Chapter 7: The Shape of Order
Praxis did not celebrate.
It stabilized.
That was the first truth Soundwave recorded after Sentinel Prime fell.
The relay station still burned in sections across the eastern basin. Damaged refinery towers vented smoke into the lower atmosphere while engineering crews moved through shattered corridors, sealing ruptured conduits and marking unsafe structural lanes. Whole districts remained without stable power routing. Transit lines were clogged with debris, abandoned police barricades, damaged transport platforms, and civilians who had not yet decided whether to flee, hide, or wait.
But the city no longer resisted openly.
That mattered.
Conquest was not complete when the enemy stopped firing.
Conquest was complete when systems began answering new command.
Soundwave stood within Kaon’s primary communications chamber, motionless before layered projections of Praxis, Kaon, Polyhex, and the transit corridors connecting them. Data moved across every display in continuous streams.
Troop schedules.
Unit movements.
Energon allocation.
Repair requests.
Civilian registry updates.
Seeker patrol rotations.
Medical triage routing.
Factory output.
Prisoner transfer.
Declarations of compliance.
Refusals.
Everything passed through his hands.
Most of Cybertron believed war was decided by force.
Force mattered.
Megatron proved that every time he entered a battlefield.
But force did not keep a city operating after the battle ended.
That required structure.
Praxis rotated before Soundwave in pale light while new Decepticon administrative grids settled across it sector by sector. No district was marked as conquered and abandoned. Each one received classification.
Secured.
Contested.
Damaged.
Cooperative.
Neutral.
Noncompliant.
Armed resistance.
Unknown.
Soundwave sorted them with precision.
A lower industrial quarter near the western foundries had accepted Decepticon authority within the first cycle after Sentinel’s death. Their former Senate overseers had fled before the battle reached them. The workers remained, opened the loading yards, and transmitted production records without delay.
Soundwave marked them cooperative.
Energon ration increase approved.
Security presence minimal.
A residential district near the northern transit lines refused to formally declare allegiance, but transmitted no hostile traffic and made no attempt to shelter armed Autobot forces.
Soundwave marked them neutral.
Observation only.
A former police command annex beneath the eastern basin continued broadcasting encrypted bursts through damaged maintenance relays.
Armed resistance.
Soundwave did not order immediate destruction.
He watched.
That was the distinction most failed to understand.
Megatron’s rule did not require every mech in Praxis to become Decepticon.
Not immediately.
Perhaps not ever.
Those who accepted the new order could remain. Workers could work. Medics could treat. Families could stay in their districts. Engineers could repair the infrastructure they understood better than any occupying soldier could.
Compliance to structure was enough.
Agreement was not required.
Defiance was different.
Sabotage was different.
Armed refusal was different.
Soundwave opened the encrypted traffic from the eastern police annex and let it run across three screens at once.
Low power.
Short burst.
Civilian-band masking.
Repeated through abandoned transit maintenance nodes.
Primitive, but careful.
The sender knew enough to avoid standard military channels. Not enough to hide from Soundwave.
He traced the signal backward through three damaged relays and a secondary coolant station beneath the basin.
Six active units.
Possibly eight.
Former Autobot police, based on routing discipline and movement compression.
No civilian traffic attached.
No evacuation requests.
No medical calls.
That made the classification simple.
Armed holdout.
Not population unrest.
He marked the annex red but did not close the net.
Not yet.
Destroying a cell too early forced the others deeper.
Allowing it to move revealed its connections.
The next data stream arrived before the first finished resolving.
Seeker intake reports.
Thousands of them.
Vos survivors continued registering under Starscream’s command, some from temporary shelters in Kaon, others from emergency landing zones outside Polyhex, others from Praxis airspace where they had joined patrol formations after Sentinel’s death.
Soundwave opened the intake schedule.
Trine verification.
Wing assignments.
Fuel requirements.
Damage status.
Prior command affiliations.
Flight endurance.
Weapon loadout.
Compatibility markers.
Starscream had already sorted the first layer.
Efficient.
Soundwave sorted the second.
Those with strong trine bonds remained together unless damage or specialty required reassignment. Unattached Seekers were grouped by altitude preference, endurance, response time, and command obedience. Civilians capable of flight but not combat were placed into courier, evacuation, or observation rotations if they volunteered.
If they did not, they were left civilian.
