere, pulling him deeper into the shadows, and covering his mouth.

“Hush...”  a voice said, next to his audials.

A small group of the idle rich wandered by, talking loudly– probably heading towards the Moons.

“...probably wanted to frame him for it...” a snatch of conversation floated back, as they passed. “... yeah... the one who he left with...”

As the group vanished from sight, Ironhide made a fist, and sent his elbow back into the mech that was holding him. Impact. The soft thud of metal hitting metal, and the hands that had held him were removed with an unmistakable grunt of pain. He spun around to follow up with a punch– then stopped.

“Jazz?” Ironhide asked the familiar horned head, bowed over as though in prayer, and frame leaning against the wall, one hand over a deep rent in the metal of his chest. The head lifted, showing the red mech a pained smirk under darkened optics.

“Why is it that everyone wants t’ take a swing at me t’day?” Jazz asked, “An’ weren’t ya supposed t’be waitin’ by the Moons?”  He straightened, taking the time to brush what looked like burnt coolant off of an arm.

“You’re late.” complained Ironhide. “An’–“ He frowned, taking another look at the somewhat battered blue paintjob. “Yer a mess.”

“Got held up– “ Jazz gestured, “We gotta get outta th’ city, ‘fore someone starts circulatin’ my description.” He took an uncertain step towards the last stretch of road towards the goal. “C’mon. I know a way that’ll get us out a li’l faster.”

“Yer missin’ somethin’.”  Ironhide said pointedly, moving towards Jazz’s side. “And how much of that fuel is yours?”

“Visor got broken, Ironhide.” Jazz turned his head, looking around, “An’ it’s not much mine. Just keep movin’.” A few steps later he paused again, “Did ya tell Sunny an’ Swipe what it was for?”

“Didn’t have time t’tell ‘em anythin’. I came out lookin’ for you, soon’s Sunstreaker told me what’d happened.” Ironhide watched Jazz carefully moving forward again. “Burnt out when you went back, didn’t it.”

Jazz didn’t answer, but the normal cheerful smile faded away.

“How’re you expectin’ to lead us out of this place, if ya can’t see?”

“I’m seein’ shadows, Ironhide... it ain’t all gone. An’ the way we’re goin’ is mostly dark anyhow.” One foot in front of the other. Listening for the sound of pedestrians– or of the guard coming. “Don’t tell the others. Ain’t no use worryin’ ‘bout it.”

“You stubborn-aft–“ Ironhide started to growl– then stopped. “Awright. It’s about the only chance we got right now.”

The rest of the short distance was covered in silence.



*                                      *                                          *

A haze of pain awaited the hunter, as he awoke in the tower’s medical facility, to the sound of his name being called.

“He’s waking up– Quarrel?”

The last thing he remembered clearly was going to the Moons.

Tell ‘em I overpowered ya.

The faint echo of a voice stirred in his memory banks, and he tried to pursue the thought to no avail.

“Overpowered you– that fits. Just relax now. No Autobot will be able to get to you here.” Quarrel hadn’t even realized he’d spoken aloud– but the thought seemed to fit, and unconsciousness seemed to be calling him louder than any other voice in the room.

Forget. The echo of a voice told him, and he obeyed, falling into the temporary comforting darkness.

*                                      *                                          *

An eternity in the dark– or at least with lights so dim, they might as well not have existed. The tunnel system under Lower Pavilion was not meant to be traversed lightly– and most certainly not without auxiliary lighting. And yet, the Autobots trudged forward, following him– one hand on the tunnel’s wall, blindly.

Ironic.

Jazz took a few more steps forward and paused, listening to the echo of their footfalls reverberate through the chamber. Something had changed since the last time they’d stopped. He could hear it– a slightly different pitch to the echo.

“Ironhide?” he turned his head slightly, to where he could hear the ‘bot muttering something next to him. Ironhide hadn’t said anything, but Jazz could tell he was watching.  Who wouldn’t?

“Hnn?”

