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There wasn't anywhere near enough space on the Victory for all the Autobots to stay there, which meant that they had to be ferried back to the Ark the same day as the lottery had been held. Not all of them had been assigned to a Decepticon "buddy", there were not enough Decepticons on Earth to match the Autobots on the planet. Soundwave had been supremely unconcerned when Prowl asked about this, stating that buddy-less Autobots would just have to wait their turn in house arrest at the Ark. The unspoken implication was that at some point some Decepticons would be done with their current Autobot buddies and ready to take on someone else.
Prowl, opting not to think too hard on the statistical likelihood of Autobot survival rates, came to the conclusion that this was likely why the Decepticons hadn't put more effort into rounding up Autobots that weren't staying at the Ark. There were a few bots currently, hopefully, laying low with their human allies. Cosmos, who had been off to set up a camp for himself on the Moon, had hopefully left Earth's orbit to join up with some other group of Autobots.
The day after the lottery was dedicated to formalia. Megatron and Optimus holed up in one of the Ark's meeting rooms at the crack of dawn to go over the basic laws for their post-war coexistence.
Prowl, standing in the hallway outside the soundproofed meeting room, wished that he could still safely use his internal communication system - but with Soundwave in the Ark there was no way those wouldn't be under surveillance. Instead he waited until Jazz dropped down from the ventilation system.
"How are they doing in there?" Prowl asked, steeling himself for the worst.
"About as well as can be expected," Jazz replied with a grimace. "It's not exactly a screaming row, but Megs sure is taking the opportunity to air some grievances. They're about to go on a break, so expect Optimus out here in a second. Skids is already in place to cover the next few hours. Mind if I nip off to check on Bumblebee?"
Not long after Jazz had hurried off, Optimus stumbled out of the meeting room. As far as Prowl could tell there was no signs of a physical attack, so he probably hadn't been punched on the way out, but he was visibly shaken and only noticed Prowl when he walked up to hand Optimus an energon cube.
"Sir?"
"Did you know that cold constructs weren't legally sentient beings before the war?" Optimus blurted out.
Prowl barely managed to swallow back a "you didn't know?" and hid it behind a cough. So that was what Megatron had been throwing a fit over.
"Yes sir, although another possible translation to English is sapient since we don't have separate words for the concepts in Neocybex. The law was mainly used to prevent constructs from owning property and to keep us tied to our place of employment," Prowl explained, silently wondering if Optimus would catch the "us" in the sentence.
If possible, Optimus looked even more gutted.
"Why didn't you say anything? All this time I've been saying 'freedom for all sentient beings' and I didn't know-"
"Because," Prowl interrupted, "it's perfectly obvious that you are talking about real sentience, not a legal loophole that justified discrimination. Legally I'm a walking computer, property of the police station that bought me. But that is just formality. I know that I am sentient in the actual meaning of the word, it's an objectively verifiable fact."
In the silence that followed Prowl focused on keeping his field in check. It was bad enough that Optimus was bleeding regrets across the entire hallway, no reason to make it worse when it wasn't him Prowl was angry with.
"But why didn't you tell me that you were constructed?" Optimus finally asked, sounding very small for such a large mech. Prowl glanced towards the door to the meeting room, but apparently Megatron was content to stay in there during the break.
"Because you never asked. You assumed, correctly, that I was a person and that's all I wanted anyone to know. That doesn't mean it's in any way a secret. Any medic that has treated me knows that I'm constructed, as does anyone who knew me before the war or anyone who would be familiar with my batch model. I assume that most of the mechs in special operations have clocked me too," Prowl said, keeping to himself that he had also assumed that Optimus had, if not clocked him then at least gotten a memo from someone in special operations.
"Do you know if there are more constructed Autobots? From before the war I mean," Optimus asked.
"Statistically there must be, but you've never required that information so we haven't kept records of it outside of confidential medical files. Do you want us to keep records of who is or isn't forged?" Prowl asked, a slight edge underlying the question.
"No. Maybe? I don't know. It seems like there are an awful lot of things that I've just assumed without knowing," Optimus explained while he thumbed the cube. "If the situation really was that bad for cold constructs, perhaps the Decepticons were right-"
"What?" Prowl exclaimed. "No, absolutely not. Discriminatory laws are no excuse to murder civilians, including you. And no one is expecting you to know everything, so you can stop feeling bad about that. We follow you because you are a better person than Megatron, not because we think you're omniscient."
