Starrunner's fourth chapter: Approaching the Origin

[lstarrunner]

Universe: loosely G1 cartoon, just before the episode Triple Take Over. This is fourth in the series started in Skimming the Surface, after Under the Plating and Down to the Casing.

Rating: PG, straying into PG-13 for implied substance abuse and suspected child abuse.

Pairing: Jazz/Prowl in the background, and maybe Astrotrain/Cobweb, if you hold your mouth right.

Author's Notes: Starrunner and Cobweb are my offspring, my beloved children. All others belong to acronyms. 9620 words.

-:-radio transmission-:-

The sense of panic wore off and he rested. He had no feeling for how long it had been since the fight: his internal clock was not functioning. He could not feel the connections to it. Searching more thoroughly, he could not feel any connections. He could not feel the empty connectors for his missing transceiver, could no longer detect the repairs Ratchet had made to his plating, could neither hear nor see nor sense anything, not his optics, audio receptors or tactile sensors. He drifted in the sense of nothingness and wondered if he were dead.

In the quiet, the lack of stimulus, he had one sensation he could pinpoint: Cobweb's spark. He had never known why, or even questioned it, it was simply a fact that he and Cobweb each had a sense of the other. After the time that Shockwave shot him, Cobweb told him that he knew the moment it happened because Starrunner had been in excruciating pain and in fear for his life. It was how Cobweb knew to go find him, and where to look. Any spark-stirring, intense experience one had, the other knew. He thought about what he had felt from Cobweb, when he went to look for his friend to tell him about the order to leave for Nigeria, and regretted his behavior toward Cobweb. Everything he ever did, was to make our lives better, he thought, I wish I had understood. Cobweb had always been part of his life, had been there with him from the moment he became aware. I can tell Cobweb's spark is there, he thought, and I am thinking about it, so we are both still alive. He paused, not really thinking, just feeling relief. I was so intent on leaving, I did not think how it would affect him, he thought. I hope my absence is not hard on him. Perhaps he is relieved that I am gone. He probably has that Triple-changer to look out for him, now. Starrunner found that thought reassuring, as reassuring, now, as the thought that Cobweb was cultivating a relationship of any kind with Astrotrain had been upsetting at first.

A random thought passed his processor: Astrotrain hates Starscream. If he could feel his connection to his faceplates, he would have smiled to himself at that. Starscream's disdain for the flightless Cobweb might help cement his place in the Triple-changer's protection.

Starrunner reviewed everything that happened since leaving the Nemesis. He participated in the decoy mission over the Nigerian coast, pulled Starscream and the Dinobot out of the water, and helped the Air Commander back to base. He tried, and failed, to work up the nerve to again go to see Cobweb in the shop where he worked with Astrotrain; he went for a flight to clear his head instead. He decided that Cobweb was probably as right about the Autobots as he had been right about anything: if they won over the Decepticons, the non-combatants - like Cobweb - would be spared, reconditioned perhaps, and taken in as refugees to a peaceful if inefficient culture. If the Decepticons won, they would exterminate every Cybertronian who ever wore the red badge and probably proceed to fight among themselves forever. He remembered Cobweb explaining it to him, one morning when he could not recharge:

If we stay and the Decepticons win, our lives go on. The same. Never changing. If we break away without a way to prevent someone looking for us, he paused and Starrunner knew he was regretting the lost opportunity to make their transport from Cybertron appear to malfunction, we suffer the same fate as an Autobot: terminated without a second thought. If we stay here and the Anarchobots win, they might imprison us for a while. Rehabilitate us. If we cooperate, we'll have freedom. Unless something drastic changes, I don't believe the Autobots have a chance to win. Or negotiate peace. They lack discipline.

For all of Shockwave's programming and teaching about the lofty goals of efficient existence, Starrunner was still not convinced. The more he thought of it, flying over and around the mountains of western China, the more he appreciated the chaotic beauty of Earth, the inefficient use of space and resource that this planet - this living, thriving planet - represented. He tried to imagine what Cybertron must have been like when it was teeming with life, with the disorder Shockwave so disdained. We cannot force order on life, he thought, even on mechanized life like our own. He had been at this battlefront long enough to have seen the enemy in action. I can choose for myself, he thought, to get Cobweb a better life. I can help Number Four win.

He was flying fast, feeling lighter after having sorted through his own philosophy. Number Four will not destroy me without making use of what I know. He may not destroy me at all if they can use air support. Remembering the purposefulness of Number Four's incursions into their base, he skimmed through the cold water that seemed to leap joyfully from one high plateau to a lower one and realized the other Seekers had found him. He moved away, trying to get out of sensor range; they followed, and he ended up in a fight for his life, struggling against three experienced fighters. Thundercracker and Skywarp were mostly playing with him, but his jet form was tough, based on a MiG. He broke away from them and rammed Starscream, tearing a long gouge in the Air Commander's fuselage. If he could damage Starscream enough, he would call a retreat, Starrunner knew. But Skywarp teleported near them, directly above him, and Thundercracker hit him from below, nearly crushing him between them. He broke away and dove, faking the crash in Mongolia. While he waited with all the systems he could spare powered down, anxious to see if they would come down to complete his destruction, he resolved to get his databanks to Number Four. When breems had passed and his passive sensors picked up no sign of them, he powered up his active systems. With neither radio functionality nor long-range scans, he navigated on visual cues. He made his way over the pole to the other hemisphere and a known Autobot patrol route.

He was only partially conscious when Talker and Stalker found him. He remembered his first meeting with Number Four, a Cybertronian who was even more reasonable in direct contact: how many of his fellow Decepticons would have helped him stand when part of his transformation sequence failed? If Starscream were not watching, he always suspected Thundercracker would have been nice to him, and Skywarp indifferent, but Starscream seemed to take an intense dislike to him the first time he transformed from MiG to biped. And then there was Swoop, and Ratchet, medical professionals who did not know him at all, caring for him with gentleness that rivaled Cobweb's. Inefficient, Shockwave had that right, but having been on the receiving end of both, he'd choose that wasteful care given a stranger over the efficient, impersonal treatment the Decepticons generally espoused. The medics did not think twice, treating even a prisoner as if his life had value for its own sake, regardless of what trouble he might bring to their cause. Undemanding generosity. Starrunner had only encountered that in Cobweb before, and it seemed to be a matter of course for everyone here.

