TFA Tracks Meets

Summary: A rip in time has dropped our favourite, organic-fearing, dirt-hating corvette right into... wait, what? The original G1 universe? Oh well... this is gonna over fabulously... Crack!Fic, mentions of Mech/Mech slash, mild language
Rating: T

Chapter 2



Tripping through a wormy, weaving mass of blue light and landing helm-first into an alternate dimension was not Soundwave's idea of a good day. Groaning, the communications officer tried to regain his equilibrium; slowly forcing himself up into a sitting position. The sound of something moving away skittishly brought the Decepticon to full alertness. Warily, he lifted his helm, scanning the room. He took in the circular shape of the area, lit with the light of various monitors and controls, before resting his gaze on the one 'bot in the room with him. Intakes hitching nervously, the Autobot looked down on him, blue optics flaring brightly upon a white face. But their light was nothing compared to the spastic sparking happening at the other mech's horns.

"...Inquiry: where ar-"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! INFERNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

There was the crunch of metal being kicked in behind him, before everything was washed away in a sea of foam.

xxXxXxx

"...you're Soundwave," Optimus said, looking down upon the squatter mech. The truck had his arms crossed over his chassis loosely, appearing arguably unbelieving behind his battle mask. "But you're not Soundwave..."

"Information: faulty," Soundwave replied. He was trussed up tightly to a chair, circled by a gaggle of Autobots. Each looked at him suspiciously, as if expecting the Decepticon to suddenly do something. Well, more so attack them. "Fact: not from this universe. Reasoning: Not your Soundwave."

"But yeh're Soundwave," a red mech spoke up, vocalizer strained by his southern accent. "Gonna 'splain 'ow yeh got pas' Red Alert's sec'rity 'ere, Decepticreep?"

"Answer: non-applicable."

"Why, Ah oughtta-"

"Woah, chillax, Iron'ide," the slimmer black and white Autobot said. He swaggered forward bravely, leaning close to the bound communications officer. "I gotta say, Prime. If he ain't 'or Soundwave, then he's gotta be someone else. I mean, jus' look at the mech! The build be slightly diff'rent... An' it take more than a clev'r Decepticon ploy 't git past 'or Red's security."

"Ah still say it's 'im," Ironhide grumbled, crossing his arms over his chassis as well.

"Jazz... are you certain?," Optimus asked skeptically. "Appearing in the middle of the security hub is no easy feat, but I wouldn't entirely put it past Megatron to somehow have discovered a way to infiltrate our base and sabotage its main line of defense."

The saboteur just grinned, glancing back at the Autobot leader momentarily. "'Ey, oth'r Soundwave," he started cheerfully, "Ya got Ravage runnin' 'bout on the loose 'ot there?"

Soundwave frowned behind his battle mask. "Designation: unidentifiable."

"Well, there ya go," Jazz said, turning to face his comrades cockily. "Decepticon or not, Soundwave nev'r would deny the existence o' his own creations. The 'con has his whole spark fixat'd on those lil' pit-spawn."

Prowl frowned. "That's entirely illogical, Jazz."

"But not entirely false," Optimus spoke up, siding with the Special Ops officer. The truck turned his attention back to the communications officer. "Saying that I do believe you... who exactly are you and how did you get here?"

"Designation: Soundwave. Point of origin: alternate universe."

"Well... that was helpful," Prowl whispered snidely. Jazz pouted, squatting before the Decepticon. "C'mon mech!," the saboteur whined. "Couldn't ya be a lil' more coop'rative."

Soundwave merely glanced at Autobot, before turning his helm back to Optimus. "Inquiry: Where is Tracks?"

Frames tensed about the room. "What purpose do you have with him?," Optimus asked lowly, straightening up further before the Decepticon. If this Soundwave -whether from an alternative reality or not- meant any harm to his troops, then the truck would be quick to stand in his way. Noticing the tension that had quickly arose, Soundwave's gaze darkened, the mech's monotonous vocalizer developing just the slightest chill.

"Demand: Bring Tracks to me. Now."

Jazz's pout turned into a full-out scowl. "Prime, sir," he started, rising to his pedes. "I think it's 'bout time we escort'd this prison'r 't the brig. We can int'rogate him lat'r."

"I think you are right, Jazz," Optimus agreed. Ironhide cracked his knuckles eagerly, moving forward to grab Soundwave. The communications officer did not take kindly to this though, and leaned forward in his bonds. "Fact: is not of your world. Tracks: from my universe as well. You shall not keep him from me."