The war needed soldiers.
It also needed a population that believed Decepticon rule meant order, not random consumption.
Soundwave routed the updated Seeker intake file to Starscream.
A reply returned twelve seconds later.
“Received.”
Then, after a pause:
“Efficient.”
Soundwave filed the response without comment.
Another stream opened.
Praxis production.
The southern refinery district had resumed partial operation. Output remained unstable, but workers had transmitted a request: protection from Senate loyalists who had threatened them for cooperating.
Soundwave cross-referenced the names.
Three of the threatened workers had belonged to the lower transport caste.
One had previously submitted complaints against Senate fuel seizure policies.
Two had family members evacuated from Vos by Seeker assistance.
Cooperation probability: high.
Propaganda value: moderate.
Strategic value: significant.
Soundwave assigned a Decepticon security unit to the refinery perimeter and marked the workers as protected industrial personnel.
Then he sent the names to Megatron’s civil command file.
Megatron understood symbols.
A worker protected after accepting Decepticon authority carried more weight than a speech.
Another alert flashed.
Refusal notice.
Praxis civic administration sector four.
Former Senate-appointed administrators refused to surrender records, citing lawful authority from Iacon.
Soundwave opened their file.
Administrative caste.
No armed forces present.
No sabotage indicators.
No direct threat.
He did not send combat units.
He sent a command notice under Megatron’s authority:
Comply and remain in position under review.
Refuse and be removed.
He attached a deadline.
Precise.
Short.
Reasonable.
The system moved on.
More data arrived.
Always more.
That was the true shape of expansion.
Not banners.
Not declarations.
Intake.
Sorting.
Assignment.
Correction.
Compliance.
Resistance.
Response.
Soundwave handled all of it.
A transport convoy from Polyhex requested clearance into Praxis with structural reinforcement beams, energon stabilizers, and replacement relay housings.
Approved.
Route adjusted.
A medical unit from Kaon requested priority access through the eastern basin.
Approved.
Escorted.
A squad of newly arrived Seekers requested permission to pursue fleeing Autobot units beyond the city boundary.
Denied.
Reason: overextension risk.
A civilian engineering collective requested permission to repair its own district power grid if Decepticon forces provided material access.
Approved.
Observation assigned.
A former police unit attempted to disguise itself as a civilian repair team.
Flagged.
Tracked.
Allowed to proceed.
For now.
Soundwave watched their route diverge from any damaged power grid and instead angle toward the same maintenance network used by the encrypted police annex.
Connection confirmed.
He marked the resistance web larger.
Useful.
Megatron entered the communications chamber without announcement.
He did not need one.
Every officer present straightened. Data clerks stepped away from active displays. The room bent around him the way battlefields did.
Soundwave did not turn from the projection.
Megatron stopped beside him and studied Praxis in silence.
“The city holds.”
“Affirmative.”
“Population?”
“Divided. Majority compliant. Significant lower industrial cooperation. Former Senate administrative sectors resistant but not uniformly hostile.”
Megatron’s optics moved across the district classifications.
“And the armed remnants?”
“Fragmented.”
“Autobot?”
“Former police. Senate loyalists. Isolated command remnants. No unified structure.”
Megatron folded his arms behind him.
“Yet.”
“Correct.”
That earned the faintest shift of Megatron’s mouth.
He understood the danger of fragments.
A broken enemy was not harmless.
Fragments could be crushed, absorbed, or allowed to assemble into something easier to strike. The choice depended on timing.
“Let them reach for one another,” Megatron said.
Soundwave had already done so.
“Underway.”
Megatron looked toward him then.
No praise.
No surprise.
Only recognition.
Good.
Soundwave continued updating the map.
“Praxis refinery output can be restored to forty-one percent within three cycles if cooperative worker districts remain protected. Full relay stability requires replacement housings from Polyhex. Transport scheduled.”
“Approved.”
“Civilian compliance increases where energon distribution resumes.”
Megatron’s optics narrowed.
“Then resume it visibly.”
Soundwave adjusted distribution schedules immediately.
Energon allotments shifted across cooperative districts first.
Not enough to appear indulgent.
Enough to be noticed.
Megatron watched the map change.
“Those who accept order will have it,” he said.
Soundwave transmitted the policy across Praxis command channels before Megatron finished turning away.
Not as rhetoric.
As instruction.