In the days preceding the attack Starscream led on the Autobots, Starrunner met no one who displayed any personal fear of him. Granted, he was unarmed and had tried to make it clear that he wanted to assist them, but everything he'd ever been taught about the Autobots said they were cowards, inept fighters who grouped together for strength in numbers, ground-pounders who feared the Decepticon flying strength. Wheeljack always brought a Dinobot with him when he checked on Starrunner's work, but he did it with the air that he was socializing the Dinobot more than protecting himself from a potential threat. I was just another worker, someone to get to know, he thought, fondly remembering all the time Number Four spent talking with him. Lord Prime had to know what they were here for, he thought, yet he fought them himself. They all fought rather than turn me over. For me. Lord Prime, Number Four, Prowl, Swoop and his brothers, Ironsi- hide, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, even the great one who stays outside. Sunstreaker must have been badly damaged when we hit the ground...

He was consumed by worry for Sunstreaker and the other Autobots when he registered he suddenly had access to a vocalizer and sensors.

-X-X-X-

Executive decisions may be you Prowl's function in life, Swoop thought as he registered Prowl's determination to leave the repair bay, but that not mean you make them in vacuum. Swoop knew he might not be able to keep Prowl there, but that did not mean he had to let Prowl leave without protest. Swoop placed himself solidly at Prowl's side and crossed his arms over his chest in his best imitation of Ratchet's displeasure. He shook his head. "No. You Prowl need more time to heal. Him Ratchet say new doors nearly done, maybe one more day." Prowl had a pained expression on his normally stoic faceplates as he tried to sit up straight on the repair table. "You Prowl in pain, me Swoop see." He softened his posture, deciding sternness may not work as a tactic against one whose primary demeanor was more so than anything he could muster. He reached out to steady his patient with one hand, reaching for a dose of pain killer with the other, "Let me Swoop do job, please? Give medicine for pain."

Prowl overrode him. "No, Swoop, no more pain medication. It makes all my processes slow." Leaning heavily into Swoop's grasp of his shoulder, he swung his legs over the side of the table.

Ratchet had only moved him to the 'recovery area', as he called it, that afternoon. Swoop was not sure if Prowl realized that. Ratchet did not expect him to get this energetic for at least several more hours. Must be good sign, he thought.

Prowl schooled his expression away from the grimace of pain, almost succeeding in attaining his normal lack of expression as he made optic contact with the medic. "Let me go do my job, Swoop. Let me go to my office. I can rest my frame there and still do the work that has piled up." He paused, processing. "Is this Thursday?"

He was off by a day, which was not surprising considering how close they had come to losing him completely. No more than Prowl had been aware of his surroundings he was making a very good guess at how long he'd been in and out - mostly out - of consciousness. In four days, Swoop had only known he was alert for a few minutes, and those for very specific reasons. Swoop realized why Ratchet always moved recovering patients to the tables along the wall: Prowl could only leave the berth one way, making it easier for an attendant to prevent him leaving, or at least prevent him injuring himself in trying to leave. He shifted to allow Prowl room to move his legs, never letting go of his shoulder. "No. This Friday. Time twenty-two-oh-three." If Prowl would not stay for his own sake, maybe he would stay for Swoop's: "You Prowl get me Swoop in trouble if you leave now. This one thing him Ratchet tell me Swoop specifically, you Prowl need more time to heal."

"Swoop, please. I am leaving now." He pushed off the table.

Swoop caught him with a gentle hand on either shoulder. Prowl seemed like a large mech, in Swoop's imagination, until Swoop stood this close to him. He realized the second-in-command was not even as big as Ratchet, significantly smaller than Swoop. Presence, he thought, not about volume, about presence. Swoop truly felt for his injuries, well able to imagine what it must be like to have one's wings so damaged as to have them completely removed and rebuilt. He tut-tutted in sympathy. He had one more angle to try, as Ratchet taught him: appeal to your patient to deny his own worse nature. "You Prowl stubborn, him Ratchet say."

Prowl did not acknowledge the statement. "Let me go to my office. Swoop, that is an order."

"Mmmh," Swoop knew how Ratchet would respond to such an order, but his mentor had told him that when Prowl felt strong enough to pull rank, they should let him go. To force him to remain past that point might have Prowl fretting and fuming enough to hinder his internal repairs.

Prowl slowly started toward the door, Swoop supporting every move. He was clearly in pain and off-balance, lacking two appendages that he probably did not even realize were a significant part of his inertia. Even if his systems were not supporting extensive self-repair, the lack of his door-wings would certainly hamper his ability to maintain his equilibrium.

Also, no matter how determined he was, Swoop knew there was no way his patient could make it even half way to his quarters. They stopped several times en route, pausing longer each time. He marveled at Prowl's will and almost offered outright to carry him, but Ratchet said a patient should be allowed to find his own limits as long as he was not doing additional damage to himself. It was awkward, pulling Prowl up against his side, being careful to touch only his shoulders and arms, staying away from the incomplete repairs to his back, but Swoop took absolutely as much of his weight as he could. You Prowl not to be left alone, that sure. He recalled a bit of conversation he'd overheard before the battle that left Prowl in this condition: someone told Ratchet that living space was being reallocated to make room for their new 'recruit' and this addition meant even the executive officer would have a roommate. That bot not like you Prowl much, Swoop thought, remembering the bitterness he thought he heard in the speaker's voice as he explained that Jazz, as closest in rank and seniority to Prowl, had received that 'sentence'. Whoever it was went on at some length about how boring and regimented the tactician was. Swoop disagreed with the idea that it was such a terrible deal for Jazz: Prowl was probably the quietest person in the Ark. Living with his brothers, who were only quiet while a fight was brewing, Swoop thought the XO's reserve would make him a great roommate. Shuffling along the corridor toward the command offices, Swoop was impressed with his patient's determination and calm acceptance of his support. Even him Jazz can't be boisterous all time, Swoop thought. Good friend, visit you Prowl in medical. If Jazz not there, me Swoop stay. Ratchet know where to look.

