= = =

Soundwave’s POV

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“…Continue monitoring Optimus Prime, Soundwave, and make sure Laserbeak doesn’t repeat the same mistake. She cannot carelessly reveal herself like that to him.”

Soundwave had taken those words to his spark. This time, he gave Laserbeak a stern reprimand, making it clear she was never to expose herself to Optimus Prime again. He didn’t miss the way his trusted cassette became visibly dejected, her wings drooping in what could only be described as a sullen posture. Still, this was for her own good. Optimus Prime was the enemy, no matter how peculiar his behavior might be.

After all, why would an enemy offer Laserbeak energon cubes? Or shield her from the royal palace guards while she was actively spying on him, and gathering information?

Optimus Prime was a puzzling anomaly. Perhaps his system lacked the essential protocols of caution.

The more Soundwave uncovered about Optimus Prime, the less it all made sense. Each answer only led to a thousand more questions. What truly happened that day in the Senate Council, when Orion Pax stood before Zeta Prime to present his findings on the Institute’s atrocities? Why had he withdrawn the Royal Forces from the front lines and instead negotiated for energon supplies?

How had he been able to single out Laserbeak in disguise, concealed among a clutter of datapads? And why had he devoted himself to restoring the energon refinery treatments, despite the aqueducts lying dormant for millions of solar rotations? How had he managed to reverse the Institute's damage and return its victims to their original forms?

But most baffling of all—what was the purpose of that ‘spaceship simulation’ within the datapad he decrypted? Was there some sort of hidden message to it?

Soundwave had never truly pondered the existence of Primus. It had always been an irrelevant notion to him—until now. For the first time, the question drifted heavily over his investigation. The question of Primus’ existence mattered.

Especially today.

Optimus Prime had just emerged from the Zenith Ward, flanked by his constituents and a small brigade led by Magnus. But instead of returning to the Prime Citadel, as expected, their path veered directly to the long-abandoned Energon Aqueducts.

Though Soundwave was stationed far away, he observed everything through Laserbeak's keen optics, the feed clear and unblinking.

Soundwave had only ever seen old recorded feeds of the so-called fluxstream that once carried energon all across Cybertron.

Today, he had witnessed its return. Torrents of energon poured through the aqueducts at an astonishing speed, rushing with a vitality he’d only seen in archived memories.

And for once, Soundwave didn’t know what to feel.

What could this all mean? How could this change the Decepticons' cause?

Before Soundwave could dwell on the questions, Laserbeak let out a sharp squawk, snapping his attention back to the scene. Through her optics, he saw it all unfold—Optimus Prime leaping aside just in time, a sniper's laser shot scorching the ground where he stood, missing by mere inches.

Someone out there was trying to kill Prime.

As Soundwave commanded Laserbeak to locate the shooter, instead she dove toward Optimus Prime. Then, the second shot tore through her core. The pain that rippled through their shared connection made Soundwave’s vents seize, overwhelmed by the agonizing burn.

And then, the link went dead.

Soundwave was livid. His friend—his dear friend—had just been shot.

Replaying the last few clicks of the scene, Soundwave swiftly calculated the shooter’s location. Without hesitation, he transformed and sped toward the precise spot—not far from his current position.

There, he spotted a black and red mech clutching a rifle. On the mech's shoulder was an insignia: a faceplate, half-shrouded in flames.

Without a second thought, Soundwave dove. Mid-air, he transformed and tackled the mech to the ground. The assailant let out a startled noise, clearly caught off guard by the sudden attack.

Soundwave wrenched the rifle from the mech’s grip and struck its faceplate, slamming the attacker to the ground. Without hesitation, he aimed his own blaster squarely at the downed mech.

“Identify yourself,” he demanded.

The mech’s optics flickered with alarm as they darted to the insignia on Soundwave’s chassis. “D-Decepticon…!? I thought you guys hated the Primacy!”

“You shot my friend,” Soundwave replied coldly, his blaster humming with power. “Answer.”

The assailant glowered, baring his dentas in defiance. “I’m not telling you nothin’—”

BOOM!

