Author's Notes: This made perfect sense in my mind. Not so much now. Because I wanted to write something concerning Transformers Prime, yet I cannot for the life of me get Dylan and Soundwave out of my head.
Anyhow, this is dedicated to Mauzzsi who got me into the extraordinarily awkward relationship between Dylan and Soundwave.
Characters: Soundwave, Dylan Gould
Universe: Prime with reincarnated Bayverse characters.
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers.
As so frequently would be the case in the future, Dexter was unconsciously dictated to by his winter dreams.
-Winter Dreams by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Soundwave was cold. That was a fact. His pain sensors had shut down cycles ago, cutting off the stinging bite of the ice that was freezing inside his circuitry.
He had hurt all over, especially after hitting the glacier full on and ripping one of his wings off, and subsequently breaking the thin ice over the sea which he had fallen into. Not anymore.
Soundwave was not one to give in to despair. He disliked the idea of it, but the mild storm had become a full-blown blizzard in less than ten cycles, giving him barely any time to send a heavily encrypted message to the Nemesis stating his predicament.
Leaning heavily against the glacier which he had crashed into, Soundwave sat up, massaging his injured shoulder in an attempt to try and get some kind of feeling into it. His hands had gone numb.
He had to move, if only to get to the other side of the glacier. It might protect him from some of the wind long enough for him to outlast the storm. His body was designed for spying and reconnaissance; not for exposure to the elements. By all rights he shouldn't even have come out here.
The ground bridge had been acting up for an Earth week. The Nemesis's scanners had picked up on Energon in the Antarctic, and Soundwave had been the only one who was available to go. If this had been earlier in the stellar cycle, Soundwave would have blamed Starscream's bumbling for the malfunctions. It was supposed to work at least two more times, and the Energon had been badly needed, which was why Megatron wasn't willing to send a Vehicon or someone…less qualified for the job.
Using his free arm, he hauled himself up. Ignoring the warnings flashing in his vision, he began walking around the ice.
This storm, Dylan Gould decided, was nothing any reasonable human should live through.
He was sitting at the control console, watching the huge mass of air and snow hover over their location, sipping from a huge mug of coffee.
The rest of his skeleton crew had gone to bed, preferring sleep to watching the storm over them. As much as Dylan wished he was back in Maryland crunching the cost of the expedition in the comfort of his own home, he would rather be awake than sleeping in five minute intervals as he was prone to do here.
The building was attached to a small hangar they used to store the plane. One of the guys (Dylan couldn't remember who) had taken it out yesterday for a trip to civilization. He could hear the wind whistling inside the empty building.
Tired of staring at the radar. Dylan turned on the television, a tiny thing that had two channels: neither of which English was the dominant language.
He recognized the dubbed movie instantly, and almost sighed. The Thing. If only something that interesting ever happened here.
Taking another sip of coffee, he checked the windmill's power. The 'Mill, as it was affectionately dubbed, was the only reason the team was on this continent. It powered the entire base and was, according to the company's beliefs, the future of energy. Currently it was running at maximum efficiency.
Through said howling winds, Dylan distinctly heard a crash. There was a three second pause, and then the whole building trembled for a moment. Then the storm quieted. Dylan knew it would last for about ten minutes, and if he was still outside when that time was up, he was a dead man.
He pulled on his multiple jackets and gloves. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed the unused rifle from its place.
Soundwave stopped where he was. Paused, forcing his pain sensors to go online for a moment, then collapsed where he stood.
His legs were too stiff. He wouldn't manage to go all the way around. He shut his optics for an instant, assessing his situation.
There would be no time for reinforcements. His joints were locking up more quickly than he could move, and unless he could get warmth in the next six cycles, he was going to go into multi-system failure.
He barely noticed the storm had quieted. It was still dark, though he could make out a dark shape barely two mechanometers away. Probably some abandoned human research facility.
His optics were closing, but not before seeing the blue lights that adorned his body begin to shine. His body was totally numb now, oblivious to the freezing air around him.
Dylan peeled off the goggles from his face, rubbed his eyes and put them back on, eyes watering from exposure to the icy air.
There was this…thing lying not ten feet from the door. Huge. In the sunlight it would probably be dark blue but in the darkness it was jet black with light blue lights shining on some places of its body.
He shouldn't have moved one step forward. Every instinct was screaming at him to take a lesson from The Thing and leave this obviously alien creature alone to hopefully freeze and die.
The expletive had died in his mouth as he could have sworn it looked at him for a split second before its visor dimmed and it slumped to the ground, stopping all motion instantly.
But he did step forward. His boots crunched in the fresh snowdrifts as he made his way toward the creature, confident for no reason save a hunch that he wouldn't be intentionally hurt.
Look, I'm safe. They said I'm safe.
Where had that come from? He was now close enough to the creature that he could touch it. He noted absently that it was made entirely of metal and was decidedly asymmetrical: one wing was missing. From the glowing liquid that was frozen to its back, Dylan guessed it had been torn off.
