Soundwave: Voice in the Dark

Iacon was not yet a target.

Not directly.

That was the first distinction Megatron made when the command structure gathered in Praxis.

The city’s main command hall had changed again since the first cycle of occupation. Senate markings still remained beneath new consoles and temporary Decepticon command grids, old authority half-buried beneath new function. No one had wasted time removing them. There were more urgent matters than clean walls.

Power flowed steadily through most of the building now. Transmission relays answered properly. Data from Kaon, Polyhex, Tarn, and Praxis moved in clean, layered streams across the central projection.

Praxis had stopped behaving like captured territory.

It was becoming useful.

Soundwave stood near the communications array, dark frame still against the shifting light of the consoles. His hands moved only when necessary, fingers crossing the controls with minimal precision. The rest came through signal, access, routing, and constant silent correction.

Every Decepticon-controlled sector fed him reports.

Every contested route touched his network.

Every Autobot movement near Iacon arrived filtered, marked, and cross-checked before it reached the central display.

He had his hands in everything.

Almost no one noticed.

That remained preferable.

Officers moved around the command hall with the restrained urgency of a city still converting from conquest to administration. Praxian engineers passed Decepticon logistics crews without speaking unless function required it. Messengers arrived, transferred data, and left. Seeker officers stood in disciplined clusters near the aerial projections, waiting for Starscream’s attention rather than interrupting it.

Megatron stood at the head of the projection table.

Shockwave occupied the left side of the room, single yellow optic fixed on layered terrain models around Iacon. Scrapper stood near the industrial overlays, already marking structural vulnerabilities and route restrictions. Onslaught waited with the ground-force projections, silent, broad, and severe. Starscream stood opposite Soundwave, red optics tracking airspace corridors, patrol ceilings, and Seeker rotation lanes above the capital’s outer approaches.

He belonged there now.

No one questioned it.

Megatron looked over Iacon.

The capital did not glow like Praxis.

It shone.

Old Senate architecture, fortified tower districts, layered defensive walls, transit rings, central administration spires, and deeply buried supply vaults unfolded in pale light above the table. Even weakened by Sentinel’s death, Iacon remained massive. Its outer districts curved around the central towers like armor. Its transit rings still pulsed with movement. Its walls had been reinforced in haste, but haste did not make them weak.

Autobot signals clustered around it in greater numbers than any Decepticon-held city.

They outnumbered the Decepticons.

That was not in dispute.

Their weakness was not quantity.

Their weakness was direction.

“Status,” Megatron said.

Soundwave answered immediately.

“Iacon remains heavily fortified. Autobot numbers exceed Decepticon available assault forces by significant margin. Command structure unstable but active.”

He touched the projection once.

The display sharpened.

“Ultra Magnus controls several defensive brigades along the northern wall. Springer has organized mobile response units in the western approach sectors. Additional Autobot leaders present, but not unified beneath one command.”

Blue-white markers spread across Iacon’s outer districts. Some held defensive lines. Others patrolled supply roads. Several moved independently without coordination. The capital had muscle. It had weapons. It had soldiers.

It did not yet have one will.

Fragmented strength.

Dangerous if united.

Vulnerable while divided.

Soundwave added another layer.

“Residual communication from Praxis has attempted contact with Iacon-held frequencies. Most intercepted traffic remains inaccurate, emotional, or redundant. Several signals indicate continued search for central resistance authority.”

Megatron did not look away from Iacon.

“Orion Pax?”

Soundwave processed the question.

Not surprise.

Megatron remembered the archivist.

That was useful.

“Under observation. Accessing records division files. Increased requests for Senate seizure logs, caste relocation orders, transit histories, and prewar legal structures.”

Starscream’s optics shifted slightly.

“Not weapons?”

“Not directly.”

Scrapper looked up from the bridge overlays.

“Records can be weapons.”

Soundwave marked the statement.

Correct.

Megatron’s expression did not change.

“Continue observing him.”

“Already underway.”

