The Start of Something Interesting...

[lastonepercent]

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...

Comments

[cliffjumper]

The speaker faced Ironhide's brief outburst with blank, courteous silence, though a few of the others exchanged glanced - one of them even seemed to bristle for some reason.

"No harm done," she said with a wave of her hand and a shrug, and then outright chuckled.

"Primus forfend, of course we do!" amusement glittering in her words, she nonetheless reigned it in when she continued, gesturing to herself and the mech beside her, as well as one of her entourage that was standing behind her.

Her whole entourage had briefly sketched a three-point gesture between the fronts of their helms, the metal in front of their spark chambers and then their mouths while the envoy had uttered the deity's name.

"I, myself, am First Spark of Altrahex, my sparkmate is an attendant of the High Altar in the capital, and Fleetfoot here is an initiate soon to be inducted," the envoy said with a small, if noticeably amused, smile, before she sobered up again.

"We might not have the Prime gracing our beloved home, but the Flames have kept the light of Primus well lit over Paradron. Which is why we would be greatly honoured to have one of Cybertron itself to grace us with his presence."

[lastonepercent]

Mirage's expression brightened, the mech instantly perking up sharply enough that his chair scraped the floor.

He was not the last of a dead order.

(Prowl and Jazz instantly exchanged another concerned look - if the cons had just been handed a priest after losing Mirage...)

"You are made known and welcomed here First Spark; Attendant of the High Altar; Initiate. It has been far too long since other Priests of Cybertron have made themselves known to us."

He gave as much of a formal bow as he could manage from his seat, gestures laced with ritual and esoteric meaning.

"Of course, I have been remiss in introductions. I am Mirage; High Priest of the Matrix Flame, Highest Seat of Iacon, First of the Reigning Primacy."

Mirage wasn't one to boast, but meeting a diplomatic priest from a colony world certainly earned a full recitation of his highest ranks and titles. It made his lips twitch to hear Ironhide and -surprisingly- Magnus sputter at the 'little' revelation.

[cliffjumper]

Mirage wasn't the only one perking up; the whole of the paradronian entourage did as well, with the envoy's sparkmate standing up as the rest did, to bow. Only the envoy herself remained seated, but she did as Mirage had done, bowing to the mech while remaining in her seat.

"High Priest," she said, dipping her helm in another bow before she straightened up again, "it's a boon and an honour, to have met you, and it isn't surprising that the orders would be... scarce this late in such a terrible and encompassing war."

Shaking her helm, she gave Mirage another lingering look of restrained eagerness before she turned back to Optimus and dipped her helm again.

"If the First of your Primacy would be willing to head your diplomatic mission to Paradron, Prime, there are no words that would express our deepest delight and honour to be graced with such a personage and opportunity."

[lastonepercent]

::...Prime?:: Mirage asked quietly, not even daring to hope. He certainly couldn't answer without the Prime's approval. Such a station would be positively pleasant, compared to his recent missions - it would be virtually a vacation, for all that it could be vital.

It felt almost selfish to hope-

::Of course, Mirage. There is no one better suited for this. And even if there was, they are asking for you.:: He sounded almost amused, turning to Mirage the faintest lip tilt. In real time, Optimus nodded his helm Mirage's way graciously.

"If he is willing, I would be more than pleased to have him represent myself and Cybertron on Paradron. I could not ask for a better choice."

Returning the nod with all too real gratitude, Mirage inclined his helm again toward the ambassadors.

"It would be an honor and a privilege to be a part of the mission, both between our worlds and to serve as a reconnection between the branches of our Order."

[cliffjumper]

Prowl briefly looked like he wanted to interject, but really, while others could obviously play the ambassador, given the way things were playing out... It was clearly both best and easiest to let it.

The speaker herself smiled, optics bright with real, open pleasure, and most of her entourage looked openly pleased as well - why hide that they were happy over how things were going, when they didn't have any nefarious plans and certainly wanted this, now that the opportunity had presented itself?

"The sentiment is completely reciprocated, high priest. The whole of Paradron will be delighted to receive you and your sparkmate whenever you're ready for the trip," the envoy said with a smile and a dip of her helm

[lastonepercent]

The open pleasure was matched in part on the other side of the table, most of the Autobots pleased to see it resolved so quickly. Optimus looked almost politely smug...though the ambassador's words quickly drew up a number of sudden, confused stares.

