Sacrificial Turbofox

It was dark. The room was covered with fuzz, not just from the lack of light. Still, as Starscream's lagging processor caught up with his visual feed, there was reason to wake. Quiet pedesteps reached Starscream's audials.

Who the frag was up this early? They were too loud to be one of the cassettes. Those three at least knew how to move quietly. Skywarp's wing was pressed against his face, so obviously she was still asleep.

Slight movement caught his eye. The Emberstone, lightless yet somehow never swallowed by the dark, reflected a figure. Tall—they were tall. Only one mech in the room matched the Emberstone's height when standing.

"Jetfire?" Starscream muttered.

The figure moved, but didn't respond.

"Jetfire!" Starscream hissed. "What are you doing?"

Another step. No response. Starscream prepared to speak again—

"Starscream?"

Jetfire's voice came from beside his helm. Immediately, Starscream threw himself from the berth, activating his weapons. Uncaring of who he woke, he flung himself at the figure. With a loud thunk, the Emberstone pulled free from the wall. Starscream brushed against a long, thin wing as the ground grew increasingly close.

He activated his thrusters, catching himself. Then, he soared through the doorway. The figure was already in the hall. In the low light of the hall, some of its features were clearer. If Starscream hadn't already heard Jetfire beside him, he would've mistaken the silhouette for Jetfire's.

"Starscream—?"

Jetfire burst into the hallway, followed by Skywarp. The others—Nova Storm, Soundwave, and his cassettes—would follow soon. Starscream glanced at them before taking off. There was no time to explain. The figure had already turned the corner.

The Cybertron Revival Initiative must have finally come to take the Emberstone. In their typical fashion, of course. Starscream turned another corner. The stranger glanced back at him, optics wide, before continuing to flee.

Stupid, self-serving fraggers! Starscream would show them! The Emberstone could never fall into their hands—they would surely abuse it. Perhaps they would even use it to create more mecha for their experiments…

A bright light shone at the end of the next hall. The Emberstone glinted in the intruder's grasp. Starscream pushed even more power to his thrusters, ignoring as his fans clicked on, and launched himself at the thief. They turned to him, optics wide, at the moment of impact.

"Starscream!"

Probably Jetfire again.

The intruder was familiar. Achingly familiar. Starscream couldn't place it. Suddenly, he was swept up in something, frame swirling and twisting in nothingness. He latched onto the intruder, claws digging deep into his prize's armor—the only thing keeping him from disappearing for good.

Then, grass flew past. Dirt ground into the seams of his armor. A loud crunch echoed through the air, and the intruder yelped beneath him. The sun overhead highlighted the mech's markings.

They were a very recognizable blue, but that wasn't possible, so Starscream shoved the idea out of his mind.

"You will return the Emberstone," Starscream hissed in the intruder's face. "Or I will make you."

"I can't return it!" the mech said. "It's the only thing that can—"

"Hey!"

Suddenly, Skywarp was beside his audial. The stranger startled, optics wide and wings scraping against the ground.

"What the frag is going…" Skywarp paused, staring down at the stranger. Then, she yanked the Emberstone from the stranger's hands and ran.

With a yell, the stranger shoved Starscream off. Before Starscream could swipe at him, he was already chasing after Skywarp. As he went to grab her, she warped behind Starscream. The stranger turned, and Starscream ducked out of the way.

The stranger dove for Skywarp. Her warp drive hummed, but it didn't build up enough energy to activate before she was seized. With a yelp, she flung the Emberstone behind her.

"Run for it, Jetfire!" She yelled.

Jetfire did as he was commanded. Starscream moved to pry the stranger off Skywarp, but paused. The stranger stared at Jetfire, making no move to pursue.

"Jetfire?" The stranger mumbled.

Starscream's wings flicked. He sank his claws into the stranger's plating, but he barely reacted. So, he pushed with all his might—of which there wasn't much—and managed to loosen his grip on Skywarp.

"What do you want with my newspark?" Starscream hissed.

"Your newspark?" The stranger said.

Starscream pried one hand from the stranger's plating to run over his face and let out a frustrated growl. "Tell me what you want with the Emberstone and Jetfire right now."

"I don't want anything with Jetfire!" The stranger said, raising his hands in surrender. "I just need the Emberstone."

"And what do you need it for?" Starscream said.

The stranger's optics drifted toward his wings. "Nothing you should know about, Decepticon."

What? Starscream searched the mech for a symbol, landing on his pauldrons. He leaned into the stranger's face and bared his teeth, wings wide.

"The war is over, Autobot."

The Autobot's olfactory ridge scrunched. He blinked and shook his head. Then, he laughed.

"Oh, if only it was!" He said. "This is quite an interesting trick. If you're going to capture me, you should just get it over with."

"Capture you? Why the frag would we do that?" Starscream said.

The Autobot glanced at Starscream's claws, which were still buried deeply in his armor.

"That's just to keep you from going after Jetfire!" Starscream hissed. "Now tell me what you're doing and why."

[Can I come back now?]

Starscream sighed and answered the comm.

[No, Jetfire. Keep the Emberstone safe.]

[I saw something. I really don't want to be alone.]

If the stupid Autobot would just talk, he wouldn't have to be. But alas, stupid Autobots were stupid Autobots.

"It's a spark splitting medium," the Autobot said. "What do you think I'm going to do with it?"

Starscream growled in irritation and dug his claws into the Autobot's elbow joint. The Autobot let out a quiet grunt as the delicate metal gave way. Starscream dug deeper, drawing a flinch from the Autobot.

"It'll be your optics next," Starscream said.

[There's someone here!]

Starscream couldn't fight the lift of his wings as his protocols engaged. The Autobot's gaze fell to them, and Starscream knew it was noticed. Claws still deep in the Autobot's joint, he called out to Skywarp.

"Go find Jetfire!" He said. "I can handle this from here."

Skywarp disappeared with a whoosh of air. The Autobot's head swiveled toward the sound. His optics grew wide.

"I think this is a misunderstanding," he said.

Starscream scoffed. "So now you're going to spin some lie, huh?"

"No, I really think—"

Starscream cut him off by digging his claws even further into the joint. The Autobot let out a yell.

"I think I know what happened!" The Autobot growled through gritted dentae. "That was Skywarp, right? And you're Starscream."

Starscream shook his claws inside the joint. The Autobot let out a pained hiss.

"You know my name. So what?"

The Autobot shook his head. "I know you. My version of you. The portable spacebridge must have malfunctioned in a way even I couldn't have predicted!"

"Portable spacebridge," Starscream said. "Now I know you're lying."

Such technology hadn't been achieved! Too much risk of scrambling the mecha being transported. Most attempts completely obliterated test subjects. The few that succeeded used harvested warp drives, which were in very short supply. If the CRI had turned to something so horrid…

[Skywarp?]

With a large whoosh of air that nearly knocked Starscream off his feet, Skywarp appeared with Jetfire. Her optics were open wide, and her wings were set at maximum height. Jetfire's plating was tensed, his wings shaking.

"What happened?" Starscream said.

"We need to get out of here!" Skywarp whispered. "Right now! There's someone watching us!"

The Autobot's plating tensed, sending a jolt through Starscream's claws. Starscream turned to him.

"Is this one of your allies?" He hissed. "Was this an ambush?"

The Autobot shook his head, taking a step backward. He dragged Starscream with him, as if he had forgotten that they were attached. His wings shifted downward—an obvious expression of fear.

"No!" He said. "We need to get out of here."

Purple light flashed in the surrounding trees. The air grew charged, electricity crackling. Then, with a bright flash, a mech appeared before them.

He was as tall as Megatron, with deep purple plating. A large crest sat on his head. Framed by sharp, grinning dentae were two bright purple optics.

"What do we have here, Skyfire?" The mech said.

Starscream froze. There was no way. It wasn't possible. Not with Jetfire…

"Nothing of interest to you!" Skyfire yelled.

The mech stared past him, toward Jetfire—and the Emberstone.

"I find that hard to believe," the mech said, grin somehow growing wider. "I've been tracking your little spacebridge, and today it let off a very interesting signal."

[Get us out!]

The message was labeled with his name. Skyfire, Skyfire, Skyfire. Starscream's plating crawled. He flexed his claws, forgetting where they were at the moment. Skyfire flinched.

Frag. Skyfire. It couldn't be real.

A set of coordinates. The world twisted, melting away into white walls with orange accents. Starscream pulled his claws from Skyfire. In the corner of his vision, there was a flash of blue. He followed it.

No. None of this was possible. Had he rejoined the allspark? He glanced at Skywarp. Her wings were pinned in their lowest position. She saw this, too.

Then, blue optics behind Thundercracker's caught his, and it all made sense. The mech hiding behind Thundercracker was red and blue—colors eerily similar to Optimus Prime's—but it was unmistakable. Starscream slumped.

"Skyfire," the mech that was undoubtedly himself asked. "What is this? Why did you bring Decepticons here?"

"I didn't have a choice," Skyfire said, lowering his wings.

Thundercracker walked past both of them. Wings set firmly in neutral position, she leaned over as she reached toward Skywarp. Skywarp flinched backward, a surprised squeak exiting her vocalizer.

"You're real," Thundercracker said.

"You're… alive!" Skywarp yelled.

Upon closer inspection, Starscream saw it: small, purple highlights hiding in Thundercracker's armor that were an exact match to Skywarp's paint.

"Your Skywarp is dead," Starscream said.

Thundercracker pulled away, wings lowering as she met Starscream's optics. "Yes, she is."

Thundercracker's optics examined his frame, falling on the blue of his gauntlets. Searching for a familiar but long-unused comm signal, Starscream flicked his wings.

[Don't say it,] he sent to Thundercracker.

"Jetfire, was it?" The name was pronounced awkwardly, as if Skyfire was tempted to say something else. The mentioned mech startled, Emberstone nearly slipping from his grasp. "Would you mind giving me the Emberstone?"

Starscream inserted himself in front of Jetfire, fanning his wings out to block him from sight, and hissed, "You still haven't told us why you want it. And, perhaps, you could also tell us why the frag we're here and how to get home while you're at it."

Skyfire thumbed the projections on his elbows—an upsettingly familiar nervous habit. Starscream had memory files upon memory files of small moments where his Skyfire did that.

"It was an accident," Skyfire said. "I've been searching for two items: the Enigma of Combination and a spark-splitting medium. I was opening portals to look for signals, since my scanner's range is small. I finally found a medium, but I didn't realize I'd stepped into another world."

The Enigma of Combination and a spark splitting medium… such a set could only mean one thing: Skyfire was attempting to build a combiner team. All of them had been wiped out in the war—at least in Starscream's universe. If Skyfire was attempting to create more, they may have been destroyed in his world, too.

Starscream glanced at Jetfire. His newspark clutched the Emberstone as if it were his lifeline, joints creaking from the strain. A painful buzz crept over Starscream's frame, disgust squirming inside of him.

"Send us home," Starscream said.

Skyfire shook his head. "The portable spacebridge was broken in our fall. Even if I know how it created a portal to another universe, I can't even attempt to reproduce it."

Starscream tapped his pede. "What do you need to fix it?"

"A warp drive," Skyfire said. "A genuine one. We… don't have any spares."

Skywarp's warp drive began humming before Starscream himself grasped the implications.

"No!" Thundercracker yelled, latching onto Skywarp with enough force that her plating creaked.

Startled by the sudden yell and intense contact, Skywarp's warp drive stuttered to a stop.

"Don't warp!" Thundercracker said. "Galvatron has your signature. He can track it."

Galvatron. That must've been the name of the mech that stalked them.

Skywarp's wings flicked. "How would—"

"Thunder is right," Skyfire said. "We have a scrambler in this room so that I could use the portable spacebridge, but if you leave its range, he'll know where we are."

Skywarp pried Thundercracker from her, growling when the mech refused to let go. Her wings twitched, and her plating snapped close—obvious signs of irritation.

"So, I can't warp?" She asked.

"Not if you want everyone in this base—including you—to live," the other Starscream said.

Skywarp's wings trembled and Starscream realized the truth: she was terrified.

"You mentioned a scrambler," Starscream said. "Is there any reason she can't wear one?"

Skyfire scrunched his olfactory ridge. "Well, no, but it makes warping a lot more costly."

Skywarp took a step forward, finally shrugging Thundercracker off.

"I don't care!" She said.

Skyfire grimaced. "Then we'll ask for one to be placed—"

"When you explain to Commander Elita why they're here!" The other Starscream said, putting her hands on her hips. "I am not covering for you again."

Elita? Starscream glanced at the other Starscream again. Was Optimus dead in this universe? Had she taken on his colors?

"I already sent her a message," Thundercracker said. "She's in her office."

"Then let's go!" The other Starscream said, heading toward the door.

Thundercracker and Skyfire followed after her, carefully herding the others—not that they needed to. Starscream wanted to see just what this world had to offer for himself. Unless Skywarp was going to give up one of the most important parts of her (impossible, unsafe) or someone figured out how to fabricate an artificial warp drive (also impossible), they were stuck here. Unless…

Galvatron had definitely warped while he was stalking them. Was he in possession of a warp drive? What would it take to procure it?

As they passed through wider halls, Autobots stopped to stare. Some whispered, while others chattered like idiots. The other Starscream paid them no mind, while Thundercracker merely twitched her wings. Skyfire let out an exasperated sigh.

Beside Starscream, Skywarp's wings flicked. Her plating rattled quietly. Starscream glared at her, and she silenced it. Behind them, Jetfire fidgeted so intensely his joints creaked. Flexing his claws to rid himself of the nervous irritation that infested his body at the thought of his newspark so anxious, Starscream settled for glaring at the loudest of the onlookers.

Interestingly, they didn't focus on Jetfire at all. Mutters of, "Seekers! Seekers!" and, "Decepticons? In the base?" passed through the air, but none about the anxious warframe that trailed after them. Jetfire hadn't taken a brand, and Starscream had never asked him to. Perhaps, in this strange world, it would be a blessing.

"You know prisoners belong in the brig."

Starscream startled at the voice, whacking Skywarp with his wing. Skywarp shoved him. The other Starscream glanced at them before replying to the interloper.

"These aren't prisoners," she said. "Not the traditional kind, anyway."

The mech furrowed his brow, arms crossed. He seemed familiar, but Starscream couldn't place it. In his own universe, this Autobot was probably dead. Though, with the familiarity, Starscream should recall him. Perhaps Hook's insistence that his memory files were corrupted from copious processor traumas wasn't unfounded. Oh, well…

An irritated flick of a wing caught his eye. Wings? On an Autobot? That narrowed the list considerably—

On second glance, no. Glass shone at the tops of them. They were stupid, fake doorwings. This mech was an Enforcer drone—one of those Praxus-designed models that were all the rage when Starscream was purchased.

Skywarp shuddered beside him.

[What's your problem?] Starscream sent to her.

[He's sizing us up,] she replied. [His field is all over me. It's creepy.]

For once, Starscream was glad he couldn't sense it.

"I suppose I haven't seen these Decepticons before," the mech said. "I'll help you escort them."

Skyfire jumped. "It's really not necessary, Prowl. We can handle this on our own—"

Prowl. Starscream's memory files were finally summoned. The Autobot third in command turned second after a tragic incident permanently separated Elita from the Autobots. Starscream grinned as their final fight came to him.

Both of them, plating marred beyond recognition, in a standoff. A mission gone wrong at its worst—someone had blown their cover, but the bomb still activated, turning the base to rubble. Starscream took cover behind a collapsed beam, dragging his barely functional legs behind him. That fragger had survived, the tips of his stupid doorwings sticking out from behind what used to be a wall.

Starscream aimed and fired just as he moved to do the same. Two shots: one to the processor and the other to the spark. His landed first.

Vision fuzzy at the edges, Starscream laughed, knowing that in his final moments, he had accomplished something truly valuable. Then, strong hands seized him, and he stared at Megatron's face. The rescue seemed perfectly timed and valiant back then, but Starscream knew the truth now: his ex-leader had placed a tracker in him.

Still, that didn't negate his accomplishment. It was the first of many times he'd survived impossible odds and come out the other end utterly victorious.

[Screamer?]

Starscream glared at Skywarp.

"We're here," she whispered, motioning to the door ahead of them.

Oh. Had he spent that long reminiscing?

Prowl entered a code on the door, and it slid open. The office was small, but they all managed to fit—even if Jetfire's wings were entwined with his own to make it work. They'd worry about that when it was time to leave.

