Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

::Keep moving!:: Jazz called out over comms as he drove to the top of the ridge. ::Keep up the pressure! Run 'em down and crush them!::

The cheers of Jazz's troops in response to his words garbled the freq for a moment, but they all had enough comm discipline to clear the channel quickly. When he reached the top of the ridge, Jazz transformed with a flip and started firing his blasters at everything that moved on the other side. One, two, three shots brought down one, two, three allicons, turning them from targets into scrap in an instant. Jazz continued on, mounting the next ridge alongside his troops, stepping over enemy corpses and making new ones as he went.

After all of the death and destruction the Quintessons had rained down on their forces during the battle, it felt almost therapeutic.

When he'd seen the lay of the terrain before they'd engaged the enemy, Jazz didn't think the battle would go very well. His instincts had proven to be unfortunately correct. Their forces had sustained some serious losses, and Jazz was dreading hearing the final casualty numbers after the battle was over.

However, that had all been accounted for in the plan. They had known going in that this was going to be a hard fight, but the risks had been deemed to be worth it. The important thing was that they had reached their objective and succeeded. The captured bots had all been rescued, and the Quintesson facility had been destroyed. Jazz would need to find a way to issue a commendation to Barricade and Prowl for their planning of this offensive. They had somehow pulled off yet another miracle together.

The Prime's Wing was escorting the captives to safety, so now the focus of the operation had changed. They were in cleanup mode, as the Prime’s Hand led the army’s efforts in securing their getaway before enemy reinforcements arrived.

When they reached the top of the ridge, Jazz caught sight of the army’s aerial support sweeping in from the other side, pinning the enemy between them and the ground units. He scanned the battlefield between his troops and the line of fliers, and saw that it was still a seething mass of bodies and fire. The fight raged on even though the enemy had lost. Typical; the Quintessons' forces always fought to the last survivor. Their standard operating procedure seemed to require them to take down as many Cybertronians as they could, regardless of their own casualties.

Jazz grimaced. He knew exactly how effective that strategy could be.

Jazz paused at the very top of the hill, where his reception would be best. He holstered his weapons and accessed one of the channels that Blaster was holding open. The sizzle of the comm jammers cleared a few moments after his connection was established, and Jazz sent a message to all of his soldiers on the freq. ::Looking good, everyone! We're almost done. Hang in there and we'll get 'em all down!:: Jazz turned his head, looking both ways across the crest of the ridge. All he could see were his soldiers. He skimmed through the field chatter in his HUD and frowned at some of the worrying updates he'd missed in the heat of the battle. ::Hey, anyone got optics on the Prime and Lord High Protector?::

After receiving several negative pings, Jazz opened a direct line to the army's communications hub. ::Hey Blaster, I know you're busy, but have you heard anything about the big two?::

::That's a negative, Commander.:: Blaster sounded distracted; the multiprocessor bot was probably carrying on a dozen different simultaneous conversations as he helped direct units across the sprawling battlefield. ::I've got coordinates for where they were reported to be last seen, but those are from an hour ago.::

Ugh. Had that much time really passed since Jazz had been separated from the Prime? He could have sworn it had only been a few minutes ago. Fragging battle surges. Ratchet had promised to take a look at Jazz's focus coding the next time he was in for maintenance, but things had come up and...

Jazz tamped down the internal recriminations; what was important now was making sure that both the Prime and his Protector were safe. ::Send me the coords, Blaster. Do you know who was with them?::

The data burst from Blaster was understandable but fractured, a sure sign that the multiprocessor was probably boosting his signal out of his usual operating specs. ::There were several units in the area, but the Quints plastered the whole area with plasma bombs about ten minutes ago. The subsurface was cracked open, and last we heard they might have been cut off from the main fighting group. We sent out an alert but I wasn't sure whether you'd seen it or not. The EM radiation from the subsurface break has completely fried my operating range. 'Wave and I have been trying to patch our network back together ever since.:: The connection began to fray with static, and Blaster sent the last of his message in low-bandwidth glyphs. ::Sorry, Jazz.::

