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Megatron should be forgiven for mistaking the newest addition to his ranks for a spy cassette when it had first appeared in his Command Centre, seemingly alone, propped upright in the seat facing the comm’s console, studying the security footage like Soundwave himself had assigned it monitor duty.
Megatron frowned at it.
It stared back, mouth slack, visor bright but uncomprehending.
“Designation?” He demanded impatiently, looming over the seat and it’s occupant.
More staring.
“He don’t have one yet, Boss,” Rumble (or Frenzy, he was never sure) popped up around the side of the seat to rescue the little fool before Megatron lost his temper and had it put in the brig for insubordination. “They couldn’t decide. Shot down my idea though. Looks like a Microwave to you though, don’t he?”
Megatron wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but he made it a point never to waste much processing power on whatever nonsense either of the twins spouted.
As for the Microwave comment, he wouldn’t have been able to guess what this miniature Decepticon chose for an altmode without seeing it transform. It’s frame was void of any identifying kibble; a blank slate of smooth, unembellished armour.
“What is wrong with it?” Megatron asked, because it was still staring at him. “It is damaged?”
“I dunno, but I told Soundwave not to let Shockwave hold him. The mech’s got a one servo and no depth perception. Bet he dropped him.”
Megatron had not anticipated Shockwave’s involvement. Though he knew of his Sub-Commander’s proclivity for spark and coding experimentation, he would not have expected any resulting outcome to look quite so… useless. Perhaps that was why Soundwave had taken this one on. He was hoping to integrate it into his cassette ranks.
Well, Megatron thought, after a moments introspection, at least it beheld the element of surprise. The Autobot’s certainly wouldn’t suspect a kitchen appliance capable of bringing about their downfall. Soundwave was nothing if not practical, and if he found use for this particular empty-brained specimen, Megatron was willing to overlook it’s less than desirable traits.
After all, it wouldn’t be the only Decepticon guilty of incompetence. Skywarp regularly flirted with Boeing passenger jets and didn’t understand why the human pilots responding to him on the radios were begging for their lives and not agreeing to meet him for engex later.
So he left the tiny idiot to monitor base security and continued with his shift.
It wasn’t until the next cycle, during the midday refuel, that he saw it again, this time in the company of it’s master.
Soundwave was sat on a bench along the mess-hall bulkhead, his newest ‘spy’ resting lazily along his left arm whilst he offered it a cube with his right. It’s optics were offline and malfunctioning motor skills caused much of the energon to spill down it’s chin as it drank. With saint-like patience, Soundwave routinely paused to wipe the mess away.
Megatron scowled. The Decepticons had no use for dead weight. Soundwave ought to cut his losses and recycle the thing for spare parts.
He made the mistake of muttering this near the mess table routinely claimed by his Command Trine.
“Well, I told you we needed baffles!” Starscream declared, apropos of nothing. Megatron turned to face three identical Vosian glares. “This is yet another failure of your leadership. If you didn’t want ‘little accidents’ running all over the place you should have made him take precautions!”
“It was screaming all night.” Skywarp complained, glowering at Megatron as though he was a proper recipient for noise complaints. “Can’t you send it back to Cybertron!? I mean, this is technically Shockwave’s fault.”
“It’s just a sparkling,” Thundercracker reprimanded them all coldly.
Megatron had been about to tell them all to shut up, when Thundercracker’s words clicked.
“…A what?” He demanded sharply.
Thundercracker looked a little unnerved by the intensity of his gaze, but no less indignant for it. “…He- he’s less than a week old, sir-“
“And you should have stocked the supply shipments with baffles!” Starscream shouted again. “This is your fault-“
“No, it’s Shockwave’s fault.” Skywarp argued. “Who does he think he is?! Getting himself laid during a war? I’m not getting laid!”
Megatron didn’t miss the venomous look he shot in Thundercracker’s direction.
“What are you three blathering on about?!” He barked, looming menacingly over their table. “What sparkling? Who’s a week old?”
“Are you so decrepit that you can’t see three foot in front of you?” Starscream stood up and pointed right at Soundwave, who was now, thanks to the commotion, staring back at them, his charge held protectively close like he didn’t think he could trust any of them not to do something patently insane. Which.. fair.
“We’re talking about the one drooling all over your Third In Command!” Starscream finished.
“That isn’t a sparkling,” Megatron began, growing unsure of his perception of all reality, because why would Soundwave have a sparkling? Soundwave was cold, calculative, ruthless-
The tiny cassette in Soundwave’s arms squirmed, it’s vents stuttering with a hiccup. Soundwave looked away from Megatron to readjust it in his arms, bringing it to his chest, one servo supporting the back of it’s helm, the other under it’s aft as he bounced it gently, coaxing the bubbles from it’s tank, his visor dimming with affection.
Megatron whirled on the seekers again.
“Who in the Pit impregnated my Third In Command?!”
Starscream’s face twisted snidely, “Honestly, who knows. It could have been anyone-“
“It was Shockwave,” Thundercracker glared at Starscream. “His conjunx.”
“Conjunx?” Megatron exclaimed, volume rising uncontrollably. “Shockwave?!”
“Gross, isn’t it.” Skywarp nodded. “He doesn’t even have a face.”
“Exactly my point.” Starscream announced. “It calls the coding into question if you ask me. Shockwave has no face, and yet ‘their’ sparkling was mysteriously born with one? Suspicious.”
”You know that’s not how coding works,” Thundercracker muttered.
“When did Shockwave and Soundwave conjunx?!” Megatron demanded, ignoring whatever stupid accusation Starscream was implying. “Why was I not informed of this?!”
Starscream threw up his arms, shrugging unhelpfully. “Why are you asking me!?”
“Lord Megatron.” Soundwave’s voice droned behind him.
Megatron whipped around to face his Third In Command and the small being tucked against his chest which, now that he was looking, was obviously a new-spark. It was drooling for stars sake.
“Documentation; declaration of intent to Conjunx; completed and filed within Decepticon personnel folders three stellar-cycles ahead of relationship coming into affect, as regulations dictate.” Soundwave stated, as the file itself was forwarded to Megatron’s data banks with a happy little ping. “Documentation authoriser; Lord Megatron.”
Annoyed, Megatron glanced through the endless technical jargon of the file until he reached the end, and saw his own seal staring mocking back at him.
He’d known not reading his own paperwork was going to bite him in his aft one of these cycles.
Still-
“There’s nothing in here about a sparkling,” He growled.
Only for Soundwave to forward him approximately fifty data-files, including his ‘request to procreate’, ‘notification of attempted spark creation’, ‘confirmation of gestation’, ‘creatorship leave request’, about sixteen medical reports detailing progress, a two-hundred page scientific study by Shockwave on the estimated resources involved in raising a sparkling, and lastly, the ‘announcement of successful emergence’, all of which Megatron had apparently read and signed and given approval for.
Megatron ground his denta together.
Soundwave stared expectantly, knowing damn well he had won because he’d known all along there was no way Megatron was going to sit and read through the ten-dozen or so documents and reports and files he sent him every blasted day. It was a dirty, underhanded, manipulative betrayal.
He was as bad as Starscream, but frighteningly more competent. (Thank Primus they didn’t get along.)
He pointed at the sparkling, “How long does it take for these things to grow up?”
“Adolescence; reached in approximately ten thousand years.”
Megatron was going to kill something. Preferably Starscream, who was foolishly within choking reach and laughing very loudly behind him.