"Of course-"

Mirage paused, helm tilting. Optimus pinged him with a wordless query as a faint warning and old, half-forgotten rites involving sparkmates crackled up from his oldest memory banks.

"...I apologize. We might be encountering our first of hopefully few cultural differences," Mirage said, hands splaying out with a grin and apologetic chuckle, carefully attempting to diffuse any possible tension.

"My, ah, sparkmate will be coming along?"

[cliffjumper]

"Yes?" there was honest confusion, but not yet any tension on the ambassador's faceplate, echoed by the others, "why wouldn't they? We would of course extend the same hospitality and honour to them as we will for you," her words ended in a little rush, as if worried she might have caused offense, before she rallied again, straightening up a little.

"Given the importance of an anchor for a flame at our level, I thought... ah, unless they've..." her optics darkened briefly before she forged on again, voice softening, "have died and you haven't had the opportunity yet to retie an anchor?"

The general expressions among the entourage seemed torn between beginning sympathy and open horror at the thought of a Flame of Cybertron, especially at such an exalted position, being unattached.

"We would of course be honoured to facilitate such an opportunity, if it would be desired."

[lastonepercent]

For a long moment, Mirage had the unpleasant feeling that he was forgetting something. Something he'd heard about anchors...

OH.

::Oh dear.:: He pinged Prime in a blind panic, barely hiding his alarm while physically ignoring the startled ping he got in return.

::They're sparkbonding zealots, the lot of them. I'd bet almost anything on it. I'm actually going to have to go along with this...:: Mirage couldn't believe it.

::How did you come to that conclusion? They seem shocked, to be true, but surely they could accept the truth..?::

::There were a few fringe sects on Cybertron who claimed that sparkbonding was the only way to reach true enlightenment, and that having such a tie to 'anchor' you to Primus the only way to truly be a proper Flame of the Spark. The lack of a bond supposedly made your talents weaker, inferior; if not blasphemous. They were never anything more that a handful on Cybertron - and most vanished during the colonization period. Look how quick they are to try and bond me off to someone else!::

::Er. Well...:: Optimus' audial twitch was very telling. The idea of casually bonding through some sort of broker or for anything other than actual desire was...nearly scandalous.

::Nothin for it, then. Gonna have to go along with it, Mirage.:: Jazz popped in, cutting into their private commline like it was entirely too easy. Optimus sputtered static, but Mirage's binary agreement was resigned.

::Sorry Prime, but unless this ends here, we gotta. What little info we got matches Mirage's data, and there ain't a single qualified person actually sparkbonded on this entire ship. We'll find someone to play the part easily enough.::

"Oh goodness, no!" Mirage laughed aloud, flapping a hand casually. Once again, he carefully ignored the startled realization creeping across half of the command staff's faces, the noise of his laugh covering up Prime's ugly sigh.

"Certainly not offlined! Simply not fond of space travel, you see. And we wouldn't want to presume, when only one was requested..."

"They're on the outs again," Jazz faux-whispered toward the envoy, flashing his visor in a 'confidential' wink, shattering the tension.

[cliffjumper]

A tension that had, indeed, been growing the longer the short comm. conversation had been going on, but shoulders, wheelmounts and finials twitched and then relaxed at Mirage's laughter... and his elaboration brought understanding noises, while Jazz's comment brought ill-hidden smiles and brief flashes of sympathy before it was all tucked away for the proper courteous expressions again.

"I see," and, as the envoy couldn't help a little smile again, she certainly thought she did and was (sympathetically) amused and pleased both, "I certainly wish you peace in your sparks."

Chuckling, the envoy straightened up, her finials flicking.

"We have energon for a standard cybertronian week to keep our entourage energised. If you would need longer to prepare it will certainly not be an issue, but we might need some assistance fuel-wise in such a situation," the envoy smiled again, this time not for any believed understanding, merely pleasure, "we did not truly expect things to go this well for a first meeting, never mind to be presented with such a fortuitous opportunity.

