Ep.1.5 - If I Knew You Were Comin I'd've Baked A Cake

[Deleted]

Day 7, week 1.5

Soundwave, Altruous.
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Altruous had spent the better half of the day doing a bit of spring cleaning, and though he hadn’t the slightest idea why the humans considered that season in particular to be the ideal time for tidying up, he quite liked the spirit of the phrase. He felt it made the task of tidying up his newfound home almost festive, in a way, as if he were taking part in an annual Earthen tradition - the fact that it was not actually springtime notwithstanding.

Though it was technically a chore, he actually enjoyed partaking in it quite a bit. To him, there were fewer ways to feel more at home than to indulge in a bit of homemaking, and tidying up the atrium so that it would look clean and presentable for any guests that might happen their way made him feel as if his residency at Haven, though in its infancy, was not fleeting.

That aside, he did not wish to outstay his welcome by any means. Despite having been assured he would not need to go out of his way in order to earn his keep, it simply did not sit well with the old mech to take advantage of the kindness of others. Reciprocity was a practice he held close to his spark, and he was not about to abandon it now simply because the denizens of Haven did not ask much, if anything, of him.

Hence why he took his self appointed task to heart, and put forth a great deal of effort to do far more than simply push around a dust cloth occasionally as Cleaver had jokingly suggested he do. The main atrium’s floors hand been swept, it’s counters dusted - a few of them had even been decorated by an arrangement of wild flowers Altruous had discovered nearby and had taken a liking to. It was difficult, handling such small fragile things and nestling them inside similarly small and fragile vases, but while the old mech’s hand’s weren’t quite as steady as they had once been, they were as careful and gentle as ever.

All in all, he was quite happy with what he had managed to accomplish, though he supposed perhaps he ought to have paced himself a bit better. Most days, it seemed had inside himself more enthusiasm than he did energy, and every now and again he tended to forget that he was not quite as young as he often felt. By the time he was satisfied with his work he was feeling a bit drained, heavy with a happy, accomplished sort of tiredness that made the soft but steadily throbbing ache in his leg feel less bothersome.

Content with himself and the current state of his world, Altruous settled himself down in a chair, more than happy to simply take a brief rest and enjoy the view of the newly-cleaned atrium.

[Deleted]

Soundwave's talons ran smoothly over the keyboards for the two consoles he was commandeering at the moment. He'd had to slave one to clean up the raw information he'd lately downloaded on his search for further MECH and Autobot data, while the other one, and his own work, sifted and catalogued the results. Two of the nearby screens were tending to ship's matters. At the bottom of it all, the smallest screen was slowly scrolling through solid Cybertronian glyphs; every now and again a glyph, or a section, was changed, edited, rearranged, but otherwise it seemed as if it merited barely any of Soundwave's otherwise divided attention.

Soundwave, in truth, rarely brought his personal work to the bridge, but he'd been waiting for a breakthrough on this particular document for a while. Despite general (and somewhat terrified) belief that Soundwave forgot nothing he ever saw, heard or otherwise perceived, he was not flawlessly eidetic. Particularly when one was talking about books he'd read a lifetime ago and a stealthy paragraph at a time.

Soundwave remembered the adventure it had been, back in a past so long left behind; sneaking around like a ghost in the dark, after the tower was long in recharge. He could recall with perfect accuracy the sight and touch of the elegant shelves in the private library, datapads to one side, data-crystals to another, antiques in their own, climate-controlled vaults. There had been so many manuscripts there acquired solely for display, to show off wealth and pretend to wisdom. There had been writings in there he alone in that entire damnable tower had ever bothered to read.

There were, some nights, too many. In the mental crowding, it became hard for him to draw just one piece out. Last cycle, as he rested in his quarters and chased down elusive recharge, however, it had been as if he held Succor's Philosophy as Religion, arguably the medic's most inflammatory work, in his hands once again. He'd not wanted to stop work on the book while the memory was fresh.

He also rather thought it would make an interesting conversational piece.

The 'Nemesis' didn't exactly communicate regularly with the DMZ - far from it, in fact. Energy to power the ground-bridge from either direction did not grow on trees, and one did not make the trip without being able to offer something in return for that very expensive service. Soundwave had not even considered setting foot on the site of his own volition until not so long ago.