All movement stopped at that. "Wait a sec'...," Jazz gaped. "Ya weren't talkin' 'bout 'or Tracks then?"

"Correct," Soundwave replied, tone still terse. "Tracks: fell through wormhole with me. From same universe as I. Demand: Want to see him now."

"Uh...," all mechs present looked toward Optimus. "Sir, ya wouldn't 'ave remember'd seein' a second Tracks in all that foam, would ya?," Jazz asked.

"Ironhide, go to Teletraan I and have him search the area for Tracks' energy signature. Prowl, in the meantime, bring Tracks here, if he's returned from his patrol yet. Jazz," Optimus ordered, turning to the Special Ops officer, "I need you to dispatch a video feed to the Nemesis, if you'd please."

"Sir?," the saboteur questioned.

"If this Soundwave ended up here, in the heart of the Ark," the truck explained, "Then there's a good chance that the other Tracks ended up at the Decepticon's base."

"Yes. A'ight, I'll git right on it, sir!," Jazz saluted, dashing off after Ironhide to the main control room.

xxXxXxx

"So... what's it like where you're from?"

"Jazz..."

"Aww, c'mon Prowler. I'mma only askin' a question. 'Sides, don't ya really want 't know what it's like in this alternate dimension?"

"Honestly, no..."

Pouting, Jazz turned away from the SIC. "So, 'ey... c'mon. Tell meh somethang." He poked Soundwave, hoping to get a reaction out of him. He was, again, dutifully ignored. "Mech, ya sure are bo-"

"Megatron? Megatron, can you read me?" All helms turned toward the front, where Optimus was speaking into Teletraan I; attempting to connect with the Decepticon Leader. A replying roar met their audios, before visual feed kicked in. Uncertainly, Optimus continued. Imagine everyone's surprise when another Tracks answered to the enquiry of his own whereabouts.

"Oh, slag!," Jazz hissed in disbelief. "Soundwave wasn't kiddin' when he said he came from anoth'r universe."

Soundwave quickly moved forward, shoving Optimus out of the way. "Demand: return of Tracks immediately," he ordered through the screen. "Reasoning: is of no significance to you."

"Darling!," Tracks exclaimed loudly on the other end.

"Are ya okay, Prahme? Th't no-good, dirt-munching, Decepticon creep 'ad no right ta-"

"I'm okay, Ironhide. I assure you. Soundwave's just... was a little eager to confirm Tracks' safety."

"A little eager, sir?," Jazz commented, catching the end of 'I can take care of myself, Big Boy' from the Tracks on screen. "Ya might wanna int'rvene, sir, before ol' Megsy blows a gasket."

Optimus shuffled nervously. "Right, yes. Well..." He quickly pushed Soundwave out of the way again, gently, before resuming control of the conversation. The Decepticon might not have looked it, but the temperature dropped to the low digits in the room at the action.

"'Ey, c'mon," Jazz chuckled nervously, coming up to the pissed off communications officer. "Prime knows what he's doing. 'Ow 'bout we get ya some energon, while Prime works on gettin' Tracks back, hmm? An' ya can tell meh all 'bout yer universe, yea?"

Soundwave remained resolutely silent.

"Slag...," Jazz pouted.

xxXxXxx

"TRAITOR!"

"Aww, calm down, Cliffjump'r," Jazz groaned. "No 'bots' a trait'r."

"Then what do you call that?!," the red minibot demanded, pointing a finger to the silent Soundwave standing behind the saboteur.

"Mech, he's from anoth'r dimension. He's got no beef wit' us here."

"Lies... all lies..."

"Umm, I think Cliffjumper's right, you know? I mean, it's a little unnerving and how do you know that this isn't simply Soundwave trying to say he's someone else so he can get inside the Ark and like, dismantle us or something? I mean, I wouldn't want that to happen, but I mean, how can you be sure right? Surely, Optimus has his reasons, but as a crew, we've got a right to be concerned, and we've been fighting the Decepticons for a long time and-"

"Woah, woah, woah Blue!," Jazz said, cutting the gunner off. "Now listen: I und'rstand ya mechs not be fancy 't the idea of a Decepticon bein' on base, roamin' freely. But, until we can find a way 't git Soundwave and Tracks home, they'll be stayin' wit' us here."

Choked spluttering came from the back of the rec room. "E-excuse me?!," Tracks coughed, turning to face the saboteur. The corvette froze, noticing that every single pair of optics were on him now.

"TRAITOR!"

"Fact: not my Tracks."

