Soundwave missed Cybertronian, the language of his race. Human languages were so limiting. They were crude, designed for maximum physical effect on the recipient for good or ill. No subtleties, very animal-like in their nature and creation, they nonetheless evolved from grunts to crude attempts at poetry and literature; while sub-par compared to the works of Cybertron, there was often deeper meaning in the work in question, to the surprise of the communications expert.

However, as soon as Soundwave comprehended the languages, he refused to speak them. There was no need. Any new information to impart could be displayed across his face mask.

He watched in dismay as fewer and fewer Decepticons spoke the ancient tongue, preferring the inadequacy of twenty-six letters (give or take a few), and deserting what he felt was a major part of their culture. Cybertronian was not one single language- there were several dialects for each major region of Cybertron, and Kaonite Cybertronian, guttural and harsh, was the original language of protest against the reigning powers. When Megatron himself seemed to have forgotten the Cybertronian language of their heritage, speaking in that blasted English, Soundwave withdrew from the company of others. Never a talkative bot to begin with, the mech now refused all communication with anyone but Megatron.

But one night, while scanning the human frequencies for potentially useful information, Soundwave ran across a transmission of Cybertronian origin. His mask flickered in anticipation; there was always a chance it was more Decepticons finding their way to this new planet for battle.

The transmission was faint; Soundwave effortlessly boosted the signal and cleaned the sourcefeed until the words could have been spoken next to him.

"For all those mechs and femmes still not hearin' me, I pray that Primus preserves your spark until I transmit again." Soundwave listened to the simple words in awe. The speaker was, he deduced, of a smaller build than he, judging by the way his voice projected into the mike. Probably Kaonite in origin by that small vocal twang. Kaonite, like him. As he turned up the gain, static took over the signal; angrily, Soundwave smashed a servo into the platform in front of him, making two Eradicons cleaning equipment in the corner jump guiltily. He quickly traced the transmission signal and found it to be on Earth. His spark leapt, excitement sparking through his circuits.

His servos flew over the keys as he keyed in the frequency and transmitted back across it. "Unidentified signaler." He hesitated briefly, then pressed forward. "Your accent is of Kaonian origin. Explain your presence on this planet."

The reply came back almost instantly, the voice full of emotion and speaking fluent Cybertronian of the most beautiful kind. Soundwave set up a recorder to catch the mech's words almost instantly. This was a master of communications in his own right. "I am originally from Kaon before this war. Why? You sound like you were from there too. 'zat why you retraced my frequency?"

The typically silent mech stood silent for a moment, then replied simply, "Yes. I have not...I have not heard spoken Cybertronian in much too long. Your language structure is almost poetry in itself."

A bright laugh came over the signal. Soundwave felt his own faceplates, hidden securely under his face mask, begin to form a foreign expression of amusement. "Main machine, you are a flatterer. I'm just a comm expert separated from my comrades. You sound like you've missed real Cybertronian."

Soundwave noticed the expert deflection of his original question, that of his reason for being planetside, but he could not just return to his original inquiry without being rude. "It has been difficult. Human languages are extremely limiting."
The mech made a small sound of agreement. "Couldn't agree more. Somethin' about Cybertronian is so much more compelling. More close to music."

"But was music not our first form of communication?" Soundwave replied, suddenly much happier than he'd been in a long time. "And it is indeed close to spoken Cybertronian even still."

"That it is, m' mech. Gotta go, have a shift in a joor. Nice talkin' to ya. 'Til all are one."

And the mech was gone, with Soundwave staggering back from the frequency modulator, staring at the machine in a mixture of terror and shame.

The speaker had been an Autobot.

Worse, Soundwave had spoken to him, and had not tried to access any information, not even a location! It was incredibly embarrassing. He'd never hear the end of it if Starscream came into possession of the recording. But even worse than that, the Autobot had a weakness of his. There was a consolation, of course; he was not so idiotic as to give his designation over the air, but the recording had to be purged from the system as soon as possible.

A few quick keystrokes later and Soundwave had the sole copy in his possession. There was no way Starscream would get his grubby little servos anywhere near it.