Soundwave staggered back, optics wide, as the mech’s head exploded without warning, going up in flames.

The espionage Decepticon took a few cautious pedes back, watching the mech’s body warily, half-expecting it to detonate again. But as the nano-clicks passed and nothing happened, he stepped closer to investigate. Scanning the remains, his optics lingered on the insignia. He recognized it—something ancient, but from where?

“HALT!”

The sharp command snapped Soundwave’s attention to a group of Iacon’s Royal Guards approaching quickly.

Clenching his claws in frustration, he had no choice but to abandon the scene. Transforming into his jet mode, he soared away, his processors broiling with rage.

Laserbeak still lingering in his neural networks.

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= = =

Op’s POV

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My optics widened as I saw Sonia take the hit. Immediately, my servo shot outward, making metal obey and willing the metallic bot toward me as she began to fall. Her small frame flew right into my arms at startling speed, and I cradled her close, hunching over to shield her with my body.

Hot Rod darted in front of me, his frame acting as a barrier. A laser struck his left pauldron, and it exploded with a sharp burst. He cried out, dropping to one knee from the impact.

“Hot Rod!” I called, reaching one servo toward him while keeping Sonia cradled close to my chassis. I could feel the faint warmth of her energon leaking out from her gaping wound where the laser had shot her.

“I’m fine, Optimus, just a graze!” he insisted through gritted dentas, his face tight with pain.

“Graze, my aft!” I snapped, frustrated as it was more than just a graze. Hot Rod just let out a wheezing noise that might’ve been laughter, if he wasn’t clearly in so much pain.

Within moments, Magnus, Red Alert, and the rest of Iacon’s guards arrived. The guards raised their shields, forming a shimmering dome-like energy barrier around us to block any further attacks.

The firing had stopped, but the shields remained up as they guided us back toward Magnus’ ship—the Axion. Red Alert supported Hot Rod, who staggered with each step, while Magnus grabbed hold of my free servo to steady me. Once we were on board and the shields were dropped, my focus shifted entirely to the cassette-con bleeding out in my arms.

Sonia let out weak clicks and beeps as I gently stroked her with my servos.

“Shhh, hold on, it’s okay…” I murmured softly, leaning in close to place a tender kiss on the top of her head.

In an instant, a bright white light engulfed her frame. Nano-clicks later, the massive hole in her body was completely sealed, as though it had never been there.

I turned my gaze to Hot Rod next. He needed help too. Bringing my servos to my intakes, I left a trace of fluid with a kiss before pressing the same servos gently to his left pauldron. The piece had been utterly destroyed, but only that part of him glowed white. Slowly, it began to reform, reshaping itself until it was fully restored, good as new.

Also, I’d realized earlier that what I thought was healing wasn’t really ‘healing’ at all. Instead, it was forcing the self-repairing nanites inside every transformer to work at a rapid god-like pace, draining a significant amount of the host’s energon in the process, depending on the size of the wound. But it worked—they were completely repaired and, more importantly, out of danger. It was curious how the outer shells of a transformer only needed time to repair themselves, while internal components often required outright replacements. But even the self-repairing nanites, when enhanced, had the capabilities to grow new parts.

Meanwhile, the entire guard had stilled, their intakes frozen as they gawked at what had just happened, though I caught Codex rushing off somewhere.

I ignored them, of course, settling into a seat as the ship began to lift off.

“Whoaaa…” Hot Rod finally broke the silence, staring at his newly restored pauldron while Red Alert prodded at it curiously. “Uhh... Thanks, Optimus. But like, are you good? You’re not gonna pass out on us again or anything, right?”

“Do we need to go to the Zenith Ward?” Red Alert asked in all seriousness. “I have your medic, Ratchet, on speed comms, My Prime.”

I gave them a wry smile, keeping Sonia securely tucked in my servos, and she seemed content in staying there for the time being.

At this time, Codex returned with a few cubes of energon, handing it out two to me and one to Hot Rod. Primus, did you send me a little angel? Codex was quite a promising assistant.