"Even though I'm supposed to carry the combined wisdom of the Primes in the Matrix?" Optimus asked.
Prowl wasn't good at comfort, not naturally at least. However, the Tacnet had greased his way through a series of promotions in the tactical division early in the war, which meant that by now he had known Optimus for a very, very long time, and he was observant enough to pick up useful behaviour. For example, how to stop Optimus from spiralling into guilt just by putting a hand on his arm and making a genuine attempt at eye contact.
"No offence sir, but some Primes didn't have the processing power of a toaster. It's a very powerful symbol, but it's your spark that makes you a good leader. I personally trust the instincts you've got from Orion Pax more than whatever your predecessors might have left behind in the Matrix. The Tacnet can make up for the difference if necessary."
Thankfully, that seemed to do the trick and Optimus visibly relaxed.
"Thank you, I think. I just wish I had been good enough to win the war, to keep you all safe."
"I won't lie, there is a possibility that the Autobots could have won the war if we had been sacrificed, but I'm not so ungrateful that I'd complain when you've saved our lives. So far the Decepticons have not been unreasonable. If we can just hold out then maybe we can still play the long game. Make ourselves useful and at least pretend to integrate into whatever society Megatron is making. We'll look out for each other."
"Very well, I'll do what I can. Please take care of yourself. Thank you Prowl."
There wasn't really more to say after that. Optimus went back to the meeting room and Prowl hurried off to the first proper inter-faction committee, arranged to script a public speech that would explain the situation to the humans.
The committee consisted of Bumblebee, Thundercracker, Jazz, Skywarp, Prowl, Soundwave, and Carly.
Bumblebee was there as the Autobot expert on human culture and Thundercracker was going to deliver the speech once it was done - he had volunteered after it was made clear that no one important would bother. Jazz and Skywarp had both opted to sit on the tables; Jazz with his carefully cultivated ease and Skywarp with probably genuine airheadedness. Carly, their volunteer test audience, was present over a video link, since absolutely no one in the Autobot base was interested in letting any humans near the Ark when it was overrun by Decepticons. Finally, Soundwave, sitting alert with a datapad ready. Prowl nodded politely at them all and sat down with his own notes.
"Alright!" Bumblebee exclaimed. "Now that everyone's here, let's draft a speech!"
Prowl dedicated more processor power to analysing the people in the room than on the speech. In truth, the whole thing could have been handled by Bumblebee, Thundercracker and Carly alone. Prowl didn't imagine that he and Soundwave would provide much more than factual corrections. Jazz was definitely only there to ensure that no Decepticons took any liberties during the meeting. Skywarp might as well have been a lamp for all the help he was. If anything he was a distraction.
"Okay, I'll try this again from the top - stop giggling Warp. Greetings people of Earth, I am Thundercracker and I represent the Decepticons. We won the war against the Autobots, don't worry they are safe. Lord Megatron and Optimus Prime are at this moment negotiating the old laws to - how much detail do we need on the laws?"
"I'd say little to nothing," Jazz offered. "Cybertronian law doesn't really matter to humans. Carly, what do you say?"
"Personally I'd love to learn more, but this speech isn't a good place and time for that," Carly offered from the data pad propped up in the middle of the main conference table. "I say we do as with the paragraph on why there isn't a real commander delivering the speech and omit as much as possible."
"On the other hand," said Skywarp around the rust stick he'd been eating as obscenely as possible, "if we are detailed about the laws then we can just send out this speech to everyone else that needs to hear that the war is over. It's a pretty big deal that we're changing things so cold constructs aren't property and shit. Like, our old receipt is going to be a historical document, I'll bet we'll be able to sell it to a museum or something."
"You have proof of purchase of another Cybertronian?" Prowl blurted out before he remembered that they didn't need more distractions. It had taken 26 minutes just to get through the first paragraph. Thundercracker covered his face with a groan, Skywarp just rolled his eyes.
"Of course not, I have the proof of purchase of us," he said, gesturing between himself and Thundercracker. "It's from when Shockwave bought us from the military and gave us the receipt because I thought it was funny that we were tax deductible. He was collecting outliers and had money to burn so it wasn't a big deal to him."
Even through the poor resolution on the data pad display Prowl could see that Carly's eyes were round as saucers, which was fair. Prowl had mentioned to her once in passing years ago, when her first child was newborn and the topic of baby pictures came up, that he was a cold construct. He had never elaborated on what that meant other than "constructed fully adult in a factory" - hence why his old enforcer ID used a "baby picture" taken moments after he'd come online. After all, the old laws and norms of Cybertron from before the war were thoroughly irrelevant now that the planet was a husk.