Elita sat, arms on the desk. It was clear, save for a small pile of datapads, which were loosely stacked in the corner. She must have been working on them before the call came.

"Skyfire will explain!" The other Starscream said quickly, motioning toward the mech.

"I sure hope he does," Elita said.

Skyfire flinched. "Um, well… I was searching for resources for our project when I finally found a spark-splitting medium. I recovered it successfully, as you can see here—" He gestured to the Emberstone, which was still held securely in Jetfire's hands. "These mecha were guarding it, and managed to follow me back through the portal. My portable spacebridge must have malfunctioned, because, as you can tell, they are not from our world. It was destroyed in the confrontation, so I couldn't send them home."

Elita's optics narrowed. She scanned the gathered mecha, and Skywarp shuddered again.

[Are you going to flinch like a scared newspark every time someone reaches for your field?] Starscream sent.

[It's so creepy!] Skywarp ungracefully retorted.

[One would think you haven't been sensing EM fields your entire existence.]

Skywarp glared at him. [It's different! They're… wrong, somehow.]

Starscream rolled his optics. He tapped a pede, waiting for the conversation to resume.

"You're… Skywarp," Elita said, motioning toward the aforementioned mech.

Skywarp fluttered her wings, whacking Jetfire and the other Starscream in the face. "Y-yes. I am."

Elita pointed to Starscream. He beat her to the punch.

"I'm Starscream," he said.

She nodded, moving on to Jetfire.

"You must be Skyfire."

Jetfire shifted in place, wings flicking downward. Starscream stealthily reached behind him, rubbing the spine on his elbow.

"N-no, actually," Jetfire said. "My name is Jetfire."

"Jetfire," Elita repeated, optics drifting briefly toward Skyfire. "How interesting."

Jetfire straightened himself to full height.

"Starscream gave it to me," he said.

Something about his newspark's tone was off, but Starscream couldn't place it. Whatever. He needed to get her attention away from Jetfire.

"I have a proposition," Starscream said.

Elita turned to him. "Go on."

"Skyfire needs a warp drive to repair the portable spacebridge and send us home. You need more soldiers to win against the Decepticons. We can be those soldiers."

She wasn't reacting, but a lack of reaction was better than a negative one. Starscream steeled himself and continued.

"Galvatron has a warp drive. If we take out Galvatron, we'll have what we need to go home, and you'll be one step closer to winning the war. Working together benefits all of us."

Elita hummed. "Galvatron is a powerful enemy. We'll take any aid we can receive, so long as you prove trustworthy. What do you have to contribute?"

"I was Air Commander during my world's war, and eventually leader of my faction." Starscream specifically avoided using the word Decepticon, not wanting to remind Elita of his allegiance. He motioned to Skywarp. "She is a competent fighter and led alongside me when I assumed leadership."

Starscream glanced at Jetfire. His newspark wasn't a warrior—far from it. He was one of the most nurturing mecha Starscream had ever known. There was no way he could offer Jetfire as a soldier.

"Jetfire was created after the war ended," Starscream said. "He is training to be a medic, and just completed his basic classes."

Elita glanced at Prowl.

"How likely is this to go wrong?" She asked.

Prowl twitched a doorwing—the one near the wall, thankfully.

"I don't know enough about these mecha to say anything with certainty," Prowl said. "But I believe the risk is low."

Elita nodded and turned back toward the group.

"They'll stay with you," she said to Skyfire. "Since you brought them here, you'll supervise them. Don't let them out of your sight."

Skyfire nodded. "Thank you, Commander Elita. I'll do my best."

The meeting ended, and soon the group made its way back down the halls. The trip was cut short before it could even begin, as Thundercracker paused in the middle of the hallway. She grabbed Skyfire's elbow as Skyfire let out a pained hiss.

"You're injured!" Thundercracker said.

Starscream snickered, recognizing the elbow as the one he dug his claws into. "That's generally what happens when you get into a fight."

Both Thundercracker and the other Starscream glared at him. Starscream rolled his optics. Though, that did remind him—Skywarp was involved in the altercation. He turned back to check her for injuries…

…and found her staring at him.

[Frag off,] he sent to her.

"We're going to the medbay right now," Thundercracker said.

Starscream grinned. "Well, we can't go anywhere without supervision, so I suppose we'll have to come along. We can ask them about getting a scrambler for Skywarp while we're there."

Behind him, Skywarp stiffened. Then, she wore a grin of her own.

"Yeah," she said. "And we can get a checkup for Screamer while we're at it."

Starscream's wings shot up. "I don't—"

Skywarp reached over and flicked him in the olfactory sensor.

"Since you started keeping track of mine, I started keeping track of yours!" She said in a sing-song voice. "Different universe or not, you're overdue!"

[And I want to keep an eye on your… issues,] she added in a private message. [Especially with the chase this morning.]

Starscream flexed his fingers, digging his claws into the guards on his arms to hide the irritation that coursed through him. Skywarp was so… condescending! It was as if she didn't think he could care for himself!

He didn't speak for the rest of the trip, rolling his anger around until they reached the medbay. It was much emptier than the one in their universe, and even the Decepticon medbay during the war. Hollow cabinets hung open, and most of the medical berths were pushed together against the wall.

"Oh! Hello!" A quiet voice from the corner of the room said.

Starscream searched the area, nearly missing the mech. He was a white that matched the walls with red highlights, but his colors weren't what made him so difficult to detect. It was his height. As the mech approached the group, the top of his head barely reached Skyfire's hips.

Next to Starscream, the mech would've been up to his chest. He was very close to Rumble and Frenzy's height, which made Starscream wonder: was this mech a cassette? If so, what happened to his console and other cassettes?

"Skyfire is injured," Thundercracker said, grabbing the injured arm and holding it up.

The mech took the arm from her and hummed, gently examining it. "It almost looks like…"

His optics drifted toward the rest of the group, falling on the other Starscream, then Starscream himself. His optics narrowed as they rested on his wings. Then, as they reached Skywarp, he quickly looked away.

"Can someone explain what happened here?" He asked.

Skyfire gave him a brief rundown. Luckily for Starscream, he addressed the mech by name during the explanation, so he now had something to call the medic: First Aid. After receiving the explanation, First Aid immediately got to work, cleaning the wound and sealing the leaking lines that Skyfire's self-repair had yet to reach.

As he worked, Starscream caught Jetfire creeping closer. Whenever First Aid turned in his general direction, Jetfire quickly froze, but it was undeniable. It was a good sign that Jetfire wanted to approach, knowing the newspark's history with strangers.

Just as First Aid finished up, Starscream stepped forward.

"We have a request," he said. "If you're willing to grant it."

First Aid looked up at him, a pleasant smile on his face—the caution had drained from the mech after Skyfire explained the situation.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Skywarp's signature is trackable, but we know you have scramblers. We were wondering if you could place one on her somewhere to protect her when she warps—"

"And also give him a checkup!" Skywarp said, shoving past Starscream.

Starscream yanked her backward by the tip of her wing. She let out a startled yelp.

"Yes," he hissed. "Though that one is a lot less important."

Contrary to what many mecha assumed about Jetfire, he wasn't entirely naive. He may not have as much life experience as his creator, but he still knew suspicious situations when he saw them. These Autobots were nothing like the ones in their world, and it was best to treat them as completely different mecha.

Still, he found himself tempted by the soft-spoken medic. Something about First Aid just radiated safety, which was interesting, since he carried the same processing glitch as his creator, so he couldn't have been sensing the medic's field. So, when Skywarp insisted on Starscream getting a checkup, Jetfire knew he had to interfere, even if it meant putting himself close to a stranger.

He tucked the Emberstone safely in his cockpit while no one was looking, then made his move. First Aid had already guided Starscream to a berth for his exam, and was in the process of convincing him to cooperate.

"Um, hi," Jetfire said, doing his best to keep his voice friendly. When First Aid turned toward him, he added, "I'm Jetfire. A medic in training."

"Hello, Jetfire," First Aid said.

[Starscream isn't a fan of exams,] Jetfire sent. It wasn't exactly a lie—his creator despised them—but it wasn't his motivation. [It'll go better if I help.]

First Aid nodded. They began a basic helm to pede exam. Jetfire turned up the sensitivity of his audials, listening for Starscream's fans. He tended not to take breaks when they were needed, which only made it easier for him to tire himself out. The hum was quiet, so Jetfire returned his sensitivity to normal.

His creator was foolish about a lot of things. Typically, it was related to how other mecha treated him. Probably because he barely valued himself—it was a challenge just to take him in for basic monitoring.

They finished the outward portion of the examination—Starscream had several dents, most of them on his wings, but no open wounds—and Jetfire moved to intercept First Aid before he could ask Starscream to open his panel. Starscream was oddly secretive about their glitches, so having a strange medic poking around in his files wasn't the best idea.

"I can do this part," he said, really hoping the medic wouldn't put up a fight.

Luckily, First Aid was a very calm mech, and just nodded. So, Jetfire tapped on Starscream's medical panel.

"C'mon," he said. "You know what to do."

Starscream sighed and the panel popped open. Jetfire pulled out his plug and made the connection. Instantly, his processor flooded with values. He viewed them in order of importance.

Temperature? Low, but that was normal for him. Starscream barely ran at the ideal values he was taught in school on a good day.

Fuel levels? Decent. He could do with a meal when they got out of here, though.

Fuel line pressure? A bit low. He definitely needed a meal. Had he been skipping them before they left? Again?

Air change rate? Good.

The spark values were strong, like they always were. Jetfire hoped that would never change. His other values were within normal limits. Not much to worry about other than fuel, which…

They had modified systems. These Cybertronians didn't. They could drink energeon, but it was one of the less pleasurable ways of consuming fuel…

The ever-present pit in Jetfire's belly grew deeper. His dentae itched, craving something to chew. He checked his fuel levels, and they came back barely low enough to justify a meal. He was just hungry. It was fine.

(Never mind that his secondary tank was almost full.)

"His vitals are normal," Jetfire said.

"That's good," First Aid said.

The results of the exam were entered into a new record, and the appointment was considered over. Jetfire read First Aid's portion of the notes before he wrote his. One of the first notes was to take a cautious approach with Starscream. Jetfire smiled to himself—his creator would be in good hands if First Aid cared enough to make note of that. His wings twitched as he got to the plating condition score. He was rated lower than his last appointment. That just made getting him to fuel even more important.

Jetfire prepared himself to complain about his fuel levels—if he was hungry, they'd all have to get a meal. It didn't matter that he wasn't actually that hungry as long as it worked.

"On to the scrambler for Skywarp, then," Starscream said, glancing pointedly in her direction.

Right. Jetfire forgot about that. The meal would have to wait a bit longer, but he would be ready.

"Yes!" First Aid said. "I think we have a spare in storage…"

He wandered into the closet. A cacophony of noise reached the room as he rummaged around, eventually emerging with a small device in his hand. As he approached the group, he waved it in Skywarp's direction.

"Right here!" He said.

His optics roved over Skywarp's frame. Then, he nodded and retrieved something from one of the cabinets. A glimpse of the label on the container revealed its contents: frame glue.

"I'm going to apply it externally," First aid said. "Where would you prefer it?"

Skywarp's plating visibly relaxed on the word 'externally.' Clearly, this device could also be applied internally, which Jetfire was glad First Aid hadn't considered. It was probably placed directly onto the warp drive in that case. If First Aid had gone for that option, Skywarp would've warped out of the medbay—Galvatron tracking her or not.

Skywarp hummed, then placed her claws on her left pauldron. "Is here good?"

"There is good!" First Aid said, opening the container of frame glue.

He placed the scrambler on, then activated it with a click. Skywarp moved to stand, but he stopped her with a gentle hand. She paused, and he pulled out a small chip.

"Since we placed it externally, the scrambler runs on a separate power source," First Aid said. "This chip will let you see how much it has left. It's not safe to warp if it has no power."

Skywarp nodded and took the chip. She stared down at it, hesitating.

"Put it in your sublingual drive," First Aid said softly.

Skywarp did as she was told. The chip integrated with a click.

The sublingual drive wasn't commonly used, mainly because modifications were typically integrated into the frame. Most information could be transferred over connections, which made the drive even less popular. But it was very useful for niche situations like this, especially if a modification was temporary—which First Aid seemed to assume this was.

"Can you read the number?" First Aid asked.

Skywarp nodded and read the number aloud.

"Good," First Aid said. "Try warping across the room."

Skywarp activated her warp drive, its quiet hum filling the room, and disappeared. With a pop of air, she appeared on the other side of the room. She flicked one of her wings, then lowered both of them. As she made her way back to the group, she walked slightly low. The posture was familiar—it vaguely resembled the one Starscream adopted toward the end of his bad days, but less extreme.

Jetfire struggled to place it. They'd discussed it in his classes, but only briefly. What was it? Something about balance? Skywarp's gyroscopic sensors typically compensated for her warps, but if the scrambler was interfering with that…

First Aid opened his mouth to ask a question, but Skywarp raised her wings and placed her hands on her hips. "It works!"

Jetfire glanced at First Aid. She hadn't looked fine. But maybe Jetfire was just imagining it. Or, just like his creator, she was being a stubborn fragger and refusing to admit something was wrong. He'd have to keep a close watch on her.

First Aid sighed, entering something into the medical computer. Then, he turned to the group. "Is there anything else you mecha needed today?"

A quick exchange of glances gave a negative result. They said goodbye and headed into the hall. First Aid was nice, despite being a stranger. Jetfire wouldn't mind working with him.

But now, it was time to put his plan into action. As they walked down the hall, he increased his speed, creeping up behind Starscream until he could reach his hands. Gently—always gently, he had to be gentle—he took Starscream's hand. Starscream twitched a wing and turned toward him.

"What's going on?" He asked.

Jetfire exaggerated the shakiness of his voice. It wasn't difficult—the pit in his belly was making his spark hurt.

"I'm hungry," he said. "Can we get some fuel?"

Starscream's optics met Jetfire's face and he melted. Objective achieved.

"Of course," he said. He turned to Skyfire. "Can you take us to the mess hall?"

◇◇◇

Jetfire regretted coming into the mess hall, but he'd never tell Starscream—or any of the group—that. When they entered, mecha stared, the room hushing for a moment. Then, the chatter started up again, this time focusing on them. The pit in Jetfire's belly grew deeper, and his spark hurt even more. So many strangers, and they were all staring.

They weren't staring at him. Not really. They were just staring in his direction, straight at Skywarp and Starscream. For some reason, they were really obsessed with them. Jetfire didn't like it. He wrung his hands until the joints ached as the pit threatened to swallow him.

It would be fine. It had to be fine.

He really wanted a hug, but the mission came first. Besides, wouldn't that just draw even more attention toward them?

They weren't in the system yet, so Skyfire and the red Starscream got cubes from the dispenser for them. Jetfire tried to disguise the disappointed sink of his wings as they took their seats. Now that he'd gotten his fuel processing systems altered, energeon was so boring.

The strange new mech, Thundercracker, took a seat next to Skywarp. She didn't seem to mind. Jetfire placed himself between Skywarp and Starscream, determined not to be next to Skyfire or the red Starscream. It didn't matter that the red Starscream was a version of his creator, she wasn't him!

Jetfire drank his fuel with little interest in what it tasted like. It was all just uniform liquid, anyway. The pit was still there. Normally, when he ate, it went away! But this was just energeon. Energeon had never helped him.

His dentae itched. He needed something to chew.

Starscream was speaking. Something about sleeping arrangements? The important part was that he wasn't looking, and neither was anyone else. Jetfire downed the contents of his cube as quickly as he could. He fought a flinch as it passed into his primary fuel tank more quickly than it could drain to his secondary, filling it over capacity. Still…

Jetfire placed his dentae on the lid of the cube and bit down. It gave with an audible crack.

"Jetfire!"

Oh, slag. Jetfire bit harder. A piece of the cube broke off into his mouth just before Starscream wrenched it from his hands. Starscream squinted at him, holding the cube on the other side of himself.

"Open your mouth," Starscream hissed.

Jetfire shook his head. Starscream sighed and placed the bitten cube in front of Skyfire. Then, he reached over and grabbed the sides of Jetfire's face.

"Just like a cyberpup," he muttered, digging his fingers into the hinges of Jetfire's jaw. "I asked Hook to show me this."

Against his will, Jetfire's jaw opened. Starscream held it there, inspecting it. With an impossibly quick motion, he reached in and grabbed the fragment. As Jetfire massaged his now-sore jaw, Starscream placed the fragment inside of the broken cube.