As they made the last turn before Prowl's quarters, he sighed and said thank you, as if he realized he could not have done it alone.

"You Prowl welcome," Swoop said at a similarly low decibel.

"Swoop! Man, Ratchet'll have your platin' for lettin' Prowl outta medical!" Jazz appeared as if Swoop's thoughts had summoned him. He hurried up to them and supported Prowl's other side, similar to what Swoop was doing but with an arm around his waist below the door-wing attachments. "Glad to see ya out an' about," he said, moving with them.

His friend's assistance seemed to give Prowl a boost. "Swoop, you are not to raise Ratchet on my account," he ordered.

Jazz keyed open the door; Swoop thought that confirmed his change in living arrangements.

Prowl continued, "When he arrives at medical in the morning will be soon enough to tell him where to find me." Once inside Prowl's office, the anteroom to their quarters, Jazz helped Prowl the last few steps to sit at his desk. Swoop was simply too big to fit behind it and help Prowl settle comfortably. Prowl looked up at him, leaning exhaustedly on the desk. He could not sit back if he wanted to because of the state of his back. Even with Swoop supporting nearly all of his weight as they went, he was spent. He sounded like he barely had enough energy to run necessary systems, let alone his vocalizer. "Do you understand, Swoop? Let Ratchet have his normal recharge cycle. Wait until he gets there in the morning to tell him I excused myself from the repair bay."

Swoop placed his hands on the desk and leaned down to look his patient in the eye. "Aye. Me Swoop not rouse him Ratchet for this." Glancing at Jazz, he removed his notes and four doses of pain killer from subspace and held them out to Jazz who received them gingerly. He issued an order of his own, optic-to-optic with Prowl, "You Prowl too stubborn to take pain killers in repair bay but me Swoop know, necessary for solid rest. Me Swoop trust him Jazz call if you Prowl have difficulty. Him Jazz sharp." Prowl may not have received that direction clearly, but Jazz did. Satisfied that a concerned friend would encounter less resistance than a medic, Swoop left. There was another patient who needed his attention, and was in no condition to protest.

Ratchet was going out on a limb. Calling it a valid training exercise for Swoop, he guided his protege in building a new form for Starrunner. Ironhide was supportive of that effort, even stopping by a few times to check on their progress. Jazz and the Lamborghinis were all for it, trying each in his own way to sway Optimus Prime to give full approval to the rebuild. The Prime had one reservation: he wanted to know what Prowl thought. Swoop knew Jazz would not hesitate to push Prowl to side with him and the others, but Swoop wondered how much cooperation Jazz was likely to get from Prowl. If Prowl not fight when Jazz offer pain meds, him Starrunner have good chance, Swoop thought, resuming his current task of spinning Wheeljack's super-alloy into kilometers of fine wire for Starrunner's nervous system. Believe that when it happens!

Ratchet's console chirped for attention. It was a text message. Swoop paused his spinning and leaned his large frame over to look at the screen. The missive was from Prowl's account: I'm leaving the door receptive to medical override. If you leave the special energon for Prowl on the desk I'll make sure he takes every drop of it. -Jazz

Swoop marked the message as received and sent a crested smiley in answer: ~. Glad Jazz had read his notes so quickly, he reviewed the instructions for making the enriched energon Ratchet prescribed. It had a shelf-life of only groons (which Swoop converted immediately to several hours) so he set an internal alarm for 0400 thinking that would leave Jazz most of the morning to convince Prowl to drink it down.

He had kilometers of wiring to spin.

-X-X-X-

It was days after Prowl excused himself from medical when Jazz approached him with his idea. Prowl was not amused. He scowled at his desk, then looked back up at his friend. "Sit," he said, indicating the chair across from him, "and tell me exactly how you think that will help."

Jazz beamed, clearly believing that if Prowl were listening to him, he was going to win his approval. He sat in the indicated spot, gracefully claiming the XO's attention. "I'm good at what I do," it was a matter of fact. "But even after havin' the better part of four days to mine Starrunner's processor," he referred to the interval between Starrunner's arrival and the attack, "my knowledge of the 'Con base is nothin', next ta his. We need to know what's goin' on with Megatron, why we haven't seen him much. If they're havin' a mutiny or somethin', it'd be an opportunity to do serious damage, maybe help the split be permanent."

"If they are in mutiny, you will be walking into a war zone. If there were a mutiny there, it would probably be led by Soundwave: we have not seen him in action in months. That implies he has been working in stealth." Prowl paused, door-wings twitching in thought. "There is a ninety-two percent probability that any internal action attempted by his own people would be halted quickly and viciously by Megatron himself. No trial, no questions asked, just death by fusion cannon. No. I cannot approve your plan. You would be without available back-up. Alone."

"That's why I wanna try this. I wouldn't be alone, I'd have someone along with me who had an insider's knowledge of the place." Jazz leaned forward, "Insider's knowledge about the leadership styles of Megatron's lieutenants, too. If the Slag Maker's just cleanin' house and sent Starscream's crew to deal with the loose end we held, I can get out as easily as I can get in."

"You are assuming Starrunner will cooperate." Prowl held up a hand, a signal for Jazz to let him finish, "We cannot ask him until the most controversial part of your plan has already been implemented." He paused, logic center searching for the most disastrous scenario. "If he overwhelmed you, he could be an infiltrator among us. In your form, an enemy could do any amount of dire injury to us before we knew. We might not be able to spare your life in subduing him."

"I already talked to Ratchet about it. He'll put partitions in place. And I'm willin' to be put off-line for a while to let you and Ratchet talk to Starrunner directly about it. I would not be present in any significant way."

"That is another problem with your idea. You are the one who has the greatest rapport with your informant. It would be best if you spoke with him about it and Ratchet and I monitored your exchange."

"Ratch' offered a way around that, too," Jazz played his trump card, an available way to talk to Starrunner that did not require Jazz himself to be off-line.