"Yo, chill, Cliff!," Jazz sighed. He waved his servos apologetically to Tracks. "Yea, sorry too mech. We're talkin' 'bout the oth'r Tracks, from oth'r Soundwave's dimension."

"O-oh... oh, yes, because that's a great comfort...," Tracks muttered to himself.

"In fact, they should be here any klik now! Sunstreak'r and Sideswipe were sent 't go collect 'or wayward friend."

"Woah, what!? We're getting another Tracks!?," Huffer shouted in disbelief.

"And I think that's my cue to leave," Tracks said to no one in particular, quickly bolting from the room.

"Awww, c'mon mech!," Jazz whined after him. "Dontcha wanna meet yer oth'r self?" He leaned back, looking at Soundwave. "Yo, mech, do I got mehself anoth'r meh in yer universe too?"

"...affirmative," Soundwave answered slowly. Jazz punched the air with a crow of delight. "Sweet!"

"Jazz, brother. This utterly whacked, mech. I mean-"

"DECEPTICON!" There was the hard crunch of metal as Sideswipe turned into the room, sensors picking up Soundwave's presence and immediately lashing out at the Decepticon. Caught off-guard by the assault, Soundwave took the servo to the face fully, being knocked backwards and to the floor.

"H-holy frag, 'Sides," Jazz cried. "D-didn't Prowler tell ya mechs 'bout 'or unexpect'd guest when he comm'd ya?!"

"Umm... oops?," the red warrior mumbled.

Everybody in the rec room began backing up as Sunstreaker strode through the doorway.

"What in the slag- Decepticon?! Raargghh!" The yellow twin went to go strike the communications officer, when a chair was suddenly smashed into the back of his helm; loud shriek permeating the air as the furniture gouged into his paintjob.

"Leave Soundwave alone, you daffodil!"

Optics shuttered disbelieving as all 'bots present took in the Autobot standing in the doorway behind the Twins. Blue optics, red faceplates, white wings... for all intent and purposes, it truly looked like there was another Tracks standing right before them.

"You... you scratched my paint," Sunstreaker mumbled in shock.

"Yeah, and I'll do much more than that if you ever lay a servo on Soundwave again!," Tracks growled back, wings hitched high irritably.

"Why I oughtta-!"

"Woah! Chillax Sunstreak'r!," Jazz cried, grabbing the lamborghini before he could lunge for the corvette. Tracks ignored the looming threat of the angry warrior, quickly dashing for Soundwave, who had yet to lift himself from the floor after being punched.

"Oh, darling," Tracks gasped, falling to his knees before the other mech. "Look at what they've done to you!" He carefully cupped the Decepticon's cheek vents, stroking the dented metal softly with a thumb. "See, this is why I don't like the Autobots. They're ever so vicious. Not that the Decepticons are any better really..."

"Tracks..."

"I mean, you'll never believe what they did to me! They threw me, THREW ME, off the flight deck! They didn't even allow me to transform and fly to shore. No, no, no, they just shoved me right off and into that nasty, organic water and-"

"Tracks..."

"Now I'm covered in all sorts of filth and I really need a shower. But I wasn't minding it so much, because the two mechs there were being of the nicest company... sort of. Of course, that changes now that they've hurt you. I mean, how utterly rude is that! And, well, I suppose I'll be glad to go home eventually...

"...Tracks..."

"Dealing with Starscream is a bit of an easy feat. At least he doesn't attempt to lay even one scratch on you. But I suppose we can worry about things like that another day. Right now, we've got to get you fixed up, my love!"

Soundwave did not protest the kiss Tracks felt necessary to press to his mouth guard. He did, however, turn a glare to the present mechs gawking at the pair. "Inquiry: what?," he growled, as their shell-shocked gazes persisted.

Tracks shuttered his optics, looking back at the others. Everybody had gone stock still, jaws wide open, and, in a couple cases, starting to fritz. Leaning in a little closer, the corvette whispered into Soundwave's audio, "I wonder what's got them so bugged..."

The Decepticon did not answer, winding an arm about Tracks' waist and keeping him close. His glare had yet to disappear.

"So...," Tracks hummed, looking at the Autobots coolly. "Could someone direct us to the closest medbay, or do we have to find it ourselves? Oh, and the showers as well. I really, really need to get clean, darling," he explained to Soundwave.

"Wh-WOAH!" Jazz croaked as he was suddenly crushed by the weight of Sunstreaker, the yellow warrior falling directly on the saboteur as he crashed. Struggling to get out from the Twin's bulky frame, the black and white mech stared at the odd couple with a sullen pout on his face.

"A'ight, now ya really need 't tell me what yer universe is like!"