"You know I can eat it," Jetfire whined.

"Actually," Starscream said with a sigh. "After rushing you to Hook for emergency treatment three times, I don't."

Jetfire sank in his seat. What could he do to get rid of the pit now? Fidgeting wasn't enough. It lessened the immediate ache, but it didn't fix anything.

Jetfire flinched as his comm pinged.

[We'll head to Skyfire's quarters soon,] Starscream sent. [You just need to hang on a little longer, okay?]

Jetfire huffed and slumped onto the table, burying his face in his arms.

"He does that often?" The red Starscream asked.

Great. Now they were talking about him.

◇◇◇

They were about to enter Skyfire's quarters when disaster struck. The other Starscream pressed the keypad to unlock the door. It slid open and something behind it popped, sending a splatter of colorful paint straight onto the three leading members of the group: the other Starscream, Starscream himself, and Skywarp. Thundercracker was caught in the crossfire, flicking a lightly dotted wing as both Starscreams groaned a their plight. Jetfire and Skyfire, both at the back of the group, were spared.

"Do you have a washrack?" Starscream asked, claws dripping with paint. "I'd prefer not to be green."

Skyfire shook his head. Before Starscream could speak again, Thundercracker motioned toward the halls.

"We can show you the way."

Starscream hummed and they followed her down the hall. Jetfire crossed his arms, the pit growing deeper. They were leaving him now? With Skyfire?

He caught Starscream's optics.

[We'll be back soon,] Starscream sent.

Jetfire looked away, his plating itching. Sure, he'd gone to classes on his own, but Skywarp had dropped him off! This was a completely different universe, and he was surrounded by Autobots! Strange Autobots. He knew he was being irrationally clingy, but he couldn't help it!

Skyfire beckoned him into his quarters. Reluctantly, Jetfire stepped through the doorway. Three berths sat in the corner of the room, two of them pushed together. Did he share this with Thundercracker and the red Starscream?

There were no spare berths, blankets, or couches. They probably expected the group to sleep on the floor, then. It wouldn't be comfortable, but they would manage it. A small shelf of datapads sat on the other side of the door, a desk roughly perpendicular to it.

Jetfire plucked a random datapad from the shelf and sat at the desk. If he was reading, Skyfire wouldn't bother him. Hopefully.

The datapad was a story—some sort of romance, based on the very brief summary on the first page. Romances weren't Jetfire's favorite type of story, but he could tolerate them.

"If those two are the Starscream and Skywarp of your world, you must be me."

Slag it all.

"No," Jetfire said.

Though, as he glared at Skyfire, the mech's stripes caught his optics. They were the same blue as Starscream's gauntlets—the exact same blue he used to have before he got repainted. The pit came back and Jetfire forced himself to read the datapad.

The main character of the story was some sort of dockworker. He nearly died when a group of rebels attacked the dock, but an ancient artifact saved his life—

"What was Thundercracker like in your world?"

Jetfire hadn't even finished the first chapter.

"I never knew a mech named Thundercracker," Jetfire said. "So I can't tell you."

Skyfire frowned as his wings drooped. Jetfire went back to the datapad.

The leader of the rebels noticed the dockworker and recognized the artifact. It was what they were searching for. But now, it had integrated with the dockworker. So, they took him with them—

"When were you made?"

Jetfire shrugged. "About six years ago."

"Earth years?" Skyfire asked, optics widening.

"What other years are there?"

Skyfire sighed. "Right…"

The main character was being introduced to the other rebels. Apparently, the artifact that revived them was immensely powerful, and held the key to the rebels' victory—

The door slid open, startling both mecha in the room. Thundercracker slipped through it, glancing at Jetfire before settling beside Skyfire. She leaned into him, their wings intertwining.

If she was back…

"Where's everyone else?" Jetfire asked.

Thundercracker withdrew from Skyfire, paying no attention to the way his wings shifted downward.

"They're still finishing up," she said. "They had a lot more paint on them than I did."

Jetfire fought a sigh and went back to the datapad. The main character was reluctant to trust the rebels, but they had answers. The rebel leader hoped the artifact would choose him, and was bitter about being spurned by the story's imaginary deities. Jetfire was reminded that this story was a romance when said leader kissed the main character for no apparent reason. It wasn't intentional—the author hadn't gone that far—but it was a kiss regardless.

Jetfire skimmed through several paragraphs of the main character waffling about the rebel leader turned love interest. What about the artifact? Wasn't that more important than some mech he'd just met? Jetfire almost wished the story hadn't been a romance…

A whoosh of air brought his attention away from the datapad. Skywarp popped in slightly above the floor. Immediately upon her pedes hitting the ground, she stumbled forward into the desk, landing on it belly-down with a disturbed squawk. She rolled onto her side, wings scraping against the wall, and grinned at Jetfire.

"I meant to do that," she said. Her optics landed on the datapad. "What'cha reading?"

"Some sort of romance," Jetfire said.

Skywarp reached for the datapad. Jetfire let her take it. She leaned back, skimming it.

"Oooh!" She said. "The Rebel's Dockworker. This one's weird. An… old friend made me read it."

The door slid open, saving Jetfire from having to talk about the story. Both Starscreams passed through it, the red one heading straight for Thundercracker and Skyfire. Jetfire's Starscream settled beside him, one hand on the datapad shelf and the other on his hips.

"Thank Primus it was Earth paint and not Cybertronian paint," Starscream muttered. "Or that would've taken much longer."

"Sunstreaker stopped using Cybertronian paint after the last time he pulled this," the red Starscream said, a grin stretching across her face as she examined her fingertips. "I made sure he wouldn't."

Jetfire finally recognized exactly what made the red Starscream so unsettling. Her fingertips were blunt, but they still tapered, as if someone had filed them down. Her dentae were completely flat, lacking the distinct points that his creator had. No rays were fastened to her arms.

Skywarp stretched, nearly falling off the narrow desk. "We'll have to get him back. Prankster's code."

Thundercracker sighed. "If you really must…"

◇◇◇

The silent prank war escalated for a few weeks before dying an unceremonious death when Sunstreaker set off a glitter bomb in the middle of the mess hall. Skywarp placed a trap on the energeon dispenser, somehow rigging it to dispense the glitter bomb only to Sunstreaker. Both of them were made to clean up the mess, and neither wanted to repeat the incident. It was all anyone in the halls talked about for weeks.

Jetfire didn't care. The pranks were annoying when he was caught in the crossfire, but it only happened a couple of times. He just hoped he never met Sunstreaker. The thing he truly cared about was finally being allowed to train in the medbay. First Aid was a patient instructor, and Jetfire grew more excited for his shift each day.

He headed toward the medbay, fluttering his wings as he enjoyed the tranquility of the empty halls, when his comm received a message.

[Sorry, Jetfire. Something urgent came up. We can't train today.]

Jetfire's spark grew cold. The pit crept back in, slowly consuming him. What was he going to do now? He planned his entire day, and now all of it was ruined!

"You really do look just like Skyfire."

Jetfire jumped, wings flaring as he whipped toward the voice. A bright yellow mech stood before him, side by side with a duller red mech. Jetfire forced his now-fluttering wings to still.

"I've heard that before," he said.

The yellow one stepped closer. "What's a sweet shuttle like you doing hanging out with those creepy Seekers?"

Jetfire took a step back. He glanced at the red mech. The red mech didn't move.

The yellow mech's optics skimmed Jetfire's plating. "You don't even have a symbol!"

Jetfire flicked his wings. "So?"

"So why are you with those Cons?"

Why? Wasn't wanting to be with them enough? Starscream created him. Skywarp helped raise him. He loved them, and they loved him.

"Because I am," Jetfire said, walking down the hall.

The yellow mech stepped in front of him, and the red mech followed. Jetfire turned around. He had no idea where to go except back to Skyfire's quarters, but those two Autobots were blocking the way. If he just kept going, maybe they would lose interest and he could turn around again. This base wasn't that big.

The yellow mech blocked his vision.

"I just don't get why you're staying with those sparkless freaks," the mech said. "Seekers are ruthless murderers. It's disturbing just to have them in the base."

Why was he saying that? Jetfire fought back the frustration that crept into his plating, wringing his hands. He had no right to say those things! He didn't even know Starscream and Skywarp!

Jetfire wanted him to stop, but just words wouldn't work. The only option was to leave. So, he brushed past the mech and turned the corner.

Something scraped against his wing. The sensors burned, and he cried out. The thing refused to release him, so he turned and swung.

Metal gave beneath his fist. The creaking crunch struck his audials—a deeply familiar sound.

No!

Jetfire staggered backward, staring at the dent in the yellow mech's plating. The mech stared back at him with wide optics. Then, his face contorted into a snarl.

"You—"

Jetfire turned and fled. He needed out. Indistinguishable halls passed. He turned a corner and his optics were assaulted by bright colors. Bright optics stared back at him.

Not here!

He ran in the other direction as voices called out. Where was the exit? He had to leave—

There! He ran for the door as it shuttered closed. More shouting behind him. He slammed a fist against the door. The metal crumpled, just like—

Jetfire shook his head and wrenched the door open. He sprinted through the doorway and transformed, then took flight. He didn't know how long he flew for or what direction he went in.

One moment, he was in the sky. The next, wood splintered beneath him as fire surrounded him, the earth giving beneath him. Shrubs and leaves were stuck in his seams. He was in robot mode. When had that happened?

When he finally rose, the fire was out. Ash coated the ground, crunching as he sat on it. Warnings on his HUD declared various damages, but he didn't feel any of it.

He didn't feel anything except the pit.

Jetfire's hands closed around a burned tree trunk. It gave under the pressure with a crack, but the force of his grip held it together. It smoked slightly as Jetfire accidentally activated his outlier.

He forced it to turn off. Whenever he grew stressed, it was difficult to control, just like his strength. It all led back to one thing: Jetfire was inherently dangerous.

Jetfire's wings twitched as the pit crept up. His spark hurt.

He placed one of the pieces of wood in his mouth and chewed. It was an interesting texture. He didn't have the opportunity to eat the trees on Cybertron, so he had nothing to compare it to. The flavor was bland, but anything was better than energeon.

He stayed there, savoring the texture of the wood as it split apart in his mouth, until the pit receded.

"Jetfire!"

Jetfire flinched. How had Starscream gotten here to quickly? Beside Starscream, a slightly woozy Skywarp leaned against a tree, giving Jetfire the answer to his own question.

Starscream came closer, scowl fading to a frown. His wings swept low.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"I—I'm fine," Jetfire stammered. "Just…"

Starscream's optics roamed the area. Then, with a sigh, he settled beside Jetfire.

"Did you get stuck again?" He asked.

Getting 'stuck' is what they called the fits their processing glitch induced. Jetfire had never seen Starscream have one, but he believed his creator. No one would lie about something that hurt so much.

"Yeah," Jetfire said.

"What happened before it?"

"First Aid canceled my training session," Jetfire said. "And I just… I dunno. I don't like it here."

They didn't need to know about those two mecha. They especially didn't need to know about what the yellow one said. Besides, they'd probably just tell him they'd heard that slag before, and he'd just get upset that they weren't upset. No one should be okay with hearing things like that about them.

"Prowl told me you punched Sunstreaker."

Jetfire glanced at his hands. One of them was streaked with yellow paint. He closed his eyes and pushed one of his hands into the crushed wood below him.

Starscream didn't sound angry.

"I just want to know why," Starscream said. "Our acceptance here is tentative. You're smart enough not to endanger that."

"I—" Jetfire paused. Why was it so hard to speak? It was almost like—

Oh. Aw slag. He'd started chewing on a piece of wood again and hadn't even noticed! Starscream was going to be angry now—he was always angry when he ate something he wasn't supposed to. Jetfire took the piece from his mouth and rolled it between his fingers.

"He grabbed my wing," Jetfire said. "Kept saying mean things. Wouldn't leave me alone."

Starscream huffed. "I'll speak to Elita and Prowl about keeping their soldiers in line. Next time a mech gets the bright idea of harassing you, let one of us know, alright?"

"Okay," Jetfire muttered, still rolling the piece of wood. It was a nice texture, whether it was in his mouth or not.

Starscream stared at him with narrowed optics.

"You ate the wood," he said.

Jetfire slumped. He could deny it, but that would be a lie. He didn't want to lie to his creator.

Starscream sighed. He reached out, arm hovering above Jetfire's shoulders. Jetfire nodded and pulled him into a hug.

"You'll let me know if you feel sick at all. No waiting this time," Starscream said.

Jetfire hummed an affirmative. Starscream gave him a gentle squeeze.

"Does it feel good when you eat something you're not supposed to?" Starscream asked.

"Y-yeah," Jetfire said, closing his optics. "It does. Sort of."

The textures of the things he ate felt good. It distracted him from the pit. Sometimes, it made the pit go away completely.

Was Starscream trying to shame him?

"I've noticed something about it, and I want to make sure I'm correct."

Starscream's words were spoken carefully, as if Jetfire were a scared mechanimal.

"Do you feel bad before you start wanting to?" Starscream asked.

"Most of the time…"

Starscream released Jetfire. Hesitantly, Jetfire ended the hug. Starscream held his arm out before him, the arm guards he always wore fully on display.

"Do you know why I wear these?" Starscream asked.

Jetfire had no idea. He'd never questioned it.

"Because you like them?"

Starscream's lips twitched upward. He shook his head.

"Look closer," he said.

Jetfire did as he requested. Small divots in the guards caught shadows. They were arranged in patterns, but not ones that made sense for aesthetics. They almost looked like—

"Bitemarks," Jetfire said quietly.

"When I get 'stuck,' or close to it, I want to bite things," Starscream said. "I made these so I'd always have something safe to bite."

Jetfire ran his fingers over the bitemarks. All along, his creator dealt with something so similar to him.

"We can work on something like this for you, if you want it."

Starscream was smiling at him. Warmth rose in Jetfire's chest, and he launched himself at his creator for another hug. It was returned, and he let himself sink fully into it.

Whatever troubles awaited them, he and his creator could sort them out together, just like they always had.

On nights like this, Starscream wished he still had his rollator. His pedes ached, and one of his legs refused to cooperate, buckling if he put weight on it for slightly too long. But that didn't matter—as long as he stayed close to the wall and took frequent breaks, he could traverse the halls. His destination wasn't far, anyway.

He turned a corner, and there it was. The door was closed, but when had that ever stopped him? With one hand against the wall to support himself, he hacked the datapad. It beeped as he bypassed its cybermetric security. Not ideal, but as long as there was no one in the lab—

There was someone in the lab.

Bright optics stared into his, standing out starkly in the dim room. Then, the automated lights flicked on, illuminating Skyfire's frame.

"Starscream," Skyfire said.

"Skyfire," Starscream replied.

How hadn't he noticed the mech wasn't in recharge? Foolish!

"What are you doing here?" Skyfire asked.

He had to know Starscream hacked the keypad. So why wasn't he irritated? Skyfire's wings were set in neutral position, twitching lazily as they helped him balance.

Who was he kidding? This was Skyfire, different universe or not.

"I know you're building a combiner team," Starscream said. "I want to see it."

Skyfire smiled, motioning toward the items he was tinkering with when Starscream came in. To anyone not versed in frame components, it looked like some scraps of metal, but Starscream knew better.

"That's great!" Skyfire said. "I was just working on the last one."

Skyfire led him across the room to a door, opening it with his signature. It was small, and not the best lit—before it was cleared it, it was probably a storage room. Before them sat five frames.

All but the last were intact. If it weren't for the dull colors of nanites yet to activate and the empty optics, Starscream could have mistaken them for living mecha. Though, a closer examination revealed copious complications—wings slightly too large or small, joints that wouldn't quite fit if they transformed, cockpit glass that wasn't as secure as it should be, the list went on. One in particular had a massive portion of its cockpit and wings just sitting on its back, as if Skyfire and the other Starscream hadn't known what to do with it.

"They're… interesting."

Skyfire sighed, wings drooping. "You can be honest with me. I know they don't look great."

"They look terrible," Starscream said. "But working with the resources you have and knowing that you're engineering a combiner of all things, it makes sense."

Combiners were created from multiple mecha. Never were they forged as combiners—the Enigma was required to give them that ability. During the war against the Quintessons, several teams were created from forged mecha in this manner. Only a couple were successfully built, and they didn't last long.

Both the individual and group alt mode transformation had to be engineered down to the smallest detail. One missed measurement could doom the whole team. The Enigma, on the other hand, could instantly modify the frames and coding of a team with great success.

