the sigma

[Deleted]

Characters: Jazz, Prowl
Location: Some (formerly Neutral) desert planet
Content Warnings: N/A
Plot Summary: In search of a new ship to replace the shuttle they’ve been using, Prowl and Jazz accidentally trip over a hive of Decepticons. Hilarity ensues.

[Deleted]

If Jazz were being completely honest, this was not how he’d thought this day would end.

Apparently, things had changed drastically in this corner of the galaxy in the last few centuries. What Jazz had known to be a neutral colony on a little desert world was not, in fact, a neutral colony anymore, but an absolute hive of Decepticons. These Decepticons had taken extreme offense to the arrival of a pair of Autobots looking to buy a cheap ship to replace the dingy little shuttle they’d been using (or hitch a ride to some place where they could) and had reacted with extreme prejudice of the ‘cannons and guns and some turrets too for good measure’ variety.

Luckily, there was indeed a place where they could get a ship, and it was even relatively close by. Unfortunately, they had to avoid getting murdered before they got there. Attempted murder-in-progress aside, the place in question looked more like a junkyard than a used ship depot, but at the moment, Jazz would work with anything he’d been given if it meant getting off this planet as quick as possible.

“How we holdin’ up, Prowler?” he casually drawled to his Conjunx, who raced alongside him, “Not gonna lie, I ain’t plannin’ on leavin’ a good review, ‘cos the service here sucks.”

A blast of cannon fire peppered the ground directly behind his rear bumper for his honest assessment of said service, and he gunned his already roaring engines in order to go even faster. His wheels spun and violently kicked up copious amounts of dirt and sand, but it would never be enough to mask their presence - it was far too late for that. Overhead, he could hear the sound of what could only be a squad of pit-damned seekers. Honestly, where had they even come from?

Eventually, the dirt became less compact, and he ran the risk of sinking his tires and losing traction completely. Jazz transformed and went headfirst into a roll. When he came back up, his feet were on the ground and he was running as fast as he could across the sand. Ugh, if they survived this, he’d be picking sand out of his joints for orns to come.

They made it to the depot in one piece, but with the added disadvantage of more than a dozen Decepticons thundering on their tail on the ground and another couple of squads of seekers trying to pick them off from above. It’d been awhile since they’d been in a bind such as this, and the one upside was that neither of them had gotten rusty in the slightest. He might even go so far as to say that he and Prowl were at their very best in these kinds of situations, perfectly in sync with their attacks and their very strategic retreats.

“Yo, that ship looks fine!” Jazz bellowed, waving a hand towards the first one he laid optics on - it happened to be the closest, which he thought was incredibly convenient. It was a small freighter, shaped a bit like a disc, and looked as if it had seen better days, but if it was what got them off this slagging planet, he would pamper it and treat it like it was the finest, sleekest ship in all the known universe. “Let’s take that one!”

[Deleted]

Logic dictated that Prowl should murder Jazz. That was the cleanest and quickest plan of action in order to avoid future entanglements like the current one. Murdering Jazz was not, however, up for consideration, so Prowl discarded that option and took a sharp turn to avoid a volley of laserfire. It had been a while since he last was on a desert planet, and his tyres kept reminding him that whenever they lost purchase on the sand.

“Just drive,” he ground out, holding himself from snapping ‘I told you so’ at Jazz.

Because he had told him so. The Autobots had lost contact with this sector almost three centuries ago, and after the first two envoys sent to investigate hadn’t returned, the area had been marked as potentially hostile and off-limits to wandering Autobots. But of course Jazz hadn’t listened. He never did. He trusted his gears or joints or struts or whatever it was he trusted. Certainly not his processors, and certainly not Prowl’s advanced tactical network.

Prowl gunned his engines and picked up speed, but soon was forced to transform into robot mode. He somersaulted, twisted, and pulled out his blaster, shooting where his sensornet and tacnet told him, and ran after Jazz to the sound of a Decepticon screaming as they dropped from the sky. One less thing to worry about. Now he could focus on the very real problem of their need for a vessel.