Until the Vector had arrived.

Religion was one of those things ever at the very back of Soundwave's mind, like weather patterns might be to a flyer. It wasn't something he dwelt on, but it was not something to be forgotten, either - he himself had made sure of that. The arrival of a Vector of the Order of Vector Sigma had been noted as a matter of personal interest, even if it hardly warranted a blip on the much larger radar that was the Decepticon cause's tactical and strategic databank. It would not have mattered to the 3IC if the mech had served any one of the myriad religious orders Cybertron's empire had once sheltered - Soundwave himself served his own principles, and they had no Vector.

But one thing religious orders did do, almost unanimously, was preserve manuscripts. Old, new, specific to a subject or ranging widely, in a single format or across the entire data-carrying spectrum, it seemed to be so common as to be hardly ever questioned: if you found a temple (or monastery), you'd find a library within. And so, the lanky mech couldn't help but wonder if this Vector, this Altruous, had perhaps happened to bring any part of such a library with him. It would be... pleasing to have new books to read. It would be, perhaps, even better just to know that any books had survived to begin with, beyond the potential faults of even his supreme memory.

Soundwave had cleared his following shift, and attached himself to the latest trade of services-for-goods exchange to be heading for the DMZ: a perk of his rank that he rarely used. He had included, as a courtesy, the added information warning of his arrival, if only because he knew any visit by a senior officer was going to cause some trepidation. As the time for departure rolled closer, he shut down the screens and shifted the finished book to a datapad - a gesture of goodwill he could well part with, laden with other recovered works he was certain had been flawlessly reconstructed.

He had not bothered to ask where the Vector would be found. If he were anything like any other member of a religious order, Soundwave knew the mech would not be difficult to find. The Decepticon 3IC programmed a slight delay on the ground-bridge activation protocol, pending authorization from the DMZ, of course - enough for him to get to it without having to jog, and stepped through the swirling no-space and away from the 'Nemesis', into the cooler, earthier space of the Neutral base.

All he had left to do was look for the least armed mech in the place.

[Deleted]

Altruous was not, in any capacity, an athlete, unless one stretched the definition of athleticism to include feats of verbal dexterity. He more often than not he moved gingerly and at a leisurely pace, both out of medical necessity, and because it was simply in his nature to be temperate and unhurried. He disliked having to rush things. He understood how fragile, short, and fleeting life was, and how mecha would wish to speed through it in order to accomplish as much as they possibly could in the indeterminable, finite amount of time that they had, but he personally could not subscribe to that sort of life. Fast-paced lifestyles were not very accommodating of quiet moments, and Altruous was rather fond of having ample time to stop to smell the roses. Rushing about simply did not suit him.

That said, it should not have come as a surprise to anyone that the old mech was entirely out of practice when it came to making haste.

The weathered old vector was spurred into action as soon as the ground-bridge control console unexpectedly pinged, signaling a pending authorization request, however, he was far from able to spring to his feet. Though he would have very much liked to have been able to answer the knock at Haven’s door in a timely fashion, he found himself waylaid by his age old enemy: bad joints, and the century or two of wear which accumulated from the last time he was able to stand up quickly without issue, and the present.

It became evident when he needed to use his arms to push himself from his seat, as his knee was unwilling take its share of his weight, that that time was long, long since past.

Fortunately, getting to his feet was the most difficult hurdle, and once it was overcome the little old mech wasted no time making his way across the room, towards the groundbridge, intent on making up for the time lost to his small delay. The rhythmic clack clack tak of his uneven gait reverberated throughout the otherwise silent atrium, his staff punctuating his every other step as it provided a counterbalance for his hobbled stride.

It took him half a klik or so, but soon enough he made it to the control console in order to first verify, then accept, the ground-bride authorization request. He gave little thought at all to the fact that the message was of Decepticon origin, thinking nothing at all of it, save that perhaps he ought to have called down Layby or Deuce, or someone more knowledgeable of weaponry to meet their unexpected guest in his stead. Generally speaking, Decepticons tended to have more interest in trading tools and weaponry than waxing philosophical with a wizened old mech who was far past his prime.