“There should be a light up ahead– blue ‘stead o’ gold.” Jazz lowered his voice, “Ya see it?”

A pause.

“Yeah. There’s one– it’s gettin’ a little brighter too.” Ironhide kept his tone lowerd, matching Jazz’s. Sunstreaker had Sideswipe leaning on him a few paces back, followed up by the medic. Hopefully no one would hear. No one needed discouragement at this point.

“We’re almost out, then.” Jazz let a little relief creep into his voice. “It’s a maze– an’ there should be a door right next to it that leads t’the outside.”

“Want me to scout ahead and find it?”

“Yeah– I...” he trailed off, the tunnels hadn’t been getting any lighter, as far as he could see– which meant...

“You all right?” Solicitous.

“You lost up there?” Sunstreaker asked pointedly, as the trio caught up. “Thought you said you knew how to get out of here.”

“Technical difficulties, m’man.” Jazz told him, forcing some of that cheerfulness back into his voice, if not on his face. “Ironhide’s gonna go get th’door open for us.” He aimed a hand at where he thought Ironhide’s shoulder should be– and missed.

“Jazz?”

“G’wan, Ironhide. “ Jazz ignored the suspicious note in Sunstreaker’s voice. “Sooner we get outta here the better.” With a heavy tread, Jazz heard Ironhide moving ahead. “How’s Sideswipe holdin’ up?”

“I’m fine.” Sideswipe’s voice protesting again. “I’m ready to get out of this turborat infested hole.” A slight scrape of metal on metal told Jazz that Sunstreaker had adjusted his hold again. Well. That and Sunstreaker’s mutter.

“Good... then lets get movin’.” Jazz set his hand against the wall again, letting the curve of the tunnel guide him towards where Ironhide would be waiting. “Towards th’ blue light.”

Another few steps towards freedom. Another few steps, and they’d be out of the city’s security grid, and back on the way to Kalis– and then to Iacon. And whatever would happen, would happen.

One foot forward. The other foot forward.  

“Come on, Jazz. Stop playing around– the door’s right there.” Sunstreaker’s voice echoed with sarcasm from behind. “It’s bright enough to–“

The weak spot in the tunnel’s floor took him by surprise– his foot went through the metal, as he stepped forward, leaving the safety of the wall. Jagged edges tore through the plating on his foot, as Jazz desperately grabbed at air.

“Jazz!” Ironhide’s voice echoed through the tunnel.

“Slag...” Jazz managed to say, just before he found the wall with his head.

*                                      *                                          *

“... how the slagging pit could he have missed that spot? It was as rusty as anythin’” Sideswipe muttered, doing his level best not to lean on Sunstreaker, as they watched Pipeworks rush forward to check on the stunned mech next to the door.

“I don’t know, bro.” Sunstreaker said, optics narrowing with what Sideswipe knew was suspicion. “He’s been acting funny since he got back–“ The gaze turned towards Ironhide, clambering away from the door, and towards Jazz.

“C’mon, Jazz.” Sideswipe watched as Ironhide put a hand on the mech’s shoulder. “We’re almost there. Ya were right about the door.” Something wasn’t quite right.

“His optics are dark.” Sideswipe noted, watching a hand raise, and their friend starting to get up with Ironhide’s help– despite the medic’s protest.  

“... they have been for a while.” the note of suspicion remained in Sunstreaker’s voice. “There’s something he’s not telling us–“

Sideswipe tried nodding, but found his head was too heavy. He sagged against Sunstreaker.

“Bro?” The voice came from a distance. His own. “Sorry ‘bout...”

Darkness.



*                                      *                                          *

A clatter interrupted Pipeworks’s insistance that Jazz sit still, and let him run a quick diagnostic. The sound of a mech hitting the floor isn’t a quiet one to begin with– but when one drags down another, it’s twice the clamor of metal striking metal.

“Sideswipe!” Sunstreaker was calling, “Bro!”

“Go help ‘em.“ Jazz felt the displacement of air as Pipeworks hurried away, towards where he could still hear Sunstreaker. “Ain’t a thing you can do for me.”  He put some weight on the damaged foot, and winced.