The despot they reached offered a few solutions. He swept his optics over every ship, pulling up a list of spacecraft models he had compiled over the millennia. Scrolling through it at top speed, he matched up the ships he was seeing with their specs in less than an instant. Then he grabbed Jazz’s hand and led him onward.

“Not that one. It’s rubbish!”

And rubbish it was, having clearly been used to and past utter ramshackleness. It would be a miracle if its engines fired up at all, and Prowl wasn’t about to waste precious time giving the old rackety thing a chance. They had been looking for an upgrade from their former shuttle, not a downgrade!

“The one just over there’s better,” he shouted, pointing with his blaster as they sprinted. His vents rattled with the effort of keeping his frame cool, protesting the sudden grit they were sucking in. “Keep running—”

A missile whizzed past them and blew to bits the ship Prowl had been heading for. He stopped in his tracks, his grip around Jazz’s hand tightening as he gawped at the erupting flames. That ship had been perfect. In overall good shape, and its specs had met a good percentage of Jazz’s fancier—that is to say non-vital—requirements. Prowl had been looking forward to seeing his partner’s face of delight when he explored the ship.

He pushed down the disappointment, survival instincts taking the wheel. He let go of Jazz’s hand and shoved him in the direction of the old disc-shaped spacecraft. Time was precious, after all, and it seemed that their lack of it would make them have to settle for the closest ship rather than the best one.

“Rubbish is a go,” he uttered. “Come on!”

They ran to the ship and up the boarding ramp. Prowl’s knowledge of the specs sent him sprinting right and then right again, down a straight tunnel with round walls that ended in a small cabin just big enough to house two medium-sized bots. He flipped a few switches and pushed a couple buttons, noticing as he did that the light freighter had acquired some interesting mods at some point.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then he heard the engines sputter to life and allowed himself a tight smile. But he could commend the piece of junk on not being a complete disappointment later. He turned around, motioning for Jazz to sit down on the pilot’s seat.

“You, here,” he commanded. “I’ll be guns.”

Prowl made a quick data packet with everything he had on the ship’s controls and sent it to Jazz through their private comm channel. He grabbed his partner’s hand again then, pressing a quick kiss to his knuckles.

“And one for luck.”

Confident that Jazz would be capable of handling the freighter, Prowl ran back down the tunnel and into the laser turret. It was hopelessly outdated, with quad cannons and infrared homing systems, but his tacnet would make up for what the ship’s weaponry lacked.

[Deleted]

It wasn’t the first time Jazz had been wrong and Prowl had been right. He knew when to acknowledge he’d messed up, and perhaps this time he’d messed up royally; luckily enough, his partner did not believe in gloating while they were running for their lives, and so Jazz would be spared the ‘I told you so’ until Prowl deemed it safe enough to rail on him for a brilliant plan gone horribly wrong. Ah, well. You win some, you lose some, but luckily they were both clever enough to salvage a scrappy situation, and resilient enough to do so while Decepticons tried to shoot their heads off.

It was his nature to look for the bright side of things, and at least there was one: It had been a long time since Prowl had taken him by the hand and dragged him anywhere like this, and if this were any other situation -- that is to say, if they weren’t currently running for their lives and trying to avoid being blown to smithereens by the pack of Decepticons on their tail -- he might have taken a moment to enjoy being manhandled around by his better half. Unfortunately, missiles whizzing over their heads and the howling horde at their heels kind’ve put a damper on things.

“What d’you mean, ‘it’s rubbish’?!” Jazz protested in exasperation at Prowl’s split-second decision, immediately spotting the ship that his conjunx had apparently set his spark on. It was in much better shape, yes, but it was farther away than even he would have preferred, given the ‘Cons were gaining on them. Now was not the time to be picky over a ride! “It’s the closest-”

And then the ship blew up.

“Well, okay,” He squawked dumbly. There wasn’t much time for staring at the wreckage of what once was apparently a dream ride, and so he scrambled off after Prowl as he made for the grungy freighter.