Jazz turned again and started sprinting across the battlefield, dodging craters and bodies as he went. He pinged Blaster an acknowledgment and reopened the general channel to the joint Hand and Wing forces. ::If anyone's seen the Prime more recently than thirty minutes ago, call it out and get me the coords! Repeat it for those not in range.:: As Barricade pinged he would monitor for responses, Jazz opened a different direct channel. ::Air Commander, please tell me you've seen the Prime and Lord High Protector.::

A harsh, grating voice replied to Jazz's hail. ::Of course we've seen them. Last visual was just a little while ago. They were fine.::

Jazz passed Ironhide and sent him a quick databurst. As his lieutenant fell into step alongside him, Jazz patched Ironhide into his conversation with Starscream. ::Define 'a little while ago.' Exactly how long ago did you see them? Who was with them? What coordinates were they at?:: He glanced back towards where the fighting was still going on, and spotted a squadron of Hand aerials wheeling through the air one after another before diving towards the surface. Mixed in with the blunt-nosed aerials were a trio of sleek Seekers, flying alongside the aerials in a maneuver that Jazz recognized as the fliers taking turns strafing the enemy.

Starscream's exasperation came through clearly. ::I don't know – ten, fifteen minutes ago? Not very long at all. At the time, we were preoccupied with stopping an argument of prosecutors from cutting your main column apart from your support. We offered them assistance but... Are you seriously saying you've lost track of the Prime?:: The comm broke into squeals of feedback as Starscream's volume rose. ::I knew he shouldn't have come on this operation! I even said as much! Why didn't you stop him from coming? Why didn't you stay by his side?::

Jazz balled his hands into fists as he ran, biting back the retort that, at the time, he had agreed with Starscream that the Prime should have stayed at the base like usual, where he'd be safe. It was the Prime himself who'd insisted on assisting with this fight, and his Protector had reluctantly agreed. Jazz dodged around the melted, smoking remains of a prosecutor before replying. ::We were busy gettin' our afts handed to us down here for most of the battle, in case ya didn't notice, Air Commander.:: Ironhide sent a calming glyph at Jazz as a reminder. Jazz scowled but moderated his tone. ::Where were they? Who was with them?::

::They weren't alone. They had a few ground troops with them. The Lord High Protector said that they didn't need help. There were also piles of dead allicons around them, so I took him at his word. It looked like they had everything under control. And I didn't know you'd been separated from them! How did that happen, anyway? Why wasn't I notified?:: Starscream's message was accompanied by a data burst with coordinates as his signal started to fade out. ::Do you really not know their status? It's your sworn duty to protect the Prime, Ground Commander! What have you been doing?::

Jazz and Ironhide had finally reached a section of ground that wasn't littered with axle-breaking ruts and corpses, and they both dropped into alt mode. They altered their course slightly to head towards the coordinates they'd just received. It took Jazz a herculean effort to not snarl into the comm channel. ::No one else has reported direct contact with them since about an hour ago. Your sighting's the most recent one we have. I'm headin' to the coordinates you sent now to check on them. We would really appreciate help to find them if you've got the resources. Jazz out.::

Then he closed the channel, not even sure if his message got to Starscream before the signal was lost. If there was a way to slam the connection closed, Jazz would have done it. "I honestly wish we'd been able to find someone else suitable to be the new Air Commander after Metalhawk," Jazz growled. "He can sing just fine and he's loyal to the Prime, but I can think of a dozen other fliers who wouldn't question every move I make the way Screamer does."

"He's right, though, you know. The Prime's safety is your main duty, not his," Ironhide said. They swerved in opposite directions around another giant hole before meeting again on the other side. "And you also know he wouldn't have left either of them alone if he thought that they were really in trouble."

Jazz's engine grumbled in response, but he pinged Ironhide an acknowledgment. His lieutenant was right: The Hand was responsible for the Prime's and Lord High Protector's safety. The Wing was not. The Wing's original duty had been to spread the Prime's teachings to Cybertron and to minister to the followers of Primus, not to fight. As Commander of the Hand, Jazz was sworn to protect the Prime and follow the Protector's orders. And now that the Hand had absorbed all that was left of the Planetary Defense Corps, Jazz and Starscream fought together against the alien invaders.