“Thank you, Codex. As per your question, we don’t need to, Red Alert. I can basically repair surface wounds like that easily at no cost of my own,” I replied as I fed an energon cube to Sonia who eagerly took it. “It’s different from restoring replaced mech parts, which is far more draining. But you’re welcome, Hot Rod. In fact, I should be thanking you.”

Hot Rod flashed me a grin. “No problem! Just doing my job!”

“Optimus, do you know this drone?” Jazz asked, his optics narrowing as he eyed the creature in my arms suspiciously. “Seems like you know it.”

“Her name’s Sonia,” I answered simply.

Magnus had disappeared a while ago, likely to send out orders, but I noticed him re-enter the lobby area moments later. His arrival prompted some of the guards to shuffle out, clearly reminded of their other duties—or eager not to appear idle.

At first, Magnus’s optics landed on Hot Rod, his expression shifting with what I guessed was surprise at seeing his injury completely gone. Then, realization struck, and his gaze moved to me before lowering to the bird-like minion cradled in my servos.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Magnus’s frame stiffened, and his optics narrowed dangerously. “Optimus Prime! Let go of that thing! We need to secure it—”

“No.” I tightened my hold on Sonia and rose to my pedes, meeting Magnus’s glare with my own.

He faltered for a moment but pressed on. “You don’t understand, Optimus. That drone belongs to Soundwave—one of Megatron’s top agents. He’s the best in espionage. That thing has probably been spying on you for who knows how long.”

...Huh. No shit.

It was then I realized Megatron had sent Soundwave to spy on me. And Soundwave, in turn, had deployed one of his cassettes—because that’s exactly what they were, cassettes.

For the moment, I shoved down the rising panic threatening to overload my systems, my processors racing as I considered the kind of footage this bird-drone could have been sending to Megatron.

Hahaha… ha…

“Oh, I see…” I vented in, keeping my expression as neutral as I possibly could.

Tilting my helm slightly, I went ahead to ask. “Then, would you kindly care to explain to me why one of Soundwave’s drones would put itself in harm’s way to save my life?”

Magnus hesitated, his intakes flaring as if to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he vented a heavy sigh.

“I cannot, but it is still dangerous, Optimus. If I’m correct, that has to be Laserbeak—at least, according to the intel we’ve gathered on Megatron and his motley crew—it is capable of shooting down mechs in a single shot with calculated precision.”

Oh…Laserbeak.

Oh gods. I just named Laserbeak Sonia.

Jazz seemed to have read my mind as he snorted beside me. “You just named a Decepticon spy, Sonia.”

I flashed him a glare before he raised his servos and quickly uttered his apologies.

I turned back at Magnus. “Look. Dangerous or not, Magnus, Laserbeak had saved my life and she will stay with me for now,” I insisted.

“Optimus--”

“You’re not getting Laserbeak, Magnus. I intend to release her once she recovers and has enough energon in her reserves,” I said. “I will not argue over this. Besides, the fluxstream had just returned to Iacon City and its people had just witnessed me getting shot at. So perhaps let’s focus on the damage control of that, shall we? We’ll update the news on the grid.”

Seeing that I wasn’t budging from my stance, Ultra Magnus complied and went ahead to do what I suggested, sulking a bit, as we both made our way over to the command room to make the necessary announcements to the people of Iacon before they go on a full-blown panic.

When it was over and done with, Magnus turned to me with a pointed look.

“How long?” He asked.

I raised an optic ridge. “How long what?”

“How long have you been with this drone long enough to name her Sonia?”

Frag me.

Avoiding Magnus’s gaze, I kept my servos gently petting Sonia as I reluctantly drawled out my answer.

“Perhaps… a couple of decacycles now--?”

“Decacycles??” Magnus hissed, his disbelief evident. “Are you telling me this spy drone has been infiltrating the Prime Citadel for the last two decacycles?”

“She’s been infiltrating the Hall of Records—and my office, to be precise,” I explained evenly.

“There’s sensitive information in the Hall of Records, especially within the restricted section—”

“—All of which I’ve taken extra care to encrypt,” I interrupted sharply. “To the highest degree of cybersecurity Cybertron has ever seen.”