Turned out ‘the rubbish’ wasn’t all that bad. As fate would have it, it seemed to be just the right size for the two of them, which was a major step up from the tiny shuttle they’d been cooped up in for months. It was probably was as ancient as he’d guessed, but it looked significantly more space-worthy once he was inside and gawking at the half-exposed internals.

“This thing has some sweet mods,” Jazz observed, letting himself be steered into the pilot seat. He let a burst of appreciation enter his EM field at the data packet, glad that Prowl was so utterly brilliant enough to think of downloading all the necessary odds and ends necessary for getting them airborne.

“One for luck,” He echoed, giving the hand that held his a squeeze even as lips pressed against the joints of his digits, “Go be guns, babe! We got this!”

They always did, one way or another, even when the odds were against them.

With the aid of the data packet, Jazz managed to work out how to get the thing into the air. His hands flicked grubby switches and turned ancient dials, and the vibrations of the engines made the console under his hands thrum. The craft slowly rose up into the air, before suddenly tilting hard to the left.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be that way,” He protested, yanking hard on the joystick and toggling a few more switches. The nose of the craft dipped helpfully downward and proceeded to plow a line through the sand, a handful of smaller crafts, and a pair of ‘Cons who hadn’t jumped out of the way fast enough, before Jazz managed to right the freighter and get them pointed upwards toward the sky. The hull groaned and the ship rocked as they took a hit. He gunned the throttle, and the freighter shot off across the sand.

A glance down at one of the displays, however, caused him to make a sound of disbelief. “Oh, y’gotta be kiddin- Prowl, this thing ain’t gonna be hoppin’ to hyperspace right away, it’s one of those ones that has t’warm up first. How many bogeys we got on our tail, and what’s the plan for shakin’ ‘em?” They’d have to find a way to shake them while the hyperspace drives finished initializing. Apparently, this ship had sat stationary for a very, very long time, and now several systems were sluggish in responding.

[Deleted]

“Shields, Jazz! Shields!” Prowl shouted through the comm. There was no need for him to raise his voice, but he felt his exasperation would show better if he did. “Get them up!”

He turned the systems on and fiddled with the settings for a bit before taking hold of the handles. Now, he needed to focus. This was an aerial battle at close range. They were outnumbered and quite possibly outgunned, considering that most modern personal weapons were better than the ship’s old turret, but Prowl liked their chances. They had got themselves in and out of tighter spots. This was just another unpleasant situation that would turn into one of Jazz’s incredible—and overblown—stories.

“Gain enough altitude to give us dodging room, but don’t let them get under us,” he instructed, his voice turning calm as he aimed and fired. Most of his shots went wide at first, but his aim became truer as he grew used to the controls.

Prowl tried to think of another strategy but in truth, he was having a hard time coming up with a tactic that might work in their favour. Their craft was ancient even by cybertronian standards, and they would never be capable of shaking off the flyers chasing them with it. Prowl had wanted a better one for this exact reason, but having a rackety ship was still a step above having no ship.

Still, they needed to get rid of their tails. Prowl target-locked and shot twice.

“Double clean hit,” he muttered, then louder, “Can you gain some speed? And some cover wouldn’t go amiss. I’m unfamiliar with this planet’s geography, so you’ll have to improvise.”

[Deleted]

“Shields and dodgin’ room, comin’ right up,” Shields were indeed an incredibly good idea, and probably should’ve been initialized from the get-go. Jazz’s fingers danced across the dashboard, starting first with the shields, before pausing as he read off one of the displays. “Wow, the software on this thing is outta date. Shields are a no-go for at least another twenty kliks, th’ drivers are all updating.”

Which left them with no defense against any incoming attacks except some crafty flying and a crack-shot at the guns. Compared to some of the other escapades they’d had over the years, their odds of getting out of this one wasn’t actually all that bad. The vaguely functional ship and the ancient gun turrets were actually an added bonus.

