red_diode_district | The Start of Something Interesting...

The Start of Something Interesting...

The day was calm, with no recent Decepticon attacks, and none suspected to be incoming for some time. The cons were too busy licking their wounds from the last battle, one that the Autobots had decidedly come out ahead on. The celebrations had gone on long into the night and the recreation room was already a mess.

Thus, it was the perfect chance for a lone Autobot to slip casually outside.

Mirage had no shift currently scheduled, so he was free to spend his time as he pleased. He certainly made no move to hide his departure, greeting his comrades in the halls on the way out, but the box in his hands remained unopened despite any passing curiosity. It was quietly shifted into subspace before long, and the former noble shifted into alt mode just as smoothly when he reached the doors. Despite the completely inappropriate earthen race car mode, the mech had little trouble self-adjusting before driving off into the forest covering the mountain, for business unknown...

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Right about then, Mirage got pinged.

::If you're having trouble meditating, I might either be about ta make it better or worse.:: Pure amiability, if understanding, there, as Jazz waited outside, leaning against the wall.

He'd been there for a few minutes actually, gauging whether to get Mirage when he left the room or to take this now, if Mirage hadn't gotten too deeply into his meditation.

::...A most ominous opening statement.:: Mirage replied, his failing meditation breaking completely with dread.

::I'm not sure I want to know.::

But the door to the shrine unlocked remotely with a muted click, allowing the head of Special Operations to come inside when he pleased.

"Perhaps just a little," Jazz said with a grin as the door opened for him, "but I think you're equipped ta handle it."

Compared with certain other mechs on this ship, and more specifically, for this mission.

Lacking a handy table, when Jazz pulled the scrambler out this time, he put it on the floor.

"Lock the door, would ya?"

"Also ominous," Mirage quipped back, a single optic lighting up as he peered over toward his commander with a resigned air. The scrambler was barely acknowledged; the spy was well used to the thing coming out when times got...tricky.

The door locked remotely with a soft thud, and Mirage tilted his helm up at the other mech in silent query.

After flashing another dry smile at Mirage, Jazz spread his hands, palms up.

"Any thoughts of who you need ta come with you?" Jazz rather hoped Mirage had already come to the only possible conclusion, since even if he didn't yet know of the information the mech who'd "helped" their visitors on their ship had found out, he still had a wealth of religious information available thanks to his position.

If he didn't, well... then he'd have to tell him.

For some reason, Mirage always got a little bit nervous when Jazz attempted to be disarming and innocent.

"I've been trying to avoid thinking about just that, I'm afraid."

Mirage sighed, staring up at Jazz with a wary twist of the lips.

"I was under the impression I had a little time."

Mirage probably had all the right to be a bit nervous when it happened, and Jazz wasn't currently doing anything to dispel it, really. Not that he was, precisely, actually attempting to unsettle Mirage.

So after giving another dry, amused smile, he straightened up and shook his helm.

"If there actually were more options, you would have, Mirage," Jazz said, his optics having dimmed a little into soberness, "but as it is, 'cause apparently an anchor needs ta be sensitive, and given your... ah, history with the mech in question..."

Jazz shrugged.

He hadn't really been surprised that the anchor needed to be sensitive, if not a full priest or otherwise involved in the priesthood. It made sense, really, that you'd want someone who, at the least shared the same basic ability as your actual priests to be able to... well, ground them?

Mirage groaned, looking away as his shoulder wheels hunched up defensively against his neck.

"Jazz. Must you? Do this? Right now?"

He groaned again, running a hand down his face hard enough to make the metal squeal.

"I really, truly do not wish to contemplate even broaching the subject with the little jumpstarter, much less considering how many possible ways he could frag this up if we actually bring him along!"

"Gives us... and you more time to plan and make sure you have ways to rectify anything he might mess up," Jazz said with a shrug, quietly patient even if he had... less of it to draw from after dealing with Cliffjumper and his reaction to being told. Because it was probably unavoidable Cliffjumper would mess things up, even just accidentally and not meaning it.

Which wasn't really so much a dig against the minibot, just that he was hardly used to the more... delicate sort of missions, or had a personality fitting for them.