The Autobots jettisoned it and many other powerful artifacts deep into space when the Decepticons were just about to get possession of them. Ironic, for it to end up on this planet.

"I know," Skyfire said with a sigh. "But we need them to be perfect. That's why we need you."

Starscream's wings shot up before he could stop them. "Me?"

"You're Starscream," Skyfire said, taking a step toward him. "If you're anything like my Starscream, studying the inner and outer mechanics of life is something you relish. Your help would greatly improve project Safeguard."

Starscream flexed his fingers. If there was any moment to strike, it was now.

"I understand that, and I would like to help," he said. "But do you truly need to make new mecha for this? Why can't you just find the Enigma and use volunteers?"

Starscream knew the answer before Skyfire could say it, but he still held on.

"There aren't enough forged mecha left," Skyfire said. "Especially not ones we can spare."

That little medic—First Aid—was he forged? Most medics were, but he was so small that he couldn't be that old. He was large for a cassette, sure, but tiny for a forged mech. Elita and Prowl were both drones. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen a single forged mech yet…

Even in another world, forged mecha dwindled to near none. The war wiped them out, along with their hegemony. A thought scratched at the back of Starscream's processor, begging to be released: if the old system was gone, why were they still fighting?

Even at home, tensions between the three factions—Autobots, Decepticons, and the Cybertron Revival Initiative—threatened what little peace they'd established.

"And you can't use constructed mecha because they aren't flexible enough," Starscream muttered. "But why not reformat volunteers?"

A reformat would be nearly as resource-heavy as making a new frame. Constructed mecha—warframes and drones—were rigid compared to forged mecha. They could only take on alt modes similar to the ones they were created with. Most of the Decepticons hadn't even bothered changing their alts to blend in when they arrived on Earth. Finding suitable modes was too time-consuming.

"We've already come this far," Skyfire said, something sharp creeping into his voice.

"Did you not find enough volunteers?" Starscream asked.

Skyfire turned away from him and adjusted the helm of one of the frames.

"Or did you not ask for them at all?"

Skyfire's wings twitched.

"You didn't," Starscream growled. "Why didn't you?"

Skyfire released the frame's helm. He turned back toward Starscream, optics blazing. His wings fanned wide.

"You were right about one thing when you spoke with Commander Elita," he said. "We need more soldiers. Desperately. I'm making us more soldiers."

Starscream tensed his claws to strongly that the joints creaked.

"You're making newsparks!" Starscream hissed.

A memory file played in the back of his processor: Jetfire, cringing in fear as a crowd of mecha surrounded him. The fire on his fingertips was the the only thing keeping them away. Then, Windblade's cold words after Starscream fought them off.

'The mech who created you underwent empurata. Did you ever wonder why?'

The CRI proved they couldn't be trusted that night, just as Skyfire was proving now.

"I'm making soldiers," Skyfire said, baring his teeth. "A combiner team."

Starscream flared his wings in response.

"What if they don't want to fight?" He said. "I remember very distinctly two mecha who wanted to stray from their purposes—a little Seeker and a big shuttle. This is what we fought the war over, Skyfire!"

Skyfire took a step forward and shoved him. Starscream stumbled backward into the wall, fighting a pained hiss as his legs protested the movement.

"You weren't here! You didn't fight in this war!" Skyfire growled. "You got to have peace. You don't know what this is like. It's them or us."

Starscream's spark pulsed in his chest, but the burning fury in his fuel lines outweighed it. He slashed at Skyfire's face, shattering his visor and leaving a small gash on his olfactory ridge. Skyfire cried out and took a step back, clutching his face.

Starscream stomped a pede.

"You're a coward!" He spat. "A sparkless coward!"

His Skyfire would never have done this! The mech abhorred violence, and his convictions were unshakeable. He sought freedom for every being so ardently that the Council had indirectly assassinated him by sending him on that expedition to Earth—the very same expedition that set Starscream on the path to meeting Megatron and joining the Decepticons.

Starscream's claws twitched as the realization washed over him. His spark grew cold.

That was it, wasn't it?

Skyfire was alive here. The Council had never noticed him. He never went on that expedition. This wasn't his Skyfire, nor had he ever been.

Starscream bypassed the keypad and left the room. He stalked through the lab, pausing at Skyfire's work area. Three quarters of a processor sat in the center of it. Starscream's body burned.

He knew what he had to do. Not now, but soon.

Behind him, the door to the storage area slid open. Skyfire stepped through it, energeon smeared across his face. The majority of his visor was missing. When Starscream's optics met his, he snarled.

"I know what Jetfire is," he spat. "Don't pretend you're innocent."

Starscream dug his claws into the table.

"I never pretended to be," he hissed. "But I'd like you to remind me what you 'know.'"

Starscream's plating crawled, the anger fading as his spark continued to pulse. His Skyfire never would have done this, but it was still familiar. Skyfire closed the gap between them with one large step and grasped Starscream's wrists. He ran his fingers over Starscream's knuckles.

"You made him from me," he said. "I know what that paint means. I'm dead in your world."

Starscream pulled his hands away. Skyfire let him. That settled something in his spark, the pulsing slowing.

"You are," Starscream said. "You went on an expedition and never came back."

Skyfire's face softened.

"The preliminary expedition to Vision 15-882 D," Skyfire said. "Starscream caught a virus and collapsed in the lab. I missed my window to accept the offer while I was caring for her, but I heard those who went never returned."

Starscream sighed. "I never knew the name of the planet. I just showed up to the lab one day and you weren't there. I kept trying to visit you, but eventually, they wouldn't let me in. I begged the Science Committee to search for you, then the Council themselves. They wouldn't listen."

Skyfire closed his optics.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

That pointless set of words. Starscream recognized the attempt for what it was.

"Please," Starscream said. "Reconsider project Safeguard."

Skyfire shook his head. "I already told you. I can't."

Starscream took a moment to think of a plausible lie.

"I guess I'll have to help you, then. Can't let you leave those transformation seams uneven."

Skyfire's optics widened. He smiled.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Starscream placed his hands on his hips and made a dramatic show as he turned toward the exit.

"It's late," he said. "I'm going back to recharge. You should, too."

Skyfire nodded. Satisfied with himself, Starscream took a step forward. His leg chose that moment to finally collapse under him. He compensated for it quickly enough not to fall, but the lift of Skyfire's wings showed that it wasn't enough. Skyfire approached him, offering an arm.

Starscream took it. The moment his arm touched Skyfire's, Skyfire's wings flew upward.

"Your plating is so thin!" He said.

Starscream rolled his optics.

"It's always been this way."

Skyfire scrunched his olfactory ridge. "Star's plating isn't this thin. Did you… were you ever diagnosed with a fuel processing disorder?"

They stepped through the doorway as Starscream scoffed.

"That's private medical information," he said.

Skyfire chuckled. "That's fine! You don't have to tell me. I didn't mean anything by it! Just… Star was diagnosed with one a long time ago. Before the war really started. Your plating feels like hers used to."

Bitterness coated Starscream's mouth. He hadn't been diagnosed until after the war, and only because he'd nearly died from consuming human vehicle fuel. It was that or starving to death. He always assumed that was the cause of his issues, but if the other Starscream's fuel processing disorder was noticed before the start of the war, was it really?

How long had it gone unnoticed? How much damage to his frame could have been prevented?

"I didn't exactly have the best time during or in the immediate aftermath of the war," Starscream said. "It's easier to miss a disorder when everyone is starving."

That had to be the reason. Every medic he went to couldn't have just not noticed—or worse, not cared.

"I guess so," Skyfire said.

They turned a corner.

"But, really," Skyfire said. "First Aid was a fuel specialist before he had to branch out. If you talk to him, he can probably mix you something that'll help."

Starscream already knew what he'd mix: prefiltered energeon. With his altered processing system, it wouldn't do much.

They paused as Skyfire opened the keypad to his quarters. They passed through the doorway, and Skyfire turned to Starscream, arm relaxing as he prepared to release him. Most of the energeon on his face was beginning to dry, but small amounts of fresh energeon still bled from his wound.

Starscream's wings twitched.

"Do you have a medkit?" He asked.

"It's on the shelf," Skyfire said, motioning toward the shelf of datapads.

Starscream made his way over. At the bottom of the shelf, shoved between datapads, was the medkit. He pulled it out and placed it on the desk. Then, the turned the desk chair away from it.

"Sit down," he told Skyfire.

Skyfire glanced at Thundercracker and the other Starscream, who were deep in recharge. After his group refused the extra berth, the other Starscream slept on it. His group was nestled on the floor between the two berths.

Skyfire sat. Starscream doused a rag with antiseptic and began cleaning Skyfire's face. The olfactory ridge was a delicate place compared to the rest of the face, and his attack struck deeper than he'd assumed. It was something the medic could fix in the morning, if Skyfire thought that was worthwhile. In the meantime, he finished cleaning, then applied nanite gel.

"Thank you," Skyfire whispered.

"Only fair to fix what I broke," Starscream said. "What do you want to do about your visor?"

Skyfire shrugged. "It'll grow back."

There were three common kinds of visors—externally applied protective visors, natural protective visors, and natural optic-integrated visors. Skyfire had the second to last. His visor, despite all appearances, was a part of his frame, and attached directly to his olfactory ridge.

Nearly half of the top portion of the visor was missing. Self-repair of non-essential projections like protective visors was a slow process. With how extensive the damage was, it would take a long time.

"Are you sure?" Starscream asked.

He took a capture and sent it to Skyfire. The other mech cringed as he received it.

"It'll… it'll be fine," Skyfire said, shoulders hu as hunching as his wings lowered. "Thunder won't like it, but I'll be fine."

"Alright," Starscream said.

He packed up the medkit, and both mecha rejoined their respective berthmates. Skyfire was right—the first thing Thundercracker did when she woke up in the morning was drag him to the medbay. When she asked him what happened, he responded with a lie.

"Slipped while I was working."

Starscream didn't know why Skyfire was protecting him. Cowardly, forgiving Skyfire. It made his plating itch.

☆☆☆

Starscream hissed in irritation as the message came through. His requests for lab space and supplies were rejected—they wanted a soldier, not a scientist. How familiar.

But the Autobots' lack of care wouldn't stop him. He needed to make something to help Jetfire with his biting problem, resources or not. He could break into the supply closet, but there was a much easier option he could try first: asking his other self for aid.

Sure, he could ask Skyfire, but he didn't want to owe that coward anything.

So, as he sipped his energeon in the mess hall—sneakily running his fingers down Jetfire's elbows to lessen the newspark's anxiety—he kept an optic on Star. Skyfire's words from a few nights ago rang true as Star's energeon caught Starscream's eye. It was a different color from the others, though most mecha wouldn't think twice about it.

Ah, well. It would be something to bring up to Hook when they returned. There were more important things to worry about than his nutritional deficiencies.

The meal ended, and the group moved to go their separate ways. Starscream squeezed himself past Skyfire and reached around Star's wing to tap her on the shoulder.

She paused and turned toward him, wings twitching. "You need something?"

"Can I borrow your lab? And some supplies."

Star stared blankly at him. "Why?"

"I'm working on something for Jetfire," Starscream said. "My requests were denied, but he really needs it."

Hopefully, she was as soft as Skyfire. But she was a version of himself, so this could easily go wrong.

Star shrugged. "Sure! I'll have to supervise you."

"As long as I can make what I need, I don't care," Starscream said.

They made their way down the hall in silence. A few mecha passed by. Star waved to some of them. Most returned the wave. Any that noticed Starscream left quickly.

Save for one.

"Hey, Starscream!" A red and white mech said, waving as he approached. His doorwings were high in greeting. They shifted wide as his optics landed on Starscream. "And… other Starscream…"

Starscream rolled his optics.

"Hi, Bluestreak!" Star said.

"I'm really glad I caught you!" Bluestreak said.

The mech then launched into an unending ramble about various disconnected events, ranging from Sunstreaker's latest prank to how he saw a seagull when he and Hound went on a mission. Starscream tuned it out after the third irrelevant anecdote.

He glanced at Star. She made direct optic contact with Bluestreak, nodding along whenever there was a pause in his ramble. Despite the pleasant smile on her face, her plating was tense, and only grew tenser as the conversation continued.

Starscream tapped his pede. They had places to be. Star knew that. Why wasn't she interrupting?

"And then I asked what ice cream was and Spike said that—"

Finally, Starscream lost his patience.

"We have somewhere to be," he said, ensuring his volume overpowered Bluestreak's.

The Autobot's words stuttered to a stop. He glared at Starscream, then turned back toward Star.

Star wrapped her arms around herself. "Um, yes. He's right."

"Oh," Bluestreak said, doorwings lowering. "Alright. Can we talk later?"

Star nodded. "Of course."

They stepped past him. Starscream waited until they reached a sufficiently empty hallway before speaking.

"Why didn't you just tell him to frag off?" He said.

Star's pleasant smile shifted back to a familiar scowl. "It's Bluestreak."

"That doesn't explain anything," Starscream grumbled. "And what's up with the whole pleasant and smiley act?"

Star glared at him. "Autobots don't like Seekers. They especially don't like rude ones."

Starscream flicked his wings. "So?"

Star stopped walking. Her wings sat in neutral position, quivering as if they wanted to lower.

"The Autobots are full of unwritten rules. To be accepted among Autobots, you have to act like an Autobot," Star said. "Otherwise, you won't get what you want—like you with your lab space."

Starscream bared his teeth, irritation making his plating tingle. "Are you blaming me for Autobot Command not giving me lab space?"

Star placed her hands on her hips, baring her teeth back at him. They were completely flat, as if they were filed down. Starscream fought a shudder.

"You're not playing the game right," she said. "That's why you lost."

The tingling graduated to burning. Starscream flexed his plating in an unsuccessful attempt to make it go away. This was fragging Megatron all over again—countless unwritten rules, every single one created to hurt or hinder him.

"What are the rules, then? To always smile? To never stand up for yourself? To take whatever they throw at you?" Starscream swiped a hand across the air, the energy trapped beneath his plating too much to contain. "To be meek and pathetic? Do I need to grovel at their pedes and pray they take mercy on me every time I cycle air?"

"If that's what it takes," Star said.

Starscream took a step back. Star's dentae were grounded down, and so were her claws. Where weapons would have been was empty air. Starscream flexed his claws.

"I'm done playing those games," he hissed. "They've done nothing but hurt me. They'll hurt you, too. What will you do if the Decepticons raid this base? You have no weapons."

Star's scowl faded to a frown. "Scientists don't need weapons. The soldiers will protect me."

But what if they didn't? What if they were killed? What if they didn't arrive on time?

What if she were on her own?

A request to view a set of memory files appeared. It played without permission.

Bright, brilliant yellow. Laughter, cloaked by a fuzzy glow. An orb of light held in dark hands.

Then, an explosion. Screaming, crying his name. The world filling with static, low fuel notifications and damage pop-ups flooding him. Light leaving optics.

A yellow frame, fading and fading away.

"You're naive to believe that!" Starscream spat.

Star tilted her wings. "I'm naive to trust my comrades? I'm naive to think they're competent and will protect me?"

"No—"

Star took a step closer. She locked optics with his, fuzz building inside them.

"I'm sorry someone hurt you," she said quietly. "But I have something here, even if it isn't perfect."

She turned and walked down the hall. Starscream stood still for a moment, frozen. A shot straight to the spark chamber would've hurt less. Numbly, he followed her.

He had a project to work on, after all.

☆☆☆

Starscream was placing the finishing touches on his gift for Jetfire. His newspark preferred chewing to just biting, so it had to be something different from the arm guards. So, he settled on an object that could be repeatedly chewed, but was small and easy to store: a bracelet with a durable charm.

He sighed as Star moved in the corner of his vision. The other mech worked on the opposite side of the lab bench. What she did barely qualified as supervising, but Starscream wasn't about to complain. The disembodied hand in her grasp twitched as she stimulated it with an electrified rod. Disgust crept into Starscream's fuel tank, the meal Jetfire begged him to share earlier sitting like putty.

He'd fixed many of the seams on the frames himself. The final frame was far from complete—hence the disembodied hand—but the others would be perfectly functional if they had sparks. With the Emberstone in Autobot possession, only one thing was holding them back.

He and Star had established an uneasy alliance since their spat. They steadfastly avoided pushing one another's buttons, speaking only of mundane things. This might get him kicked out of the lab. But with the gift for Jetfire completed, what did he have to lose?

"Why did you decide to make new mecha for project Safeguard?" Starscream asked.