They shot out across the desert and away from the trading post. As Prowl instructed, Jazz took the ship up higher into the sky and gunned the engines, giving them just enough speed and height in order to dodge whatever incoming attacks their Decepticon tails. No matter what fancy tricks he tried (barrel rolls, twists, sharp turns) they still followed, and Jazz made a bit of a face.

There was nothing out here but sand, and more sand, but still he searched for anything that they could use to their advantage. He spotted it then -- there, upon the horizon, was some hulking thing jutting out into the sky. Jazz thought it was an abnormally shaped mountain range, but as they drew closer he realized it was a ship. The wreckage of what looked like a massive Decepticon juggernaut-class warship, half-buried by the desert. The idea came to him then, and he grinned. Ooh, Prowl wasn’t going to like this one at all.

“Hey babe, hold on to somethin’,” He called down the hallway, before pushing down on the controls. The dingy ship took a dive towards a gaping opening in the fuselage of the wreckage, “I’m gonna try t’get us some cover.”

[Deleted]

There wasn’t a lot Prowl could hang onto as Jazz took a dive. The back of his helmet snapped against the seat’s headrest and his visual feed rebooted itself with a buzz. He grunted and went back to firing away at their pursuers. Each shot counted. Old models such as this one were known for having turrets that overheated with ease.

He downed another seeker, then ducked as someone shot at him. The glass held, but the scorch marks and cracks weren’t all that promising. He straightened and fired again, but missed as the mech he had been aiming for zipped out of the way. Prowl’s optics narrowed behind his amber visor.

“I have been spotted,” he stated, then ducked again as the flyer who had escaped death shot at the turret once more.

He wanted to ask how much longer it would take for the shields to go up, but he didn’t want Jazz to stress over something he couldn’t control. An update on how much longer they would be without cover, however, would be much appreciated. Evasive maneuvers weren’t working. It was simply impossible to outmaneuver a flyer, especially in such a rundown ship. A frontal confrontation was out of the question. They just didn’t have the means or tools needed to pull it off. They were miracle workers more often than not, but there was a limit to their dumb luck, and Prowl wasn’t willing to reach it.

They would have to rely on using their surroundings to their advantage. That, and Jazz’s ability to grow used to said surroundings within milliseconds—which usually factored into the ‘dumb luck’ section in Prowl’s equations but that now would have to go under ‘available resources’.

Prowl shot again, glancing at the heating levels. Not quite in the red yet, but creeping closer. The turret’s glass didn’t look like it would survive another volley of fire. Then Prowl would be dead, or at the very least severely injured. Blasts like that weren’t easy to shrug off.

The same seeker from before lined up to take a shot. Prowl steeled himself for it and aimed, determined to at least take out the obnoxious flyer so it wouldn’t have the chance to hurt Jazz.

The shields went up. How convenient. He smirked and fired.

[Deleted]

As the ship dove into the skeletal remains of its larger, destroyed fellow, a loud clang echoed down the curving hallway to reach Jazz’s sensitive audio receptors. It didn’t take much to put two and two together and work out that someone had whacked their helm against something. “Babe, you alright?” He called, yanking hard on the controls to dip and dodge through the new maze they’d found themselves in. “Thought I told ya to hold onta’ somethin’!”

Weaving up and down and left and right was a task that required all his attention and his excellent reflexes. It’s a tight fit in this old juggernaut class ‘Con warship, but Jazz was glad that he was a quick enough study to have already mastered the controls. Adapting to anything and everything was his special talent, after all, and boy does it ever come in handy. They bobbed and twisted through the narrow passages of the warship, and some of their pursuers dropped off, evidently discouraged by the dangerous surroundings… and yet, still, some of the seekers doggedly kept on their tail.

Prowl’s words nearly induced a spark-attack. “You’ve been WHAT?!” He half-yelped half-demanded in alarm, actually turning to look over his shoulder down the hallway -- a useless gesture, as Prowl wasn’t even close to being within his line of sight. Without shields, his partner was easy pickings for any ‘Con who got a lucky shot in. “Lemme see if I can get you unspotted, hold on-” Maybe he could flip the ship upside down? No, there wasn’t enough room. He turned his sight desperately to the HUD, looking for the shield driver’s update status.