"I know that I'm derailing the meeting again, but am I understanding correctly that Shockwave bought you as property?" Carly asked. "Was that how other Decepticons were recruited too?"
"Main source of Decepticons: lost property and property theft," Soundwave said without looking up from his data pad. Prowl unsubtly craned his neck to look at the screen. It appeared to be a discussion forum in English, poorly resized to fit a standard Cybertronian data pad. Soundwave looked up at him and equally unsubtly tilted the screen away.
Evidently Prowl wasn't the only one who was aware that they were superfluous.
"He means that Megatron would make a big violent distraction while Soundwave ran off with as many disposables and mode locked constructs as possible. As for me and Warp, we were bought as private security before the Decepticons were a thing and we were recruited by Starscream many years later," Thundercracker clarified.
"I think it would be fair to say that even back then Megatron was an outright homicidal distraction rather than merely a violent one," Prowl commented darkly, "For every ten cold constructs or disposables kidnapped, an average of six Cybertronians died."
"So? That's a net gain and I for one am not feeling sorry for slave owners," Skywarp sniffed. "Also it's not kidnapping if they're grateful for getting away. That's rescuing."
"I would agree with you if any owners had actually been among the casualties," Prowl countered, "but the people who Megatron murdered during those raids were almost exclusively bystanders that were mid-caste or lower, and far from all of them were forged."
"Autobot assessment: correct," Soundwave interrupted, before Skywarp could snipe back. "Casualties: unfortunate but necessary. Main priority in early Decepticon movement: securing recruits. Secondary priority: revenge. Tertiary priority: securing resources. Civilian welfare: not a consideration."
"Right," Jazz said, "you guys did a cost-benefit calculation. By now we all know how those work and I don't think there's any point in fighting over those equations right now. Just. Keep in mind that we don't have any more high-caste mechs on our side than you do. The vast majority of us were mid-caste or low-caste before the war. The high-castes were either killed by Starscream or they disappeared to who-knows-where when they found out that the new Prime used to be a dock worker. Also, we can shelf the entire discussion because we'd have to rewrite the speech anyway. We're doing this speech for the humans in English. A speech to Cybertronians not stationed on Earth would have to be in Neocybex."
There was a long pregnant pause before Thundercracker sighed and then said, surprisingly softly, "Fuck, I forgot we're speaking English."
"It's not that weird," Bumblebee consoled. "We've been here a while. Most Autobots forget from time to time too. Either way, we're back to Jazz and Carly's suggestion and I agree that we only tell the humans that Optimus and Megatron are negotiating laws. The Autobots off-Earth were notified shortly after Optimus surrendered, didn't anyone tell off-Earth Decepticons?"
"Decepticons: notified through Shockwave."
"That we won," Skywarp retorted. "No one's told anyone that there are peaceful negotiations. We should at least send out a memo, something like 'be nice to the bots, you have to be friends when Cybertron's rebuilt or Megatron will wreck you to slag'. We all know almost everyone still alive by now is the kind of survivor that needs to be told thrice to stand down, and everyone's looking for excuses to shoot each other. Look at Tarn, he keeps adding Starscream to The List even after Megatron told him personally that attempted murder and usurping aren't Listable offences."
Finally, after Tarn and the Decepticon Justice Division was explained to Carly, it was agreed that the respective communications officers of the factions would be responsible for updating distant soldiers with more details.
Prowl idly wondered how many jobs Soundwave had in Decepticon administration as the meeting slogged on to the next hitch in the speech. Probably at least 65% of the total administrative workload. Judging by the mental faculties of Megatron and Starscream he probably handled close to 90% of high command's administrative work. If Prowl could make himself useful to Soundwave, it would probably be the easiest way to get his hands on a communication system that could reach the Wreckers and other specialized Autobot units undetected.
Thankfully the speech didn't need to be long. They hammered out that no humans would be harmed, that all Cybertronians would return to Cybertron as soon as they had set up enough solar panels to cover their energy needs and that the energy farms would be handed over to human control once Cybertron was self-sufficient or at most within five years, as reparations for using the planet as battlefield.
That last part came as a surprise to the Autobots in the room, but Soundwave explained that Swindle had already called dibs on trade between the planets, and old grudges were not good for business. Well, whatever reason got them there would be good enough. Prowl was well aware that for many Autobots, seeing Earth harmed would have been a greater blow than the loss of their own freedom.