Originally, Starscream was the Prime's Master of Songs, the Wing's leader as they carried the Prime's word directly to the people. Now, Starscream was doing double duty as the head of the Hand's air support, a role at which he excelled as Air Commander, even if he and Jazz butted heads more often than not. But though Starscream might be abrasive and borderline insubordinate to both Jazz and the Lord High Protector, he was also a brilliant leader, a fantastic fighter, utterly devoted to the Prime, and – unlike Metalhawk – was still alive. The Hand was lucky Starscream and his trine were always willing to fight alongside them in a battle.

Plus, if the Prime was in any real trouble, Starscream would lay down his life in an instant to protect him. And Jazz had never forgotten the oaths he'd made when he became the leader of the Hand before the war started, even if he hadn't known where they would eventually lead him. Just like Starscream hadn't known that as Master of Songs, he would also need to learn how to fight.

They at least had that much in common.

As Jazz and Ironhide climbed another ridge, heading towards the coordinates Starscream sent them, two Seekers came swinging in low overhead. Thundercracker waggled his wings as he passed them, flashing the purple sigils of the Wing. Meanwhile, Skywarp vanished in a flash of light, only to reappear several hundred meters ahead of where he'd been. When Thundercracker opened a channel with Jazz and Ironhide, the sizzle of EM interference from the nearby subsurface fracture almost obscured his words. ::Starscream sent us. He said you could use some help. We see the Prime and Protector. Looks like they had a rough battle, but they're both still standing. They're just over the next rise. I also see two soldiers with them. We'll see if they need anything.: He accelerated, quickly crossing the valley between that ridge and the next.

::Thanks, TC. We really appreciate the assist.:: Jazz opened the Hand’s channel again as he and Ironhide drove through the next valley, following the Seekers towards the last ridge. ::M'lord, can you receive me? Are you and the Prime safe? What's your status?::

Orion Pax's voice sounded tired, even over the crackle of interference. ::I read you, Commander. I am functional. The Prime is unharmed. What is your ETA?::

Beside Jazz, Ironhide swore. After so many centuries fighting alongside him, Ironhide knew how to interpret the Protector's phrasing just as well as Jazz did. "'Hide, head back to the top of the ridge, and see if you can hail Blaster again to get Flatline out here ASAP," Jazz said. As the red truck peeled off, Jazz replied to the Protector. ::I'm two minutes away. Skywarp should be arriving now.::

::I see him. Pax out.::

Jazz's spark dropped a bit as the normally friendly and talkative Protector closed the channel as soon as he stopped talking. Orion's short response spoke volumes about how tired he was, and at how hard they must have fought.

When Jazz mounted the last hill, his relief at seeing the Prime and the Protector alive with his own optics was tempered by what was around them. No wonder Orion was tired; the battle must have been intense. As Starscream had described, the field was filled with the bodies of dead allicons, their toxic blue fluids seeping into the dusty ground. The remains of at least two prosecutors created small mountains nearby that still smoldered, giving off greasy black smoke. Rifts in the ground surface ran here and there, some of them filled with more bodies. But as Jazz transformed and picked his way down to the clear area in the center of the battlefield, he saw that the alien bodies were not the only ones on the ground.

Scattered here and there between the enemy corpses were the still, grey frames of bots that Jazz recognized. His spark fell even further as he started counting up the dead: twelve, thirteen, fourteen. When he reached the middle of the battlefield, Jazz paused his tally of fallen comrades to place his hand on Orion's shoulder. A stain of pink fluid oozed from a gap in the armor on Orion's side, but a field patch had been applied to it to staunch the leak. "Orion? How bad is it?" Jazz asked quietly.

The Lord High Protector was down on one knee, leaning his weight wearily on the Star Saber. Both of his hands were clenched around the hilt of the glowing sword, and his helm crest rested on the pommel. At Jazz's question, Orion lifted his head and looked around the battlefield solemnly. "We lost a lot of good soldiers today."

"Yeah. I know." Jazz squatted next to the Protector. "How are you?"