Megatron studied the map.

“They expect a direct assault.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Starscream’s wings shifted slightly.

“They’re preparing for one,” he said. “That doesn’t make it wise to give them one.”

Megatron looked toward him.

Starscream continued without hesitation.

“The skies above Iacon are cleaner than Praxis, but the city has layered anti-air defense. Towers, guns, sensor nets, and high-altitude patrols. We can take airspace in sections, but not all at once without losses.”

Soundwave marked the phrasing.

Not refusal.

Assessment.

Megatron accepted it as such.

“Then we do not storm it,” Megatron said.

The room stilled.

Not with surprise.

With focus.

Megatron moved one hand over the projection, not toward Iacon’s central spires, but around them. Supply roads lit first. Then energon routes. Then transport corridors from outlying cities still attempting to feed the capital. Communication towers followed, one after another, until Iacon looked less like a fortress and more like a system of veins.

“We cut it off.”

Soundwave expanded the map instantly.

Energon supply routes.

Material convoys.

Long-range communication relays.

Medical transport lines.

Refugee movement corridors.

Autobot reinforcement paths.

The projection changed under his control until Iacon no longer appeared as a city to be struck, but as a system to be deprived.

Iacon’s strength did not stand alone.

No city did.

It required movement, fuel, parts, information, and the belief that help could still reach it.

Megatron intended to take those away.

“Without supplies,” Megatron continued, “the capital weakens. Without outside routes, their numbers become burden. Without communication, their leaders argue in isolation.”

Shockwave’s optic brightened faintly.

“Siege pressure without immediate frontal cost. Logical.”

Onslaught leaned closer to the projection. His attention did not move with curiosity. It moved with application.

“Ground forces can secure the outer corridors. Not all at once. We take junctions and force them to respond.”

Scrapper added, “The southern transport bridges are old. Senate maintenance ignored load stress for cycles. They can be disabled without destroying the entire route.”

Megatron looked toward him.

“Can they be restored after?”

“Yes,” Scrapper said. “If we take them intact enough. Collapse the approach lanes, not the primary supports.”

“Do it.”

Scrapper nodded once and began marking the bridge structures.

Soundwave layered the new targets into the operational map.

Three southern bridges.

Two eastern energon roads.

One western communications tower.

A northern material rail line.

Six smaller transit hubs feeding Iacon indirectly through civilian districts.

Not all military.

That required care.

Megatron did not want pointless slaughter. Not now. Not when captured cities were watching whether Decepticon order meant stability or destruction. Those who accepted his rule were allowed to remain. Those who refused without violence were contained and reviewed. Those who sabotaged, took up arms, or sheltered armed resistance became combatants.

That policy had already moved through Praxis in Soundwave’s voice.

Now it shaped Iacon’s siege.

“Civilian traffic?” Megatron asked.

Soundwave answered before the question finished echoing.

“High along eastern relief lanes. Moderate along southern bridges. Low near western communications tower. Northern material rail primarily military and industrial.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed.

“Separate them.”

Soundwave began doing so.

Public notices formed across his network.

Route closures.

Alternative civilian corridors.

Medical passage windows.

Warnings against armed convoy movement.

Classification codes for neutral transport.

The messages would transmit only when Decepticon forces were already in position.

Early enough for civilians to move.

Too late for Autobot command to fully adjust.

Starscream studied the airspace, one hand moving through the projection to pull the eastern relief lanes upward into a flight model.

“I can put Seeker patrols above the eastern relief lanes and keep them open for civilian withdrawal while cutting military movement below.”

Onslaught glanced toward him.

“That divides attention.”

“It clarifies targets,” Starscream replied. “Civilian transports stay under marked altitude. Armed units crossing beneath them are easier to identify.”

Soundwave processed.

Effective.

Risk moderate.

Political value high.

“Recommendation: accept,” Soundwave said.

Megatron gave one nod.

“Accepted.”

Starscream began assigning wings immediately.

