Chapter Text
Soundwave first heard it in the pits of Kaon. Or rather, he felt it. A deep, deep vibration that washed over him like the whole of the ocean itself, reverberating with frightful intensity through his spark. He had never felt anything like it, and all his curiosity was instantly set upon finding the source of the phenomenon.
But it did not occur again. At least, not for millions of cycles, so long that the dark mech nearly forgot about it. When at last his spark rumbled within him once again, Soundwave instantly recorded the sensation, desperate to prove to himself that he was not going mad. And for the first time in all the long eons of his existence, he turned his visored face upward, and wondered.
Kaon had no sky. At least, so it was to its inhabitants. Above those trapped within its clutches stretched metal and smoke, illuminated by garish, artificial light. It was possible at times to catch a glimpse of an open space, but beyond was only a dull orange hue, and no one could say if sky lay beyond, or merely another level of Cybertron’s endless metropolis. To many in Kaon, the open sky was a fanciful illusion. Some had gone their entire lives without seeing the sun.
But Soundwave had never bothered himself with such things. Why would he? The furthest back his memories reached were deep into the mines of Cybertron, where nothing lay above but stone and metal. Looking up was simply not relevant to him.
Besides, he had more important matters to concern himself with. Caring for his brood of minicons, preparing for the next gladatorial match, and ensuring that no jealous fighters were working to sabatoge him. Never before had he felt any inclination to seek out what lay above...until now.
“...concur, Soundwave?”
The dark bot looked up into a pair of electric blue optics. So wrapped up in his musings had he become that he had allowed the one speaking to him to lapse into his background processes.
“Pardon?” he said stupidly.
The enormous silver mech before him tilted his head, the tiniest smile appearing on his normally severe expression. “Thinking of other things?” he inquired. “Have Buzzsaw and Ravage been quarreling over who gets to sit upon your lap again?”
“Negative, the feud of--” Soundwave began a flustered reply, but his companion laughed, clapping the dark mech upon the shoulder.
“A small jest, friend,” Megatronus assured him, before his expression turned serious once more. “But it is not like you to at least pretend to be listening.”
Soundwave hesitated before answering. What could he say? He hardly knew himself what troubled him. A mysterious frequency with no discernable origin, save that it came from above, and had only occurred twice in the span of some millions of cycles. It could very well be nothing at all.
But Megatronus was far more learned than he. Perhaps he would have some knowledge.
“A frequency has come of exceeding curiosity,” Soundwave said at last. “It is appearing to be a note, but it is the deepest ever registered to me, for its oscillations are observed twice only in many millions of cycles.”
Here he allowed the recording he had captured to play, and it seemed as though the whole room shook under its intensity. Megatronus’ optics visibly flickered, and Soundwave knew his fellow gladiator’s spark was racing within him, just as his was.
The note faded, leaving the two bots nearly breathless in the silence that followed.
“Such might,” Megatronus breathed out, breaking the stillness. “How has all of Cybertron not shuddered at its touch?”
“Its knowing is not mine,” Soundwave admitted, involuntarily placing a servo to his chassis to still his thundering spark. “The noticing of it has been not to others. It is seeming as like a tremendous thing, an unknowable thing, were humming to itself from the deep.”
For several long moments, Megatronus said nothing, still processing the sensation of that sound. Then he shook his head. “This universe contains many wonders, some of which are best left undiscovered,” he said, averting crystalline optics from the readings upon Soundwave’s visor. His tone was dismissive, but Soundwave knew he was trying to convince himself that it was not fear which set his spark to shuddering within him.
Venturing to the surface proved a more daunting task than Soundwave had expected. Not for difficulty— the dark gladiator was a master of becoming as one invisible, which meant getting there was a simple case of waiting for the guard to change and slipping from the barracks—but for the uncertainty it presented. What would the surface be like? Soundwave had seen it many times via holograph, but the grainy, flickering images left much undiscovered.
As for Megatronus, Soundwave said nothing of his plans to his fellow gladiator. The silver mech clearly disliked the mysterious transmission, and was quite happy to forget the matter and leave well enough alone. Soundwave could not blame him—he also bore a strong aversion to the signal and the sensations it stirred in his spark, but his curiosity overrode his animus. He had to discover the source of the sound, even if it turned out to be something wholly uninteresting.
At last the ebony mech wedged himself into a shadowed corner, appearing as no more than a pile of scrap to the patrol that tramped past. The moment they were out of sight, Soundwave unfolded his long frame from hiding and stole down the corridor they had come from on noiseless pedes. Backpacked upon his torso was Ravage, who monitored the gladiator’s rear in case of the patrol’s return.
Reaching the lift, Soundwave set the command for the surface and allowed himself a moment to decompress as the door slid shut. The first phase of his plan was complete. B ut he was unsure if it had been the easy part or the hard part. He knew where he needed to go, but he did not know how the general public of Cybertron would react to his presence. Gladiators were rarely permitted to be in the presence of other castes, and when they were, it was usually to be paraded before a gaggle of high-class benefactors like a prized showbeast, unable to speak or do anything beyond what was ordered of them. Soundwave had been in such a position many times—such was the fate of one of Kaon’s mightiest—but it left him with little in the way of social skills when it came to the higher castes.
His internal fretting was cut short when the lift ground to a halt. Soundwave saw he had reached the surface level, and his spark thrummed within him, both from excitement and from fear.
The door slid open, and Soundwave cried out. He lurched back, servos flying up to shield himself from the blinding brightness that stabbed his optics like a thousand daggers. All he could see was the searing brilliance of pain and spots, burning his vision like fire.
His optics leaking coolant, Soundwave retreated into the shadow of the lift where he managed to collect himself. With several gasping breaths, he tinted his visor until it was almost fully opaque. Only then did he venture to open his optics once more.
The surface of Cybertron stretched before him. It was at once foreign and familiar—he had seen the majestic towers with their domed roofs by hologram, but it was so much larger, so much grander in person. Sunlight glanced off metal in a thousand places, and even with his darkened visor, Soundwave had to keep his optics lowered as he ventured from the lift. But he could not delay long—his presence would not go unnoticed, either from the guards noticing his absence from the barracks, or from someone recognizing him from a hologram. Soundwave knew his face—or at least, his visor—was well known in Cybertronian popular culture, second perhaps only to Megatronus. He would have to keep a low profile for as long as possible.
With a running leap, Soundwave twisted into his alt mode and took to the sky. It was strange having only emptiness above him, and the urge to streak as far and fast as he could was almost overwhelming. But he restrained himself. He had other priorities. And right now, those came in the form of the Iacon Hall of Records.