Chapter Text
The next day, Soundwave was first up as always. He enjoyed the peace and quiet, the bridge’s consoles idling before the vehicons rose and filled the room with the sound of work. Out the viewports, the light of the not-yet-risen sun had swallowed all other stars, save for the last lingering jewel of Sol-2, or ‘Venus’ as Soundwave had discovered it was named.
The previous night’s events still ran through the silent bot’s mind. Habit urged him to brush off Starscream’s actions as a nuisance, but his practical side contested this notion. The seeker’s actions were getting bolder. Clearly, his failed assassination attempt in the spacebridge ruins had shown him that victory was indeed within his grasp—he only need keep trying.
And keep trying he had, as Soundwave had observed countless times via Laserbeak, ship security cameras, a tendril slithered into an adjacent room, and a dozen other methods of surveillance. Megatron boasted that nothing happened aboard the Nemesis that he was not privy too, and this was true, but it was always Soundwave who was privy to it first.
Heavy steps broke into the dark mech’s musings. Familiar steps. And exactly on schedule. Starscream, for all his lies, had told the truth about that at least.
“I trust all is quiet?” came Megatron’s rumble, as gruff as ever, but benign to his brother.
Soundwave half turned, and a silent communication passed between the two bots. No, things had not been quiet, but some was left to unfold before it need be discussed.
“I see,” was Megatron’s only response, before he turned and headed for the main viewport to gaze out over the morning cloudscape. Soundwave returned to his work, contemplating what methods the warlord might use to beat Starscream within an inch of his spark this time.
At last the vehicons filed in, and the bridge became alive with the sounds of consoles chirping, comms chattering, and the thud of footsteps. Morning had arrived at the Decepticon headquarters. Still, there was no sign of a certain seeker. Soundwave could feel Megatron looking at him quizzically, but the warlord made no comment. He knew the spy would divulge in good time.
The sun was well above the horizon when Soundwave caught movement in the corner of his visor. Not turning, he observed Starscream peeking around the doorway, crimson optics flicking between the sight of the Megatron’s broad back at the other end of the bridge, and a small cluster of vehicons. No doubt the seeker was hoping he could get in, issue a few orders to the troops, and get out without being noticed.
Starscream’s eyes widened, and he ducked out of sight a moment before Megatron’s footsteps reached Soundwave’s receptors, drawing up behind the silent bot.
“I see our late sleeper had finally roused himself,” the warlord remarked, keeping his voice low so that only Soundwave could hear. “Will you tell me now what is going on?”
Soundwave turned and paced toward the door on silent pedes, Megatron close behind. As they passed the threshold, the warlord barked out a command, drowning the surprised squawk of a certain seeker. “Starscream, watch the bridge. And please, do try to refrain from wrecking my ship.”
“O-of course, Lord Megatron,” the silver mech stammered out, trying to compose himself, but the two bots had already passed him by. He had scarcely had time to notice Soundwave during the brief encounter, but now a shiver rattled his plating at the recollection of the dark room, and the slender mech looming over him like death itself.
In a quiet, little-used corridor, Megatron and Soundwave sequestered themselves from any curious vehicons who might pass by. The moment Soundwave turned to face his brother, the warlord’s fiery optics narrowed.
“Your throat,” he said, placing a delicate servo beneath Soundwave’s jaw and tipping the silent mech’s helm up to expose the punctures marring the fragile mechanisms. Megatron did not waste time asking who the culprit was—that was all too obvious, instead turning to more practical questions. “How deep? Are they serious?”
The dark bot brushed aside his brother’s servo, echoing the warlord’s sentiment from Kaon in eons past: “’If you’re still venting, you can walk it off!’”
Megatron could not resist a chuckle at the other mech’s jest, but his optics quickly darkened once more. “Tell me everything.”