Star looked up from the hand and blinked at him.

"There aren't a lot of us left," she said. "If we run out of soldiers, who do you think they'll send next?"

Starscream sighed. "Would that be so terrible? Skyfire fought against the Quintessons. We both started off chasing down criminals. Neither of you are inexperienced. Those newsparks will be."

"They'll learn," Star said.

"They'll die," Starscream retorted. "And when they do, what happens? Will you melt down the remains of their frames to make new ones, just like during the Quintesson war? Just like what the Council did with defective drones?"

Star placed turned off the mechanism powering the rod and placed it on the table.

"We have to," she said, gaze falling to the table. "It's the only way."

Starscream bared his dentae. "It's a betrayal of every value we once stood for."

Star snapped upward, wings flicking downward with so much force that it created noise.

"I don't want to die!" She yelled. Her hands gripped the table as she sank. "I really don't want to die."

The disgust buried itself deeper.

"So you're sacrificing newsparks instead," Starscream muttered.

Star leaned against the table. She forced her optics upward, glaring at him.

"You're helping," she said.

Starscream sighed. "I'm giving them a fighting chance."

He placed the bracelet in his cockpit and turned away before Star could respond. He had what he wanted. There was no changing her mind.

It left him with one option.

Jetfire finished his shift in the medbay, bidding First Aid a farewell and heading into the halls, as he prepared to send a message to Starscream. His creator hadn't been given many tasks by the Autobots yet, so he was free most of the time. Same with Skywarp. That worked well for him.

Before he could send the message, one came in.

[Meet me in the mess hall.]

Jetfire fluttered his wings. What perfect timing!

[Can we ask Skywarp to come?] He replied.

[If she's available.]

Jetfire sent a message to Skywarp as he headed toward the mess hall and received a quick response.

[Sorry, can't come right now! TC is showing me how to repair a wall panel! But I can meet you after!]

Some of Jetfire's enthusiasm dulled, but at least he was still going to share a meal with his creator—even if it was plain, boring energeon. He reached the mess hall and stepped inside, freezing when the chatter of many mecha greeted him. Some looked up, but few noticed.

The pit crept up on him and he wrung his hands. He took a step backward, and that was the excuse his body required to flee. He stood against the wall beside the doorway, a hand on his chest as his spark pulsed.

Starscream would be here any moment. He could just wait outside where it was quiet and no strangers were around. It was fine.

He chewed on the tip of one of his fingers. The pit crept up further, and suddenly, refueling seemed even more unappealing than it already was. He ran his engine quietly, trying to soothe himself with its vibrations.

"Oh, look! It's the shuttle!"

The voice sent a painful zing through Jetfire's plating. He stepped backward, wings drifting low. Sunstreaker came toward him, flanked by the red mech.

"Still hanging out with those monsters?" Sunstreaker asked, a grin spreading across his face.

Jetfire wrung his hands so hard the plating gave. He had to wait for Starscream. If he left, then they couldn't have a meal together!

Sunstreaker waved a hand in front of Jetfire's face. "Hey. Shuttle."

Jetfire flinched. When the mech didn't back away, he bared his teeth and flared his wings. His spark pulsed harder than it already was. It hurt. He tried to tell them to frag off, but his vocalizer refused to activate.

Sunstreaker put his hands on his hips.

"What?" He said. "Think you're too good for us? I'm just tryna get you to hang out with real Autobots!"

Jetfire tried to speak again. Voiceless, yet again. Wringing his hands could only get him so far. The energy just kept building, the pit consuming more and more.

If he just reached over, put the slightest bit of pressure on Sunstreaker's plating, it would crunch like a—

Jetfire terminated that thought. His dentae itched.

Sunstreaker moved to speak again when the red one grabbed his arm. He turned back.

"What?" He said.

"Sunny," the red mech said. "Pay attention for a sec. I think he's scared."

Jetfire's vocalizer finally decided to work. It projected the words at maximum volume.

"I'm not scared!"

Sunstreaker and the red mech exchanged glances. Sunstreaker frowned.

"I see it now," he said.

How much longer was Starscream going to take to get there? Maybe Jetfire was better off if he went searching—

Sunstreaker stepped closer. He offered a hand. Jetfire stared at it. What did he want?

"Whatever you think we're gonna do, we're not," Sunstreaker said. "We just wanna hang cause you're the first new mech we've seen in forever."

Well, it was nice to know that they weren't stupid enough to just tell him they had ill intentions.

"Go away!" Jetfire hissed.

Sunstreaker went rigid. His face shifted into a grimace, dentae on display.

"You must be a real idiot if you—"

"Sunny!" The red one exclaimed, hitting the other mech in the side.

Sunstreaker turned toward him, hands curling into fists. "What?"

"He doesn't wanna hang," the red mech said. "Let's just go."

Sunstreaker stammered, but the red mech just turned away. After a withering glance toward Jetfire, Sunstreaker followed. With them gone, the hallway was much quieter.

Jetfire resumed his waiting, chewing on his fingertip. Starscream would be here any moment. What was taking him so long? Jetfire checked his chronometer. Had it really only been that much time?

He ran his hands down his face with a sigh. Where was Starscream now? With a quick glance down both sides of the hall to ensure no mecha were coming, he placed his hand in front of himself and activated his outlier.

A tiny flame danced in his palm. It flickered and rolled, too small to generate embers. His ability was powered by his own nanites burning energeon externally, so it was costly to use. Though, that mattered little because he rarely had a reason to use it.

"Practicing with your ability?"

Jetfire nearly jumped. He forced himself to stay still, conscious of the flame in his grasp. He let it fade as Starscream approached. Then, with a few large steps, he launched himself at his creator and wrapped him in a hug.

"I love you," he whispered. "You took forever to get here."

Starscream stayed silent for a moment, unmoving. He always got awkward when Jetfire said he loved him. It was as if he'd never heard anyone say it. Maybe he hadn't. Skywarp and Soundwave definitely never said it to him. That was why Jetfire had to say it.

"I was working on something with Skyfire and Star," Starscream said, withdrawing from the hug. "It was time-sensitive. Took a lot longer than I thought."

Jetfire shrugged. He really didn't care why Starscream took so long. He was here now.

"Okay," Jetfire said. "Let's go fuel."

Starscream smiled. "Yes. Let's."

Starscream walked ahead of Jetfire, so he had a decent view of his creator's stride. A slight limp was always present—it didn't seem any worse than usual. Both legs supported his weight just fine. Starscream was having a good day. The fact warmed Jetfire's spark.

Maybe he could ask him to fly with him today.

They got fuel from the dispenser and Starscream picked a table in the corner of the room nearest to the door. The mecha who were sitting there departed just as they got their fuel, but at this time of day, it wouldn't remain empty for long. Jetfire drank his energeon slightly faster than he should, torn between leaving the mess hall as soon as possible and wanting to spend time with his creator.

He winced as he yet again drank too quickly, overfilling his primary tank before it could drain to his secondary. With both tanks, he didn't need to refuel nearly as often as other mecha, but the time meals allowed him to spend with others was worth it. Besides, the secondary tank was for long term travel and compensating for fuel shortages. He didn't need to use the fuel inside it.

Starscream wasn't done with his cube yet, so Jetfire waited. He wrung his hands, plating scraping as his fingers ground against each other.

Starscream took a sip, then paused. He opened his cockpit just enough to slide his hand in, searching for something. Jetfire leaned into the table to see, but as Starscream pulled it out, he shielded it from him.

"I made you a surprise," he said.

Jetfire wiggled his wings, leaning toward him. "What is it?"

"Remember when we talked about our bad habits?" He asked.

Jetfire nodded. Starscream opened his hands and placed an object on the table: A small, coiled loop with a diamond-shaped charm attached.

Jetfire picked it up. The coils unfurled a bit, the charm hanging down.

"A bracelet," he said. "I like it."

He liked anything his creator made for him, because it came from him. But what was he supposed to do with it? Starscream had asked about bad habits…

"It's chew-resistant," Starscream said. He grabbed the charm with a smile. "Especially the charm. I figured it would help if you had something safe to chew on when you felt the need."

Jetfire squeezed the charm. Then, holding the loop of the bracelet, he brought the charm to his mouth and but down on it. It had some give, but it didn't fall apart. It wasn't the same as what he'd been doing, but maybe it would work. He pulled the bracelet around his wrist.

"What do you think?" Starscream asked.

Jetfire pulled Starscream into a hug. He stiffened before returning it. He always did.

"I love it!" Jetfire said. "Thank you so much!"

Starscream's wings wiggled. It was a small movement, very difficult to notice unless one knew to look for it. Jetfire grinned, warmth flooding his spark.

"I'm glad," Starscream said.

He picked up his half-finished cube and took a sip. Jetfire fiddled with his new bracelet, stretching the springy band. Suddenly, Starscream jolted upward mid-sip. He paused, then downed the rest of his cube in one large sip.

He turned toward Jetfire, wings lowering.

"I have to go," he said. "They want me on a mission."

He couldn't leave yet! They'd barely spent any time together!

"I'll come with you!" Jetfire said.

Starscream stared at him. "No."

He turned away, walking toward the exit. It was easy for Jetfire to catch up. As they passed through the halls, Starscream didn't speak. When he increased his pace, Jetfire increased his. He wasn't going to be left behind. They burst through the doors to an office—

And Jetfire may have regretted following his creator for a moment. Just a moment.

Prowl stared back at him, brow furrowed. His doorwings twitched. Beside him stood Skyfire and Skywarp.

Starscream turned to Jetfire. "Go back to Skyfire's quarters."

Jetfire fanned out his wings.

"No!" He said. "I'm coming with you."

He had no idea what sort of mission this was, but if both Starscream and Skywarp were going, he would be alone. He couldn't let that happen—especially not after those mecha harassed him earlier.

Prowl harrumphed. "I'll allow it."

Starscream looked between Prowl and Jetfire. He stomped a pede.

"He's not combat trained!" He hissed.

"Good thing it's just recon, then," Skyfire said.

Starscream's hands curled. "He's too young!"

Skyfire and Prowl exchanged glances. Starscream looked to Skywarp. Jetfire fiddled with the bracelet again. If they agreed…

"I was sent into combat the day I onlined," Skyfire said. "Star was sent out the moment she was purchased. There's no such thing as too young."

"He's a newspark!" Starscream yelled.

Skyfire took a step toward him. He stepped backward, wings flaring.

"Skywarp!" Starscream exclaimed. "You have to agree!"

Skywarp's wings sank even lower. "He is a warframe… they have combat protocols like we do, right? And he wants to go."

Skywarp's optics met Jetfire's. Guilt buried itself in his spark, but Jetfire refused to be left. They said it was just reconnaissance. He wouldn't need to fight.

(He filed away the mention of him being a 'warframe' for later—it wasn't the first time he'd heard it. No one ever gave answers that made sense.)

"I do," he said. "I really want to go."

"Then you'll go," Skyfire said.

Starscream stomped his pede, about to protest again when Skyfire cut him off.

"It's his choice," Skyfire said. "Let him make it."

"So now you'll let mecha make their own choices?" Starscream hissed at him. His wings drooped as he turned back toward Jetfire. "You're truly certain you want to come along? If this world's Decepticons find us, we'll have to fight."

Jetfire nodded, fighting the tingling nervousness that crawled through his plating. He had to do this. But was Starscream right to protest? Was he too young and inexperienced?

It didn't matter. He wanted to be with Starscream.

"I'm certain," he said.

◇◇◇

The sky was cold, but it was always cold. As they descended, the cold persisted. Jetfire landed in his alt mode, fighting a full body shudder as his landing gears touched the ground. It was blanketed in frozen whiteness—something he knew was called snow. There wasn't this much of it where the Decepticons had been on Earth in his world.

He transformed into robot mode. An alert proclaimed that due to the temperature, he was going to consume increased fuel, and to seek a warmer climate. Jetfire shook himself. That wasn't going to happen until they got back. Still, something about the cold made his plating itch. The back of his processor wanted him to flee.

Skyfire walked ahead with his scanner. The rest of the group trailed behind him. After a while of walking—Jetfire's fuel consumption growing high and higher as his frame rerouted power toward his sublimation system to generate heat—they paused between two large cliffs.

"The signal ends here," Skyfire said. "If it belongs to the Enigma, then it's somewhere in this area."

Starscream quietly muttered, "You don't know?"

Skyfire's wings twitched, but he didn't acknowledge Starscream's words.

"We'll search the ground first. If we don't find it here, then we'll split up to search the cliffs—Skywarp with me—" He motioned toward Jetfire and Starscream. "And you two together."

The ground search revealed nothing. Jetfire checked his fuel levels—still decent. He stuck close to Starscream. His creator was growing sluggish, optics dulling. He couldn't be low on fuel, since they refueled just before they left, so what was it?

As Skyfire declared they split up, Jetfire remembered. His fuel processing disorder—it must've been interfering with the efficiency of his sublimation system! If it wasn't working properly, he wouldn't be able to warm himself in the cold as easily as he needed to. This mission needed to end as quickly as possible.

So, Jetfire scrutinized every possible abnormality as they searched the cliffside. Since no members of the group knew exactly what the Enigma looked like, it could be hiding anywhere. A crack in the cliff caught his optics, and he followed it to a jagged cave.

The cave opened up into a wider cavern. Stalactites and stalagmites hung from the ceiling, many so large that they became one. Jetfire had to squeeze between them as he searched the cavern, letting out a hiss as one of them scratched his wing.

Light caught his optics. He increased his pace. Either this was an exit, which meant another area to search, or it was the Enigma! No matter how close he pulled his wings, the cave still scratched them, but he had to move quickly. Eventually, he reached the far wall.

A box sat before him, its sides glowing in strange patterns. This had to be it! Jetfire carefully placed his hands around the box. With a low hum, the box split apart.

Inside it was a small chip. Unlike the box, which glowed a brilliant blue and had an ornate pattern, the chip was a flat, dull gray. Had they really come all this way just for that?

Whatever. Jetfire pinched the chip between his fingers. After a moment's hesitation, he grabbed the box, too. As he wrangled it into his arms, it hummed again and closed. At least that made it easier to carry.

Jetfire squeezed back through the cave, wings stinging as the rocks rubbed against his scratches and created new ones. But his injuries were minor. They'd heal in a day or two.

Just as he was about to exit the cave, the familiar screech of a flying object gave him pause. The other members of the mission had no reason to fly that quickly, nor fly at all. Had they been found?

[Starscream?] He sent.

The response was immediate.

[Jetfire! Where are you? We need to go!]

[I found a cave! And I think I found the Enigma! I was just heading out—]

The ground outside the cave shook as the sky screamed again. Jetfire ducked behind the cave's entrance. His message remained unsent as he peered around the side.

Bright, energeon cyan filled his vision, framed by a deep purple-pink. Two double-pointed wings stood starkly against the sky as pink optics gleamed. Jetfire knew all of the Decepticons in his world, but he had never seen this mech.

"I know someone is here."

Jetfire scrambled further into the cave. The mech's voice sounded like the verge of a storm—calm but able to unleash chaos at any moment. His spark pulsed as he pressed himself against the wall and remembered that was the only exit. Unless she decided to move on, he was trapped.

As pedesteps grew closer, he retreated further back into the cave, reaching the cavern again. He stood at the edge of it, turning the sensitivity of his audials to maximum. This world's Decepticons obviously wanted something from them. Whether it was themselves or the Enigma, Jetfire couldn't let them have it.

If he was going to fight, he needed at least one free hand. He tried to reopen the box, but it refused. He couldn't just throw it out—who knew if it was essential to the Enigma? He could place it in his cockpit, so he did.

But then, the chip was exposed. It was tiny, which made it very easy to lose. He didn't know how durable it was. If he placed it in his cockpit, it would rattle around, and could get crushed by the box.

Pedesteps drew close again. Jetfire had to make a decision now.

He solved the issue the same way he solved all of his problems: he put it in his mouth. As he crept behind a set of stalagmites, something in his mouth clicked. A download began in the back of his processor.

The mech burst through the caverns entrance, rays at the ready. Her optics scanned the cavern, quickly landing on him. She fired.

Jetfire leaped out of the way, the box rattling in his cockpit. Where he crouched moments before was a massive hole. The ray beam exploded on contact with the rocks, rather than searing straight through like his creator's did. Jetfire knew, in that moment, that if he got shot even once, he was dead.

"I can see you," the mech said. "Surrender and I won't need to shoot."