"And you don't have ta broach anythin' with him, Mirage, it's already taken care of." Pulling out a datapad and holding it out to the frustrated Mirage, Jazz waggled it a little, "what we learned on their ship. Ya know this wouldn't be my chosen set-up either; if we could, I'd rather have one of our initial top picks for a mission like this playing the role of your bonded, but that ain't how this is going to have to play out."

"Uggghhh...Jazz, what?!"

The datapad was ignored entirely.

Groaning, Mirage took advantage of the fact that he was already on the ground to curl up melodramatically, fingers curling tightly around his helm.

"I cannot believe you already told him! Dare I even ask how poorly that little fusebox took it?!"

He probably shouldn't be amused.

Not even the smaller amount of patience he had to call on diminished the fact that he was, however, as he watched Mirage curl up like an overdramatic newspark told they couldn't have an energon treat.

Tapping the corner of the datapad against his cheek, Jazz grinned.

"Decided ta start in the hardest end when I found out we couldn't choose anyone else, considerin' his temper," Jazz said, still resting the datapad against his cheek while he spoke, "Pretty poorly. There was yelling. He'd probably argue with Primus himself if he didn't like what he had to say."

He would have said "argue with Prime", but well. That was a definitive and known thing that had happened, so it would be moot to use it.

"He knows he has to go, though."

Not that Jazz had fully begrudged him his reaction, if his suspicions were true - which they seemed to be - but there was no time or possibility to accomodate such things right now.

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Mirage grumbled, voice muffed from his position, face buried in his own knees and pillows.

It took a long moment, in which Mirage tossed the pillow away in disgust, wheels twitching and fingers raking down his otherwise pristine, glyphed plating, but when the spy finally turned back to his superior, he was much more composed.

"So. He actually agreed to this farce?"

He was certain Jazz would be polite enough to ignore his still-spasming tires. He reached out for the datapad.

"He did, yeah," Jazz said as he handed the datapad over, smiling humourlessly, "I didn't quite have ta make it an order, but I told him I would if I had to. Cliffjumper's difficult but not impossible." The humourless tone disappeared under a sharply amused smile.

"At least like this, we ain't gonna have to scramble the last day or so if we'd found this out then and had to change things around."

Frankly, whatever the frustrations right now, it was probably far calmer than anything else that might have happened if they'd had to order/convince Cliffjumper to go just a day before they were due to leave...

"To you he's not impossible, maybe." Mirage muttered darkly, paging through the datapad with a detached air. It was more interesting then he let on, but he was still too vexed to openly show it just yet.

"...I wouldn't have put it off for that long," Mirage snorted, shaking his helm.

Tilting his helm, Jazz snorted.

"You've worked with him before, albeit not in a situation like this," and Jazz didn't mean the 'pretend to be a couple' part, "was it so unmanageable?"

Then he chuckled, shaking his helm as well.

"Meant more if none of us found out what qualities the anchor would need and we'd need to switch at the last moment. But I guess you'd figure it out before then, if we didn't already know?"

Jazz sure hoped so, if they hadn't been successful in obtaining the information now contained in the datapad already.

"He may have gotten -somewhat- better recently, but that doesn't change the fact that Cliffjumper is a difficult mech to work with." He really wasn't as bad as all that but...well. Old grievances were hard to forget.

Mirage snorted. He waved a hand, gesturing with the datapad.

"Oh, I'm sure I would have been able to make some discreet inquiries. Disguised as exploring cultural differences if nothing else."

"Like I said, difficult, not impossible," Jazz said with a chuckle, but the pat to Mirage's shoulder was certainly not unsympathetic, "you'll both have to learn to work better together."

And if nothing else, Mirage might mostly have to contend with Cliffjumper's tendency to get flustered more than his actively aggressive and challenging parts, depending on.

Not that that made it any easier, but Jazz was sure Mirage would be able to handle it.

"Hopefully so. Luckily, it ain't like we had to wait either way. Anythin' ya know you want me ta start do or gatherin' up immediately, or should I leave so you can curse me out in private some more?"

Jazz's grin was nearly wicked.

Mirage huffed, resisting the urge to roll his optics. He settled for an affronted sniff.

"Close enough. I am perfectly capable of being professional. Even if there will be much cursing once you leave."

He shrugged, paging through the datapad a little more as he considered.

"Just any further information we don't already have, if you can manage it. You know as well as I how any little detail may come into use. And perhaps..."

A sigh, before Mirage ruefully laughed.