And Soundwave did, replaying upon his visor the previous night’s events as he had recorded them. Megatron saw everything as Soundwave had seen it—Starscream’s threats, his attempted blackmail, and the spy’s retribution. The visual went dead for several moments during the interval in which Soundwave had removed his visor, returning to the sight of the unconscious seeker. The warlord watched all in silence, his expression unreadable.
The recording ended, freezing on the sight of Megatron’s drugged form in stasis. The silver mech said nothing as Soundwave allowed his visor to go dark once more.
Then Megatron spoke, and his voice was like death. “I will tear out that treacherous cur’s spark with my teeth, should he dare lift a servo to you again.”
He gave a low growl, turning away from Soundwave as he strove to contain his rising temper. “Much as I would like to make his death last for an eon, he is more useful to me alive. But he will suffer for this nonetheless.”
The warlord looked back at Soundwave, one eyebrow arched. “Unless you would care to do it? It is personal for you after all, and you have not had a good torture session since the war. As I recall, you could be quite creative.”
The spy considered these remarks. Such an offer was tempting—retribution was indeed in order, for both him and Laserbeak. He held no qualms about inflicting pain, though he did not like the mess such visceral business often generated. Furthermore, his highly sensitive audio receptors did not appreciate the screams.
And, on a more practical note, exacting his vengeance on Starscream had a high chance to ruin his reputation as a spy. What had cost Starscream was his underestimation of Soundwave’s prowess. Best to keep if that way. If word got out that he was not the simple computer bot most supposed, then others would start taking notice of him, and Soundwave would not have that. His place was in the shadows, always watching. Such reasons were why he had declined Megatron’s offer of commander.
The spy shook his head. Megatron nodded, unsurprised, but his expression showed a little disappointment nonetheless. “A pity. But I shall gladly take recompense in your stead. A blow against you is a blow against myself.”
He started to turn away, but Soundwave stopped him, one last question on his mind. How had Starscream discovered that Soundwave had been watching him?
Megatron’s scarlet optics narrowed. “This I do not know. You are far too clandestine to be detected, and he far too incompetent to discover you. The only other who knows of your operations is…”
The warlord broke off, his expression morphing to realization, then incredulity. “Of course...the caves...when I was preparing to exterminate him…”
He clamped his mouth shut before he could continue, his face one of complete mortification, but Soundwave’s agile mind worked faster. Swifter than thought, the silent mech punched the other bot in the chassis, all his body language shouting out in mock offense: you thoughtless oaf, when will you learn to attach a brake on that motor-vocorder of yours, you fragging idiot ? Primus, you’re such a dunce!
“Yes, yes, I suppose I deserved that,” Megatron admitted gruffly, massaging his chassis where the other mech had struck it. How could one with such slender servos hit so hard? “You needn’t rub it in any further.”
He looked at Soundwave again, and his expression softened by a hair’s breadth. Eons of brutality had stripped him of the ability to do much more, but his brother evoked in him sentiments that had long since been desolate to any other.
“Swear to me that you will visit Knock Out,” Megatron insisted. He slid a servo beneath Soundwave’s jaw and lifted the dark mech’s head once more to observe the wounds. “Your vocorder is rusty enough without it getting infected. Primus only knows where that wretch’s claws have been.”
The warlord’s tone was slowly becoming harsher, and Soundwave knew he was getting himself worked up again. Even so, Megatron’s touch was always gentle with his brother.
“Now, I have business to take care of,” the silver mech said decisively, clasping his massive servos behind his back, once more the face of the Decepticons. “You may want to take your work elsewhere—I plan to make an example of Starscream before the whole ship, so I will need the bridge. I know you value your peace and quiet.”
Beneath his visor, Soundwave arched a twisted eyebrow, his posture posing the only remaining question: how long?
Megatron waved a dismissive servo. “I do not expect to see you again until tonight,” he said, then bared cruel teeth at the dark bot in a wolfish grin. “It would be best to see Knock Out sooner rather than later. I have a feeling he will be quite occupied for the next few days.”