Names and trines moved across the aerial display as he reorganized patrol patterns. High cover above civilian corridors. Strike trines near military roads. Scouts along the edge of Iacon’s tower nets. No mass descent. No unnecessary compression. No waste.

In the cycles since Vos fell, Starscream had become more than commander of the Seekers.

He had become their structure.

And in any meeting where Iacon was discussed, he now stood in the room.

Soundwave recorded every assignment and passed them through the larger battle grid.

Shockwave adjusted the projection next.

“The western communications tower should be isolated rather than destroyed. Its equipment can be repurposed after capture.”

“Feasibility?” Megatron asked.

“Moderate. Defended by former Senate communications officers and Autobot security.”

Soundwave opened a linked file.

“Tower command staff includes three surviving Senate officers. Two transmitted surrender inquiries after Sentinel’s death but withdrew them after contact from Iacon.”

Megatron’s expression hardened.

“Uncertain loyalty.”

“Correct.”

“Exploit it.”

Soundwave marked the tower for information pressure.

Not attack first.

Doubt first.

A false assurance from Iacon delayed by minutes.

A rumor of abandoned command.

A Decepticon offer of retention for technical personnel who surrendered intact systems.

Enough pressure to make the defenders hesitate.

Hesitation opened doors.

Megatron looked toward Onslaught.

“Ground pressure?”

Onslaught moved three force markers toward the northern rail line.

“Combaticons can take the material route. We hit hard, hold fast, and make Iacon send reserves north.”

Starscream glanced at the map.

“If they send flyers to support the rail line, they weaken the eastern corridor.”

“Then we take both,” Onslaught said.

“Only if you hold the line long enough.”

Onslaught’s expression did not change.

“I will.”

Megatron smiled faintly.

“Good.”

Soundwave fed the plan into the broader projection.

The shape became clear.

Not one assault.

A tightening ring.

Pressure at the rail line to draw reserves.

Air control over relief corridors.

Bridge disruption in the south.

Communications isolation in the west.

Supply denial in the east.

Iacon would not fall in one strike.

It would begin starving while still believing itself defended.

Soundwave opened resistance overlays from Praxis and compared them to Iacon’s outgoing transmissions.

A pattern emerged.

Some of the residual Autobot fragments beneath Praxis were attempting to warn Iacon about Decepticon occupation policy, relay repairs, energon redistribution, and troop movement schedules. Most messages were inaccurate. Some were emotional. A few were useful.

One thread drew his attention.

Orion Pax.

Not by name.

Not openly.

But by movement.

Records access.

Archival requests.

Old Senate seizure logs.

Transit histories.

Labor caste relocation orders.

Prewar civilian protections.

He was gathering context.

Not weapons.

Context.

Soundwave marked him again.

Interesting civilian.

Possible organizer.

Not yet threat-confirmed.

Megatron’s voice drew the room back into sharper focus.

“Iacon believes our victory over Sentinel was a blow. It was more than that. It was permission.”

Starscream looked toward him.

Megatron continued.

“Cities that feared the Senate now watch to see whether we move forward or hesitate. We will not hesitate.”

Shockwave inclined his head slightly.

“Rapid expansion increases strain on logistics.”

“Then logistics will keep pace.”

Scrapper looked at the industrial map.

“They can, if Praxis production holds and the southern bridges are disabled cleanly instead of destroyed.”

“It will hold,” Megatron said.

Not hope.

Command.

Soundwave began issuing pre-operation schedules.

Troop rotations from Praxis flowed first, staggered so the units holding civilian corridors would not be replaced at the same time as the units securing rail pressure points. Fuel movements from Polyhex followed under separate escort windows, their routes hidden behind standard industrial dispatches until they crossed into secured territory. Medical reserves from Kaon moved behind them, not because Soundwave expected mercy to define the next phase, but because functioning armies required repair lines as much as ammunition.

Seeker patrol windows locked into place.

Engineering support units received bridge assignments.

Prisoner movement restrictions updated.

