Chapter 5

Not that far away lay another base. From the outside, it looked surprisingly similar and on the inside, the differences were negligible as well. The one big thing that told every clueless visitor that this wasn't just another base, but an enemy base, was the Decepticon logo on every soldier and in the main command room.

Truthfully, they hadn't much trouble with the Autobot base. A few skirmishes here, a bit stolen information there, but most of the time the bases simply existed to protect the territory of either side and no base had the required strength to do more than that. And so they existed next to each other as neighbours that officially hated each other, but unofficially just lived their lives. Which was often, though no one would say it aloud, quite boring around here.

Soundwave, the base commander, liked the as peaceful life as you could get in a war base. Still, he did his job. And when his cassettes registered a new kind of contraband the Autobots spoke of in their comm messages and on patrols, he got curious. Something new happened, something had changed. And he wanted to find out what.

It wasn't very difficult to send a cassette into the Autobot's base. Which was the first hint that nothing major was planned. Soundwave would never admit it, but this came as a relief to him. But when his cassette, Ratbat, found what he was searching for... Soundwave was a bit surprised.

"Ratbat certain?" he asked while looking at the screens, that all showed a certain black and white tactician in various poses. Working at his desk, his aft as he was picking up data pads, his lips as he drank energon... altogether there were at least thirty pictures.

"Yes, yes!" came the excited answer. "They all wanted these, and the owner hid them away! Everyone has one or two of them."

Soundwave nodded. "I see. Order: Save pictures."

"I will!" Ratbat got to work. "Soundwave, why does everyone want these? They're boring pictures, he isn't doing anything on these!"

"Ratbat: Work."

"But I don't understand!" complained his youngest symbiont. "It's always sexy this, erotic that, wings elegant this, aft admirable that. And then they always talk about recharging in the berth and then interfacing." He stopped for a moment to think. "What is interfacing anyway? Is it like a processor purge during recharge?"

Soundwave froze. "Ratbat..." He had no choice. If his creation asked, it was time. "Answers: After mission."

Ratbat was excited. "Okay! I'll hurry!"

The little one returned successfully from his mission, and Soundwave carelessly uploaded the pictures on the mainframe. They were not worthy of any security clearance and now he really had another kind of problem. Interfacing education was a sensitive subject.

So for once thoroughly distracted, he didn't see the seeker in the command room who had stared at the pictures in amazed fascination while working. When he noticed the next orn that the pictures had became a beloved contraband on his own base as well... well, he saw no harm in it.

Or at least he didn't see it, as long as any and all soldiers and seekers continued to refuse Ratbat's clumsy advances for interfacing. May Primus have mercy on the one stupid enough to even consider saying 'yes'.

0000

When Prowl woke, he felt worse than the morning after the party and that was saying something. For a moment utterly disoriented, he sat up nevertheless, helmet in his hand. Slowly he remembered what had happened, and worse, his conclusion. It all fit.

It was logical. But it also was... insane. Unreal.

For as long as he could remember, everyone had seen him as a bot nice on the optics, but devoid of any personality or, as they called it, boring. And now suddenly all this didn't matter anymore, because he was good in the berth?

"Prowl, sir, how are you feeling?" asked someone.

He looked up and found one of the junior medics in front of him with a concerned expression. "TuneUp, right?" he asked and received a surprised, pleased nod in return. Sometimes it helped to be responsible for everyone's schedule. "I'm better, thank you."

"You crashed, sir." He looked at his pad. "The check-up yielded nothing worrying, but Patch insisted that I should ask you if you know why you crashed..."

Nosy, always concerned medics. "I know why, yes. I just have come to a realization that was long overdue. It will not happen again."

"That's good, sir." TuneUp smiled. "Maybe you want a through check-up by me anyway?"

A thorough check-up...? Prowl's new found knowledge analysed the sentence and activated every warning code in his head. What should he do? Surely, TuneUp couldn't mean...

TuneUp's hand caressed his own hips. Primus. He meant it.

Prowl hastily stood. "I'm afraid I've got duties."

"Later, maybe?" suggested the medic hopefully. "You know, the medic bay is always open, but for you... I would consider working extra long... after all, one can never be too careful, right? And you're an important member of this crew."

Some strange, deeply buried part within Prowl had the instinctual need to start screaming and running away. "Thank you," he said, trying to sound normal. "If you'll excuse me now...?"

TuneUp's smile vanished and a deep sigh escaped him. "I hope to see you in the rec room soon. You should come more often and dance. It certainly made my evening at the last party."

Dancing... at a party? In public?!

Prowl turned in mortification and run.

Sadly, he learned something very important during the next few joors – a base that you couldn't leave can turn into a prison very very fast. Though Prowl wouldn't use the word prison.

Asylum was much more accurate.