“Might want t’sit down,” Ironhide’s hand remained on his shoulder. “Sideswipe’s out, an’ Sunstreaker don’t look too good either.”

“So close,” Jazz sighed, “It’s the plains outside, right?  Ya can see a nice view o’ the city, if y’get up above–“ He felt a frown cross his face, listening to the soft echoes of Pipeworks checking Sideswipe over, muttering softly. Ironhide’s hand was removed as he sat down,  “Get Sunstreaker t’sit an’ rest for a while. If nothin’ else, it’ll give him a chance t’ take a load off...”

“I am sitting.” Sunstreaker’s voice came from next to him. “Ironhide already told me to come over here.”

“Whoa...” Jazz almost jumped. Almost. He hadn’t heard the yellow mech move.  “Didn’t see ya there.” he turned his head, as though it would help him see. “How ya holdin’ up?”

“How long were you going to wait to tell us?” Jazz couldn’t read the emotion. Anger, maybe.

“Tell ya?”

“I’m not stupid, and I’m sure as slag not blind.” Sunstreaker wasn’t happy.

“Oh...” Jazz winced, and  tilted his head back, resting against the wall. “I was hopin’...”

“You don’t have to prove anything.” a soft bump, as Sunstreaker moved.

“No... no I don’t.” Jazz took a moment. “But I do have t’ keep my promise an’ get ya both outta the city.”

“We’re out. Sideswipe just used too much energy running his mouth again. As long as there aren’t any guards outside, we’ll be fine.” Pipeworks’s footsteps approached, and Jazz turned his blank gaze on the darkness that should be the medic.

“He gonna be okay to move soon, ‘Works?”

“Yes. Fuel leak is getting worse– but we can get to Kalis in plenty of time.”

“Good.” Jazz nodded, relieved on that account, at least. He flinched as the medic started to prod his foot. “Ow... Where’d Ironhide get to?”

“He went outside to make the call for pickup.” Pipeworks answered. “Neither of us is built to carry three.”

“I don’t need to be carried.” Jazz said slowly, “An’ I’ll have t’figure out... ow... how t’navigate sooner or later.”

“Jazz–“ started Sunstreaker, the ugly note of suspicion back in his voice.

“Jazz, you’ve got three shredded connections in this foot alone.” Pipeworks, ever the voice of reason, “There’re other things that I’m picking up, but the connections themselves won’t let you transform.”

“What do you mean... ‘figure out how to navigate sooner or later’?”

“Now ain’t the time...” Jazz shrugged, then winced, hand automatically covering the deep slice from the shrapnel that had impaled Quarrel. He trailed off, feeling a hand carefully removing his from the wound.

“What is it?” a careful concern from Sunstreaker.

A slice of agony lanced through Jazz’s chest, making him gasp. The fire returned to his optical systems, as though it had never left.

“Aww... slag...” He felt himself go limp, a moment before the world went away.

*                                      *                                          *
“Goin’ t’need that transport, Prime,” Ironhide transmitted over the tight frequency that they had designated for this sort of situation. “We’re about.... 15 astromiles outta the southeast quadrant of the city.”

“Understood–“ The answer came, “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

The transmission ended abruptly, and Ironhide shook his head, taking in the view. Jazz had been right about their location– and the scenic view of Pavilion. It almost looked peaceful– except for the cloud of smoke lingering above the southern quadrant.

As he jumped down towards the access hatch, a muffled groan echoed through the opening. Ironhide paused. That hadn’t been Sideswipe–

*                                      *                                          *
The searing pain and silence subsided, as someone called his name from a distance.

“Jazz– come on, talk to us here–“ Sunstreaker’s voice held a note of concern and frustration.

“Bro– what’s goin’ on?” Sideswipe, further away in the frozen blackness.