Civilian corridor warnings were prepared but held.

Every piece slid into place.

The orders did not feel dramatic.

They felt inevitable.

That was how Soundwave preferred them.

An alert flashed at the edge of the Iacon supply map.

Eastern route.

Three small contacts moving against projected civilian flow.

Soundwave isolated them.

One archivist-class signal, partially masked.

Two combat frames.

No official Autobot command tag, but one carried old security authorization.

He enhanced the data.

Ironhide.

Prowl.

And Orion Pax.

They were moving toward one of the eastern supply routes marked for closure.

Not fleeing.

Not random.

Intervention.

Soundwave watched them for several seconds.

Orion should not have been there.

An archivist did not belong near an active supply route on the edge of a siege operation.

Unless he had chosen to go.

“Movement detected,” Soundwave said.

The projection highlighted the three figures.

Megatron looked toward the marker.

“Autobots?”

“Two confirmed combat-capable. One archivist. Orion Pax.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed.

“The one from Praxis.”

“Affirmative.”

Starscream studied the marker.

“He’s moving with fighters.”

“Yes.”

Onslaught’s voice remained flat.

“Then he picked a side.”

Soundwave did not answer.

The statement was likely true.

But incomplete.

Megatron stared at the projection for a long moment.

Then his mouth curved faintly.

“Then we will see what the archivist believes when the road closes in front of him.”

Soundwave tracked Orion’s path as the first Decepticon units began moving toward Iacon’s outer supply lines.

The siege had begun.

Not with walls breached.

Not with towers falling.

With routes closing.

With signals shifting.

With choices narrowing.

And on one of those routes, Orion Pax moved with Prowl and Ironhide toward the first point of impact.

The first route closed without fire.

That was how Megatron wanted it.

The eastern supply line into Iacon curved between two industrial ridges before widening toward the capital’s outer transport gates. Before the war, it had carried energon shipments, medical supplies, archive transfers, and civilian goods between Praxis and Iacon. Senate convoys had used it for cycles without thinking about how vulnerable it was.

Soundwave had not missed that.

No city lived by walls alone.

Iacon’s strength moved through roads, rails, relays, bridges, and the belief that they would remain open.

The Decepticons took that belief first.

Ground units moved into position along the ridges before dawn-cycle light fully reached the corridor. Engineering teams placed barriers without collapsing the road. Heavy weapons took cover behind old freight supports. Seeker patrols held high altitude overhead, visible enough to discourage armed movement, distant enough not to panic the civilian evacuation lane Soundwave had opened farther south.

The message went out across public channels in Soundwave’s voice.

“Eastern supply route closed to armed traffic. Civilian passage redirected to marked southern corridor. Medical convoys may transmit for clearance. Unauthorized military movement will be treated as hostile action.”

The transmission repeated twice.

Then the road sealed.

Iacon heard.

The first response from the capital was not military.

It was silence.

Soundwave listened to it.

Silence was never empty.

Within it, Iacon’s command structure shifted. Messages were delayed. Relays changed priority. Defensive units held position when they should have moved. Someone inside the capital was arguing about response authority.

Ultra Magnus maintained the northern wall.

Springer controlled mobile reserves.

Other commanders held pieces.

No single voice commanded all of them.

That was the weakness Megatron intended to widen.

The second route closed with resistance.

A convoy attempted to push through the northern material rail line under old Senate clearance codes. Onslaught’s units intercepted it before it reached the first junction. The exchange lasted less than three minutes.

The convoy surrendered when it understood the rail line would not be reopened by force.

Soundwave marked the survivors for processing.

Former Senate transport personnel.

Two armed escorts.

One Iacon logistics officer.

No civilian cargo.

No medical priority.

Combat classification valid.

The third route did not close cleanly.

That was where Orion Pax appeared.

Soundwave tracked him through three separate feeds before the group reached the eastern supply corridor. Orion moved with Prowl and Ironhide, exactly as reported. The three did not use the main road at first. They cut through service lanes beneath the old freight lines, avoiding Decepticon patrol sightlines with more discipline than civilian movement should have allowed.

