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Shockwave’s voice was solid and strong, without a single crack or tremor to mar its perfection. No crackle of static, no sharp intake of breath, no stutter or slip of his glossa. However, the scientist had ever been frugal with his words, spending them only on what mattered; that is what made his next action so strange.
“Soon,” Shockwave offered to the empty laboratory.
The tank’s pistons hissed and sighed as he turned away from his worktable, scanning the dimly lit room. Click, click, click. Soundwave tilted his helm and listened as the lens in Shockwave’s optic expanded to let in more light. While it was impossible for the spymaster to make out any detail in the semi-darkness, especially with his failing eyesight, he hardly needed to. The creak and groan of pulleys and gears told Soundwave exactly where Shockwave’s gaze had landed.
::A little to your left,:: Soundwave corrected, pinging the other a string of text.
Scrape, thump, scrape. Shockwave’s pede dragged across the floor as he adjusted his posture. The steady hum of the scientist’s spark faltered, an uncharacteristic display of excitement. Soundwave’s spark cycled and flared in answer. Soon. It was not an idle promise, or Shockwave would never have uttered it.
The spymaster rocked to the tips of his pedes and reached out towards Shockwave, hesitating when his digits hovered just a millimeter from the tank’s forearm. Shockwave remained still, betraying no reaction. Even the hum of his spark had settled back into its regular tune. Oddly enough, it was that lack of response that gave Soundwave the strength to complete the action.
Soundwave’s hand skimmed across Shockwave’s forearm. He imagined his digits catching in rivets and seams, the pleasant warmth of another’s frame, the unyielding firmness of Shockwave’s alloy armor. Instead, he slipped through Shockwave as if he were a ghost.
Ever since becoming trapped in the Shadowzone, the spymaster had had to come to terms with being deprived of this primary sense. As a mecha who made his way through the world by taste, hearing, touch, and smell, being without one made all the difference. He had long since adjusted to the loss of his sight, but being unable to feel the world beneath his digits still pained him.
The sole blessing was that Shockwave did not have to bear witness to his current vulnerability. In the Shadowzone, Soundwave was beyond all of the scientist’s senses, the only method of communication being the brief strings of text that the spymaster pinged to him. That, too, was something Soundwave was eager to escape. With his sensitive hearing, he found speech to be a crude and ineffective method of talking. It was like screaming into a megaphone, especially when most messages could be communicated with the twitch of a digit or a nod of the helm.
That was part of the reason Soundwave found himself drawn to Shockwave. The scientist had a better sense of when to raise his voice than others, making sure that each statement was rich with meaning and possibility. “I require only a little more time to make my final adjustments. Once completed, the ground bridge should be optimized for deployment,” Shockwave said
The spymaster took a step back, giving the scientist space to work; in this, he was more than content to listen to what Shockwave had to say. There was a quiet clang as the scientist sorted through his toolbox. ’I will not leave you behind.’ The sweet, pungent scent of ozone drifted through the lab as Shockwave powered on the ground bridge. ’I have not forgotten you.’ The control console beeped and buzzed as Shockwave keyed in coordinates. ’You can depend on me to always be there.’ As always, Shockwave managed to have a complete conversation without words. His actions spoke for him.
The fact they were even here was all the proof Soundwave needed of the scientist’s dedication. After the Autobot victory over the Decepticons, Shockwave was the only one who had come looking for the missing spymaster, even when it would have been more than logical to give up the search. Tracking the energy signature of Soundwave’s final space bridge, one of Shockwave’s more brilliant ideas, was what had finally brought them back together.
“Ready?” Shockwave asked.
The scientist’s digits clicked, clacked, clicked across the keyboard as he typed in the confirmation code. The ground bridge onlined with a deafening hum, the noise so loud that it left Soundwave briefly stunned. He could no longer make out Shockwave’s movements in the midst of the cacophony, another sense swallowed by the Shadowzone; however, the spymaster had just enough vision left to make out the blue-green glow of the ground bridge.
He stumbled towards it, eager for what lay on the other side. Before he could make it all the way, though, he felt something brush lightly against his forearm. Soundwave stopped, shocked. It was the first touch he had felt in months. The spymaster scanned his surroundings for the source, but the smells and sounds of the bridge were so overwhelming that he felt as if he was drowning.
Shockwave gave a reassuring squeeze, finally guiding Soundwave’s gaze in his direction. He saw the scientist’s dark shape silhouetted against the light.