[lastonepercent]

Throwing Jazz a dirty look that was not entirely faked, Mirage bowed his helm briefly toward the well-wishers.

"Thank you. I am sure our peace will return soon enough."

"And a standard week should be more than enough time to prepare and -ahah- brace certain, unsuspecting members of our own envoy for the trip," Jazz chuckled. Optimus Prime nodded in the ambassador's direction, gesturing broadly toward the base at large.

"Fuel is thankfully not a critical issue here. Until then, allow us to show you around and prepare some rooms for you? Unless you would rather return to your ship? ...Though I hear your enginners encountered an issue or two with the local non-sentient organics?"

[cliffjumper]

"... They have, yes," the envoy said with a brief frown, which was quickly chased away by the flash of a smile, "but, if you have the room and it wouldn't be an undue burden in your situation, we would take the offered hospitality gladly."

Whether the whole entourage were of the same mind or not - or even the ambassador herself, really - she seemed pleased enough to be able to accept the offer, and that the offer had been extended.

"A week from now, then. Prime, high priest," the smile she gave first Optimus and then Mirage was deeply, and honestly pleased. She, or none of them, really, had hoped for this, or even thought it might happen.

They'd frankly thought both sides would be... questionable, but that didn't seem to be the case.

--

Elsewhere, Cliffjumper looked up from his energon with a scowl, looking around to try and catch what it was that had twisted his wiring, but everything in the rec room looked normal.

"Cliffjumper?" Bee's question had him turning back with a shrug and a wave of his hand.

Must just have been a weird sensory glitch, or something.

[lastonepercent]

Cliffjumper could have no idea how right his perception was.


Allowing Prime and his guards to handle the rest of the details with the rooms for the envoy, Mirage and Jazz made their excuses. They both had a great deal of preparations to take care of...and as far as Mirage knew, candidates for a rather in-depth deception to find. He retreated to his altar room, queuing up as info from the archives as he could find on sparkbonding sects and what data the engineer on the visitor's ship...had stumbled across.

Jazz, however, had already read and proceeded the data; he was several steps ahead of even Mirage. Mirage wouldn't want to see it, but there was really only one option that would work out in their favor - and he was already trying to think on how to convince that best candidate to go along with it all.

The special ops commander sighed. He'd probably have to make it an order, and straight from Prime at that.

[cliffjumper]

It actually might have to be an order, but probably not for the reason Jazz might think... unless he realised what the issue actually was in the course of fielding Cliffjumper's inevitable outburst about the the whole thing.

Until that moment, however, Cliffjumper had left his friends in the rec room, restless about having strangers in the Ark (since apparently they weren't leaving immediately).

To try and alleviate that and since he didn't have any sort of patrol or guard shift yet, Cliffjumper meandered his way through the Ark - taking a longer route than normal totally not to keep a possible optic on any wandering visitors - towards the cleared-out rooms that were a mix between partly-crushed Ark proper and mountainside that'd been converted into the inside gunranges.

It'd give him something productive to do, especially if he'd suddenly be needed with a gun in his hands.

[lastonepercent]

With Mirage attempting to meditate, it was left to Jazz to make the first move.

Despite Cliffjumper's wandering route, it didn't take the special operations commander long to track him down. Guessing that the minibot would end up going to the gunrange wasn't exactly a leap in logic, given what he'd heard from Red.

Jazz parked himself on the sidelines beyond the safety lines, giving the red mech a ping - and waited for him to notice he was there.

Startling a jumpy 'bot like 'Jumper on a range was asking for trouble.

[cliffjumper]

Concentrated as he was on what he was doing - at the moment trying to get better at controlling the shots with his glass gas - the ping got the equivalent of 'a moment' in reply, though when he realised who the ping was from and that there was someone else in the room---

"Jazz?" turning around, Cliffjumper frowned up at the mech, belatedly dropping his gun to point at the floor instead of at Jazz, changing his grip on it as well, "didn't think you were here already."

What Cliffjumper was more surprised at, however, was that Jazz was even here. What could he even want?

"... What's goin' on?"

[lastonepercent]

"Heya Cliff. Been here for a bit. Nice shootin', by the way."

Other than giving the gun slip-up a bit of a stink eye, Jazz didn't outwardly react until Cliffjumper dropped the gun.