“Optimus! Why do you lack a sense of safety over yourself?” Magnus shot back, his frustration evident as he clamped a firm servo on my shoulder, shaking me slightly. “And it’s not just about this Decepticon spy! It also includes what happened at the Zenith Ward—and with Senator Shockwave. You are no longer just an archivist; you are a Prime! A leader to all of Cybertron! You even rejuvenated the fluxstream that had been dormant for millions of years. How could you allow an enemy spy to get this close???”

I clicked my dentas at his scolding and turned to face him fully.

“I am not Sentinel, or Zeta, Magnus.”

Magnus furrowed his optic ridges, clearly puzzled by my words. “I’m well aware of that, my Prime.”

“So then you should be aware that the Matrix didn’t reforge me as a warrior, Magnus,” I began, keeping my tone calm but firm. “I don’t have battle protocols or defensive systems in my programming. In fact, it’s quite the opposite—you know that, given what happened at the Zenith Ward.”

Magnus released his grip on my shoulder, but I reached out and took his servo before he could pull away. He didn’t resist, and I stepped closer, meeting his optics directly.

“…Primus didn’t remake me for war or battle, Magnus,” I said, my voice softening as I admitted the truth. “If I had been, I would have already thought to build a wall of steel to protect myself.” My optics lowered briefly before I continued, my words heavy. “When the sniper fired, I should have had that wall—so Laserbeak and Hot Rod wouldn’t have had to use themselves as shields. So they wouldn’t have to protect me. Or Primus forbid… die for me.”

I faltered, venting softly. “I… I don’t think I could handle that, Magnus.”

Magnus’s expression softened at my confession, and after a few nano-clicks, he vented a long sigh.

“…I— I see… Red Alert’s report is starting to make more sense now,” he said carefully. “When Senator Shockwave held you hostage, Red Alert noted that you barely reacted to the danger. I had assumed it was because you could counter him by using gravity against him, but… is it because you truly lack any self-preservation protocols?”

Self-preservation protocols? Was that a thing?

I sifted through my mind palace, searching for an answer, and… apparently, it was a thing. A small, subtle piece of programming embedded in every transformer’s system. Small, because it could be overridden—by fear for a comrade or partner, or even by adrenaline-fueled rage, if such a thing existed for Cybertronians.

Everyone had it.

Except for me. Apparently.

At that, I held Laserbeak closer, releasing Magnus’s servo as his shoulders sagged slightly. “Nevertheless, this little one stays with me for the time being,” I said firmly. “…Is there any news of the shooter?”

“…There is,” Magnus reluctantly shared. “Witnessed guards claimed to have seen Soundwave with him, aiming the blaster at him before fleeing the scene. The shooter was killed. His head blown off.”

Revenge for Laserbeak, I guess. Still, it seemed uncharacteristic for Soundwave to immediately kill my attacker. If anything, he’d be the one to capture the shooter—likely to barter for Laserbeak, whether or not she was still alive. I was certain he’d want her corpse. That’s how much Soundwave would have cared for his cassettes. You could tell by how fiercely loyal they were to him in many continuities.

Magnus continued, “Furthermore, the guards reported that the shooter bore a strange insignia. I will draft an extra copy of the report for you once it’s ready, as we are still investigating.”

“I’d like it by tomorrow morning, please,” I replied, accepting his offer. “I think today has been quite eventful. I’d rather like to rest some more—doctors’ orders.”

After all, I had only just left the Zenith Ward and Ratchet’s care not even an hour ago.

As I turned to leave the room, Magnus caught hold of my servo.

“My Prime,” he said, his blue optics locking onto mine, holding me in place. “…I firmly believe that Primus forged you rightly, just as you are.”

“…Thank you, Magnus,” I replied softly, trying to ignore the warmth creeping across my faceplates.

I gave his servo a small squeeze before releasing it and making a ‘measured’ retreat from the command room. Even as I walked away, I could still feel his optics lingering on my frame.