“Stay back, you two,” Pipework’s voice hovered over him, “I need more light to see– ah–“ Jazz could feel a hand on his shoulder– “There’s still a piece of something stuck in here, and–“

The rasp of two rough surfaces grinding together brought back the threat of unconsciousness, as something tugged at his internals.

“Sorry Jazz, this is probably going to hurt.”

Jazz groaned as he felt the shrapnel that he hadn’t even realized existed was pulled out– slicing its way through the puncture wound in his chestplate. The fresh mix of coolant and fuel trickled, as the pain subsided a little more– and took some of the darkness with it.

The shadows were back– and hovering over him.

“It was pressing on the neural connections in a bad way. A little more pressure, or a wrong move, and it would’ve cut through.”

“Thanks, ‘Works...” Jazz smiled faintly, as another gray shadow joined Pipeworks.

“Glad t’see you’re still with us– transport’ll be here soon, and we can get our afts back t’Iacon.” Ironhide’s voice grumbled.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe conversed in low tones somewhere beyond the shadows, as Jazz studied the shadows, feeling a slight vibration in the wall. He frowned.

“Somethin’s headed our way.”  Jazz said, over the quiet conversation. “An’ I don’t think it’s the transport.”


*                                      *                                          *
Boredom is the bane of many a common soldier in times of peace. Or even in times of the false peace of occupation. Incidents among the populace had the potential for even a brief bit of entertainment. Which is why Blackjack  was not at his post when the explosions rocked the barracks.  He was at a bar.

The Moons, to be precise.

After the explosions, Blackjack thought he’d be caught and brigged for desertion– until one of the wastes of space he’d been trying to pick a fight with made a comment about ‘those beat up mechs in the alley.’

Of course that caught his attention. The general alert was out about the possibility of an escape– and since most of the citizens in this area would rather be scrapped than miss a daily polishing, he decided to investigate.

By the time he had gotten to the alley, it’d been empty– except for the traces of oil and fuel. Beaten up mechs– injured mechs. Blackjack followed the spotty trail to a hidden entrance to the underground. With no hesitation, he jumped right in, and started following.

If nothing else, Blackjack knew an opportunity when he saw one. This actually might keep him out of the clink.

Tromping through the underground tunnels, he paused at the nearly invisible trails, adjusting his sensors to the spectrum– Coolant. A trail of it, along a wall, as though the injured mech had used it to guide himself along in the near-dark.  Whoever it was hadn’t realized that he could be followed that way.

Overconfidence. The escapees probably didn’t think anyone would find the hidden entrance.

Blackjack smiled; They hadn’t counted on him.

With a fluid motion, he pulled out his disruptor, and followed the echoes of what sounded like someone falling over.

Catching the prisoners would be easy, Blackjack thought. After all, they wouldn’t even see him coming.

*                                      *                                          *
“Ironhide, you an’ Pipeworks get Sunny an’ Swipe outta here. Whatever’s comin’... prolly ain’t friendly.” Jazz stood cautiously, testing the injured foot. Still hurt, but it would do. “There should be a ridge ‘bout sixty paces out.”

“What about you?” Ironhide asked, not moving yet.

“Be right behind ya. I’m gonna see if I can leave ‘em somethin’ ta remember us by.” reaching cautiously, he found the last little box. Jazz hadn’t been sure how many would be needed– and three always seemed like a good number. “Get movin’– whoever it is ain’t that far away.”

“Right... be careful, kid.” Ironhide was moving now. That was good. Jazz had completed what he set out to do– the brothers were safe– or at least, they would be, once the maintenance tunnel was sealed. Until the next battle, anyhow.

Jazz listened to the careful sounds of mechs moving out of the hatch– and touched a few of the controls on the explosive in his hand, hearing the satisfying electronic beep of the device arming.  If it was programmed right, there wasn’t much time at all.

“So there you are.” an unfamiliar voice echoed nearby. Jazz turned his head to look for the shadow, but the owner remained in the darker area of the tunnel. “Where’s the other one? Already out?”