Prowl’s work.

Efficient.

Ironhide moved differently—heavier, protective, scanning for threats rather than routes.

Orion remained between them.

Not sheltered.

Accompanied.

Important distinction.

Soundwave magnified the feed.

Orion carried no weapon.

He did carry data.

Small storage modules along his hip. Archive-grade. Not military issue. Not explosive.

Records.

Maps.

Route histories.

Probably old municipal authority files that could be used to challenge Decepticon closure orders, or to prove civilian right-of-way under prewar law.

Interesting.

Soundwave transmitted to Megatron.

“Orion Pax approaching eastern closure. Accompanied by Prowl and Ironhide. No visible weapon. Carrying archive modules.”

Megatron’s response came without delay.

“Hold the line. I am coming.”

Soundwave processed the tone.

Not irritation.

Interest.

Megatron had not forgotten the archivist.

The eastern supply route had already become a point of symbolic pressure. Closing it starved Iacon slowly. Challenging that closure publicly would turn a road into an argument.

Orion understood that.

Or he was beginning to.

Soundwave did not yet know which.

He opened the field channel to the Decepticon units holding the route.

“Maintain position. Do not engage unless attacked.”

A pause.

Then multiple acknowledgments.

He reinforced the order through the squad leaders.

“No fire unless authorized.”

The distinction mattered.

Killing armed Autobots in battle was one thing.

Shooting an unarmed archivist in a controlled closure zone would give Iacon exactly the symbol it lacked.

Megatron understood symbols.

Soundwave understood systems.

Orion Pax might understand both.

The three reached the first barricade.

Prowl stopped one step before the marked boundary. Precise. Measured. His optics moved across the placement of Decepticon units, the angles of fire, the exit routes, the Seeker shadows overhead.

Ironhide shifted slightly in front of Orion.

Protective.

Expected.

Orion stepped beside him instead of behind him.

“Eastern supply route is closed,” the Decepticon squad leader said. “Civilian passage has been redirected south.”

Orion looked at the barricade, then at the workers’ markings still visible on the road beneath it.

“This is a civilian route.”

“Not today.”

“It carries medical shipments into Iacon.”

“Medical convoys may transmit for clearance.”

Prowl’s optics narrowed.

“You control the clearance.”

“Yes,” the squad leader said.

Orion’s gaze moved past the barricade toward the distant capital gates.

“That is not protection. That is permission.”

Soundwave marked the phrase.

There again.

Not logistics.

Ideology.

Prowl placed one hand near Orion’s arm, a subtle signal to stop.

Orion did not.

“Megatron claims order,” Orion continued. “But every route now answers one command. Every district receives only the terms he chooses. Every disagreement becomes a classification.”

The squad leader did not answer.

He was not there to debate.

Soundwave was already transmitting the exchange to Megatron.

Megatron arrived from the western ridge.

His presence changed the road before he spoke.

Decepticon soldiers straightened. Prowl’s posture sharpened. Ironhide shifted fully between Megatron and Orion, heavy frame angled for impact.

Orion did not step back.

Megatron stopped on the opposite side of the barricade.

“Orion Pax.”

The archivist looked up at him.

“Megatron.”

No title.

No submission.

Soundwave noted it.

Megatron did too.

“You come to argue road law while Iacon arms behind its walls?”

“I come because you closed a civilian route and called it order.”

“I redirected civilians.”

“You made yourself the authority that decides who counts as civilian.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed faintly.

“And you would prefer Iacon decide? The same capital that fed on cities like Praxis while workers starved under Senate allocation?”

Orion’s expression shifted, but he did not deny it.

“No.”

That answer mattered.

Megatron waited.

Orion continued.

“The Senate was corrupt. Sentinel enforced corruption with a blade. I do not defend what ruled us.”

“Then step aside.”

“I cannot.”