0000

Prowl tried to get through his orn somehow. He followed his schedule religiously and was in his office as long as possible, but sadly this wasn't always. Such as now, as he stood with Skywinder inspecting the new weapons, developed in Iacon by Perceptor, the chief scientist, and Wheeljack. That Wheeljack's name had showed up at all on the list of developers had alarmed them all. His fame hadn't exactly come from reliable, non-explosive inventions. It was not chance that Prowl was at least two steps away from the metal case at all times.

"Skywinder, do you already know what it does?"

The flier nodded excitedly. Without an ounce of fear, he opened the case. "This beauty is really something special. It shoots explosive missiles over two quartexes wide, while this whole thing barely weighs more than a standard blaster."

"Impressive," said Prowl and made a note on his pad. "How is the accuracy?"

The technical data was exchanged for a few more breems, and Prowl was already starting to relax – then they went to the shooting range.

"Do you want to try? I think it's best if the data is collected close and personally," said Skywinder and offered the missile launcher.

He was right and so Prowl took it, only to find himself standing at the shooting range with Skywinder close at his back, showing him how to hold the weapon.

"Good," whispered the weapon master directly next to his audios. "A bit lower..." His arms touched Prowl's wings gently. Skywinder was a professional, his hands didn't wander, but he was too close to let it be chance.

Prowl felt his warmth, the soft vibrations of his engine through the sensitive doorwings. And he couldn't help but shudder. Behind him Skywinder chuckled, obviously pleased.

"Hold the weapon steadily. It's very accurate and the riflemech must be calm..."

And now Skywinder was teasing him. Prowl was sure of it! But he tried to calm down. To control himself. A hand was touching his left doorwing.

"I think a trained sniper could even use them over great distances to eliminate specific targets."

"I agree," said Prowl, just to show that he wasn't a bot to be seduced and played. "What scenario did you chose?"

"A small transport with four guards, two quartexes away." Skywinder's whole upper body touched Prowl's back – just for a moment. "I've heard you're quite good with the rifle, so I thought it appropriate."

"Good choice." Calm. He just needed to stay calm. Only then nothing would happen.

Another hand on his wing, he took aim. He shot.

"Direct hit. Transport eliminated." Skywinder's hand caressed the shoulders, then he stepped back. "Good work, Prowl. I see you're something on and off the battlefield."

"Thank you." Prowl gave him back the rifle.

Skywinder smiled. "You have the potential to be deadly with weapons. If you're ever interested in extra training of any kind, I would be happy to deliver." He stepped a bit closer to Prowl again. "After all, your frame is surely a bit unchallenged with all the desk work."

"A bit," admitted Prowl, accidentally telling the truth, because he really didn't know what else to answer. At the calculating glint in Skywinder's optics, he knew it had been the wrong answer. "Though I'm afraid the training will be strictly professional," he added quickly.

"Oh, don't worry." Skywinder's smile widened. "It will be."

Sudden overwhelming nervousness let Prowl fabricate a story about an important meeting and with relief, he hurried outside.

0000

Soundwave's network of spies and sensors was impeccable and so it was to no one's surprise that he registered the explosions in the no bot's land between their own base and the Autobot base D-A. A fast response unit with very good reconnaissance skills was needed.

He commed the perfect cons for such an job: ::Seekers, attention. Disturbances in sector F2343-W. Several explosions. Order: Search- ::

::Understood, Soundwave,:: came the fast answer of Nightshade. ::We're already underway.::

The base commander stopped for an astrosecond to think about the implications. Normally, the seekers hated to be ordered to do something. They were capricious creatures.

::Question: We?:: Never ask why. It would make them stop complying with his orders just out of spite.

::We as in Trine One, Four and Six.::

::... Nine seekers,:: said Soundwave before he could stop himself. That was thrice the amount needed.

::Correct, you can count!::

For a moment, the base commander considered ordering them back to punish them for insolence and … well, that was a problem, right? For once they were doing exactly as he wanted. Soundwave just had a bad feeling about the why. Surely they were flying enough in their free time? He hadn't restricted that in any way, mostly for his own sanity. No, for once he would just wait and see.

::Understood. Misson: Confirmed. Decepticons: Rise high..::

He logged out and leaned back. Waiting for the next explosions.

"Creator! Creator!" Ratbat flew inside, crying and distressed. "Rumble says that Seekers interface with everything, even their brothers and sisters in the trines! Is that true? Does that mean I have to interface with Rumble and Frenzy? Because they say I have to, but I don't want..."

Suddenly engulfed in anger, Soundwave knew where the next explosions would come from.

::Rumble, Frenzy. Command centre: Now.::

0000

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Sorry for the delay. Yesterday was a celebration day in both of our countries. ;-)

Have to admit this is one of my favourite chapters. I love Soundwave and his cassettes. ~silberstreif

On an important note: Starfire201 joined our team as a beta! We're both very happy about it, so all thanks to her!