“Yeah...” Jazz smiled. Hatch was to the right, wasn’t it? “Long gone.” The familiar weight of a pistol dropped into his hand.  Quarrel’s stun pistol. “Like yer gonna be in a minute.”

“I don’t think so–“ The voice was closer, “Drop the pistol. You’re coming with me. Or better yet– try and resist, so that I can shoot you and get it over with.”

Seven seconds.

“Fine by me.” Jazz dropped the pistol, and the box, hoping the Decepticon wouldn’t notice the extra clatter. “But ya know, comin’ down here by yourself wasn’t such a good idea.”

“I can handle a wounded Autobot.”

Two seconds.

“But ya can’t handle me.” Jazz braced, and dove for the exit, as the explosive on the floor clicked, its counter hitting zero.

No time.


*                                      *                                          *
Sunstreaker wasn’t happy.

It wasn’t that Pipeworks was touching him– that was a mere annoyance. Sunstreaker knew his paint job was trashed anyhow. It was the way that Ironhide had so easily left Jazz behind, when there was obviously trouble coming.

If he and Sideswipe hadn’t been on the injured list, they would’ve been happy to see what they could do to make sure the ‘Cons following them remembered not to mess with them again. Better that than crouching behind a ridge, and waiting for–

An explosion shook the air, sending dust and fragments of the tunnel wall over the ridge.

“What the– scrap– Jazz!” Ironhide was climbing up over the ridge, looking back towards the hatch they’d so recently exited.

Sunstreaker felt a nudge– prepared to swing, but then realized that it was Sideswipe.

“Where’s Jazz?”

Pipeworks hopped over the ridge to follow Ironhide.

Sunstreaker poked his head over the ridge, studying the now collapsed tunnel with a frown. The whole side of the structure that had contained the tunnel had caved in on itself– Anyone who had been inside would have been crushed. The door itself had been blown halfway to the ridge.

“I don’t think he made it out, bro.” Sunstreaker said slowly, with a note of anger starting to rise. “He’s–“

The piece of metal that now only vaguely resembled the door shifted.

Sunstreaker would’ve discounted it as settling rubble, except that it was moving upwards. Ironhide and Pipeworks had caught a glimpse of it as well, and dashed to shift the piece of metal off of the familiar shape underneath.

A moment later, Jazz stood up, turned his head as though he were looking around, and took a limping step forward.

“He’s fine.”

The dust stirred up again, as the transport pulled in.


*                                      *                                          *
The sound of a voice penetrated his consciousness first, pulling him back from whatever dreams his subconscious mind decided that he needed to have. At first, Sideswipe wondered what he’d done to make Ratchet yell this time.  

The tirade continued, and Sideswipe realized that there was a second voice in the room. Quieter. It was familiar, but there was an unfamiliar tone to it. It took him another moment to realize that it was Jazz.

“I told you what would happen, and you still insisted on it. Blast it... why did you take the visor off and THEN go back–“ Ratchet didn’t sound as though he was as angry as he was acting.

”I did what I had t’do. They’re my friends, an’ I couldn’t leave ‘em there. An’ I couldn’t leave th’kid to die either– not after he was tryin’ t’help me get ‘em out.” Quiet. Not even defensive.

“You know that there’s nothing that I can do if it’s burned out.” Ratchet sounding... regretful?

Sideswipe’s optics flickered on, unshuttering to a view of the ceiling in the Iacon repair bay. He turned his head as quietly as possible, looking for either the conversation, or Sunstreaker. He found both. Sunstreaker was lying on the next table, repairs obviously near complete, base coat already covering the new patches and solders on his arm.

And beyond him, Jazz sitting on the edge of a table, while Ratchet’s back was turned towards the twins.

“I knew th’ risk goin’ in, an’ it was a sacrifice I was willin’ to make, if it came to it.” Their friend’s optics were still dim, and there was an unreadable expression on his face, instead of the usual grin.

“Well, it’s done now– “ Ratchet sighed, “Let me get a scan and see how bad the damage is– if it’s affected the rest of your laser core.”