Jetfire cursed his bright white paint job. There was no way to hide against the dark gray walls. He was utterly doomed. There was nowhere to hide, no space to run, and he had no weapons—

Actually…

Jetfire emerged from behind the stalagmites, holding his hands up. The mech watched with narrowed optics as he approached.

"I surrender," he said.

The mech grit her dentae for a moment, wings twitching. Had she not expected this? That was good.

"You're not Skyfire," she said. "Who are you? What is your role on this mission?"

Jetfire lowered his hands as he moved to speak, but raised them as the mech aimed her rays at him again.

"I'm Jetfire," he said. How could he describe his role? He wasn't even supposed to be here. "I… just tagged along to help the search. We didn't find anything. We were about to head back."

She wouldn't let him go, but if she thought he didn't have anything, she might not look. Her wings flicked upward, and he knew he messed up.

"Then you won't mind if I check your cockpit," she said.

"Um… no!" Jetfire squeaked.

He stayed as still as he could as she moved to unlatch his cockpit, her rays still aimed at him. Spark pulsing so strongly it hurt, Jetfire braced himself. With a swift motion, he grabbed her arms and activated his outlier.

She screeched as her plating melted, giving under the combined forces of the fire and Jetfire's grip. Guilt nipped at Jetfire's processor, but it had to be done. With a mighty pull, he threw her across the cavern. Something inside her crunched as her body hit the stalagmites.

Jetfire cringed, but there wasn't time for regret. He sprinted out of the cave. After a moment's hesitation, he leaped into the air, using his rockets to slow his fall.

[Jetfire?]

Jetfire scanned the area desperately as he landed. The mech would only be down for so long. They had to get out of here before she got back up.

[I was attacked!] He sent to Starscream. [A Decepticon Seeker. Cyan, purple, and pink.]

[Must be Slipstream,] Starscream replied. [I just took down Ion Storm. Acid Storm must be here somewhere. Be careful. I'll find you when I can.]

Jetfire's wings twitched. He fiddled with his bracelet as he sent his reply.

[Okay.]

He… hadn't even told Starscream that he found the Enigma. Oh, frag. How did he forget to tell him the entire objective of the mission? He needed to send a message right away—

He let out a cry as something slammed into him from behind, sending him facefirst into the snow. Cracking glass reached his audials as pain spread across his cockpit. Before he could activate his outlier, cuffs clamped around his wrists. Still, he attempted to activate it, but received a weak fizzle in response. Activating his transformation gave him an error.

Hands grabbed him and he was flipped onto his back, one of his wings bending unnaturally in the process. Pink optics glared at him. Jetfire squirmed as Slipstream's hands unhooked his cockpit. He kicked at her, sending her flying as her own cockpit shattered.

Jetfire closed his cockpit and rolled over, stumbling as he pushed himself to his feet. He only made it a few steps before his wing was seized. A ray gun was shoved into the side of his helm. Slipstream's cockpit dug into his dorsal pack, the broken glass sinking into his plating as she pressed herself close.

"Pull that again and I'll blast your processor out of your helm," Slipstream hissed directly into his audial. She reached around his waist, claws drumming on the glass. "Now, open."

Jetfire opened his cockpit. He shuddered as Slipstream's hands entered it, scraping his interior. She clawed at him harshly, caring little for anything except her target. Her hands closed around the cube, dragging it along his interior. He let out a whine as it scraped deep and hot energeon leaked from the wound.

"Pathetic!" Slipstream spat. "Where are the Autobots getting their recruits?"

Jetfire didn't know if he was supposed to answer that. It didn't matter. Her focus quickly shifted to the cube. He attempted to wriggle away, but she just pressed her ray against his helm again.

Slipstream rolled the cube in her hand. "Tell me, Autobot—what does this do?"

"Not an Autobot," Jetfire muttered.

Slipstream pressed the ray harder against his helm. "Just tell me!"

Jetfire clenched his jaw until his dentae hurt.

"I don't know!" He said.

It was technically the truth. He didn't know if the box was actually part of the Enigma. If it wasn't, he had no idea what it was. It could be a useless case, or it could be an entirely different artifact.

Slipstream scoffed.

"If you won't tell me," she said, dropping the box inside her broken cockpit. "I'll just have to find out for myself. The Autobots wouldn't send a search team if it wasn't important."

Jetfire sincerely hoped it wasn't. The program running in the back of his processor ended, sending him a notification.

{Download complete. Loading program…}

The downloaded program's name was a long, indecipherable string of letters and numbers. Whatever this chip had installed, he had no way to stop it. But the chip was safe for now, regardless of whatever it did to him. If Slipstream shot him in the helm, she probably wouldn't check his sublingual drive. It just wasn't a thing most mecha thought of.

Jetfire was thrown to the ground as something boomed in his audials. He pushed himself to his feet and ran, putting as much distance between himself and Slipstream as he could. Slipstream didn't pursue, turning toward whoever had shot her and firing. No one was there.

Skywarp appeared on the other side of her, wings spread wide. Slipstream let out a frustrated yell and lunged, but Skywarp just teleported again.

"Thank frag we found you."

Jetfire jumped at the voice next to his audial. He lowered his wings back to neutral position as he recognized the source.

"Starscream!" He whispered.

Starscream nodded. "Skywarp can only distract her for so long. We need to get to cover so we can evacuate. Follow me."

They climbed up the other cliff as quickly as they could manage, hiding behind a large outcropping. Skyfire stared as they slid behind it.

"Did you find anything?" He asked.

Starscream ignored him, so Jetfire did the same. As Starscream deactivated the cuffs, Jetfire peered around the rock, watching as Skywarp evaded hit after hit. Her wings dropped as she began to tire, signs of dizziness becoming clearer with each warp. Then, she disappeared and didn't reappear. Slipstream howled and searched for her.

Jetfire was pulled close, then the world twisting around him. He blinked, and they were in the middle of a temperate forest.

"Quite far from the base," Skyfire muttered.

Skywarp hunched against a tree, fans whirring.

"It's as close as I could get in one go," she said quietly, putting a hand to her face. "I can try again in a bit."

Skyfire nodded. He looked toward the rest of the group.

"We didn't find anything," he said. "Did you?"

"No," Starscream said. "We—"

"I found a chip!" Jetfire said.

The other two mecha went silent. Skyfire furrowed his brow.

"Where is it?" He asked.

Jetfire fiddled with his bracelet. "I, uh… put it in my sublingual drive. On accident."

Skyfire frowned. Starscream's optics went wide. He took a step back, wings twitching.

"That's alright," Skyfire said. "Did it download anything?"

"It did." Jetfire read out the program's name.

Skyfire hummed. Starscream tapped his pede, staring down at his claws. They were buried in his arm guards.

"That complicates things," Skyfire said.

Starscream whipped toward him in an explosion of limbs. "Complicates things?"

"We'll have to rework project Safeguard," Skyfire said calmly.

"You are not!" Starscream spat, clenching his claws and whipping one of his hands through the air. "You are not!"

Skyfire rested a hand on Starscream's shoulder. "We are."

Starscream swiped at him with a yell.

"Don't touch me!" He spat. "Don't fragging touch me!"

Skywarp opened her optics. Her wings went up in alarm.

"Skyfire," she said. "Screamer's—"

"Being irrational. I know," Skyfire said.

He wrapped his hand around Starscream's arm. Starscream's optics went wide as he bared his teeth and tried to pull away.

"You know this is the best course of action," Skyfire said gently.

"No!" Starscream spat, launching himself at Skyfire. He slashed his face, reopening the wound across his olfactory ridge. "No!"

Skyfire grabbed his hands. Starscream kicked him, still screaming. When that didn't work, he bit him, dentae sinking deep into the plating of Skyfire's arms. Skyfire bared his dentae and threw Starscream to the ground, then placed a pede between his wings.

Starscream thrashed beneath him, clawing at the ground. He kept screaming. It was the same things over and over—

"No!"

"Don't touch me!"

"You're not!"

Skyfire stared down at him with a frown. He sighed, as if Starscream's suffering was exasperating. Jetfire's plating tensed, especially tight around his chest. His spark burned.

"What are you doing?" Skywarp said, finally moving away from the tree. Her wings fanned out as she approached.

"I'm waiting for him to calm down," Skyfire said.

"Just let him go," Skywarp said. "He gets like this sometimes. It's easier if you don't force anything."

"I know," Skyfire said.

"Then let him go."

"He needs to learn that this isn't okay," Skyfire said. "Star used to do this. She only stopped after we held her down."

Jetfire played with the bracelet. His dentae itched as the pit crept up again. He wanted to bite the charm, but if Skyfire was doing this to Starscream for getting stuck, what would he do to him?

"Let him go," Skywarp repeated.

"He'll exhaust himself and go into recharge eventually," Skyfire said. "I'm just making sure he doesn't hurt anyone or wander off. It's a good incentive to behave."

"He doesn't need an incentive! He's been punished enough for things like this!" Skywarp snapped.

Starscream was still screaming. Both mecha ignored it. Jetfire wanted to do something—anything—but he didn't know how to help. So he stood, paralyzed.

"If you really think so."

Skyfire lifted his pede. Immediately, Starscream scrambled out from underneath it. Both mecha jumped back as he launched himself into the sky and transformed. Before anyone could even think to follow, he was already gone.

"There he goes," Skywarp muttered.

Skyfire glanced at her, brows raised. She growled, flaring her wings. He looked away.

"Let's head back," he said.

Skywarp made a frustrated noise before offering her hands. Skyfire and Jetfire took them, and soon, the group was inside of Skyfire's quarters. The vertigo that warping caused faded quickly. Jetfire took a moment to observe Skywarp, and he didn't like what he saw.

Her optics were dim. As Skyfire and Jetfire backed away from her, she spread her wings out and shook her helm. She took an unsteady step forward, her warp drive humming unusually loud as it activated.

"Now I need to go get Screamer—"

She gasped as her warp drive stuttered to a stop. Jetfire ran to her side immediately, panic seizing his spark. Skywarp clutched her chestplates, optics tightly shut.

"I'm okay," she whispered, voice filled with static as it strained to exit her vocalizer.

"You're not," Skyfire said.

He turned toward the other side of the room. Jetfire followed his gaze. Thundercracker sat up in the berth, a datapad by her side as if she was just reading. The red Starscream—Star—sat at the base of the berth, wings against the wall, with a datapad on her legs.

"Thunder, Star—can you two go look for Starscream?" Skyfire asked. "He flew off."

Thundercracker and Star exchanged glances before leaving, placing their datapads on the shelf on their way out. Skyfire watched them leave, then turned back toward Jetfire and Skywarp.

"I'm going to deliver our mission report," Skyfire said. His optics fell on Skywarp, something in his gaze softening. "You should rest."

Jetfire helped Skywarp to the spare berth as Skyfire left the room. Jetfire waited for a moment to ensure he was truly gone.

"Why did he do that to Starscream?" He asked.

Skywarp's hands still rested over her chest. She flicked one of her wings irritably.

"Because he's an ignorant idiot," she said.

Jetfire supposed that was true. But ignorant idiot or not, he was the one in charge of them until the Autobots deemed them trustworthy. What would become of them now?

The forest was quiet. It always was. Scattered birds chirped as plants swayed in the slight wind, but that was all. With closed optics, Starscream took in the sounds.

He was humiliated. Completely, utterly humiliated. Emerging from an episode was like coming out of a stupor only to discover he had temporarily turned into a raging monster. Or, in the words of Megatron, a rabid turbofox.

He was fully aware of what he'd done. It still didn't feel like he'd done it. Someone else made those memory files. He'd just been dragged along.

But those were his memory files, and those were his actions. The spark-shattering fear and the violent need to destroy the perceived threat were all his. He sat down and lectured Jetfire about how important keeping the peace was only to break it himself. And in front of his newspark, no less!

Starscream buried his face in his hands. When that didn't work, he sighed, letting his hands fall into his lap. He stared down at his arm guards. Fresh, deep bitemarks marred them, made during the throes of his fit. At the very least, his plating itself wasn't injured at the height of his episode. The guards fulfilled their purpose.

Something deep within him craved pain. He wanted to take those guards off and sink his teeth in until he drew energeon. He deserved it. It would take the humiliation away.

"No," he hissed to himself.

He'd sworn not to do that. Why was it so hard to avoid thinking about?

A roaring spread through the sky, and he jumped. Flying objects—mech or human—landed nearby. Starscream's plating crawled. He should leave—he needed to leave—but he was rooted in place.

Pedesteps approached. Two sets. Mecha.

Starscream fanned out his wings. As the steps were nearly upon him, he charged up his rays. Then, two shapes burst from the trees.

Rays humming lowly as they powered down, Starscream took a step back. Star stared back at him, her red paint blending in with the setting sun. Behind her was the ghost he'd been avoiding since day one.

"What are you doing here?" Starscream hissed.

"Skyfire sent us to fetch you," Star said. "Apparently, you 'flew off.'"

[Another violation of the rules,] she sent over comm. [Are you even trying?]

[So what if I'm not?] Starscream retorted.

He spent his calibration period as a newspark under the claws of the Enforcers, thrown into cells whenever he disobeyed, underperformed, or broke an unspoken rule. During the war, Megatron saw fit to berate, provoke, and violently discipline him for every small slight, often spouting nonsense or just not telling him at all if he asked why he was being punished ('You should know' wasn't an answer!). There was no such thing as 'rules' around mecha like that, only suffering. How did Star not realize it?

"Frag off," Starscream said.

Star and Thundercracker exchanged glances. With a roll of her optics, Star stepped aside. As Thundercracker approached, Starscream fought not to flee again. She sat down beside him.

Her wings were the same. Her optics were the same. She wore that same disappointed expression. The only thing that reminded him this was a mech from another world rather than a ghost was the small purple accents hidden on her frame.

"We need to head back," she said.

Starscream flicked his wing dismissively. "Yeah, sure. I'll find my own way."

"You need to come with us," Thundercracker said, voice growing sharp.

Starscream glared at her. Anger surged within him as he reminded himself that this wasn't his Thundercracker. That mech was long dead—killed by the Autobots and his own negligence. Star did one thing right in this world by not dragging her into battle.

"Make me!" He growled, baring his teeth.

Thundercracker looked away and sighed.

"What happened to you?" She asked quietly. The words were loud enough to hear, but she still faced away from him as she spoke.

Starscream snorted. What hadn't happened to him?

"I fell through a portal and now I'm constantly surrounded by idiots wearing the faces of my dead allies," Starscream snarked. "How about you?"

Thundercracker's olfactory ridge scrunched. "Am I dead in your world? Is that why you're avoiding me?"

"Congratulations, you have a working processor!"

She didn't take the bait. Her wings flicked irritably, but her voice remained soft.

"What did your Thundercracker used to do when you felt like this?" She asked.

Starscream gritted his dentae. He flexed his claws. In. Out. In. Out.

A message to Skywarp received no response.

"She stroked my wings," Starscream said. "Told me it'd be okay while muttering about how I'd inconvenienced her. I know this kind act is a lie. Give it up. You're angry with me."

"I might be, but getting you back to the base is more important," she said.

Starscream pulled his legs to his chest. He rested his chin on his knees and closed his optics. Despite the coldness that rose between them during the war, Starscream missed Thundercracker. She taught him how to capture mecha, and pulled strings to lessen his punishments when he broke the rules. Unfortunately, all of those strings snapped the moment they left the Enforcers for the Decepticons. He ended up having power over her, and the discrepancy led to arguments.

She wanted him to bow down—just comply—and blamed him for what happened with Megatron. Sometimes, he believed her. If he lowered his wings and groveled, maybe he'd be spared the beating. If he stayed silent, maybe the harsh words and cutting glares would retreat. Perhaps, the fleeting moments of kindness that Megatron spared him would've become the majority of their interactions, rather than moments spared after he was unable to drag himself to the medbay.

Frag, he sounded like Star.

"Please tell Skyfire not to use Jetfire in the Safeguard project," he said, words slipping out before he could stop them.

For a moment, he let himself believe that Thundercracker would listen. His Thundercracker, before the war, was kind and doting, if somewhat strict. She truly cared, even if she weaponized that care when it suited her. If anyone could convince Star and Skyfire to change their minds, it would be her.

Thundercracker stared at him for a moment, wings twitching upward, as if taken aback.

"He accidentally loaded the Enigma into his sublingual drive," Starscream said. "Skyfire thinks that means he has to become part of the team, but it doesn't. Please."

Had his Thundercracker begged like this when he got into trouble? Did her spark ache at the thought of him being harmed, too?