Those who accepted Decepticon authority would remain in place.
Those who worked would be protected.
Those who refused but did not resist would be contained and reviewed.
Those who sabotaged infrastructure or sheltered armed holdouts would be treated as combatants.
The policy moved across the city faster than any marching column.
Through Soundwave.
Most of Praxis would never know whose hands carried the order.
They would only hear the command.
Clear.
Measured.
Unavoidable.
Soundwave’s voice moved through public relays, civic terminals, worker channels, transport hubs, and damaged district speakers still functioning after the battle.
“Praxis sectors under Decepticon control: maintain labor functions where safe. Civilian personnel who comply with stabilization orders will remain in place. Medical routes are protected. Worker districts cooperating with restoration will receive priority energon distribution. Armed sabotage will be answered as combat action. Compliance ensures continuity.”
The message repeated across the city.
Not shouted.
Not pleaded.
Not decorated with triumph.
Order.
The response came in layers.
Some districts quieted.
Some opened their records.
Some transmitted questions.
Some shut down communication entirely.
Useful.
Silence was also data.
Megatron remained beside the projection.
“Iacon will hear of this by now.”
“Confirmed.”
“They will expect us to consolidate slowly.”
“Yes.”
Megatron’s optics fixed on the route from Praxis toward Iacon.
“Then we do not.”
There it was.
The next phase.
Rapid expansion.
Not reckless.
Not blind.
Fast enough to engulf hesitation before it became organized resistance.
Kaon, Polyhex, and Praxis now formed a connected industrial triangle. With relay repair and air superiority, they could sustain movement toward Iacon sooner than the old Senate structures would believe possible.
Soundwave opened the long-range expansion map.
Transit corridors.
Fuel requirements.
Troop fatigue.
Seeker coverage.
Autobot fallback zones.
Civilian density.
Production capacity.
All of it unfolded instantly.
“Projected route to Iacon requires securing three minor transit hubs and one communications tower,” Soundwave said.
Megatron looked at the projection.
“Resistance?”
“Variable. If current psychological shock persists, two hubs likely surrender under demand. Communications tower: probable refusal.”
“Why?”
“Former Senate security installation. Command staff unaccounted for after Sentinel’s death.”
Megatron’s expression hardened.
“Then they will be accounted for.”
Soundwave marked the tower.
Priority target.
Not immediate assault.
Not yet.
First, Praxis had to become useful.
The city needed to function behind them before Megatron pushed beyond it.
Momentum without supply became waste.
Megatron knew that.
Soundwave ensured it.
Another signal flickered beneath Praxis’s northern district.
The police annex again.
This time the message carried a partial response from the disguised repair team.
Soundwave decoded it in silence.
They were asking for names.
Safe routes.
Weapon caches.
Medical supplies.
And a leader.
There.
The most important part.
Residual Autobot defiance had begun searching for command.
Not found it.
Searching.
Soundwave allowed the message to transmit.
Megatron saw the red markers connect across the lower projection.
“You are letting them speak.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To identify who answers.”
Megatron’s optics brightened faintly.
“Proceed.”
Soundwave did.
The message traveled through the damaged maintenance network, then split into three directions.
One died in a collapsed relay.
One reached an empty police post.
One continued deeper beneath Praxis toward a sealed archival substation.
Soundwave paused.
Not visibly.
Internally.
Archival substation.
Not police.
Not military.
Not industrial.
Interesting.
He marked it for passive observation.
No action.
Not yet.
The signal ended.
But now the network had shape.
Former police holdouts.
Disguised courier unit.
Unknown contact near archival infrastructure.
No leader confirmed.
Potential organizer emerging.
Soundwave stored it.
Megatron had turned his attention back to the larger map.
“I want Praxis supplying the next movement before Iacon understands we are coming.”
“Timeline?”
“Immediately.”
Soundwave recalculated.
“With current refinery recovery, three cycles for stable supply. Two if nonessential reconstruction is delayed.”
“Delay it.”
“Civilian stability impact: moderate.”
Megatron considered that for less than a second.
“Not in cooperative districts.”
Soundwave adjusted.
Nonessential reconstruction delayed only in contested and administrative sectors. Cooperative worker districts remained visibly supported.
Efficient.
Politically useful.
Militarily viable.
“Updated timeline: two cycles.”
Megatron nodded once.
“Good.”