He could only assume he would need to pass their guest along to someone else in due time, however, until that moment came to pass Altruous saw no reason why he couldn’t try to play the part of a gracious host and make their visitor feel welcome.

Not that there was really much else he could do aside from smile, wait for the ground-bridge to activate, and wave in greeting when the visitor in question finally stepped through the vortex and into the atrium - which is precisely what he did. He did not recognize the mech, and he had no knowledge of his rank or what his role in the war was, though that did not bother him much. It simply meant there was more of this stranger for him to discover.

As the mech walked through the bridge, Altruous extended a hand in greeting, his ever-present smile warming as nodded towards Soundwave, acknowledging his presence.

“My apologies for the wait. I’m afraid you had the misfortune of calling in when the slowest of us here at Haven was manning the bridge. A tortoise amongst hares, you might say.” He chuckled a bit, out of fondness for that particular Aesop, before a thought occurred to him and he sobered.

“I’m sorry, I ought to have introduced myself. I am Altruous, resident prattling priest, tangent-starter, and duster of kick-knacks.”

[Deleted]

Soundwave strode out of the green-light spiral with the easy, casually lethal grace that made him relatively easy to identify... if you actually had any sort of interest in finding out such things about the Decepticon 3IC. It was, in many ways, a throwback to the days when his every motion was scrutinized for perfection by his 'masters', or when an impressive entrance did much for your odds in the arena. At current it was just common sense: there was always the chance of getting attacked as you came out of a ground-bridge, where the ambush odds always favored the party already ensconced in reality.

The empty faceplate turned and framed the mech speaking, and Soundwave took in all that he could of physical posture, motion, even general appearance, upkeep and care.

... this mech was ancient.

“I’m sorry, I ought to have introduced myself. I am Altruous, resident prattling priest, tangent-starter, and duster of kick-knacks.”

Well, that explained a lot.

Soundwave stopped, turning fully to face Altruous. The long talons of his right hand came up and brushed his forehead, dropping down then to brush with the same measured elegance the jagged protrusions of his chest. That same hand then flicked talons up and away. It was an old, formal greeting of the order that kept Soundwave's silence.

Primus be in your mind, your spark and all around you.

Intellectually, of course, the slender mech had no idea if the order survived; if they'd abandoned their beliefs as their race had abandoned their planet. That did not really matter to Soundwave; as long as he lived, so did his oath to them and, by default, so did they themselves.

He, of course, had no way of knowing if Altruous knew that ancient order, or even of it. So the Decepticon 3IC also drew himself up to parade rest, and bowed very slightly. One talon tapped slightly on his own chest, then pointed at the elderly priest.

[Deleted]

If he had kept more up to date on the war, spent more time memorizing key figures and their roles in their respective chains of command, Altruous might have been more quick to recognize Soundwave for who he was. The Decepticons’ Head of Communications was not a mech many could claim to have seen in person, however his name held power, and infamy, and there were few mecha on either faction who did not know of Megatron’s most loyal (and silent) officer.

Altruous, however, was not part of either faction. He was as neutral now as he had always been, though these days he was too stiff in the knees to go charging into battles, entirely uninvited, to heal the wounded and deliver last rites to those who were beyond his--or anyone else’s--help. His contact with both factions was limited almost entirely to these pursuits, and as such he wasn’t as up-to-date on the important players of the war as perhaps he should have tried to be.

As it was, he really had no way of telling Soundwave apart from any other person who might have walked through the ground bridge, which probably explained why he did not seem the least bit intimidated by, or wary of, the silent mech.

Well, that and the fact that the old mech had seen and experienced so much in his time he was notoriously unflappable.

After introducing himself, Altruous had expected his visitor to respond in kind, as mecha who understood basic social conventions tended to. Instead of giving him a name, however, the silent mech greeted him in a far more unusual (to say nothing of interesting) way.

The gesture took the old mech by surprise, at first, but once Soundwave completed his movements and he recognized the greeting for what it was, Altruous could not help but smile, utterly charmed.