Orion Pax finally raised his optics to Jazz. "The battle surge is still helping keep the pain down. The field patch is holding. I'll be fine."

Jazz nodded, satisfied that his friend was not about to immediately bleed out in front of him. He patted Orion's shoulder comfortingly and stood, focusing his attention next on the Prime. His ventilations caught as he saw the large silver mech kneeling over a motionless body, another one that Jazz knew very well. Jazz was also all too familiar with the cadence of the murmurs he overheard, and of the soft counterpoint that Thundercracker sang as he stood beside the Prime.

Jazz had witnessed far too many Rites for the Fallen since the war started to not know what he was hearing.

"Frag," Jazz swore quietly. "Someone's gonna have to check on Hound."

"Bluestreak fought bravely, right up until his very last moment," Orion said. His fingers flexed around the hilt of the sword as if he was reliving the battle that led to the gunner's death. The Protector looked around the clearing, his optics picking out every greyed Cybertronian corpse he could see from where he knelt. His hands tensed again, firming their grip on his weapon. "All of them did. This was a difficult battle, but every single one of our soldiers carried themselves honourably." Orion rose to his pedes slowly, hissing in pain as he straightened. Pulling the Star Saber from the ground, he casually wiped the blue fluid staining the blade on his arm before sheathing it at his back. "I only hope that their sacrifice was worth what we might have gained."

As Orion spoke, Megatronus Prime rose to his pedes and turned around. He crossed the clearing in a few long strides and nodded at Jazz. "Commander. It's good to see you are well. The prisoners... Did we manage to free them?" Megatronus asked. "Our communications have been cut off ever since the subsurface break."

Jazz saluted Megatronus. "Yes, my Prime. Barricade and Prowl are confirming a head count for us, but all of the prisoners in the conversion facility have been freed. There was another one of those weird anomalies when they shut down the power, but Brainstorm's already looking into it." He smiled, glad to be able to bring good news to the Prime. "Word is the headcount of the rescues is higher than we expected... Maybe even in the thousands."

Megatronus closed his scarlet optics and vented deeply before nodding. "I am very glad to hear that. Every last spark we can free from the Quintessons' clutches is a victory, even if those victories are very hard fought." He turned and looked back to where Slamdance and Outback were working to pull the bodies of the fallen soldiers from the piles of allicon corpses, laying them out as if they'd fallen into recharge. Thundercracker was already kneeling beside another familiar greyed frame, and Jazz could hear him reciting the Rites for Runabout, just as Megatronus had done for Bluestreak. Skywarp was doing the same to another corpse a short distance away, mantling his wings over the fallen soldier. "We need to remember why we fight, and what is at stake."

Jazz nodded and tried to ignore the grief that suddenly welled up in his spark. Mourning would come later. He mentally pulled himself back to his job, as Commander of the Hand, and gave the Prime another salute. "Ironhide is calling for a medic for the Lord High Protector. The Wing is moving the prisoners to the extraction point. Battlefield reports indicate we're cleaning up the rest of the enemy's forces here and should be able to move out soon, before any of their reinforcements arrive from Rodion."

The Prime nodded again. "Thank you for the report, Commander," he said. "Your care and leadership for our army is valued, as always." Then he put his hand on the Protector's upper arm. "Orion... Are you sure you're going to be all right? You went down hard, and I can feel you're still in pain."

"Like I said before, Megatronus, I'll be fine. I still function." Orion Pax gave Megatronus the soft smile that Jazz knew was only for the Prime. "You won't be rid of me that easily."

The Prime pulled in a sharp vent. With a quick movement, he wrapped his arms around Orion in a tight embrace.  "Don't even joke, dearspark," Megatronus murmured. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd keep doing what you've been doing since becoming Prime: what's best for Cybertron," Orion replied, leaning into Megatronus's arms.

As the Prime continued to embrace his Protector, Jazz quietly walked away. He made his way over to the soldiers who were still laying out their dead. The faster they could recover their fallen, the faster they could get the Prime and everyone else back to the relative safety of their base.

Jazz was just glad neither the Prime nor his Protector were among the ones they'd lost today.