-X-X-X-

In the repair bay, Ratchet was copying Red Alert's entire CPU into three shielded, rad-hardened processors. After exhaustive scans, he determined that part of the security director's recent rapid degeneration was due to a sensitivity to signals of all kinds: microwaves, radio frequencies the humans used, even cosmic rays. He devised a voting scheme for the three so that Red's spark would still have one set of information to go on, one signal to read directly. He might still over-react to the information he received, but it would be filtered information, determined by at least two of the three processors. If they all three disagree, you may lock up but you won't be shooting any of us again, Ratchet thought.

Jazz opened the door to the shop, knocking rhythmically as he did so to keep from startling the medics. Prowl walked in past him.

Ratchet was immediately concerned. Swoop had recruited Jazz to help with Prowl's rehabilitation; seeing him escorting Prowl back to medical made Ratchet uneasy. He'd only reattached Prowl's doors two days past and had a moment of doubt when he worried he hadn't scanned them thoroughly enough. He nodded at Jazz and asked Prowl, "How are the new doors working out?"

Prowl halted. Although his facial expression didn't change, Ratchet got the impression that his own repairs had been the farthest thing from his mind before Ratchet spoke. "They are functional, if a bit sensitive." His door-wings twitched a little as Jazz breezed past, as if to demonstrate.

Jazz wasted no time in getting to business. Prowl's doors were not it. "Can we put Red Alert's shell to that good use we talked about, Ratch'?" He stood near the table on which lay the parts he knew were the necessary components of another mech.

-X-X-X-

The vocalizer and sensors were not his own. They were different than he was used to, but perhaps he had suffered so much damage that they had been replaced completely. No matter, he was able to make them work. He could hear others around him. "Ssss-" he tried to ask about the yellow warrior whose welfare pried on his mind. "Sssuuuun-" the unfamiliar sound of the vocalizer was throwing him off. He cycled his cooling system - even that felt strange, new to him - and made it work. "Sunstreaker. Did he survive the crash?"

Two Cybertronians laughed: Number Four and Ratchet sounded relieved. Another drew air sharply through his intakes. A fourth, Prowl, answered him. "Yes, he did. He has been concerned for you. Do you remember your own name?"

Settling into his new skin, he found the gain on all the sensors turned up too high for his comfort. He adjusted them, bringing his optics on-line. "Yes sir, I remember. I am Starrunner." He looked up from the repair table on which he lay and met four sets of optics in turn: Prowl, Ratchet, Number Four and Swoop. "He- he's been concerned for me? How are the others who were in the fight? Did everyone survive? Are- are you all right, Prowl-sir?"

The looks that passed the faces of the four Autobots standing over him were telling. Number Four was his usual smiling self, looking pleased to see Starrunner. Prowl wore almost no expression at all, but he imagined Prowl was approving of his questions. Ratchet was busy watching the monitors over his new form, making notes in a datapad. Swoop looked relieved but somehow disturbed. Prowl answered his questions. "Yes, Sunstreaker has been to see Optimus Prime and myself several times, expressing concern in his own way that you be rebuilt. Everyone survived and has been repaired, including me. Thank you for asking."

"Re- rebuilt, Sir?"

"Hasn't happened yet, Sparklet," Ratchet growled, "your form was destroyed. Swoop's building a new one for you but Jazz wanted to talk to you so bad he convinced me to let you borrow this one. Don't get attached to it."

Alarmed at the CMO's words, Starrunner exerted some effort and lifted first the head and then the left arm of the form he currently wore. A gray hand at the end of a white forearm responded; he could see a fire chief's shield emblazoned in red on the white automobile hood that was now his loosely-latched chestplate. He flexed the fingers, then reached tentatively for Swoop's hand. The young medic took the dark hand gently in his own light gray one, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else but choosing to stay and offer comfort. The touch grounded Starrunner, made him feel solid again, lessened the disorientation he had in this borrowed form. "Red Alert. You have let me borrow Red Alert's shell. Where is he?"

"He's doing better now than he's been in a while," Ratchet replied lightly without answering the question, "I think when I put him back in his own plating, he'll be more comfortable in it. You immediately turned the gain down on almost everything. That confirms something I've suspected for a while: that overgrown smoke detector tweaked them up past their limiters. And tweaked some more to hide it from me."

Registering that Ratchet had explained all he cared to about his other patient, he turned to look Number Four in the face. "Num- Jazz, Sir, what did you need to talk to me about?"

-X-X-X-

To say it was strange to hear Starrunner's speech patterns from Red Alert's vocalizer would have been an understatement. No, Jazz had never heard anything so dislocating. He kept smiling, trying to keep from showing how much it disconcerted him to see Starrunner this way. No wonder Prowl didn't want to go straight to the plan, he thought, he and Ratchet would hear him comin' through me and... he suppressed a shudder, Swoop's creeped out enough for all of us.

He watched as Red Alert's hand - Starrunner's hand for the moment - reached out to Swoop, asking and sharing comfort from the only other person who was openly affected by the strangeness. Starrunner asked about Red Alert. Most of us wouldn't have thought twice about that fra-, Jazz stopped himself, consciously trying to forgive Red Alert and not curse him for problems not completely his fault. Ratchet responded, assuring Starrunner that Red Alert would be better since the adjustments Starrunner made to his sensors. He asked why Jazz had him placed in this position.

Jazz tried to make his smile conspiratorial, as if this were just part of the plan. He met Red Alert's bright blue optics and had to remind himself who was behind them. "Starrunner. I think it's time to go back into the 'Con base. Find out if the Slag Maker's lost control of his minions, see which of his lieutenants holds power, or has gotten himself fragged by a fusion cannon. Will ya help me?"

Starrunner answered in the affirmative, trying to sit up in the larger, completely different body. Swoop and Ratchet helped him. Jazz watched, thinking, This is by far the most cooperative Red Alert has ever been. Ratchet went back to the programming effort he was working on when they walked in. Swoop resumed cradling one of Red Alert's hands in his own, very likely remembering the first few moments when he became aware in his current large, unaccustomed frame. Prowl stood at the foot of the repair table, looking approving and supportive in his understated way.