Ironhide muttered low, “Orion…”

Prowl said nothing, but his tension increased.

Soundwave watched every signal.

Autobot reinforcements were not close enough to intervene.

The nearest Iacon patrol had halted beyond sensor range, waiting for the result.

Orion had come without an army.

That made him either foolish or dangerous.

Megatron stepped closer to the barricade.

“You cannot?”

Orion held his ground.

“If freedom depends on agreeing with one voice, then it is not freedom.”

The words crossed the road and settled harder than weapons fire.

Soundwave marked them.

High relevance.

Megatron’s expression did not change.

“In my councils stand Soundwave, Shockwave, Starscream, Onslaught, Scrapper, and others who speak when the war requires it. I do not rule without counsel.”

“But you decide which counsel matters,” Orion said. “And what happens to those outside it?”

Megatron’s optics hardened.

“Those outside it may live in the order we build.”

“May they refuse it?”

“They may refuse allegiance.”

“May they oppose it?”

“If they take up arms, they are enemies.”

“And if they speak?”

For the first time, silence stretched.

Not because Megatron lacked an answer.

Because the answer defined more than the road.

Megatron’s voice lowered.

“Speech that shields sabotage is participation.”

Orion absorbed that.

Prowl’s optics flicked once toward him, warning.

Ironhide shifted again, one hand flexing at his side.

Orion looked at the barricade.

Then past it.

Then back to Megatron.

“Then you are building another Senate.”

The road went still.

Soundwave registered the reaction through every Decepticon unit present.

Shock.

Anger.

Readiness.

Megatron did not move at first.

When he did, it was slow.

Controlled.

He stepped through the gap in the barricade.

Ironhide moved immediately.

Not to attack.

To block.

Megatron struck him aside with enough force to send the heavy Autobot crashing into the road barrier. Ironhide hit hard, plating cracking against the reinforced edge, but he tried to rise at once.

Prowl moved next.

Fast.

Calculated.

He attempted to angle between Megatron and Orion while drawing Megatron’s momentum away from Ironhide.

Megatron caught the motion and fired low.

The blast struck the ground in front of Prowl, not directly into him, but close enough to throw him backward across the road. Prowl hit, rolled, and came up damaged but functional.

Orion did not run.

Soundwave noted that too.

Megatron closed on him.

“You know nothing of what I build.”

Orion looked up at him.

“I know what it costs to question it.”

Megatron’s hand closed around Orion’s upper frame and lifted him off the ground.

Ironhide shouted and surged forward again.

Decepticon weapons came up across the line.

Soundwave transmitted instantly.

“Hold fire.”

The line held.

Ironhide drove into Megatron with all his weight, forcing Megatron back half a step. Megatron released Orion only to turn and slam Ironhide down into the road with brutal force. The impact shattered the surface beneath them.

Prowl fired then.

Not at Megatron’s center.

At the barricade support beside him.

The blast blew apart one side of the structure, creating smoke and debris between Megatron and Orion.

Efficient.

Escape attempt.

Soundwave shifted his tracking immediately.

Orion stumbled backward through the smoke, damaged from Megatron’s grip but still upright. Prowl caught him by one arm. Ironhide forced himself up again, systems sparking, and moved to cover them.

Megatron stepped through the debris.

His cannon lifted.

“Enough.”

Prowl shoved Orion behind him.

Ironhide braced.

Orion pushed between them.

“No.”

Soundwave saw the choice before anyone else reacted.

Orion placed himself in front again.

Unarmed.

Damaged.

Still speaking.

“This is what I mean,” Orion said, voice strained but clear. “You hear refusal and answer with force.”

Megatron’s cannon remained aimed.

“You stand with armed enemies on a military route during wartime.”

“I stand where freedom is being narrowed.”

Megatron’s optics burned.

“Freedom did not feed the miners of Tarn. Freedom did not save the workers of Praxis. Freedom did not stop Sentinel.”

“No,” Orion said. “But rule without it will become what you destroyed.”

