Chapter Text
Jazz crept through the Quintesson base’s vents. They had finally managed to track down where the battle computer the Quintessons stole was being stored. Every mech that tried to use it had it removed after a few orns—and those were mechs whose entire jobs were to crunch numbers and make plans. It was too powerful for even the best mechs to safely handle it. There was no way they could let the Quintessons figure out a way to use it.
That meant it was Jazz’s job to steal it back from the Quints. By any means necessary.
If the Quints could get the battle computer to work for them it might be the tipping point of the war, moving it in their favor.
Jazz managed to sneak into the base behind a group of Quintesson scouts returning from patrol before jumping into the first set of vents he could find that were large enough to fit his armor. It was a tight squeeze, but he managed to make it. Jazz would leave his armor behind and continue in his unshrinkable form if he needed to, but he’d rather not leave himself so vulnerable in enemy territory, even if it was stealthier.
Hopefully he could find some sort of lead before then.
He just needed to keep an optic out, and—
There.
A Quintesson scientist walking through the halls. If anyone could lead Jazz to the battle computer, it would be one of them. He just needed to wait for the Quintesson to get somewhere a little more isolated before interrogating him.
Jazz followed the scientist through several hallways before they made their way to a dark room. Jazz’s visor automatically adjusted his vision allowing him to see the other scientist already in the room at a computer and, more importantly, the motionless mech in the center of the room.
The mech was laying on their front, his servos and pedes restrained to the table. His legs were bent at an awkward angle, possible damage from how the Quints captured him. More importantly there was a massive cable plugged into the back of their neck that directly connected them to the Quintesson’s computer.
What the frag were the Quintessons doing to the mech?
“Any progress on accessing the battle computer?” The Quintesson Jazz followed asked.
What?
The other scientist’s tentacles wiggled in agitation. “It continues to resist my attempts to access the battle computer.”
“Why do you insist on keeping it alive? It would be more productive to work directly with the battle computer.” The first scientist sneered.
“Because it is capable of using the battle computer. Your attempts to utilize the battle computer were nowhere near as successful as it is. If we can utilize it as an interface for the battle computer, it can actually be useful to us.”
Frag. He thought he would be able to carry the battle computer out the way he came in. There was no way he could sneak an unresponsive mech out through the vents. It would be too loud and draw the Quintesson’s attention. He couldn’t just leave him here though.
Jazz was debating how to get himself and the other mech out of the base in mostly one piece as the scientists continued arguing with each other. They might be able to sneak through the halls, but they’d need to be really lucky to avoid everyone who might raise an alarm. No, that was a terrible idea. Fighting their way out wasn’t a good idea either—even if the other mech was still able to fight. They were in the middle of a Quint base, they’d be swarmed.
The mech’s servo briefly twitched before he began convulsing and screaming. The battle computer must have been going in overdrive because the cable and computer began sparking and smoking. The scientists backed away swearing.
“I thought you said there’s no way it could wake up.”
“There isn’t. I don’t understand how—”
The scientist didn’t get to finish his sentence because Jazz killed both of them with a single shot each. Dropping out of the vent he approached the convulsing mech. He had never seen a mech convulse like this before. Was it a crash?
How did he fix this?
He needed to get the mech out, and Jazz would rather not have to haul a lifeless frame out.
Maybe the cable was the problem? If the Quints were using it to query the battle computer, it might have sent it into overdrive. With no better idea of how to help the mech Jazz ripped the cable out of the mech’s neck and he immediately went limp.
“Hey, you feeling better?” Jazz asked as he started cutting open the restraints. And wow, was this mech’s legs weird. Now that he was so close Jazz could see that the mech’s legs were naturally bent like that instead of being damaged. At least Jazz didn’t need to worry about him being able to walk in the escape.
The mech turned to face Jazz as soon as he was freed, letting Jazz see his face for the first time. Only, there was no face. A dark red chevron led into a visor and smooth battle mask below that. The connection seams between these pieces were too thin to be a battle mask.
Was he an empurata victim? That could explain the face and legs. Or did the Quints do this to him?
The mech said something, but Jazz couldn’t understand a single glyph. “I don’t understand you. Do you understand me?” Jazz asked, but the mech didn’t answer that.
Instead, the mech asked in the Quintesson’s language, “Who are you?”
“I’m Jazz. You?” Jazz responded with a grin. Friendly, he needed to be friendly. Get this mech to trust him and escape the Quintessons together. They could figure everything else out afterwards.
“Prowl. Why are you here?” Prowl asked, standing up from the table he was strapped too. And, wow, Prowl was big. Standing a full head taller than Jazz and broader as well. Not to mention the three pairs of sort-of-doorwings that stretched out. There was no way Prowl could fit in the vents. He needed a new plan to sneak them out.
“I’m here to recover the battle computer the Quintesons stole from us. Which means rescuing you.” Jazz grinned leaning towards Prowl.
Prowl nodded decisively at Jazz’s statement and started walking to the door. “Follow me.”
“Hey, wait. You’re going to die if you try walking out of here.” Jazz shouted reaching over to grab Prowl’s shoulder and stop him from leaving. “Do you even know the way out?”
Prowl froze at the touch. “Of course I do. While I was plugged into their systems, I found the structural plans of the base and the patrol schedules. I’ve already calculated the optimal path for escape.”
“And after you get off base? How do you plan on leaving this planet yourself?” Jazz asked. They were on a desolate rock whose notable feature was the base they were in right now. The ship he came in on was the only way Prowl was getting out of here. Even if it would be a tighter fit with an extra person. He didn’t expect this to turn into a rescue mission and focused on stealth and speed, not space.
“I’m leaving through their space bridge, not the front door.”
“Do you know how risky using the Quintessons’ space bridge is?” Jazz hissed. Did this mech have a death wish?
Prowl turned to face Jazz. It was hard trying to tell what Prowl was feeling with his lack of a face or EM field, but the way Prowl tilted his head to look at Jazz screamed exasperation.
“I know how to operate the space bridge. It’s our best chance of escaping this place.” Prowl flatly said.
“Or we could fly out of here in my ship and not risk taking a space bridge.” Jazz suggested.
“No. Leaving the base has an 82.8% chance of us dying. Bridging away, however, only has a 22.4% chance of us dying.”
Wonderful.
“Is that the battle computer talking?” Jazz asked.
“Yes. Now, are you coming with me or not?” Prowl asked.
Jazz vented. He didn’t think it was a good idea, but the battle computer was supposed to be able to calculate the best course of action in any situation. “Fine. But if this fails, we’re doing things my way.”
Prowl sharply nodded and headed towards the door. This time Jazz didn’t try to stop him and instead followed him out.