Prowl was privately just cynical enough that he probably could have sacrificed Earth if he had thought for sure that it was necessary to win the war - if he could have found a way to do it without Optimus finding out. As things were, perhaps this could be used to their benefit. If the Autobots hiding outside the Ark could stay away from detection for those five years then it was possible that the Decepticons would lose interest in the planet after that. It wasn't a bad planet to live on. Mechs like Beachcomber would surely be happier living with humans than in captivity.
With the speech finally complete they filed out of the meeting room, only to stop in horror immediately outside it. The bright orange walls of the Ark were splattered in pink and purple, in what Prowl's processor unhelpfully labelled "torso- to headshot height".
It looked like the war had started again.
Thankfully Skywarp was dumb enough to do a lick test on a pink glob before Thundercracker could stop him.
"It's paint," he declared.
"Are you sure?" Jazz asked, voicing Prowl's thoughts. He had never seen purple viscera, but the pink splotches looked a lot like energon.
"Trust me, I'm an expert," Skywarp assured with confidence.
"At eating paint?" Prowl asked, barely covering Jazz's comment about siphoning.
"I've done prank wars before," the apparent paint-tasting expert explained. "It's not the first - or second - time that Soundwave's rugrats make me eat pink paint. And they've been unsupervised for what? Two hours? Three? I'm surprised we didn't hear screaming."
"All meeting rooms on the Ark are soundproofed, since we also have our share of prank wars," Prowl explained.
"Sexy," said Skywarp, to Prowl's horror.
They found the epicenter of the paint warfare just a few hallways away. Soundwave's gaggle of cassettes had been corralled into a sullen huddle by a group of mostly Autobots, but also Astrotrain and Vortex, all of them paint splattered to various degrees. Ironhide stood to the side, futilely trying to wipe off the purple paint that covered the entire front of his body. Behind him was his own silhouette in the wall's original orange, outlined in purple.
Before Prowl could clearly hear what the gaggle in the hallway was saying the gathered mechs noticed Soundwave and a hush fell over them. Except unfortunately Vortex, who continued to detail his own gory pink painting plans until Astrotrain bodily lifted him up and turned around so he could see Soundwave.
Soundwave in turn stood in a parody of a disapproving parent - arms crossed and foot tapping.
"Cassettes: explain yourselves," he demanded darkly.
No explanation was forthcoming. Or rather, a lot of excuses were offered simultaneously without any kind of cohesion. Soundwave nodded anyway and said "Understood," before turning to Prowl, Jazz and Bumblebee to translate.
"Problem: boredom. Cassettes: will apologise and restore all surfaces affected by prank. Effective now."
That did not go over well with the cassettes.
"Oh come on!"
"Not fair!"
"I didn't even go in here until it was over."
"They should be grateful that we covered their ugly ass walls!"
Soundwave was unmoved.
"Aesthetics: irrelevant. Horrible interior design is the right of all Cybertronians."
"Sentient beings," Jazz corrected, "and it had more to do with economics than aesthetics. It was the cheapest colour we could buy in bulk."
"And in case there's any doubt," Prowl interrupted, "sentient beings means all Cybertronians and a wide selection of aliens. Cybertron's last non-sentient life forms went extinct more than a million years before cold constructs entered mass production."
Prowl looked around the room, daring any of the Decepticons to speak up.
"It's not as if the orange is obligatory," Sunstreaker pointed out when the pause verged towards awkward. "If you want to give us new paint then I'm all for it. Just don't get it on my plating."
"You heard the Autobot, boss!" one of the minicons exclaimed.
"Yeah, we're doing them a favour!" his twin added.
"Let's not go that far," Sideswipe interjected.
Soundwave looked unimpressed and turned to Ironhide instead.
"Ironhide: damage report."
"What? Uh, nothing that requires medics or mechanics. It's just paint. I guess I'll have to put more effort into being entertaining in the future," he said bitterly, still trying to scrape the mess off his plating without clogging his seams.
"Negative. Twins: require a short leash. Invent chores to prevent destruction."
At that, Ironhide looked up in surprise, and his shoulders shifted down a notch to a more relaxed tilt.
"Oh, like our twins then. Gotcha."
"Sunstreaker: aesthetic damage report."
"First of all, thanks for owning up that those chores were a waste of time Ironhide, Bluestreak owes me money now. As for the walls, we can keep the new paint but not the splotches. We'll have to even it out so that it doesn't look like a murder scene. I've got a few ideas that could work."