Megatron fired.

The blast struck Orion squarely.

For a moment, the road disappeared in white light.

Prowl and Ironhide were thrown backward by the force of it. The barricade ruptured. Smoke, shattered metal, and broken road plating scattered across the supply corridor.

Soundwave’s sensors flared.

Orion’s signal collapsed.

Not weakened.

Collapsed.

Prowl hit the ground hard and rolled into the remains of the barricade. Ironhide crashed beside him, armor scorched, systems unstable but active.

Orion lay motionless in the center of the road.

Megatron stood over him, cannon smoking.

Silence followed.

Even the Decepticon line did not move.

Soundwave scanned.

Orion Pax: signal absent.

No active communication.

No visible movement.

Status: presumed terminated.

Prowl’s signal surged.

Ironhide’s followed.

Both damaged.

Both alive.

Megatron looked down at Orion’s body for several seconds.

No satisfaction crossed his face.

Only certainty.

“He chose his side,” Megatron said.

Then he turned away.

“Secure the route.”

Soundwave transmitted the order.

“Eastern supply closure confirmed. Resume operation.”

The Decepticon line moved.

Prowl and Ironhide did not attack again.

They could not.

Not effectively.

Smoke thickened across the corridor as damaged systems vented from the shattered barricade and broken road plating.

For six seconds, Soundwave maintained full visual on Orion’s fallen frame.

Then the signal interference changed.

Not Autobot.

Not Decepticon.

Something older.

A distortion moved across the road, brief and almost impossible to isolate. It did not jam his sensors. It made them irrelevant. The space where Orion lay folded into static without producing a signal source.

Soundwave narrowed every available feed.

Laserbeak shifted position overhead.

Buzzsaw rerouted from a nearby maintenance tower.

Ground sensors recalibrated.

For a fraction of a moment, Orion remained visible.

Then he was not.

The body vanished from the road.

No transport signature.

No bridge flare.

No standard extraction trace.

Prowl and Ironhide were still present, damaged and moving with difficulty. Their signals showed shock, confusion, urgency.

They had not taken him.

Soundwave searched the corridor again.

Nothing.

Only residual distortion.

Shielded.

Concealed.

Unknown.

Megatron’s channel opened.

“Soundwave.”

“I am present.”

“Status.”

Soundwave processed the absence.

“Orion Pax presumed terminated. Frame removed by unknown means. Source shielded. Tracking unavailable.”

A pause.

Short.

Sharp.

Megatron turned slightly.

“Unavailable?”

“Affirmative.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed.

Soundwave continued.

“No Autobot extraction signature detected. No Decepticon interference. Distortion does not match known transport systems.”

Megatron looked back toward the road.

The place where Orion had fallen was empty now.

For the first time in the operation, something important had moved beyond Soundwave’s reach.

He did not state that.

He did not need to.

Megatron’s gaze hardened.

“Find where it went.”

“Attempting.”

Soundwave expanded the search across every available channel.

Praxis.

Iacon.

Subsurface relays.

Ancient archive routes.

Maintenance tunnels.

Hidden signal chambers.

Nothing.

Wherever Orion had gone, it was shielded beyond the network.

Beyond his current sight.

That was unacceptable.

Prowl and Ironhide withdrew under cover of smoke, damaged but alive. Soundwave allowed the pursuit window to narrow, then close. They were not the priority.

Orion’s disappearance was.

The eastern route remained sealed.

Iacon’s supply line weakened.

Megatron’s strategy continued.

But beneath the success, Soundwave marked a new unresolved variable.

Orion Pax.

Presumed dead.

Removed by unknown actor.

Unknown location.

Unknown outcome.

Across the road, the Decepticon barricades reformed.

Above, Seeker patrols resumed their routes.

Iacon’s first supply line stayed closed.

Megatron continued toward the next point of pressure.

Soundwave followed every signal except the one he wanted most.

And somewhere beyond his reach, hidden behind shielding older than the war itself, Orion Pax survived.