"Well. I doubt anyone would give much advice on how to keep a novice, headstrong idiot playing 'spy' from botching the entire thing."

Jazz just chuckled at that.

"We'll both try ta wring them out for all the information we might need, hm? 'Cause I don't think they'd be suspicious if you did have some conversations with them previous to leaving under the guise of exploring possible cultural differences." Jazz would certainly not just stop digging himself, either.

This was far too important to do that, and the more they knew before their 'ambassadors' left, the better for all of them - away team and everybody remaining on the Ark... as well as Autobots elsewhere in the cosmos, Cybertron or not, as well.

"Ah, that's the dilemma, ain't it? But as long as it's hammered home that he doesn't need ta do a thing beyond actin'... well, almost as usual, it should be fine. At least any arguments you two have, as long as no one overhears them too clearly, should be easy to wave off as normal bickerin'," Jazz said with a grin, visor glinting.

"Asking more would be fine, I'm sure."

Mirage waved a hand

"I may not be a professional ambassador, but I know or can at least guess what I can ask safely. Taboos are landmines neither side wish to set off."

He made a face at the idea of Cliffjumper stepping on said conversational landmines, however. The red mech would run blindly into them headfirst, and then keep charging ahead into the rest out of sheer stubbornness.

Mirage harrumphed.

"Now bickering is one thing I am sure we will do quite well."

"I don't doubt it," and really, he didn't. Mirage and Cliffjumper were both in possession of strong personalities, like many others on the ship, and putting them together when one added differences in opinion, prejudices and a dash of class difference, regardless of the fact that it'd been millions of years since that had mattered in any greater way?

Well, bickering was the least of it that could happen.

"Hopefully not too much so ya can do your job, too. And you're as good a choice as any of the other ones we might have suggested, considerin' you're probably knowledgeable of things by upbringing that others had to learn from trainin'," Jazz said with a shrug and a wave of his hand, dismissing any possible concerns anyone might have (present or not) over Mirage's suitability.

Finally, Mirage had to laugh at the sheer stupidity of the two of them arguing in front of the Paradrons.

"Perhaps."

If his long career as a spy ended like that, he would have to laugh.

"But yes. We still might fail miserably, but I will do my duty. And...do my best to prepare him as well."

The assurance was reluctantly given, but given nonetheless.

Hopefully, his career wouldn't end like that!

"You won't be alone in that, Mirage. We'll all do our best ta make sure ya can succeed and that Cliffjumper might be, if not an active help, not a hinderance," jazz said with a lopsided smile, dropping a hand to Mirage's shoulder before he bent to pick up the scrambler.

"I'll leave ya to it."

There was a reason Mirage usually worked alone. This was nudging on at least three of them.

"Oh what fun that will be," Mirage sighed, before giving Jazz a wave.

"Go on, go on. I'll figure out how to approach the little cog soon enough."

He had a few ideas, but once Jazz was gone, he returned to his meditations. Or his attempts at mediation. Oddly enough, they went slightly better than before, if only because things were now decided. Even if he was not pleased with the outcome.

The polite thing to do would be to call on Cliffjumper and arrange a meeting...but as Cliffjumper's involvement had been spring on him, Mirage didn't see much wrong with springing their meeting on an unsuspecting minibot. Checking the duty rosters, Mirage waited most of the day up until third shift in the evening, fueling himself and reading that datapad. Eventually pinging Teletran for the red mech's location and finding him home in his quarters, Mirage set out on the pre-mission...mission.

Cliffjumper would've pointed out he got the whole fragging thing sprung on him as well, if he knew that was Mirage's reasoning. As he didn't, Cliffjumper was curled up on his berth, glaring at the datapad Jazz had given him while trying to concentrate on another, far more fun datapad.

It was harder than it should have been, because despite doing his best to ignore it, its presence seemed as glaring as headlights right into his optics, and even when he could concentrate on his own datapad for a bit, the circumstances and the fragging situation that was coming at the end of the week just kept popping up and circling around in his processor.

Having to play bonded. With Mirage of all people.

If he simply disliked the mech, it'd probably be easier to swallow than his actual feelings for the slagging glitch made it.

Great.

He hadn't been able to read more than a full sentence or two and he kept having to start over. Cliffjumper was overcome with the urge to throw both datapads across the room.

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