“...Now, isn’t that something?” He said softly, more to himself than Soundwave. “Marvelous. Absolutely marvelous.”

Shifting, the old mech planted his staff more firmly against the ground, leaning some of his weight against it as he made himself more comfortable for what he could only hope would be a continued conversation - er, interaction.

“I do hope you’ll forgive me-- it’s been what, two, three-thousand years since I’ve seen that gesture last?”
No sooner did the old mech finish speaking did he shake his head, dismissing his own thought.

“Nevermind that, it’s hardly important, is it? Now, that said, what is it that brings you here today: business, pleasure, or a personal matter? Perhaps a mix of the three? I’m afraid I won’t be of much use to you if you’ve come here to trade goods, but if you’d like, I would be happy to point you in the direction of someone who might have whatever it is you might be looking for.”

[Deleted]

It had been a long while since Soundwave had seen, let alone interacted, with anyone as blatantly old as Altruous. He'd spent the first part of his existence entirely unaware of them, surrounded by mecha who, regardless of age saw the most sumptuous care and maintenance.

Against that, there were no old gladiators.

By default, having no experience or education to draw from, Soundwave defaulted to a polite, if distant, manner.

Soundwave tapped lightly on the spot where a faceplate not as blank as his would have held mouthplates, before gesturing mildly to the priest and to himself; while it would not be something easily believed, the Decepticon 3IC was entirely able to hold conversations, as long as the subject matter was known to everyone involved, and they did not mind someone who required a degree of on-the-spot translation on their part.

Carefully he lifted one hand and counted the four subject matters Altruous had mentioned, with a pointed pause between the third and fourth as the priest had indeed separated 'trade' from the other three, if only briefly. Again he pointed at Altruous and at himself, then stepped lightly back and gestured sweepingly beyond the area they were in. Not that he could (or would) say it, but perhaps they could find somewhere to sit more comfortably... without that cane giving him the idle concern that he might have to explain the difference between his attacking this rather brittle-looking creature and Altruous' simply tripping off that bum leg.

[Deleted]

It was times like these that Altruous was glad for all the games he and his congregation had played together to pass the time as the Concordia carried them through the stars, from one outpost to another. It made figuring out what Soundwave was attempting to communicate to him considerably less difficult than it might otherwise have been.

Amicable smile still firmly in place, the old mech took a stab at Soundwave’s meaning, gesturing towards the other mech with a slight wave of his hand.

“So you are here to trade, then.” He guessed, before sparing a brief glance to the other end of the room, where near the wall a small makeshift table and accompanying chairs stood.

The old priest nodded his head towards them, jerking his chin in their direction in lieu of pointing with his hand.

“Would you care to sit, while we discuss what it is you are looking for? I admit the furniture leaves a bit to be desired, but I wouldn’t be a very good host if I expected my guests to stand for the duration of their stay, would I?”

[Deleted]

Soundwave gave the Vector a very polite, pointed nod. He'd decided to count this as a small blessing. He could have been greeted by anyone else in the DMZ, up to and including the overprotective, the paranoid, and the downright hostile. To find the very mech he was looking for right off the deployment bay was the better option.

He stepped on to the chairs Altruous had pointed out for him, and as he walked he examined the ancient mech with the discretion aeons of many such faceless observations had taught him.

The priest seemed to be... exactly what he'd presented so far. Old, for starters. One shouldn't judge a Cybertronian on age, but it was absolutely impossible to ignore just how positively ancient Altruous was, from the walking aid to the lines of his frame. There were, Soundwave was certain, many other telltales of age, but he was quite satisfied with the basic ones.

The Decepticon 3IC was also willing to wager that the priest came from one of Cybertron's more peace-loving orders, though he was not such the fool as to try to guess which one it would be. There were as many followings of their race's deities as there were members of said race. However, he didn't need to know: peace-loving more often than not went hand in hand with erudite, and it was enough to hope that his particular trading effort would bear some sort of fruit.

In all, sitting and conversing was precisely what Soundwave had come to do, though he would not have been surprised, nor minded, if he'd been made to stand under armed guard for the duration of his visit. He'd be lying, however, if he'd not admitted (at least to himself) that sitting Altruous down and getting him off that leg was also a powerful motivator.