"Mhmmn. Well, we found a lost Cybertronian colony - or rather, they found us. Seems legit, too."

He waited for only a beat, before shaking his head.

"Which is why I'm here. Walk with me." It wasn't a request. He nodded his helm off to the side, where a few small conference rooms were tucked off to the side of the range, mostly used for privately discussing shooting technique.

[cliffjumper]

He had the grace the squirm a bit at the look Jazz gave him the way he jerked around with the gun ready, feeling a bit embarrassed even as he stubbornly also felt it better to be too ready than be taken by surprise...

Not that he sort of hadn't either way, though.

"Uh-huh," Cliffjumper said, grimacing at the 'they seem legit' comment, because that's not what he thought, even if he hadn't exchanged a single word with any of their visitors.

And even if they were exactly what they said they were... who's to say they were trustworthy anyway.

"What do I... uh, sure." Frowning, and giving Jazz a narrow stare, Cliffjumper followed the spec ops officer. He wasn't really suspicious at Jazz, but well, what the frag did he have to do with this?

Regardless of what it was, undoubtedly there were at least a handful of other mechs that would be more suitable.

So it was really hard to not stop before they got into the room, or even just start asking questions as they walked there - he did, however, cast a look around the room when they entered, but it looked like they usually did.

Nothing off.

With a huff, Cliffjumper hopped up in one of the chairs (not one of the rooms with kindly adjustable seating, these) and crossed his arms over his chestplate.

"So what's goin' on? Why're ya comin' to me?"

[lastonepercent]

"Well see, now that's the thing..."

Jazz took his time, locking the door after them, and dropping a small device on the table between them - a electronic bug-blocker, meaning their conversation was going to be completely unheard and seriously off the record. Despite the obvious seriousness, he still swung down into the chair backwards, propping his arms over the headrest before meeting Cliffjumper's stare straight on.

"Right now, we're workin' on a bit of diplomacy. Gonna send an envoy over to their world, Paradron, make everything real friendly and formal, ya dig? I't real important to reconnect with our lost colonies, if just ta make sure they don't pick sides."

He held up a hand to stop any possible outbursts that little bit of information might provoke. But he watched the minibot closely, evaluating any reactions he provoked.

"Now, this would normally be a job for one o' our most diplomatically trained 'bots, but the ambassadors do things a little differently - especially since they took a real shine to Mirage."

[cliffjumper]

The longer Jazz took, the straighter Cliffjumper sat up, instead of slumping back in the chair as he had to start with. Not even the relaxed way Jazz sat down helped, and Cliffjumper almost burst out with...

Well, he wasn't sure what he was going to say, but Jazz hand in the air stopped him either way, so it didn't matter.

The tense confusion didn't abate when Jazz continued, though he couldn't quite help the little twitch and his optics flickering when Mirage was mentioned.

"So? What the slag's does anything of that has to do with me, Jazz? I'm pretty fraggin' sure I ain't even in the top fifty of 'most diplimatic', trained or not, so why're ya tellin' me this?"

And since they barely had even fifty mechs on the Ark, that said something.

By now, Cliffjumper's tension had been somewhat outweighed by his confusion - though he probably sounded more annoyed than confused given his tone.

[lastonepercent]

"No, you're not," Jazz agreed, eyeing the smaller mech seriously. He caught that little twitch, but allowed to it pass unremarked upon- but inwardly, Jazz allowed himself a brief congratulations at a suspicion increasingly proven correct. It might make things go a tiny bit easier.

"But unfortunately, you're the only 'bot for the job."

He gestured vaguely back up toward the conference rooms on the other side of the ship.

"See, like I said, the Paradron's do things a little differently. Most, if not all, of the envoy they sent us are made up of Priests of Primus. Which is why they decided they wanted Mirage instead of ah real diplomat. Mirage is technically in charge of the whole sect for Cybertron - a real honor, to have him be the one comin' to their planet. Of course, we agreed."

He sighed.

"The problem is one of those little 'differences'. Accordin' to Mirage, the Paradrons seem to have come from a portion of the religion based around spark-bondin', and it's use as some sort of religious grounding. To simplify it - every single priest has a spark-bonded sensitive as a partner. To not, is a sort of scandalous taboo to be fixed at first opportunity."