Another officer approached with troop readiness reports.
Soundwave had already processed them.
He spoke before the officer could.
“Frontline units from the relay assault require rotation. Seeker patrols sustainable. Ground Unit Twelve damaged but operational. Hook has been notified of Megatron’s repair requirements.”
Megatron looked at him.
Soundwave continued.
“Your armor damage was logged during the battle.”
A faint edge entered Megatron’s expression.
“Of course it was.”
“Medical review recommended.”
“Later.”
Soundwave did not argue.
He routed Hook an updated priority note anyway.
Megatron saw the movement across the display and chose not to comment.
That too was acknowledgment.
The officer withdrew without speaking.
Soundwave returned to the Praxis overlays.
Resistance markers pulsed in red beneath the northern district.
Cooperative sectors glowed steady blue.
Neutral districts remained gray.
Contested administrative zones remained amber.
Industrial output climbed by fractions.
Seeker patrols stabilized overhead.
Troop schedules updated.
Unit movements aligned.
The city was becoming legible.
That was always the first step toward control.
Most would remember Megatron killing Sentinel.
Some would remember Decepticon banners rising over Praxis.
A few would remember the first energon distribution under the new regime.
Almost no one would remember the invisible work that made those things function.
Soundwave preferred it that way.
The more unnoticed he remained, the deeper he could reach.
Another hidden transmission sparked beneath the city.
Then another.
The fragments of Autobot defiance continued searching for each other.
Soundwave watched every signal move.
Quietly.
Precisely.
Let them reach.
Let them believe the dark still belonged to them.
For now, they were only threads.
Soon, they would become a net.
And when they did—
Soundwave would already know where every knot had formed.
The signal that touched the archival substation did not repeat.
That made it more interesting.
Soundwave left it marked beneath the Praxis overlay while the rest of the city continued moving through him—troop schedules, refinery output, ration adjustments, patrol reports, resistance signals, Seeker rotations, medical routing, engineering requests, administrative compliance.
Praxis was stabilizing.
But stabilization was not stillness.
It was controlled motion.
And beneath that motion, something quiet had answered from an archival sector that should not have mattered to a military resistance cell.
Soundwave watched it.
He did not move against it.
Not yet.
Megatron entered the Praxis command hall two cycles after Sentinel’s death, damaged armor repaired enough for function but not yet fully restored. The visible scoring remained across his chest and shoulder plating. He had not ordered it hidden.
That was deliberate.
Praxis saw him arrive marked by the battle that killed Sentinel Prime.
It mattered.
Workers stopped to look. Some lowered their heads. Some stared openly. Former administrators watched from behind reinforced doors and pretended carefully that they were not afraid.
Megatron walked through them all as if the city had already accepted the truth.
Soundwave walked at his right.
Silent.
Recording everything.
The new Praxis command hall had once belonged to Senate logistics. Its walls still carried old civic markings, most damaged during the fighting. Decepticon engineers had not removed them yet. They had simply placed functional consoles in front of them and returned to work.
Practical.
Temporary.
Megatron approved.
“Production status,” he said.
Soundwave answered without consulting the display.
“Southern refinery output at thirty-four percent and rising. Cooperative worker districts remain stable. Administrative sector four surrendered records after deadline warning. Armed holdouts remain active beneath northern transit lines.”
Megatron’s optics narrowed slightly.
“Contained?”
“Observed.”
A faint smile touched Megatron’s mouth.
“Good.”
Across the hall, Starscream stood before an aerial reconstruction display with Thundercracker beside him and several Seeker officers waiting in disciplined silence. Fragments of Vos rotated in pale projection—engine housings, stabilizer arrays, atmospheric platforms, support ribs too damaged to fly but too valuable to abandon.
The anger Soundwave had tracked in him since Vos had changed shape.
It was still present.
But now it had direction.
Starscream was no longer staring at what had fallen.
He was calculating what could rise again.
“Report,” Megatron said.
Starscream turned from the projection.
“Vos salvage teams have identified three platform cores capable of restoration. Two are damaged beyond immediate lift, but one can be rebuilt into a temporary aerial command platform if Praxis refinery output remains available.”
Megatron looked at the rotating projection.
“How long?”
“With uninterrupted material access, six cycles for structural stabilization. Longer for sustained flight.”
Shockwave, linked through the command channel from Kaon, spoke evenly.