The progress bar was at 97%, but slowly, slowly, ticked closer to completion. “Prowler, just hold on, you’re gonna have shields pretty quick!”

98%

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” He begged. Never before had he felt so helpless and terrified, for he knew if the shields didn’t go up now, Prowl had a very high chance of dying, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

99%

The console under his hands hummed to life as the shields activated. “Shields are up! You’re good, you’re good!” Jazz cheered as the final seeker went up in a ball of flames. Seeing their chance, he made a sharp turn, and the ship shot out of another gaping hole in the fuselage. A quick glance over at the other console revealed that the hyperspace engines were primed and ready, too, so he put metal to the pedal and gunned it, turning their nose to the sky. They just had to get out of the gravity well and they’d be free to jump away to safety.

[Deleted]

Prowl braced himself against the console as the ship raced upward. He allowed himself a small smile as he felt rather than heard the telltale whump of a jump into hyperspace. Small freighters didn’t usually have that kind of systems, but it seemed that this one’s previous owners had considered it a necessity. Whomever they were, Prowl and Jazz owed them their lives—shaking off a unit of Decepticons without the hyperdrive wouldn’t have been easy.

The ship righted itself—although, by all accounts, there was no ‘right’ way to traverse space—and Prowl let go of the console, switching off the weapons as he went. No point in accidentally shooting a laser beam into some unsuspecting asteroid. Prowl stood up and climbed down the turret, going back into the small round cabin.

“Not our best getaway,” he told Jazz, “but certainly not our worst one.”

He rested a hand on the pilot chair’s headrest, leaning forward to peer out the window at the streaks of light—celestial bodies flicking by at an unsurmountable speed. Prowl reached over Jazz and tapped at the console, going over the ship’s systems. Everything looked fine, though Prowl had no idea where the jump would land them. The coordinates Jazz had entered didn’t ring any bells. He hoped they wouldn’t end up in some star’s core.

“Shields seem to be holding,” Prowl commented, checking the energy readings. “You were right, this ship looks fine. It needs some repairs, but I think it will do nicely for now.”

Saying that the ship needed ‘some’ repairs was a gross understatement, but there was no point in grumbling about it when it had got them out of trouble with almost no complications. Like Jazz often did, the ship had managed to exceed expectations. Prowl flashed his partner a close-lipped smile, leaning closer in offering.

“Two for joy,” he murmured.

[Deleted]

Outside the cockpit, specks of light passed them by, and Jazz took a moment to simply pause and let out one big sigh of relief. They’d had their fair share of close calls before, but this time had been closer than usual, and the ugly fear of losing his partner and bonded still lingered within his spark. If the shields hadn’t gone up when they had, the ‘Con would surely have shot Prowl dead and there wouldn’t have been a single thing Jazz could have done about it.

It’d been too close, and all because he had mistaken that planet for a neutral outpost.

As Prowl entered the cabin, Jazz twisted to face him, a cheeky and playful expression replacing the one of sombre reflection in a near-instant. “I dunno, we got a ship out of this. Ain’t done that before, have we?” Considering they’d gone to that not-neutral planet looking for a replacement for their shuttle, he’d almost say they’d come out on top of things.

He moved to the side a bit to give Prowl reach over and work around him. The action was seamless and unconscious, for they were used to moving around each other by now. “Not bad for an old clunker, huh? Still, I wanna take a look at them when we land, ‘cause these systems are ancient an’ I dunno how long they could hold out under stress.” The coordinates he’d hastily programmed into the ship’s ancient navigational computer lead to a quiet little binary star system at least half a sector away where they could assess their newly acquired freighter and figure out what repairs needed doing.

“Two for joy,” Jazz echoed back as he met Prowl in the middle with a kiss, lingering longer than usual. He was content to take his time, and they now had all the time in the universe.

The stars zipped by.