"Also, Ravage really wasn't involved. He was talking with me and Hound when this happened," Mirage added.
"Good. Sunstreaker: in charge of instructing cassettes sans Ravage while repainting. Commence operation: vista."
An hour and a lot more paint later, Sunstreaker, four cassettes, and a number of artistically inclined Autobots were engrossed in turning the walls into a mural. After some deliberation Sunstreaker and Lazerbeak had agreed on a sunset-sunrise theme depending on the purple to pink to orange ratio on the walls. The silhouette of Ironhide was left intact as retribution for past and future boring chores, in a touching display of agreement between the respective terror twins of the two factions.
Prowl took the opportunity to check in on Ironhide, now mostly clean even if traces of purple could still be seen in his seams.
"How are you holding up so far?" Prowl asked.
"Our twins haven't killed me yet, I think I'll survive being 'buddies' with these scraplets. Especially if I have Soundwave's blessing to tell them off," Ironhide muttered. "What about you and the Constructicons?"
"They're civil, I'll live. Don't expect to see much of me for a while though. Soundwave and I will more or less switch places for logistical reasons, and Primus only knows how long it will take us to synchronize the paperwork to the new law of the land."
Ironhide swore.
"I can't say I like the idea of being split up between bases. When are you leaving?"
"As soon as Astrotrain can give me a ride. Hopefully we can get a groundbridge up soon, I have a feeling there will be a lot of traffic between bases."
"Either groundbridge, or we'll all have to get jetpacks," Ironhide agreed. "Stay safe Prowl."
Earlier in the morning, a bit over a thousand kilometers above the Ark, Cosmos plugged his data pad into a low orbit satellite and waited for the program to complete the connection. It was a Wheeljack invention, so Cosmos wasn't entirely sure how it worked and he always had a niggling worry that it might blow up, but finally the loading screen cleared.
Cosmos had access to the internet.
Probably illegally, he wasn't entirely sure how the humans had constructed their internet but it probably wasn't meant to be used from a hacked satellite. But in Cosmos defence, it wasn't as if he had access to internet the way it was meant to be used. Needs must, and so on. He certainly wasn't going to go down to the planet's surface right now, pits knew he was taking enough of a risk getting this close. He'd heard Optimus' broadcast and been able to see the Cons swarming the Ark from his lonely orbit. Hopefully he might be able to get some additional information now.
He opened the digital pets website he'd been frequenting the last two years and sent a private message.
SaucySaucer: So I know you said a while back that things were getting a bit hectic at your workplace? Even PassengerPrincess was busy. Can you speak now? How are things?
Soundwave must have had the site open, because the reply was almost instantaneous.
Number1MomDad: I can't believe that even with everything going on work is still boring .-.
Number1MomDad: We're doing the most insane company merger in recorded history, we're lucky no one is getting murdered. And I'm stuck babysitting the PR team. They're going to spin this as "we're all a happy family now" slop while fantasising about murdering each other, and I'm the designated babysitter. fml. I've missed having a sane conversation with someone.
Cosmos contemplated the message. So. Soundwave was still pretending that they were both normal human users on the forum. Cosmos was fairly sure that Soundwave knew that Cosmos was Cosmos, and that Soundwave knew that Cosmos knew that Soundwave was Soundwave. There wasn't really any way to verify it, but Cosmos had assumed that keeping the charade up would be best practise in case they needed plausible deniability.
It could also be a trap and a heavily cloaked Blast Off would sweep in any moment to pluck Cosmos out of the exosphere - but they could have done that years ago and they never had. And even if that happened, in a worst case scenario Cosmos still wouldn't be worse off than his friends.
SaucySaucer: I guess for once I'm lucky to work alone huh? How's your boss reacting to all of this? I would think he'd be pleased with himself for getting rid of the competition.
Number1MomDad: He is, but I don't foresee that it will make him much easier to work with. Working alone is definitely the more enviable position right now. If you don't mind, I really appreciate having someone to vent to. I could probably liveblog this meeting without getting caught - with anonymized pseudonyms for my beloathed colleagues of course.
Translated to plain Neocybex: Megatron is still a pain in the aft, don't cross exobase, and updates on what's happening with the captured Autobots incoming.
SaucySaucer: Lay it on me! I'm getting pretty good at picturing your coworkers from your descriptions so I'll be in the room with you in spirit.
Cosmos stayed anchored to the satellite as Soundwave griped, in great detail, about what was happening on Earth.