More comfortable conversing from his new position, Starrunner reiterated his answer: "Yessir, Jazz-sir, of course I'll help any way I can."

"You should hear what he has in mind before you agree, Starrunner," Prowl advised.

Jazz shot him a look. Prowl's facial plating gave nothing, but he flashed an optic at the spy. Starrunner watched that subtle exchange and squeezed Swoop's hand nervously. Swoop made a small, strangled squawk. Before Jazz could explain, Starrunner defended his answer, "No, Prowl-sir, I meant it."

Jazz explained his plan. Prowl offered mostly helpful additions, running and re-running scenarios as Starrunner gave them more details. The tactician only occasionally contradicted one of Jazz's notions, usually resolved within moments by something Starrunner remembered. Swoop's presence seemed to ground Starrunner; Jazz was glad of the sturdy Dinobot's perseverance in staying with his patient. He was nearly satisfied that having Starrunner aboard his own frame would be a significant advantage while infiltrating the Decepticon base when Starrunner offered what could be a very big kink in the smoothness of the plan.

"Jazz-sir, may-" he hesitated, and Red Alert's head dropped, optics off, "may I ask a favor of you?" His hands gripped Swoop's and the other edge of the repair table firmly, as if to prevent him from slipping off it.

Jazz and Prowl made optic contact, and Prowl dimmed his once, an affirmation, a vote of confidence. "What do ya have in mind, man?" Jazz asked brightly.

Starrunner seemed to register the non-committal nature of that response. The white faceplates shifted uncomfortably. He powered up the blue optics and looked at each of them, Jazz, then Prowl, then Swoop. He seemed to address Prowl. "My friend, Cobweb. I need to talk to him if I go back there. I- I'd like to bring him here, now that I know what it's like. He said we were better off among the Decepticons because if you won, we could throw down arms and be spared, but if we were among you and the Decepticons won, we'd be destroyed. He did not want to come." He turned to Jazz, but could read no more in Jazz's smile than in Prowl's face, so he ended up focused back on Swoop, who was openly processing every word, sharing his concern for his friend. "If he sees that you are such sharing Cybertronians, that you, the one I thought to approach, are willing to go so far as to share your form with me to give me a chance to talk to him again, he may be swayed." His gaze made the rounds of the table again, from Swoop to Prowl to Jazz. Jazz was no longer smiling. Red Alert's faceplates gave every bit of earnestness they could project. "By now he will have heard the story of the attack from the other Seekers: he works closely with the Chief Mechanical Officer and Starscream will have bragged about it while he was in for repairs, I'm sure. Cobweb knows my spark is not extinguished. He may even be able to tell I'm close when you carry me into the base."

There was a long pause during which Ratchet looked up in concern at their silence. Then, "You and Cobweb are ... spark-bonded?" Prowl asked, as delicately as he could.

Jazz was speechless, wondering that such an obviously young mech would already make such a commitment to another. And hide it so easily from Jazz's subtle probing! Starrunner had always referred to Cobweb as his friend, never partner or bond-mate or anything more telling. If he kept that a secret, what else might he have hidden from me? He must be a consummate Decepticon!

Swoop's optic-ridge furrowed in thought. He shifted his grip on his patient's hand, and patted the shoulder-tire encouragingly.

"Sir? Spark-bonded? No, I don't think so, Prowl-sir. We just ... know ... certain things. When something happens that affects one of our sparks, the other ... knows. I'm sorry. I- don't have better vocabulary to describe it. Cobweb has always been my friend, from the astrosecond I became aware. He has always known when I was truly, deeply afraid for my life, or affected drastically at all. And I've always known when he felt anything ... intensely." Red Alert's expression became introspective, as if Starrunner were remembering something with regret.

"D'you think that if I give you control, to talk to him, he'll recognize you and not shoot us?"

Red Alert's optics brightened and he leaned slightly toward Jazz. Starrunner said, "I know he will know me, Jazz-sir, and never fire."

-X-X-X-

Jazz was on-call that evening. He was more concerned for the evolution he planned to undertake the next day. Prowl was reading something at his desk in the office that was the anteroom to the quarters they now shared. Jazz went and sprawled in one of the chairs across from his friend. He didn't say anything, helmet leant against the chair back, arms hanging limply at the sides outside the frame of the chair.

Prowl continued to read whatever it was.

They stayed that way for a couple of breems, Jazz actually nervous about a mission of his own planning for the first time in memory worth accessing. He was about to say something, just to have something else to think about, when the tactician spoke up.

"If they are not spark-bonded," he said, "then there is a ninety-six percent probability that Starrunner is Cobweb's offspring. They could be part of a defunct or failed gestalt, but that possibility is slim."

"I dunno," Jazz folded his hands over his abdomen and settled more completely back into the seat. "I didn't think he was hiding anything from me. He's always come across as purely open an' honest." He shrugged. "Which would make him a very skilled Decepticon. He only refers to Cobweb as his friend, and that not often."

"Do you think he's lying?"

"Truly, I don't. But..." Jazz let his head fall back.

"I've been doing research on connections that affect our sparks. Gestalts that break up or fail occasionally result in long-term bonds among the remaining members. Those are usually painful, sometimes debilitating for the affected transformers, so I do not find that likely to be the answer. Ratchet would have noticed if he were in constant pain from such a casualty and it would be a simple answer to many questions we've both asked him. I agree with you: I really do not believe he lied about anything. He may be mistaken on any number of points, but he answers us with what he has. Ratchet should have noted a spark-bond in the extensive scans he has done on Starrunner: according to this," he gestured at the screen before him, "they show up as an erratic spark-energy reading on the applicable scans, as if one combined spark were splitting time between two forms across any distance. It's a violent flickering of the bonded sparks. Field-bond effects are limited to a physical range, so if he is certain that Cobweb knows he still lives at the distance of our base to theirs, that is also not the answer. If we rule out a spark-bond based on his word and Ratchet's silence, we are left to believe he is Cobweb's offspring and simply does not know it. He said Cobweb has been a matter of course in his life, his friend for his entire existence." Prowl paused, leaning on his elbows over the keyboard. "If Starrunner's creators did not tell him how his spark was formed, that part of Cobweb's spark went to creating his, Starrunner would not know it. With his tendency to believe what he is told, he would not suspect it. As one of the donating entities, Cobweb would know." Prowl paused, and met his colleague's gaze. "From what I know of Shockwave, Cobweb might not have been willing. You said Starrunner referred to Shockwave as 'Master'," Prowl used the Cybertronian word, implying as much slave-owner as teacher. "Did it seem to you that his association with Cobweb was more of a contemporary, a fellow 'Student'?" Again, Prowl used the Cybertronian, with connotations of 'uke' and 'slave' as well as 'learner'.