“Estimate is optimistic.”
Starscream’s wings shifted slightly.
“Estimate is aggressive.”
“Difference noted,” Shockwave replied.
Megatron looked between the projection and Starscream.
“You intend to rebuild Vos.”
Starscream did not hesitate.
“Yes.”
Not grief.
Not plea.
Decision.
“The city itself cannot be restored as it was,” Starscream continued. “Not yet. But the Seekers require an aerial command structure. A fixed ground command limits response time and weakens long-range patrol coordination.”
Soundwave processed the data as Starscream spoke.
Correct.
Seeker morale impact: significant.
Aerial command efficiency: improved.
Symbolic value: high.
Resource cost: moderate to high.
Strategic value: worth consideration.
Megatron’s gaze remained on Starscream.
“You believe Sentinel’s death makes that possible.”
Starscream’s optics sharpened.
“I believe Sentinel’s death removes the one who made it necessary.”
Silence settled briefly across the command hall.
Thundercracker did not move.
The Seeker officers remained still.
Megatron studied Starscream for several moments.
Then he looked toward Soundwave.
“Assessment.”
Soundwave answered immediately.
“Strategically viable. Symbolically valuable. Resource allocation must not compromise Iacon expansion schedule.”
Starscream’s attention shifted toward him.
Soundwave continued.
“Recommendation: approve limited salvage. Delay full restoration. Construct temporary aerial command platform first.”
Megatron looked back at the projection.
“Approved.”
Starscream inclined his head once.
“Understood.”
Soundwave marked the reaction.
Controlled.
But the tension in Starscream eased by a measurable degree.
Not relief.
Permission to act.
That mattered more.
Starscream turned back to the display immediately, already adjusting assignments. Thundercracker began transmitting orders to salvage wings. Seeker officers moved into function without celebration.
Not Vos.
Not yet.
But the first structure in the sky that belonged to them again.
The command hall doors opened.
A small group entered under escort—Praxis civilian administrators, two industrial recordkeepers, and one archivist.
Soundwave’s attention shifted before any names were announced.
The archivist walked behind the others, unarmed, lightly built compared to the military frames around him. His armor was plain, practical, worn by work rather than combat. Blue optics moved across the room quickly, not with panic alone, but with attention.
He looked at the old Senate markings still visible behind Decepticon consoles.
Then at the new maps.
Then at Megatron.
Then Soundwave.
He noticed too much.
Soundwave marked him.
The lead administrator bowed stiffly.
“Praxis records division reporting as ordered.”
Megatron did not sit.
He never needed a throne to dominate a room.
“Your city remains functional because its workers chose order over collapse,” he said. “Those who continue to work will be protected. Those who sabotage will be treated as combatants.”
The administrators remained silent.
The archivist did not.
“Protection under whose law?”
The room tightened.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
Thundercracker looked toward him.
Starscream’s optics narrowed faintly.
Megatron turned his gaze fully onto the archivist.
“Name.”
The archivist held himself steady.
“Orion Pax.”
Soundwave recorded the designation.
Orion Pax.
Archivist.
Praxis records division.
No known military affiliation.
No active Autobot command tag.
Prior Senate archive access: moderate.
Historical classification clearance: unusually high for caste position.
Interesting.
Megatron studied him.
“You question my authority in a city I have taken.”
Orion answered carefully.
“I question what replaces the authority you removed.”
There was no challenge in his tone.
Not open defiance.
Inquiry.
That made it more dangerous.
Megatron stepped closer.
“What replaced it is function. Energon distribution restored. Workers protected. Production returned. The Senate gave Praxis corruption and police control. I give it order.”
Orion’s optics flicked once toward the map.
“And those who do not agree?”
There it was.
Soundwave marked the question with higher priority.
Not who resists.
Not who sabotages.
Not who raises a weapon.
Those who do not agree.
Megatron’s voice remained calm.
“Agreement is not required. Compliance is.”
Soundwave watched Orion process that distinction.
He did not recoil.
He did not argue.
He considered.
That was more important.
“Then records division will comply,” Orion said.
The lead administrator looked startled.
Orion continued before the others could speak.
“Archives remain intact in three substations. Two suffered partial data loss during the battle. If your command intends to govern Praxis, you will need census records, labor histories, district boundary agreements, energy allocation logs, and prior Senate seizure orders.”