Sideswipe pushed himself up on one elbow, turning slightly, as he watched Jazz lie back, and submit to the scan. What were they talking about? Sacrifice? Sunstreaker was still offline, so Sideswipe couldn’t ask him. And from the look he could see on Ratchet’s face... now wasn’t the time to announce that he was awake.

“Just shadows now, Doc.” Jazz said, “Light an’ dark.”

“At least it’s not all gone.” Ratchet trying to cheer someone up? Now there was a scary thought. “Maybe there is something that can be done... it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

Ratchet looked up from his scan, and Sideswipe froze. The medic quirked an eyeridge at him, coupled with a sour look.  But that was all.

Sideswipe took the meaning though, and lay back down on the table. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to make sense of what he’d seen and heard, but ended up falling into recharge.


*                                      *                                          *
Someone was singing.

In between the waking and sleeping moments, an unfamiliar melody filled his audial sensors. The tune was unfamiliar– an uncomplicated, simple, quiet song. The voice singing, however, was one that Sideswipe thought he would know anywhere.

Twin moons over me,
Rising, soaring overhead.

Sideswipe let his optics flicker on slowly, not wanting to disturb the singer just yet.

Time goes by, you see
And in this place I know

Jazz was sitting on an inclined table across from the ones where Sideswipe and his brother were lying, head tilted back towards the ceiling, optics dark behind a deep blue visor.

My home will always be
No matter the changes
That time may let me see–

See.

The fuzzy memory of watching Jazz stumbling in a patch that had been clearly visible by the blue light of the tunnel.

...It was a sacrifice I was willin’ to make, if it came to it....Just shadows now, Doc. Light an’ dark...

... Nothing I can do...

Sideswipe sat up abruptly, and the song stopped.

“Didn’t mean t’wake ya up.” Jazz’s visored face turned towards Sideswipe with a rueful smile. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“I... it’s okay.” Sideswipe stared at the mech facing him, “Jazz?”

“Yeah, ‘Swipe?”

“Are you... Okay?”

Jazz chuckled, adjusting his position to face Sideswipe a little better.

“Jus’ fine, ‘Swipe.”

“But... What about–“ Dancing around the question really didn’t suit Sideswipe. “Are you blind now?”

“Nah,” Jazz told him, optics glowing faintly under the visor, giving it with a soft blue light. “Ratchet an’ ‘Jack set me up.”

“I thought I heard Ratchet say he couldn’t do anything–“ Sideswipe frowned.

“Didn’t know ya heard that...” Jazz told him, a faint smile on his face. It was hard to tell what he was thinking with that visor on. “He didn’t tell me ya were awake.”

“What did you mean– a risk you were willin’ to take?” Sideswipe heard Sunstreaker stirring, and glanced at his brother for a moment, then back to Jazz, waiting for the answer.

“Was hopin’ ya wouldn’t find out so quick.” Jazz answered slowly, “Got some damage in th’fight when ya were taken prisoner. Saw a plasma grenade goin’ off at close range. An’ it was either get th’two of ya out fast, or get things fixed up right an’ in time t’see yer heads on th’ gates of Pavilion.” He shrugged, “I knew m’way around, so there really wasn’t a choice.”

“That’s why you were wearing that visor.” Sunstreaker spoke cautiously, “The one that I broke–“

”Don’t worry ‘bout it, Sunny. I ain’t.”

“Ratchet fixed things then?”

“He couldn’t do... much. I can see better’n what I was–“

”Shadows– light and dark.” Sideswipe remembered.

“Yeah. . .” Jazz shrugged. “Light ain’t too good for my optics, so Wheeljack found onna his old projects, an’ came up with–“ he gestured towards the new addition. “Strong enough t’take more’n a punch, an’ bypasses somma the burned out bits. He tried to explain it, but I really wasn’t payin’ attention. Ratchet jus’ has me here for some observation– t’make sure things are gonna keep workin’.”

“As long as you have that, you can–“

”Count the stars on a clear night.” Jazz smiled, “It’s workin’ like a charm so