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Jazz reported for his debriefing still smelling of the fragrant plant life that flourished on the planet Luminous. He was still a bit disheveled, streaked with mud and carrying a few stray leaves, but the fragrance was pleasant and Prowl found himself glad that the saboteur hadn't stopped in the wash rack for a change.
Such things were often as close as the tactician came to field work, now.
"Brought you a present, Prowl," the visored mech announced, settling onto a corner of the Praxian's desk rather than into the chair set up for him.
"I assume it isn't the mud flaking off your plating," Prowl replied dryly, giving the other mech the faintest hint of a smile.
"Nope. That's just a bonus." Jazz reached into his subspace and pulled out a long crystal mounted on a base that looked like it had been part of a mural, once. It was clear at the base, nt shaded into a rich purple at the top, where more minerals had been included in its growth. A ring of smaller crystals sprouted from the top of the main growth, feeding on the additional minerals to sustain their own growth.
In Praxus, such growth was called a burst and they had been carefully pruned from the gardens lest they topple and damage other crystals when they became too top heavy. The tactician hadn't seen one in many vorns.
"It's lovely, Jazz." He gave the shorter mech a genuine smile, glad for such a small piece of his home--even if it hadn't come from Praxus. If he supported the upper crystals of the burst, he might even be able to coax it into continuing its growth with a proper application of mineral fluids. "Thank you."
"I give it in the fine tradition of my hosts on Lumious." Jazz returned the smile, and his tone suggested more than a simple gift from one friend to another.
Prowl resolved to do some private research, once his shift was over. But, before then, he needed the saboteur's report. "And how goes the local resistence against the Decepticon invasion?"
"Prowl, you would not believe these guys. They may be soft and minibot-sized, but a unit can take down a triple changer in about three joors. They only needed my help to destroy the buildings and the landing pad."
The Autobot second had a feeling this would be a fascinating example of local resource use. "Explain, please."
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Once Prowl had the time to himself--two full groons late, after an emergency planning session when Bumblebee’s infiltration mission to Darkmount fell apart before it even started--he settled into his room with a few old texts on the cultures and traditions of the natives of Luminous. They had been valued allies before the war, and several extensive studies had been made into the differences between an organic culture and Cybertronian.
Prowl wasn’t interested in the supposed differences between organic and inorganic life. He was interested in cultural specifics, and the relevance of the crystal burst Jazz had given him.
The Lumians, it seemed, used crystals in as many wasy as his own people had. They planted elaborate crystal gardens for newly wedded members of the tribe, they carved crystals into toys for their young, they adorned themselves with richly colored crystals for formal events and even carefully cultivated crystals into permanent buildings--a process that took several of their lifetimes. The crystal burst Jazz had given him, called a Soul Flower in the native language, was the most fascinating of all.
Soul Flowers were given as proposals of marriage.
The Praxian thought on the implications of the gift for a long while. Then he began researching the proper way to respond to such an offering.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
The box sitting on his desk caught Jazz's attention the moment he stepped into his office. Automatically, he set an alert to activate if he opened it and the contents were hazardous. The he sealed and locked down the room and did a scan for hidden explosives. He'd been number one on Megatron's hit list for a long time, and it was better to be too safe than kill everyone else on base if this was an attempt on his life.
It would hardly be the first one, after all.
His scans didn’t reveal anything hidden in his office, but didn’t count out a number of chemical concoctions that could be hidden the box and wouldn’t activate until exposed to the atmosphere. It was, at least, a relief to know it wasn’t an explosive device. Death by chemical exposure would be awful, but the security features in his office would keep it from spreading.
Cautiously, he approached the desk. Nothing changed as he came closer, and he would have felt silly if the Decepticons hadn’t tried to blow him up this way once before.
”Jazz, Red Alert reports a security lock-down on your office. What is your status?”
The saboteur flinched at Prowl’s unexpected comm. ”Sorry, Prowl. Should have called it in. Someone left a package in my office.”
There was a moment’s silence before the tactician replied. ”A silver package, clearly visible from the door?”
Jazz relaxed almost immediately. ”Yeah. You have something to do with it?”
”I did. I hope you forgive me. I had forgotten about the bomb until I commed.” Prowl sounded a bit rueful. ”I assure you, the package is safe. I left it just before your arrival. Sideswipe will not have had time to tamper with it.”
”You’ll have to forgive me if I worry more about Soundwave’s pests than ours.” Jazz kept his tone dry, but he was smiling. ”You going to stay on the line while I open it?”
”Yes.”
”All right. I’m opening it now, then.” Jazz reached out and carefully lifted the lid. Sitting innocently inside was a cloth-wrapped object. ”You stole one of Sunstreaker’s polishing cloths?”
”Bartered, thank you. Your gift required something of a delicate touch.”
”Oh really?” If he hadn’t already been curious, that statement would have made the saboteur tear into the package, regardless of any potential threat to his well being. Instead, he carefully lifted the cloth from the package and began unwrapping it.
His optics went wide when he saw the small tray of infant crystals--barely more than lacey flakes currently--settled carefully into a growth medium. ”Prowl, is this what I think it is?”
”In the tradition of the Lumians, Jazz.”
”Oh, Prowl. I really thought you’d say no. This is… so much more than I had hoped for.”
”My Jazz.” There was a soft chuckle in Prowl’s voice. ”Have I ever denied you anything?”
”Well, there was that time you wouldn’t let me have any of that high grade Mirage found in that old bar.”
”And you were highly medicated at that time. I would have rather walked unarmed into Darkmount than faced Ratchet’s wrath over letting your damage your systems further.”
”Fair point, we’ll let that one slide. So, how are we going to tell the boss we’re getting married?”
”I believe the better question is: How will we both be able to attend a ceremony in the Valley of the Sun, as tradition dictates, without the army falling apart in our absence?”