He paused to let it sink in - and to see if Cliffjumper would catch on.

[cliffjumper]

"What?" Staring, Cliffjumper couldn't figure it out, even with Jazz's increasing elaboration on the issue.

It wasn't hard to understand why they did go with Mirage, if the paradrons were as much of religious zealots as they sounded from this, but...

"So just pick someone and---"

'Sensitive'.

The word, which Mirage had used, and Jazz was now using, suddenly bubbled up like a stubborn reverse echo, becoming stronger instead of fainter, and suddenly what Jazz was saying, why he was saying this to him made sense.

The first, unfiltered reaction was a blush, because of course his slagging processor went with connecting 'spark bonding', 'Mirage', and 'me', as understanding dawned.

And then...

"Like slag! I ain't doin' it! Just fraggin' pick someone and say they're sensitive or what the rustin' slag ever!" He almost jumped down from the chair, but instead he threw his arms up and then back into the chair, crossing his arms over his chestplating and scowling.

[lastonepercent]

With a final sigh, Jazz's jovial nature vanished under a heavy stare. Cliffjumper's embarrassment was understandable - but the outburst was not.

"'fraid it doesn't work like that, Cliffjumper. You don't get a choice in this one. It's a mission, and it is gonna be an order if I have to make it one."

Jazz clomped a fist down on the table next to the scrambler, a reminder of the seriousness of the situation.

"You may have ignored this talent o' yours, so I'm gonna have to be the one to to tell ya that sort of thing just can't he faked. Aside from Prime himself and Mirage, you're the only other Autobot on board we know about with any sort of sensitivity. Even if the need to be linked through bondin' is a load of zealot backwash, true sensitive talent - or the lack of it- is pretty obvious t' a trained priest. And them findin' out is not an option."

[cliffjumper]

Pit of a fragging mission.

Glowering, Cliffjumper didn't so much settle when Jazz stared at him as he puffed up, as much as he was capable of it.

"Hey, I didn't even fraggin' know I had it until recently! And it ain't like Mirage wants to... can help!" Cliffjumper defended himself, only reluctantly changing it to 'can' instead of 'wants'.

He couldn't fragging believe this!

"You can't be serious! I ain't gonna do it!" locking down his joints so he didn't squirm, Cliffjumper couldn't stop the blush though. That was as much from frustrated embarrassment as the thought of having to play a couple with Mirage.

The contents of his tanks squirmed, and the flustered feelings dropped down into a sick, clinging feeling.

Having to play at being a couple, being spark bonded with Mirage, and yet it wasn't as if the mech cared in that way.

"They're probably just waitin' for a chance to sell us out anyway!"

That wasn't a good argument, but at the moment it was all Cliffjumper could muster, pushing away the unpleasant feelings into anger... and a (only partly faked) usual display of his paranoia.

[lastonepercent]

"I am, and ya are."

Jazz glowered across the table, pointing a finger Cliffjumper's way.

"What Mirage can or can't do for ya ain't the point - or even important. It's a critical mission that only you can do, and yer gettin' drafted."

Normally, playing off a 'bot's desire to be singularly important to the cause would help - but in this case, with this stubborn of a mech? Jazz wasn't so sure. Perhaps focusing on the priest stuff and less on Mirage wasn't the way to go...

"At spark, it's a simple diplomatic mission- one that doesn't even require much patience or diplomacy from you. Ya don't have to pretend to be some sort of expert or even a real priest. Just bein' a sensitive should be enough. You don't even have ta fawn over Mirage if you can't stand him that badly - just stay polite and pretend your 'relationship' is on the rocks."

[cliffjumper]

Sputtering angrily, Cliffjumper tried to find arguments that would get him out of this - or even just for something, anything else to say, because otherwise he'd probably just start yelling.

"I don't fraggin' hate the guy, when's people gonna give it a rest already!" That wasn't what he'd planned to say as he threw himself back in the chair, EM field in a right, jagged flurry around him. Even if he didn't completely trust Mirage, and certainly hadn't liked him all that much before this stupid slagging crush had wormed it's way inside his processor and spark, he actually, really, didn't hate him.