Reaching out his rifle-free hand, Dylan touched the side of its face, half expecting it to immediately wake up and start shooting at him. The only response he got was a movement so slight he thought it was his imagination; a tiny inclination of the head as if it was leaning into his touch.
"Hello?" his breath was visible in the air. The winds were starting to pick up again. If something didn't happen fast he would be forced back inside and his unexpected visitor certainly wouldn't survive another onslaught of the storm.
Remarkably, the alien responded. His visor brightened and he lifted his head. The blue lights intensified. That was either a bad or good thing. Dylan was inclined to believe the former.
"Do you understand me?"
A slight nod. Dylan removed his gloved hand.
"I don't think I've ever seen one of…you before but I'm guessing you're not dealing with the cold too well?"
Another nod. Dylan wasn't sure how the rest of his team would handle an alien robot living in the hangar until the storm burned out. But he couldn't leave him out here like an abandoned puppy.
I'm a liaison. I liaise.
Dylan shoved the phrase out of his mind.
"Can you make it to the hangar?" he gestured to the building with his arm.
In acknowledgement, the robot managed to get to his knees as a huge gust of wind hit him. If he hadn't been blocked by the alien's body, Dylan would have been thrown off of his feet.
Painfully, as chunks of ice broke off with his every movement, the alien began crawling toward the building. Dylan jogged ahead to unlock the doors – with this weather the plane wouldn't return until the runway could be cleared off.
It wasn't much warmer in the hanger than outside, but it was out of the wind, and the heating could be turned on.
Barely making it inside, the alien collapsed with another loud crash that should have woken the dead. Dylan prayed that his team slept better than the deceased.
He switched on the lights, placing the rifle on a crate near the door. He had been right. Its body was dark blue and asymmetrical.
"You have a name?" Dylan asked.
Its visor flickered before displaying his own name.
Dylan Gould. Born 1970. Age: 41. Occupation: financial advisor for Hotchkiss-Gould investments.
"I meant your name." Dylan was a little disturbed by how easily he could be accessed.
He could have sworn it tried to speak. Making a noise sort of like couching, it clutched its throat area, digging into it. The blue liquid began to drip from his fingers.
"You don't have to-"
With a sharp crack several chunks of ice fell to the floor. He breathed out, causing steam to dissolve quickly in the cold air.
Even his voice sounded familiar.
"Um. Hi, Soundwave. My name is Dylan." Dylan cringed at the horrible introduction as he fiddled with the heating.
Soundwave watched as he tried valiantly to turn the heating on. After several unsuccessful attempts, he succeeded.
"It'll take a while for the building to heat up."
Soundwave nodded just as a gust of wind slammed the door shut.
Soundwave was curious.
What little interaction he'd had with the inhabitants of this planet had led him to believe they reacted badly to things that were a) bigger than them and/or b) foreign to them, reacting with fear or aggression. This human, possibly due to the weather was not acting that way, acting as if he knew him.
But the strangest thing was Soundwave was certain they had met sometime previously. As illogical as them meeting and having left on such terms as the human would be willing to assist him, it was even stranger that Soundwave would have no memory of such an event.
Contemplating this, Soundwave began to clean himself, moving his arms and legs around in order to break the ice and get the Energon flowing through his body. The human watched, apparently transfixed by this ritual.
His vocaliser kept shorting out. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but humans didn't communicate well physically, using gestures and such. Soundwave also doubted that Dylan wished to hear a voice in his head.
They were such a talkative race. Soundwave was grateful this didn't exactly seem to be the case with Dylan. He fought the urge to cough out the water that was in his tanks. As irritating as it was, it wouldn't do to spray the human with water and subsequently kill it.
His wing was another problem. Getting off this continent would be impossible without flight or a ground bridge, and he had little faith in the repair crew of the Nemesis.
The human had situated himself on a stack of crates and was leaning against a higher one, still watching him curiously as more chunks of ice broke free and hit the floor. It was almost done, Soundwave told himself, then he could recharge.
"I'm guessing you don't come down here often?"
Soundwave's reply was choked off by the voice – his voice – saying something that made absolutely no sense to him.
There had to be something wrong, a data glitch or he had contracted a virus from his surroundings.
Dylan nodded and sat watching him quietly until Soundwave finished.
Finally ice free, Soundwave wondered if the human was planning to stay here until he left. He was so exhausted; concern over being discovered was beginning to not bother him at all.
Slowly, watching Dylan with one optic, Soundwave lay down on the concrete floor. He didn't bother positioning himself; it would come when he actually fell into recharge.
The human looked back at him. A small part of Soundwave actually felt bad that he was leaving his – the human alone.
But he wasn't alone. Not really. And hopefully recharge would purge both the feeling of déjà vu out of his processor.
Soundwave settled quietly into recharge as Dylan Gould watched.
Part 1 of 2
A review would be nice…please? And have an extraordinarily awesome holiday season!