Several days later, Soundwave was in his quarters, the place he spent the majority of his time when not on duty. Even the rec room was too much of an ordeal. The coarse human languages grated at his audios. He tried to time his trips so the fewest number of bots would be in the room. As soon as his energon was secure, he would flee back to his own quarters.

Sitting on the berth, legs tucked comfortably under him, tentacles finally allowed a chance to remain free as their presence tended to upset Eradicons, Soundwave stared at the data disk from the...Autobot.

Strange. It was hard to think of him as an Autobot. Kaonian kept superimposing itself over the image of the hated symbol mentally. At night, the mech had begun to appear in his recharge. Sometimes appearing with that red symbol painted proudly on the chest. And Megatron urging him to fire. Those were nights he would wake up, exventing hard. It had been almost a fortnight since he had been in contact with the mech.

Soundwave came to a decision. Later, he would look at his actions in shame and embarrassment. What other than pure idiocy drove his actions? Tuning into the frequency of the Autobot once again, he sent a brief message asking for a meeting. Nothing spectacular.

After all, this was to gain information. There was no other purpose than to recover from the mistakes he had made previously. What other reason would there be?

Soundwave landed and transformed noiselessly. He cut an imposing figure in the twilight of the day, sun setting behind sandy cliffs. Standing stock-still, he waited, his internal chronometer marking just how late the other bot was.

A ground bridge opened up less than a mile away; Soundwave tensed, wrist rockets arming automatically. A mech, built smaller than him but larger than the two-wheeler Autobot, somersaulted out of the green fire, hefting a sonic cannon threateningly towards him.

"Get out of my way, mech. I don't like it when cons crash my recruiting parties."
The larger mech choked slightly. Recruiting party? This was an attempt to draw him to the Autobot side? What inanity was this? And he was speaking in that human language, too. Soundwave lowered his wrist cannon, speaking in his Kaonite dialect. "Do not fire. I have no argument with you. I wish to speak to the one from Kaon, who sent out a transmission several joors ago. He was supposed to be here almost three breems ago."

"From Kaon?" the other said slowly, in English, then shifted almost immediately to Kaonite Cybertronian. "I hail from Kaon." He lowered the sonic weapon wonderingly. "You're the mech who contacted me."

Soundwave resisted the urge to roll his optics; the other mech would not see the obvious insult anyway, hidden as they were behind his mask. "Yes. Now. You are an Autobot?"

This time, the mech did roll his optics. "Yeah. Big red symbol on my chest mean anything? And obviously you're Soundwave." His voice lost its edge, becoming a little more gentle. "Didn't know mean ol' Decepticons got lonely too."

Soundwave folded his arms. "They do not. I do not. I merely seek...real conversation. This human slag is rotting their processors."

The smaller mech suddenly smiled, and Soundwave felt almost overwhelmed by sheer beauty. Intellectual pursuits aside, this mech was attractive. Built on a frame designed to fold into a Cybertronian racer, the mech's red and yellow paint job accentuated custom-built speakers and set off the crystal blue optics, now glimmering at him with laughter. "Like what you see, Soundwave?"

The communications expert exvented harshly. "Yes. No. I must return to base. This was a poor choice on my part."

"Hey, don't go," the Autobot protested, taking a hasty step forward. "Not yet. You're the first Kaonite I've seen in three thousand vorns, Soundwave. That's a long time to wait. Long time since the aerial bombings."
Soundwave bowed his helm at the mention of the fate of his region. "We are here. This is now. We must move forward. You are an Autobot. I am a Decepticon. Whatever similarities we may have had are now gone."

The mech placed a gentle servo on Soundwave's arm plating; the larger mech stiffened momentarily, but overcame his initial reaction. "Exactly. We're here, and this is now. We don't have to be Autobots and Decepticons right now. We can just be Cybertronians."

Soundwave looked at the mech. "You are saying I can trust you."

The red and yellow mech nodded fiercely. "Absolutely."

Soundwave smiled behind his face mask. "Then I must ask you your designation. You are obviously aware of mine."
"No problem, my main machine," the small mech said, sunny smile once again beaming. "Th' name's Blaster."