Megatron’s expression shifted faintly.
Interest.
Soundwave marked the same.
Orion was not pleading for survival.
He was making himself useful.
Correct strategy.
“Provide them,” Megatron said.
“I will,” Orion replied.
Then he looked toward Soundwave again.
“Your communication grid is already correcting old Senate routing inefficiencies.”
Starscream’s gaze sharpened.
Soundwave remained still.
Megatron looked faintly amused.
“You noticed.”
“It is difficult not to,” Orion said, “if one knows how records moved before.”
Soundwave processed.
Most did not notice.
Most saw outputs.
Orion had noticed structure.
Important.
Megatron’s attention remained on the archivist.
“You understand systems.”
“I understand history,” Orion answered. “Systems are what history leaves behind when no one admits who built them.”
For a moment, the command hall quieted.
Megatron smiled.
Not warmly.
But with recognition.
“Then you will remain in records division.”
The lead administrator looked relieved.
Orion did not.
He understood assignment was not freedom.
Good.
Megatron continued.
“You will provide every archive relevant to Praxis governance and Iacon transit structures.”
Orion’s optics shifted slightly.
“Iacon?”
Megatron did not answer.
He did not need to.
Soundwave watched Orion absorb the silence.
There.
A small change.
Not fear.
Concern.
Stored.
“Soundwave,” Megatron said.
“I am present.”
“Assign oversight.”
“Confirmed.”
Orion looked toward Soundwave again.
The look lasted half a second longer than necessary.
Soundwave marked that too.
Most mechs looked away from him quickly.
Orion did not.
The archivist saw silence and did not mistake it for absence.
Dangerous.
The administrators were dismissed after that, but Orion remained long enough to receive routing instructions. Soundwave transmitted them directly to a data slate rather than speaking.
Archive access restricted.
Records transfer supervised.
Movement limited to assigned substations and command-approved corridors.
Communication monitored.
Orion read the terms.
Then looked up.
“Efficient,” he said.
Soundwave did not respond.
Orion left with the others.
The doors closed.
Starscream was the first to speak.
“He asks questions like an officer.”
Soundwave answered.
“He is an archivist.”
Starscream looked toward the closed doors.
“That does not contradict me.”
Correct.
Megatron’s optics remained on the door for a moment longer.
“He may be useful.”
Soundwave stored the phrasing.
May.
Not is.
Megatron had not yet assigned importance.
Soundwave already had.
The archival substation signal made more sense now.
Not proof.
Possibility.
Orion Pax stood near records.
Residual Autobot fragments were searching for leadership.
An archivist had just questioned Megatron directly and survived because he was useful.
Potential convergence.
Soundwave did not act.
Observation first.
Patterns before intervention.
Across the room, Starscream returned to the Vos projection.
Megatron followed his gaze.
“You will have your platform.”
Starscream’s posture straightened.
“It will not replace Vos.”
“No,” Megatron said. “It will remind them Vos is not dead.”
That landed.
Soundwave saw it in the stillness of every Seeker present.
Not grief.
Purpose.
Starscream inclined his head.
“Then I will make certain it flies.”
Megatron turned back toward the Praxis expansion map.
“Do so while we move on Iacon.”
The command hall shifted again.
The future returned in force.
Praxis stabilization.
Vos salvage.
Iacon expansion.
Residual resistance.
Orion Pax.
All of it moved at once.
Soundwave opened new channels.
Seeker salvage teams received priority clearance.
Shockwave received resource limitation parameters.
Praxis records division received monitored access routes.
Megatron’s Iacon expansion map updated with archival data requests.
Resistance channels beneath northern Praxis remained open.
Watched.
Waiting.
Starscream began issuing orders to his officers, voice controlled, sharp, alive with structure. The first temporary aerial platform designation appeared across the projection less than a minute later.
Not Vos.
Not yet.
But the beginning of return.
Megatron watched it once, then turned away.
His focus had already moved to Iacon.
Soundwave remained between all of them.
The archivist leaving through guarded corridors.
The Seeker commander rebuilding the sky.
The warlord preparing to engulf Cybertron’s old heart.
The resistance fragments whispering beneath the city.
He held every thread.
No one saw how many there were.
No one needed to.
That was his function.
And as Praxis settled into Decepticon order, Soundwave marked Orion Pax for continued observation.