Halfway down the hallway, Sonia—Laserbeak—chirped softly at me.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go just yet,” I explained gently. “We’re on a ship, and it’s not exactly the ideal place for you to stretch your wings. Plus, I have a gift for you—in exchange for saving my life. Would you be a dear and stay with me a while?”

Laserbeak let out a quiet caw, and I could only take it as her agreement.

We soon returned to the Prime Citadel, and I immediately dismissed my retainers, urging them to rest and take the remainder of the cycle off. When they questioned the presence of Laserbeak in my servos, I simply assured them there was no need to worry about her—or me with her.

Reluctantly, they did depart, and I turned sharply in the opposite direction, heading purposefully toward one of the older monuments within the Prime Citadel: the Cybertronian Relicarium. The pyramid-like structure had once been far more significant than a private museum reserved for invited guests.

Guided by the subtle information encoded into me by the Matrix, I eventually reached my destination—a towering chrome statue of Solus Prime’s face.

Laserbeak cawed questioningly from my servos.

“I’m not sure what you’re asking, but I’ll try to guess,” I said, smiling softly. I couldn’t help the doting feelings I had for her—despite the slight disapproval of the Primes within the Matrix. “You’re worried about learning this secret I’m about to reveal? That’s alright. I understand how close you are to Soundwave, and I know there’s probably nothing you could keep from him. So don’t worry. Tell him whatever you like. After all, it’d be impossible for anyone to pass through here without me.”

With that, I extended my servos, focusing on the hidden mechanisms within the head bust of Solus Prime. A series of metallic locks rattled audibly, clicking in sequence as unseen engines began to hum.

Suddenly, a swirling, warping portal materialized before me, obscuring Solus Prime’s face.

I stepped through the portal and was instantly transported into a room that felt more like a sprawling factory—the warp disappearing behind me. The space was cluttered with countless gadgets and tools, all surrounding a massive, dormant, grandiose forge at its center.

The entire workshop was coated in a thick layer of dust, but nothing else—no rust, no decay. There was no sign of dilapidation anywhere. This was Solus Prime's workshop, after all. Everything here was built to last forever.

“Stay close now,” I cautioned Laserbeak as I finally let her go. She hovered for a moment before settling comfortably on my shoulder.

Nice! I couldn’t help but feel giddy about that.

Now, the reason I came here in the first place was painfully clear—how infuriatingly useless I’d been against the sniper. Without any regard for my own safety—and if not for the Matrix’s Primes screaming at me to move—I’d likely be dead right now.

It seemed Solus Prime had taken pity on me, granting me the knowledge to access her lair and retrieve some items for my protection. I was searching for two in particular—one for myself and one for Laserbeak.

…Hmm… should I get one for Hot Rod, too?

I could sense some reluctance from the Matrix, but they weren’t outright saying no, sooooo!

Yes. Getting one for Hot Rod too.

I gestured for Laserbeak to perch on an empty desk, one I assumed Solus Prime had once used for crafting simple gadgets or making quick repairs. She followed my instructions as I moved around the room, searching for…

Ah-ha! Here it is!

By the way, I was starting to get used to how all this information flowed seamlessly through my neural pathways—like flowing water. It felt so natural, as though I’d always known it, and now I was simply remembering them.

I suppose I really need to thank Primus for granting me full attunement with the Matrix.

“Here, try this on for size,” I said, holding up the nano-chip for her to see. “It was built for a Mini-Con, but I believe it should be compatible with you too.”

Laserbeak tilted her head at the nano-chip, chirping curiously.

“It’s a cloaking module,” I explained, watching her optics whirr in consideration. I chuckled softly. “Now, it doesn’t last long—only a few clicks—so you’ll need to use it wisely. You’ll probably need it once I set you free. No doubt Magnus has already ordered the Royal Guard to seize you the moment you fly out of here.”

Laserbeak cawed in acknowledgment and opened her chassis, revealing an empty slot. I carefully placed the nano-chip inside, and a visible purple charge surged through her body.

In an instant, she vanished.

Even I couldn’t see her now.

I grinned. “There you go. The cooldown time is just as long as the cloaking effect, but you can willfully drop it anytime you like.”