Jazz looked away and thought for a moment, reviewing most of his conversations with Starrunner. He looked back toward Prowl, who was still watching him. "Yeah," he said slowly, "I had Cobweb placed firmly as Starrunner's brother. Like the Dinos. I figured their sparks were unrelated but their current forms were from the same maker, powered up near the same time." Jazz let his faceplates convey the distaste he found at the thought, "You really think Shockwave would do that?" Prowl nodded solemnly. "It would explain why Starrunner doesn't have any memory from a past form if Shockwave created a brand new spark using part of Cobweb's. D'ya think he-? Who could do that to one of his own creations!" Jazz found the thought too repugnant to speak.

"There are probably only two who know the answer to that, Jazz. You might be able to talk to one of them tomorrow." Prowl paused and added, deadpan, "If he doesn't shoot you first."

Jazz laughed. "You're gettin' better at that. That was actually funny."

Prowl looked relieved. "Good. I was trying to lighten the mood." He allowed himself a pleased smile: application of humor was a skill he lacked, but wanted to cultivate.

-X-X-X-

The procedure to transfer Starrunner's spark chamber and processors to Jazz the next morning went smoothly. Ratchet set up partitions so that neither could access the other's mind directly and gave Jazz an override in case he needed to reclaim control of his form from Starrunner abruptly. Starrunner, as usual, was nothing but cooperative.

I can't believe you are doing this, Jazz-sir, he sent to Jazz over their communication line.

It's necessary, Jazz sent him, then said aloud, "Let's try this: Starrunner, you're up!" and he abdicated motor control to Starrunner, sharing all sensory input.

For a processor cycle, Jazz's body was completely still. Prime and Ratchet exchanged a concerned look. Prowl stared. Then Jazz moved, but the body language was Starrunner's, seeming somehow more open, innocently looking at his own hands with wonder.

"Well?" Ratchet prompted.

Jazz's melodic voice answered him uncertainly: "Yes, Ratchet-sir?"

Ratchet clapped him on the back, "Smart-aft," he said, and smiled.

Prowl powered his optics off and back on as if resetting them. Prime held his hand out to the mech before them and they awkwardly shared the fighter's handshake, hands to each other's forearms. "You two come back in one piece. That's an order."

Starrunner was halfway through his normal affirmative response when Jazz tested his emergency override and grinned back at his friends, "No problem. We'll be back before ya miss us!" Sorry, Starrunner, had ta test the system, ya know? He released Prime's arm and hopped lightly off the repair table.

Yessir, Jazz! was the enthusiastic response. Anything his hero did was fine with Starrunner.

Jazz took his leave of them, going to meet up with Skyfire before he left to take his watch on-orbit. Now, don't ya be tellin' everything ya pick up from me, Jazz felt the need to admonish his passenger gently. He could tell that if he let Starrunner have his faceplates right then, he'd be grinning.

You can scan my processors when you like, Jazz-sir. Delete anything you prefer I not know.

Jazz smiled to himself, knowing Starrunner could feel the expression on his faceplates, I doubt that'll be necessary, just be discrete about things I can't hide from ya that ya know I'd rather not be known. I am trustin' ya here with precisely my life. He paused as he made small talk with Skyfire before boarding. You're gonna know more about me than anyone I've ever known.

Starrunner sounded knowing already when he responded, Except for Prowl.

Jazz laughed aloud at that, and Skyfire asked him what was funny. Yeah, except maybe Prowl, he allowed to Starrunner. "Just adaptin' to life as a multiple personality, Skyfire," he answered his transport. "It's no wonder gestalts tend to move slow, they've got five or six voices to listen to all at once."

The flight to his drop point was uneventful. Skyfire picked up no Decepticon activity whatsoever, not even any encrypted noise on the frequencies they used for their private conversations. At noon Ark-time, 0500 local-time, Jazz made his way into the underwater base.

He picked his way through the lower corridors. Being early in their nominal recharge time, he didn't expect to meet much traffic, and except for Starrunner, he believed he'd never been caught.

Starrunner had sense to remain silent and let Jazz do his job. That is, until Jazz did the thing that generally gave him away to Starrunner's senses. That!

Jazz held very still, a shadow in a camera blind-spot. What?

That move you just made! The shift of your right foot, that's what I always picked up on first. Can't tell you why it got my attention, Jazz-sir, but every time you came through here, you did that and I picked it out.

Jazz processed for a tick, senses extended, sure there was no one else anywhere near. Okay. I'll have to work on that. Is this the level to look for Cobweb?

Yessir he should be recharging now. Our quarters are past the others'.

Jazz slid past the open doors on that level that appeared to be storage rooms and work rooms for the less-destructive hobbies practiced by the Seekers. One showed an empty suite that was being cleaned out as if in preparation for occupancy. For the new Seekers, do you think? he asked, and received a mental shrug in answer from his passenger. Three doors were closed. Which one? Can you key it open?

The narrow one, Sir, Starrunner said definitively, and Jazz saw that one was clearly a storage room door, narrower than the other two doors by half a meter. Yes, unless Cobweb got permission to change the code.

He'd have to ask permission to change his own lock?

Of course, Sir, they're controlled from the main facility control center.

Jazz paused, overriding Starrunner's move to touch the key panel. So, if you unlock the door, even if the code works, someone in the main control center will know it was opened, possibly know it wasn't Cobweb who opened it?