Thundercracker glanced backward toward Star. "I… can't."

"You have to!" Starscream said. "Please. He's just a newspark. He hasn't even completed his medical training—"

"Even medics see the battlefield."

Star's voice was toneless, unsympathetic. She stared down at him with narrowed optics.

"But not him," Starscream hissed. "He was created after the war. He's never seen combat. All of this is new to him."

"He's safer as a soldier than a medic," Star said.

"What the frag is that supposed to mean?"

Medics wore a universal symbol specifically to declare their status. Every soldier was told not to harm them.

Soldiers died every battle.

"The Decepticons stole two of our medics when they killed Skywarp," Thundercracker said. "They raided the base. Galvatron ripped Skywarp's warp drive out. Ratchet and Pharma tried to save her, but he took them before they could seal off the lines."

Why would Galvatron capture them directly from the base? Was it simply to weaken the Autobots? The Intergalactic War Code explicitly labeled the targeting of medics as a war crime. Then again, would a monster sparkless enough to rip a living mech's warp drive out care about such a thing?

"Pharma made it back to us," Star said. "We thought it was another raid at first, or maybe a spy. But it was him, desperately clawing against the entrance of the base. He had Ratchet's severed helm in his arms. First Aid had to sedate him so we could take it away."

Star closed her optics, a shudder running through her plating. Starscream knew what an involuntary memory file activation felt like well enough to recognize it.

"He's really safer as a soldier," Thundercracker said.

Where was Pharma now? First Aid was the only mech in the medbay aside from Jetfire.

Jetfire didn't want to fight. He could hardly fight at all. The mission today only proved that. If they put him out there, he'd only get killed. How couldn't they see that?

"He'll only be safe when we get home!" Starscream hissed. "Every moment he spends here is another moment of danger."

Star took a step closer, wings fanning wide.

"You made an agreement with Commander Elita," she said.

Starscream glared at her. "I don't intend to break it."

But it was already proving more harmful than it was worth. He had to do something, and soon. The answer in the back of his processor that he kept hiding stared him straight in the spark.

He knew what he had to do.

☆☆☆

The room was silent and dark, save for the light of Starscream's optics. He rose from his place, gently pulling himself out of Skywarp's and Jetfire's embraces. He stepped across the room and turned the sensitivity of his audials to maximum. No one stirred. Satisfied, he set them to three quarters of the maximum.

Then, he overrode the keypad and left the room. The halls were empty, but he wasn't deceived—security had eyes on every corner of the base. But he was prepared for that.

For as long as he could, he snuck out past recharge time to work in the lab. At first, he went with Skyfire or Star, but eventually, he was able to go on his own. He asked for permission at first, but started hacking the keypad after he grew tired of it. If he were honest, Skyfire and Star probably forgot that he didn't actually have access at this point.

The most paranoid of the security officers—some mech called Red Alert—wasn't on duty tonight. Starscream checked the schedule beforehand, but it was a lucky coincidence. He couldn't wait any longer. The frames were nearly complete.

He hacked the keypad to the lab. With all of the equipment off, the room was more silent than it had ever been. Starscream passed by the table, where scattered components of a processor sat. Upon assisting the project, Starscream learned that creating processors was the last step for each frame. Star did most of the work on them—Skyfire's large hands were poorly suited for the task.

Starscream opened a drawer. He pulled out a hammer, and with a swift swing, smashed the processor. The delicate organ gave under the blow immediately with a crackling crunch. He inspected it. Could they possibly piece it back together?

Resolutely, he lowered the hammer a second time. Now, it was unrecognizable. Letting the hammer fall to the floor, he headed to the other room. Bypassing the cybermetric lock was trivial. Not much was needed to fool the scanner into thinking it was Star rather than him.

He charged his rays, set them to maximum power, and fired on the first frame. Its helm was blown off, neck completely obliterated. That wasn't enough. He fired again, and again, until it was nothing but shards of metal.

Then, he started on the second. It was sturdier, and required more hits to destroy, but he managed. The third was more delicate, and required significantly less. As he stepped toward the fourth, glass and metal crunched beneath his pedes.

The fourth frame fell to his attacks quickly, and he was on to the fifth. The first shot blew a hole in its spark chamber. The second… left a mark.

Starscream charged his rays again. Another shot that barely made an impact.

{Alert! Insufficient power for selected null ray intensity!}

He checked his fuel levels. Slag. Of course he had to run out before he could finish. He flung himself at the frame, tearing at it with his claws. Anything to delay the project.

Voices reached his audials. Pedesteps thundered through the lab.

"Frag," he hissed to himself.

They'd noticed. How did they notice? The lab was soundproof! No one should have heard him!

The voices grew even closer. Starscream abandoned the half-destroyed frame to claw at the wall. The edges of a panel popped loose, and he pulled until his elbows hurt from the strain. With a screech, the panel released from the wall.

He shoved himself through the hole it created. The last time he was inside of a wall, he was barely three quarters of his height. This was a much tighter squeeze than back then. He pulled the panel back into the wall as best he could, trying not to let himself think about how he was going to get out.

He shuffled his way through the walls, wings scraping against every wire and projection. Then, eventually, he reached an area where the outer plating of the ship was thinner than others. Unable to turn without scraping the paint off of his plating, he slammed his back into the wall until it gave.

He fell backward into the rock that surrounded the Ark. His wings stung as energeon leaked from them, but he couldn't tell where it came from. There wasn't enough time for medical treatment. So, he launched himself into the sky and transformed.

{Alert! Fuel levels low!}

He'd have to hope the Decepticons still made their base in the same place. It was far, but it was the only place to go. He pushed himself as much as he could, knowing that the more distance he put between himself and the Autobots, the less likely they were to catch him.

Finally, he arrived at the old Decepticon base. He landed on his knees, cooling fans kicking in as he received error after error. Legs threatening to give in at any moment, he dragged himself from tree to tree. The entrance was buried within the mountain, but if he got close enough, someone would confront him. It was all he had to rely on—he definitely couldn't make it up the mountain in this state.

Step after step, tree after tree. Just one more. Then another. His limbs shook. He was so close! Just a little further!

His knee gave, and he collapsed cockpit-down. His limbs splayed out, barely enough energy in them to dig his claws into the earth as he wailed in frustration. He was just outside the perimeter! Couldn't he have made it a few steps farther?

Starscream forced his elbows underneath himself with a weak growl. He would crawl if he had to. This was too important to let himself die. Then, he heard it—a shuffling in the trees. He rolled onto his side to get a better look.

A flash of red—There it was!

"Laserbeak!" He said, nearly cringing at the desperation in his voice. "Laserbeak!"

The retroraven cassette chirped, ruffling its wings.

"Please—" Starscream's plea was cut off as his systems rerouted power. Forcing words out grew exponentially more difficult. "Tell them I'm—I'm here. I want to join."

Laserbeak leaped off of the branch and glided to the ground. It stared at him, then swiftly pecked him on the olfactory ridge.

"Ve—very funny," Starscream muttered.

Laserbeak trilled and tilted its head. Then, it pecked him again. Starscream swatted at it, but the move set him off balance, and he immediately flopped over. Laserbeak trilled again.

"Gr—rr—great," he said.

He was going to die because this obnoxious cybird thought it was more amusing to toy with him than do its job. Laserbeak took its duties seriously, but it knew he wasn't a threat in this state. It could play with him as long as it wanted.

After another peck, Laserbeak twitched its wings and activated its rockets. It took to the sky and disappeared over the trees. Had it grown bored so quickly? At least it might be reporting his presence to… whoever handled security.

Was Soundwave alive in this world? No one had mentioned him. There was a pattern forming—most of the mecha alive here were dead in his world. He picked at the brittle leaves on the ground. If that pattern held, then Soundwave would be…

A chirp drew his attention. Laserbeak stood over him yet again, this time with a cube of energeon in its beak. It dropped the cube in front of him. When he didn't reach for it, Laserbeak nudged it toward him.

Starscream reached for it—

{EMERGENCY STASIS INITIATED.}

He really should've seen that coming.

☆☆☆

The ground was cold, gray, and empty. Well, empty save for a copious amount of dirt. Ahead of him were large bars that hummed with electricity. The hum pierced his plating, invading his entire body. He pushed himself to his knees and leaned against the wall.

Waking in a cell shouldn't have felt familiar. At the very least, he knew he wasn't with the humans or Autobots—they preferred energy fields to electrified bars. The Decepticons shifted from bars to fields after too many prisoner escapes (not including his own, which didn't matter). So where was he?

Purple plating caught his optics, and the memory files finally loaded. Galvatron stared down at him, arms folded. Behind him stood Slipstream. She scowled at him, her wings set wide.

"You're awake," Galvatron said.

Starscream readied himself. He may not have another chance, and he would be useless inside of a cell.

"I want you join you," Starscream said. "The Autobots betrayed me. They claimed they would help me get home only to use me. I want revenge."

Galvatron's optics narrowed. "Why should I believe you?"

The burning, scrutinizing gaze was familiar. Starscream pushed back the fear scratching at his processor. This was no time for that.

"They were working on a combiner gestalt. I destroyed the frames they created before I left. There is nothing for them to use."

Galvatron hummed. Slipstream's wings flicked.

"I say we execute him," Slipstream said. "He's just an inferior copy of that traitor."

Galvatron turned toward her. She flinched, taking a step backward as her wings lowered.

"A copy is still a copy," Galvatron said. "However inferior you think he is. If he is anything like the Starscream we know, his intellect will be useful."

Starscream caught his wings mid-flutter and forced them to stay still. This might be his chance! If Galvatron was already interested, integrating himself would take a lot less work.

"I've studied in many fields," Starscream said. "My world's war was much further along than yours. I crafted all kinds of weapons. If I were given the resources, I could recreate them. I also led the Decepticon air force, and was named second in command—"

"I don't need your life's story," Galvatron said, face contorting into a sneer. "I just need assurance that you won't betray me when my back is turned. I've had enough of that."

Slipstream flinched again. Starscream noticed the odd behavior, but paid it little mind. He had something much more important to focus on.

Galvatron wasn't buying it! What else could he offer?

"Of course," Starscream said, trying to keep the fear from his voice as his spark rate increased. "I just want to see the Autobots suffer. I have no ambitions! Accept me into your ranks, and you'll receive a capable and loyal scientist."

Better to advertise himself as a scientist than a warrior. With the ever-lingering and inconsistent fatigue that plagued him, he was one poor day from being an energeon stain on the battlefield. The skirmish with Acid Storm and Ion Storm had only proven that—he'd barely been able to save Jetfire. Skywarp did most of the work.

"Words are empty," Galvatron said. He stepped forward and held a hand out, palm up. "I want proof. Give me your cable."

Starscream's wings shot up. His cable? Galvatron wanted a connection? He'd have direct access to his memories!

Starscream's spark pulsed, sending pain through his chest. His limbs grew numb. But there was no other option.

Slipstream's wings fluttered. "Sir, I don't think—"

Galvatron pulled his hand back, using the momentum to push Slipstream, his palms colliding with her chest.

"Silence!" He bellowed. "Turn off the electricity. If this mech wants to prove himself, let him."

Slipstream stepped away, clutching her chest. A moment later, the electricity turned off with a quiet click. Galvatron glanced toward Slipstream before sticking his hand through the bars.

"Now," he said. "Your cable."

Starscream pushed himself to his feet, leaning on the wall as he made his way to the front of the cell. His limbs shook beneath him. He slid his arm guard off and opened his panel, exposing his medical port, and willed his cable to release. With his other hand, he pulled it out and placed it in Galvatron's waiting palm.

Galvatron pulled his hand back out of the cell. He slotted the cable into place.

{Connection detected! Authorize?}

Galvatron was requesting full access. If Starscream granted it, he could read or modify anything. He didn't trust Galvatron, and Galvatron didn't trust him, but he had no other options.

Starscream let his firewalls down.

Galvatron grinned as Starscream received message after message of the mech accessing his memory files. The speed he went through them was dizzying—a headache bloomed in Starscream's helm from the sheer amount of data he was accessing. His cooling fans clicked on, quickly reaching full power.

"Slow down," he hissed. "It hurts."

Galvatron gave his words no heed. Rather, the mech intensified his search. Starscream closed his optics to combat the pain.

The memory files were out of sequence. One moment, he was squawking indignantly as Skywarp poked him in the side when they first met. The next, he was staring down the barrel of Megatron's fusion cannon. Another, and he was holding Jetfire close. One more, and he was falling from the ventilation shaft.

He held a retrorat as Skyfire demonstrated intralineal injections. Crawling through the walls, he hid from Ramjet as the mech sought him out, bitter that he was chosen above all others to be Megatron's Second in Command. He took a handful of energeon goodies from a target, munching on them as the criminal ran off. Then, he was at Soundwave's side as he taught Starscream how to navigate the communications console.

Smoke clogged his olfactory sensor.

"Pl—please," he whined, his voice filled with static. "I'm going to overheat."

He already was.

Memory files kept flashing by. There was no reprieve. He was a fool. He knew that now. He was going to die here—

It stopped. Galvatron lingered on a file.

☆☆☆

{Playing file…}

"Look at this!" Starscream exclaimed, hunching down.

A tiny creature shuddered at his pedes. It stared up at him with beady eyes and bared teeth. He reached down to touch it, then paused as the animal yipped at him.

"Just some organic creature," Megatron said. "Come on, Starscream. We need to move."

Starscream stared up at him with a scrunched olfactory sensor as the old mech glared at him, completely unamused. Why didn't he find this as fascinating as he did? These creatures were just like the ones on Lightness 24-56 C! Whatever niche they filled, and ancestors they had, must have been similar despite being solar systems apart!

Starscream sighed and followed Megatron as the mech turned away. He'd just have to find more of the creatures tomorrow to confirm his theories. They had a war to fight, after all. If they didn't move quickly, the Autobots would find the energeon cache on this planet before they did.

They returned to the campsite. Skywarp paused when they noticed them, wings high in greeting. Then, they warped behind Starscream, immediately upon him. They rubbed their hands across his wings and helm. He pushed them off, but they continued their assault mercilessly, cackling all the while.

"Stop it!" Starscream said between laughs.

"You're just too easy to get!" Skywarp said, poking him on the olfactory ridge.

"Starscream!"

Megatron's bark stilled both Seekers. Skywarp disentangled themself from him. Before them, Megatron held the tent open. Light seeped through the entrance.

"Y-yes, Megatron?" Starscream said.

Megatron's voice never betrayed anything when he yelled—Starscream could be in trouble, or he could be about to receive praise. The uncertainty put him on edge.

Megatron waved him closer. "Come here. Soundwave and Thundercracker are checking in. My Second in Command needs to hear what his subordinates have to say."

"Right!" Starscream said, sprinting into the tent.

In front of him, the holoscreen displayed Soundwave sitting calmly at the communications console, and Thundercracker standing sheepishly behind him. Thundercracker brightened upon seeing him, wings raising in greeting.

"Starscream!" He said. "How's scouting going?"

Starscream wiggled his wings. "We didn't find anything. We're checking the next site tomorrow."

Meetings between other members of command were hardly like this—Megatron was always at Starscream's neck, sending him comms to sit this way or that way or telling him that he sounded unprofessional without saying why—but he made exceptions for calls like these. It was just Thundercracker and Soundwave, after all. Soundwave didn't care about formalities, and Thundercracker had known Starscream since he was a newspark.

'Was' being the key word—he wasn't a newspark anymore no matter what Thundercracker claimed. How would the Decepticons look if a newspark was leading them? He was a fully-calibrated mech!

"You're getting enough energeon, right?" Thundercracker asked. "And Skywarp, too?"

Before Starscream could voice an affirmative, Megatron grunted.

"Primus, Thundercracker! I'm not starving them!" He said.

"You say that—"

"I know how much fuel they consume," Megatron grumbled. "You've made that very clear. How is the air force?"

Thundercracker stiffened, posture shifting from open to formal.

"Ramjet and Ion Storm had an altercation during training," she said. "But after breaking them up I managed to resolve the matter peacefully."

Starscream snickered. Those slag-for-processors were always fighting. Ramjet and Thrust particularly enjoyed picking on others, and Ion Storm and his wingmates were their favorite target (second to him, of course—but they were complete cowards and would never try anything if he had company). They usually only stopped after he fired warning shots. Unlike most of the air force, Ramjet and Thrust were warframes rather than Seekers, and were quite bitter about being led by a mech much younger than them.

"Other than that, there's nothing to report."