He waited politely for the older mech to take a seat before he would do so himself; with slow care, least any unseen watchers or remote security misunderstood the gesture, he offered Altruous the datapad, sliding it over the table and tapping a talon gently on its surface, before again pointing to Altruous and to himself.

Let the trade talks, such as they were, begin.

[Deleted]

"Wonderful." Altruous said with a grin, before turning slowly on his heel to lead Soundwave over to the cozy little corner where their seats awaited them.

His joints creaked as he walked, punctuating every other step (or rather, every one made by his bad leg) with a faint hiss of struggling hydraulics and groaning metal. They reached the table in little time at all, though it still took them a bit longer to arrive at their destination than it normally would for a more able-bodied mech. If Soundwave minded, he gave no indication that Altruous could see.

Taking his seat, the old mech made himself comfortable and settled in for what he hoped would be a long conversation. Even if he would be doing all of the actual talking, he still enjoyed the idea of communicating with Soundwave through his preferred means. It was times like this that the priest wished he had picked up a non-verbal language or two over the years. Alas, the most he knew of Chirolinguistics was a few basic hand signs that he could scarcely pose a coherent question with, let alone hold a full conversation.

Not that it really mattered, he supposed. His silent guest was managing to get his points across quite clearly without needing to speak Hand.

Case in point - Soundwave slid a datapad towards him, gave it a tap, and gestured from Altruous to himself. The old priest understood such a simple gesture quite easily, and was quick to pick up the datapad and activate it, to see what might be on it.

"Alrighty then, let's see what you've put on the table, here."

[Deleted]

Before he'd taken a second step to follow the vector, Soundwave had already calculated to a nicety how long it would take him to take the mech down under a number of variables. By surprise. Armed. Unarmed. Fully aware. Right that very moment.

It wasn't knowledge he estimated he would use, of course, but it was an assessment that went through the processor of the Decepticons' 3IC every time he met someone, regardless of faction or circumstance, harried survival technique turned into an instinctive response. On the third step, however, Soundwave kept an internal sigh just that (internal) and started taking mental note of the ways in which he may have to assist this absurdly ancient creature should he somehow further damage himself. Possibly by that creaking leg dumping him on his faceplate, and someone blaming Soundwave for it. It became a steady tertiary sub-routine listing results in his mind... at least until Altruous sat down.

With utmost courtesy Soundwave mimicked the gesture, for all that he was not a creature that often sat, for obvious reasons: he was too lanky, his limbs too long, his angles too flat and sharp; an ungenerous, or perhaps discerning spark might point out that he did not seem to have been built to take his easy, and he would not have counted them wrong.

Still, he sat opposite the vector and laced thin talons on the table. The mech's reaction to Succor's opinion that gods of any kind were about as useful as opiates, and possibly with worse side effects, was likely to tell him much about Altruous; the fact that the medic had defended her irate beliefs with surprising intelligence, even more so.

[Deleted]

The old mech cycled his optics, their pale blue glow going dim a moment as they reset themselves. His vision was not what it once was, and often times with small print he found himself having to focus more and more in order to read what was before him. This was no exception. Leaning forward a bit, Altruous squinted at the words scrawled across the screen and hummed thoughtfully as he took them in.

He continued reading for a klik or two before shifting, leaning his elbows on the table before him so that his back wouldn't start aching from the burden of bearing up his full weight. All the while, as he read, his expression remained the same: thoughtful, but otherwise void of any strong feeling. It seemed he was more intent on digesting what he was reading, as opposed to figuring out how he felt about it.

Finally, having reached the end of the essay, the old mech set down the datapad and leaned back in his seat, pushing away from the table as he leaned his weight against the backrest.

"Well." He began, mildly. "That was certainly an interesting read."

Once more a small smile spread across his face, and he nodded towards the datapad, lifting it in one hand as he gave it a bit of a wave in demonstration.

"Though I cannot say I agree with her on all counts, I do appreciate the passion behind her words. It is simple enough to assert that your beliefs are better than those of others, but it is considerably more difficult to make a compelling argument dispelling the merits of the opposing belief while promoting those of your own."