I suppose so, Jazz-sir, but that would require effort and someone other than Cobweb to believe I might come back. Starrunner waited a tick, processing. He prompted Jazz to put his hand against the door panel and lean his more sensitive audio sensor against it. He's not here anyway. Let's keep moving.

Jazz moved on quickly, skirting sensors and silently passing up the lift-shaft. I heard nothing. There could have been a mech recharging in that room.

If Cobweb's recharging alone, it's not there, Starrunner said definitively. If he has a choice, Cobweb will only recharge with someone to watch over him. The only Cybertronian other than me that he even willingly talks to here, Sir, is Astrotrain. He could not fit in that room, even in several pieces. Jazz did not know who he was talking about, so Starrunner sent him an image from when he over-flew the Triple-changer and Cobweb after debarking the transport who brought them from Cybertron. If Cobweb must recharge without someone he trusts, I know every entry to his location will be energized, booby-trapped, somehow. As sensitive as they are, either your audio receptor or fingerpads would have detected it. Cobweb won't be taking chances.

Jazz filed the implications in that explanation away for later discussion. With Starrunner's guidance, he made his way to the level of the main workspaces. The place looked like the last time he was there. Only the mess made from his last sabotage effort had been cleaned up. Small projects, little weapons and test articles of various types occupied the tables of that room. The lack of change spoke of suspension of activity. Astrotrain's shop's just down the hall, Starrunner offered hopefully.

Let's go check it out.

They could not open that shop's door.

We could wait to meet Cobweb here.

With Astrotrain. Jazz was not asking, and he was not inclined to try to get past a mech that large, this far from his escape route.

Starrunner's communication was disappointed; Jazz could tell he was very much looking forward to seeing his friend again. Yessir. With Astrotrain.

Where does Astrotrain recharge? Jazz asked.

He shares a room with Blitzwing, the other Triple-changer. Starrunner shared an image of that little-known individual with his host. It's the forward compartment of the fifth deck.

Forward?

This way, Starrunner offered, again guiding his direction if not his actual movements up the lift-shaft, through access panels that had to be removed and replaced carefully.

We don't have a lot of time to get back out of here, Jazz noted. At the final portal, Jazz stopped beyond the range of its motion detector. You're sure mechs that large recharge here? He had a moment of doubt. The Triple-changers’ area was not as large as even one suite on the Seekers’ level.

Nigeria was two weeks ago yesterday, right? Starrunner asked, and received Jazz's affirmation. So, two weeks ago, yes, the Triple-changers recharged here, together, probably taking turns keeping an optic energized. After what I... Starrunner trailed off guiltily, then resumed, Cobweb should be with them since he's not in our quarters.

Jazz thought there was something Starrunner didn't want to admit he knew, but he was willing to let it slide. If Cobweb were the small mech in the image Starrunner offered of Astrotrain, and the Decepticons were as factious as he already knew they were... No, Starrunner, I'm sorry, I can't let that go. What makes you think the Triple-changers, huge 'Cons, proud of their extra alt-mode, would accept Cobweb among them? Unless Cobweb's got more alt-modes than that Cooper.

Starrunner was silent. Jazz moved farther away from the door, finding a camera shadow that he thought suited him. Cobweb ... found a way to make himself indispensable to Astrotrain. If Astrotrain wants to ensure his technician stays functional, he'll have brought him into the deal he has with Blitzwing.

Jazz's sensitive audios heard movement behind the portal to the forward section. He counted on his ability to become part of the landscape.

The door cycled open, "-a breem," a small black mech was saying apologetically in Cybertronian. Jazz recognized Cobweb from Starrunner's description. Something about him nagged at Jazz, but he thought he just reminded him strongly of Bumblebee: he was not many centimeters taller than 'Bee, only a tiny bit longer of limb. The door cycled shut behind the little Decepticon, who looked around the area suspiciously then headed for the lift. Passing within arm's reach of Jazz, he said clearly but at a very low decibel, "Follow me."

Jazz was taken aback. At Starrunner's excited prodding, he did as Cobweb said.

As he entered the lift, Cobweb looked at the camera and made a subtle gesture with one hand toward the right front corner of the box, and Jazz understood it was the blind spot. Cobweb leaned with his back to the camera so he could vocalize without watchers knowing. "Starrunner?"

Jazz allowed Starrunner to respond at a volume matching his friend's. "Cobweb! Number Four brought me. It's good to see you! Will you come with me?" Fluid, familiar Cybertronian, not the formal speech he had initially used with everyone.

"Starrunner!" Relief flickered across Cobweb's face. Jazz thought Shockwave must have been cutting corners: the poor mech had enough facial plating to be expressive but not enough to fully protect all the delicate lines and circuits inside his skull. The effect was an almost spectral appearance, unfinished or whittled-down. Looking at Cobweb, Jazz thought he learned more than he would have liked to know about Shockwave.

Starrunner was excited to see his friend. "Yes! They've been so welcoming and generous and..."

As Starrunner replied, happily extolling the Autobot welcome, Jazz thought it made perfect sense that his spark was created mostly from his friend, unwilling. Cobweb's form was clearly an experiment of Shockwave's design, more so than Starrunner's. Like Starrunner, Cobweb used little or no subspace. Shockwave, ever the advocate of ultimate efficiency, would not hesitate to split a spark destined for such a small frame. Inside his own processor, Jazz thought, He probably used just enough of his own spark-energy - or even someone else's! - to avoid the twinning effect. Cobweb's faction markings were odd. Jazz thought they were the same as Starrunner's had been: Prowl described them as black-on-black in his report on the Nigeria altercation. When Ratchet documented Starrunner's injuries, he said it looked as if someone tried to forcibly remove them, mangling the plating. Jazz saw that Cobweb's were really just outlines etched in his black finish; he expected Starrunner's had been the same. He left their badges unfinished because he didn't want to waste the purple pigment on them. Worse, he made the symbols part of their plating, not badges at all! Jazz felt anger for both their sakes, unable to choose for themselves at any point.