A nanosecond later, Laserbeak reappeared, cawing and flapping her metallic wings. She flew straight to my shoulder, nuzzling her beak affectionately against my faceplates.

I was melting from her adorableness.

“Can I still keep calling you Sonia?” I asked, a hint of hope in my voice, and I was graciously rewarded with more nuzzling.

Afterward, I continued scouring the workshop for the items I needed—for myself and for Hot Rod. Along the way, I stumbled across even more peculiar and surprisingly…useful things.

Huh… I’ll definitely need to revisit this place tomorrow or in the next cycle. Maybe bring Jazz and Codex with me under the guise of reorganizing and cataloguing the items within the Cybertronian Relicarium—I know Codex would definitely enjoy that. Now, Hot Rod and Red Alert might be useful too, but I hesitated at the thought of bringing Hot Rod. He might be touching things he really shouldn’t be. At least Jazz tended to be more careful… though I couldn’t say the same about the filter on his intakes.

Plus, Hot Rod would feel left out if I brought only Red Alert with me and leaving him out of the picture. I wasn’t too keen on seeing what a ‘kicked puppy’ expression would look like on a cybertronian royal guard. No, sir. No, thank you.

After saving a few digital notes in my memory banks and carefully packing the items I needed, Sonia and I left the Forge of Solus, returning to the base of her monument's helm-face statue.

By the time we exited the Cybertronian Relicarium, the massive sun overhead was already beginning its descent, painting the sky with warm hues.

“Oh, I guess we spent too much time down there,” I remarked, glancing at Sonia. “Sorry if it was boring.”

Sonia chirped softly, clearly unbothered. I was certain she wasn’t bored—especially since she’d been filming the entire time.

Honestly, that should bother me. I’d just revealed secrets long buried to a Decepticon spy, and there was no doubt this footage would eventually find its way to Megatron’s optics.

And yet… I wasn’t afraid.

“Until we meet again, Sonia,” I said softly.

She nuzzled me one last time before taking off into the sky. A brief purple charge flashed across her frame, and in an instant, she vanished as the cloaking module activated.

= = =

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To Soundwave’s immense relief, he received a message from Laserbeak, confirming that she was alive. However, her release left him stunned.

He had remained on Iacon City, biding his time and waiting for nightfall to infiltrate the Prime Citadel in search of his precious cassette. Yet, here she was—already en route toward him, and it wasn’t even sundown.

Did that mean they had implanted her with a tracking chip to locate him? If so, that was fine. Soundwave would remove it easily, ensuring their escape.

As Laserbeak drew closer on his radar, however, he found himself unable to spot her visually. His optics scanned the skies, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Then, a faint purple charge flickered, and she materialized right in front of him. The sudden appearance startled him, leaving him barely enough time to register what had just happened as she collided into his frame—his servos catching her.

Soundwave’s vents shuddered with relief as he saw her, but confusion lingered. His optics darted to their surroundings, expecting guards to follow, but none appeared. Quickly, he initiated a full scan of her. She was his, after all, and he would know immediately if something was off.

But there was nothing—nothing unusual, except for the new module chip embedded in her. A chip that granted her the ability to cloak.

Cloaking technology was nearly unheard of. It was a highly complex and imperfect process; even the slightest movement typically disrupted the illusion, exposing the perpetrator. And yet, Laserbeak had been flying undetected. Not even his finely tuned optics had managed to catch a glimpse of her.

“Explanation. Now,” he commanded, his tone neutral.

But Laserbeak knew her master better than anyone; their neural link laid bare everything his voice concealed. Despite his monotone delivery, Soundwave’s emotions were a whirlwind—anxious, confused, relieved, happy, and fearful—all at once. None of it showed on the surface of his faceplates or visor, but it coursed through their bond.

In response, Laserbeak shared everything—her entire day, piece by piece, through their link.

Slowly, Soundwave settled onto the ground, his vents steadying as he reviewed the footage. All while he held his precious cassette close to his frame, his servo stroking her helm gently.

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= = =