The lift stopped and cycled open. Cobweb stepped out and Jazz reasserted control, silently following Cobweb. "Duck," Cobweb ordered, using another hand motion to direct Jazz behind him.

Jazz followed the instructions, tucking down behind Cobweb as his fingers hit the keypad. Jazz flowed smoothly into the room, even matching Cobweb's footfalls, working out that the camera in the shop faced the door to catch images of who came and went, not interested in the work being done. As soon as they passed the work table in the center of the room, Jazz stood up, off-camera.

Cobweb spun around and grabbed him firmly by the forearms. "What are you thinking?!?" he hissed, optics white and snapping. "Number Four!"

Jazz had only seen anger, venom like this in one mech, one time he was captured during a raid on Cybertron. One of his captors, a big bot of Skyfire's build, had projected like this. He was taken aback. Starrunner was nonplussed: We've frightened him, he sent to Jazz as an explanation.

Cobweb was still speaking, "You'll get Starrunner killed with you!"

Jazz responded, "He's desperate for you to come with us."

Cobweb flashed his optics once, negative response.

"Why not?" Jazz and Starrunner both wanted to know.

"The Triple-changers will stage a coup. Our leadership will change. You must leave." He paused. "Starrunner?"

Jazz passed his motor control to Starrunner. Do you believe him?

"Please, come with us," Starrunner put entreaty into his voice that Jazz didn't know his vocalizer could convey. "Even if they succeed, you'll never be safe here." Yes. It is something he hoped to foment with Astrotrain, he answered Jazz.

Cobweb looked up into Jazz's visor; his expression said he wanted to believe it was Starrunner before him. His grip on the white forearms relaxed. "'Runner, there is no safe place with other Cybertronians. We're at war. The Autobots will never eradicate the Decepticons. As long as one who follows Megatron draws energon, there will be war. If they rebuild you, you will be destroyed again." Coolant leaked out around both the little mech's optics only to flow back under his plating farther down his face. Jazz was disturbed by the drastic change from rage to tears. Cobweb pulled, and Jazz knelt down. Cobweb looked resigned and very sad. He brushed his lip components against the front of the black helm as if he were giving a blessing. "Go. Make yourself happy as you can for as long as you can. I must get back to recharge." He made shooing motions with his hands, pushing them to stand up.

Jazz took control back and felt Starrunner despair. He noticed Cobweb pick up a chemical dispenser before they left the shop. He tried to distract Starrunner with small talk: You liked Alien because the hero's voice reminds you of Cobweb's.

They left the shop in the reverse of their entry, Jazz crouching this time before the smaller mech, preceding him out to avoid the camera watching the inside of the doorway. Starrunner sent him a subdued answer: I suppose so, Jazz-sir.

Back in the lift, Cobweb pushed two buttons, as if it were an accident. "After my level, the lift will continue to the lowest. Exit in a crouch, on the left. Stay to the wall for four meters to pass the last camera." Before the lift doors opened, he cast one more look at Jazz. Jazz knew Starrunner wanted control but was not comfortable giving it in that moment. He bid the little mech a silent good-bye, then turned his head to avert his optics, not wanting Starrunner to see what he suspected Cobweb was going to do en route to the room he shared with the Triple-changers.

I know about his habit, Jazz-sir, Starrunner explained sadly. He's always taken too much of that catalyst. It may be part of why he won't leave.

It explains the extreme emotion-swing we saw. He must've been comin' down.

The lift stopped at the lowest level and Jazz left it in a crouch, intent on keeping to the left wall. He nearly ran over a Casseticon not a meter from the lift. Instinctively, he grasped the small mech's shoulders to keep him from falling over, both primarily concerned with remaining invisible to the cameras. Rumble. Starrunner provided his name.

"You! Lemme go! I gotta make the lift!" Rumble hissed desperately, clearly afraid of consequences if he were caught, by someone not Jazz. Neither drew a weapon. "I'm not here, I never saw ya here! Lemme go!" The lift doors started to close. Jazz threw the little 'Con through them. "Thanks," he spat from the same spot Jazz rode down in, the blind spot.

There's more traffic the cameras don't see than do, he mused.

Don't doubt it, Sir, Starrunner confirmed, and my wings made it impossible for me to participate. It's as if the blind spots are designed for Cybertronians Cobweb's size.

Casseticons, Jazz concluded, leaving the last inhabitable area before his exit.

Yessir, Casseticons.

-X-X-X-

Wheeljack, as officer on duty that night, was roused from recharge by Cliffjumper, on communications watch. Only partially conscious of the action, he stood at the terminal in his quarters and answered the call. "Jazz is back," he heard Cliffjumper but did not immediately reply. Cliffjumper continued, "Wheeljack? Did you hear me, I said 'Jazz is back'."

"Yep, Cliffjumper, I heard you. Thank you for letting me know. Is he okay?"

A pause during which Wheeljack assumed Cliffjumper relayed the question to Seaspray, playing the vehicle for Jazz's extraction. Then Jazz's voice came through, relayed from the radio connection: -:-Yeah, 'Jack, I'm fine! Starrunner was a big help this trip. Could ya rouse Ratchet for me, though? I'm not ready to be a gestalt!-:-

"Sure thing," Wheeljack said, "what is your ETA?"

-:-Oh-fourrr-hundrred,-:- Seaspray's voice came through.

Checking his internal clock, Wheeljack set an alarm for fifteen minutes before that. "I'll make sure he's ready for you in the repair bay when you get here."

-X-X-X-

Everyone wanted to know what Jazz learned on his mission into the Nemesis with Starrunner. Figuring they could wait a couple of hours, his first stop was medical to have Starrunner's spark chamber and processors removed. Ratchet met him there despite the early hour. "Much as I enjoyed the company, I'm not equipped to be a gestalt. Havin' multiple personalities ain't for me!" he told the CMO.

Starrunner's adoration of his hero was not diminished by knowing all he now did, but he agreed it would be better to have that knowledge at a distance, separated by optics and sensors. I'm happy to have helped, Jazz-sir, he sent as Ratchet began the shut-down sequence.

Could not've done it without ya. See ya soon.

As of 24SEP2011, concluded in Finding the Center.