Megatron hummed. "Satisfactory. Now, Soundwave—how's the rest of the armada?"

Soundwave looked up from the console.

"Halls—loud. Fights—numerous. Discipline—dealt. Energeon—scarce. Reduced rations—causing restlessness," Soundwave said. "Full report—will be sent."

Megatron nodded. "I look forward to receiving it. That is all."

He moved to end the call. Soundwave tensed.

"Soundwave—wishes to ask a question," he said.

Megatron withdrew his finger from the button.

"What is it?" He said.

"Query: Why did Megatron go with Starscream?" Soundwave tilted his head. "Why send Starscream? Why not send other mecha?"

Megatron glanced at Thundercracker.

"I have my reasons," he said. "You'd do best not to question me."

"Soundwave—does not understand."

"Starscream has studied alien flora and fauna," Megatron said. "He is skilled in navigating difficult terrain. He and Skywarp make a formidable team, and are perfectly suited for this mission. But they need guidance. You and Thundercracker do not."

Starscream's wings fluttered, warmth rising in his spark. Megatron called him skilled! He called him perfect!

Soundwave sank in his seat. "Soundwave—understands."

Megatron ended the call.

Starscream hopped in place, unable to contain the tingling joy that coursed through him. Megatron turned toward him with a scowl.

"What is it now?" Megatron said.

"Did you mean it?" Starscream asked.

"Mean what?"

Starscream hopped again. "That I'm skilled? That I'm perfect for the mission?"

Megatron sighed. He leaned down and patted the top of Starscream's helm roughly. Starscream squeaked at the unexpected contact. A small smile formed on Megatron's face.

"Yes, you're a skilled little Seeker and perfectly suited for this mission," he said. His smile dropped as he turned away. "Now, stop begging for compliments."

Starscream's enthusiasm fizzled. What was that supposed to mean?

Whatever. Megatron called him skilled. That was enough.

{Playback suspended.}

☆☆☆

{Closing file…}

Starscream opened his optics slowly. Purple optics stared into his, a furrowed brow framing them. With unexpected gentleness, Galvatron disconnected Starscream's cable. Starscream retracted it and closed his panel with a snap.

Smoke rose from between his plating. His fans ran at maximum intensity, the noise filling the room. Errors filled his logs. All he wanted to do was lay down.

"He's trustworthy," Galvatron said. He turned toward Slipstream. "Take him to a free room. I have other business to attend to."

Galvatron walked down the halls. Starscream finally listened to his body and slumped to the ground. Just as he laid himself flat, the bars slid away with a cacophony of clangs.

Claws poked his side. He hissed.

"I'm not carrying you," Slipstream said. "Get up."

Starscream curled up. Slipstream growled and put her arms underneath him, hoisting him into the air. He went limp in her hold, too numb and tired to do anything else.

Slipstream groaned. "Of course."

Despite her words, she carried him to the nearest room. She dropped him roughly onto the berth. He was too tired to cry out as his wings landed at the wrong angle.

She kicked the edge of the berth. Starscream hissed as the vibration coursed through his plating.

"You heap of slag!" She spat. "I don't know what he saw in you, but he saw something. You'd better survive the night, or he'll blame it on me."

Starscream searched for her comm channel. There was no way his vocalizer would work right now. The inputs swam in his processor, but he managed to find it.

[Medbay?]

"No medics," she said. "No supplies, either. Cool yourself or die."

Starscream didn't care. He closed his optics. Maybe after recharge, he'd feel better.

The door slid shut as Slipstream left.

When Jetfire woke from recharge to Starscream hacking the door's keypad, he thought nothing of it. He shouldn't have. Maybe then, Starscream would still be here.

Instead, he stood silently as the base was searched. Walls were dismantled. A misshapen panel on the outside of the Ark was found. He was gone. Perimeter searches returned nothing.

"Did he tell you anything before he left?"

Jetfire stared down at the table, ignoring Prowl's request. His spark was hollow, completely enveloped by the pit. Starscream was gone. Why did he leave? Why didn't he take Jetfire with him?

"Jetfire," Prowl snapped. "Did he tell you anything?"

Jetfire shook his helm.

Starscream didn't say anything. Why didn't he say anything? He just left. Now he couldn't come back—not after what he did. They called him a traitor. But if he was a traitor, that meant he betrayed Jetfire, too, didn't it?

His creator didn't mean it. He wouldn't hurt him like that. It had to be something else.

"Are you sure?" Prowl asked. "You don't remember any suspicious remarks? Anything that could've led to this?"

Starscream was angry at Skyfire—so angry that he'd gotten stuck. Jetfire didn't know exactly why, but it had something to do with him and the Enigma. Was it his fault? Did he do something?

It washed over him like a bucket of ice. This was his fault. He made Starscream leave. He loaded the Enigma into his sublingual drive, and somehow that resulted in Starscream doing what he did.

Prowl was staring at him. He should say something. But he knew it in his spark—his vocalizer wasn't going to work. So he just shook his head.

"So you don't know anything?" Prowl asked.

If Jetfire didn't actually say no, was it still a lie? He couldn't speak, anyway. Just the idea of pulling his comms up made him want to bite, but…

He fiddled with the bracelet. Again, he was reminded of what he'd done. He didn't even know what it was—he just knew it was all his fault. But even if this was all his fault, Starscream still loved him, right?

His creator wouldn't want him to hurt himself. So, Jetfire bit down on the charm and composed a message.

[He was angry with Skyfire over me.]

Prowl's expression didn't change. His doorwings twitched so slightly that it was nearly undetectable. It was the only indication that the received Jetfire's message.

"Skyfire requested urgent changes to project Safeguard," Prowl said. "You're aware they involved you, correct?"

Jetfire attempted to sink his dentae into the bracelet's charm. It didn't give. He shook his head.

Prowl's brow furrowed. His doorwings twitched.

"Your Starscream, our Starscream, and Skyfire were working on Project Safeguard," Prowl said. "An attempt to make a functioning combiner gestalt. Skyfire requested you be added to the team. Did you consent to this?"

Skyfire and Starscream hadn't explained their argument. Was this what it was about? Skyfire wanted him to be a part of this project, and Starscream didn't. Jetfire should say no on that alone. But curiosity crept into his processor.

Combiners were rare. He learned a bit about them in his classes, since when treating them, medics needed to keep their status in mind. It was important not to use treatments that could impair combination.

To know Skyfire wanted to make him one of them…

[I didn't know,] Jetfire sent. [Can I think about it?]

Prowl sighed. "Very well. You may go now."

He motioned toward the door. Jetfire stood up slowly and made his way out of the room. Immediately, he was in Skywarp's arms.

"He didn't hurt you, right?" She asked, feeling along his plating.

Jetfire shook his helm.

Skywarp squeezed him. "Oh, thank Primus. How'd it go?"

[He just… asked me questions.]

Skywarp was quiet for a moment. Then, she flicked her wings and resumed checking his plating. Jetfire tried not to squirm under the attention.

"Good," Skywarp said. "Maybe they have some integrity after all…"

Jetfire didn't know what that was supposed to mean. Why did she think they would hurt him? What would the point of that be?

"I—" His vocalizer crashed and rebooted. "I want to talk to Skyfire."

Skywarp's gaze sharpened. Her grip grew tight.

"Him?" She growled.

Jetfire nodded.

"What do you even have to talk with him about?" She said.

"Prowl said some things," Jetfire murmured. "I want to know if they're true."

Skywarp looked away, her lips curling. Her wings twitched. She shook her head. Her claws dug into Jetfire's plating, clutching him as if he would disappear at any moment.

Jetfire thought of Prowl's words. Starscream, Star, and Skyfire were working on a project. Skyfire wanted to use him for it because he loaded the Enigma into his sublingual drive

"Did Starscream leave because of me?" Jetfire asked.

Skywarp's grip slackened as her optics went wide. Her wings shot upward. She took a step back.

"No!" She exclaimed, her voice gratingly loud. When Jetfire flinched, her next words were softer. "None of this is your fault. It was Starscream's choice to do this. And that idiot'll be back before we know it. He's done things like this before."

Her voice grew tense toward the end. Her wings trembled, almost like she didn't believe herself. They drooped as she spoke again.

"He'll come back," she said. "He has to. How else will we get home?"

"You're right. He'll come back."

Jetfire didn't know if he believed it. But if he didn't know, then it wasn't a lie. It was just what Skywarp needed to hear. He pulled her into a hug, taking care not to put too much pressure on her as he squeezed. She melted into it.

They stayed like that for a few moments. No one came down the hall. It was just them and nothing else. Then, Skywarp withdrew.

"Let's go back to the room," she said.

She took a few steps. Jetfire followed. He nearly walked into her as she froze, a gasp escaping her vocalizer as she clutched her chest.

"Skywarp?" He said quietly.

"I—I'm okay," she said, the words strained. "I'm okay. Just… give me a moment."

He rested a hand on her shoulder as she stood, hand nearly shaking from the intensify of her grip. Then, as quickly as it came, the moment passed. Skywarp released her chest and carried on as if nothing happened. But her wings remained low, and her steps were slower than usual.

Whatever was going on, it didn't need 'just a moment' to go away.

◇◇◇

Jetfire wanted to keep watch on Skywarp, but she insisted that nothing was wrong. It seemed like she found every possible excuse to get away from him, even though he knew that couldn't be true. But with Starscream gone, she was the only mech he could rely on.

He sat at the desk, reading yet another datapad. The last several ones he tried were all romances. He didn't have anything against them, but he really wasn't interested in 'fuzzy feelings in the spark' or whatever else passed for descriptions of romantic love. It was just… weird.

And so many of the stories had little else in them beyond romance! If they had an actual plot, he could tolerate the endless descriptions of the love interest's every panel and decal. He'd stay for grand battles, or political feuds, but most of them were just two mecha meeting in a fuel shop. Who was choosing these?

Whatever. At least this one—

The door slid open.

"He set us back months!"

Jetfire carefully placed the datapad back on the shelf. Star and Skyfire burst through the door. With a dramatic flourish, Star crossed the room and flopped backward onto the spare berth.

"I just can't believe it!" She finished.

As Jetfire moved back toward the desk, the projection on his elbow caught one of the datapads. It slid out, taking several others with it as it crashed to the ground. The other two mecha slowly turned toward him.

Jetfire stared. Skyfire stared back.

"It doesn't have to be months," Skyfire said. "It could just be weeks, if we change focus."

His words were obviously intended for Star, but he wasn't looking at her at all. Jetfire fiddled with his bracelet.

Star rolled onto her cockpit. "Prowl said he wouldn't approve the request unless—"

Skyfire motioned with his hand. Star fell silent. After a moment, Skyfire stepped closer. Jetfire jumped as he backed into the desk's chair, his plating tensing. Crouching down, Skyfire offered Jetfire a smile.

"Prowl must have told you by now," Skyfire said softly. "We need your help with Project Safeguard. You're the only mech who can do it."

Jetfire's vocalizer refused to work. Forcing the words out made it crash again.

"Wh—what do you need me to do?" He managed to get out after a reboot.

He knew. He just wanted to confirm it.

"When you loaded the Enigma into your sublingual drive, you started the gestalt creation process," Skyfire said. "From every record we could find, it's irreversible. The moment the Enigma is loaded into another mech, you will be reformatted."

Then he didn't have a choice, did he?

"I'll be part of a combiner," Jetfire said.

Skyfire nodded. "You will. With the strength of you and your partner's combined form, we'll be one step closer to sending you home."

If he agreed, Jetfire would granted an immense amount of power—both in strength and in value. Skyfire and Star obviously lacked the resources to make any other combiners, or new frames at all. He and his partner would be the only combiner team, which would make them indispensable.

But he would have to fight. Jetfire knew his strength. The moment he onlined, his creator's plating crumpled beneath a light touch. He spent every moment fighting his own strength, desperate not to hurt anyone. Would it be a relief to finally use it for something?

There was one way to find out.

"I'll do it," he said.

It was the only way forward. Skyfire said it himself—once the Enigma was loaded into another mech, he would become part of it. It was irreversible.

◇◇◇

The frame stared into his optics with its lifeless visor. Skyfire and Star claimed that it was a mishmash of parts from the ones that were destroyed, but it was uniform. It was smaller than him, only reaching the base of his chin, and much slimmer. Supposedly, the destroyed frames were larger, but the damage Starscream dealt left much less to work with than before.

The door slid open. Star slipped behind Skyfire, holding a fuel receptacle in her hands. She placed it on the floor and connected it to the intralineal that was already in the room. Then, she opened the frame's medical port and connected the intake to the intralineal. Skyfire watched her before turning back to Jetfire.

"Are you ready?" Skyfire asked. "All you need to do is take the Enigma out of your sublingual drive. Star will handle the rest."

Jetfire nodded. He sent the command to release the chip from his drive. It popped out immediately. He dug his fingers into his mouth to retrieve it.

{Frame syncing protocol activated! Searching for matching signals…}

He handed the chip to Star. She connected her cable to the frame. Without a spark, every command the frame ran was manually requested. Star opened the frame's sublingual drive and placed the chip in.

{Matching signal found! Establishing wireless link…}

Star's optics narrowed in concentration. Curiosity nipped at Jetfire.

"Why are we doing this now?" He asked. "Why not wait until the frame has a spark? Wouldn't it be easier?"

How were they going to give the frame a spark, anyway? Starscream told him how he was created. They needed a donor, and neither Star nor Skyfire said anything about it.

"The reformatting process is rigorous," Skyfire said. "It's easier when there isn't already a spark."

What was going to happen to him? Tension crept through his plating. Maybe he should've asked more questions.

{Wireless connection established!}

"You'll be fine." Star's voice was flat as she stared down at the frame, still locked in deep concentration. "This is just for convenience."

The room fell silent. Eventually, Star removed the Enigma from the frame and disconnected her cable. The intralineal was left in. She offered the Enigma to Jetfire.

"For safekeeping," she said as he took it. "You earned it."

Jetfire hesitated. What was he supposed to do with it? He settled for loading it back into his sublingual drive. This time, it didn't download any programs. It just sat there, completely inert.

{Compatibility reformatting in progress…}

Jetfire fiddled with his bracelet.

"Who's donating the spark?" He asked quietly.

Star and Skyfire exchanged glances. Skyfire huffed. Star flicked her wings.

"It's only fair," she said.

Skyfire unlocked the door with a sigh. They left the lab and made their way through the halls, eventually leaving familiar territory. The further they walked, the darker the halls became. They sputtered to a stop in front of a set of double doors.

Skyfire unlocked the doors. They swung open automatically with a screech, exposing a dim and dirty floor. The light ahead was broken, shining at half brightness through cracked glass. Star and Skyfire stepped forward, and Jetfire cautiously kept pace.

Rooms were carved into the walls. Each had a keypad beside them. The floor inside hadn't been cleaned in a long time. Dirt coated some of the rooms, while others were splashed with old energeon.

One of the rooms had a translucent orange wall at the front of it, and Jetfire realized what this truly was: A prison.

Red optics stared from the back of the cell. Then, suddenly, a mech was at the front of it. The mech screamed as his plating made contact with the energy field. He fell backward, landing with a loud crash.

Sharp, angled wings stuck out from his back. A large crest accented his head. The symbol on his cockpit was an Autobot brand. What was he doing here if he was one of them?

"Are you here to let me out?" The mech asked.

There was deep desperation in his voice. It crackled and screeched as if it were damaged from overuse. His plating was scratched and dented, the colors dull from chronic underfueling.

"Not yet, Pharma," Star said. "Soon."

"Why can't it be today?" Pharma asked.

Star's optics narrowed. "We're not ready yet. Soon."

Pharma clawed at the ground. His fingers were worn and energeon-stained—this was a habit.

"Please!" He said. "I'll behave! I just want to say hello to Ratchet."

Star put a hand to her face. Beside her, Skyfire flicked his wings. His brow furrowed.

"Ratchet is dead," Skyfire said. "You know that."

Pharma's optics widened. He slammed his fist against the floor.

"No, no, no!"

Each yell was punctuated by a slam of his fist.

"I saved him!" Pharma screeched. "Don't lie to me! I saved him! It isn't funny!"

"We aren't lying," Star said.

Pharma swung at the electrical field. It buzzed as it zapped him. He screeched, falling sideways. He thrashed on the floor for a moment, limbs trembling, before he dragged himself back toward the front of the cell.

"Just let me out!" He cried. "I'll show you that I'm not lying! You'll see!"

Something in Jetfire's spark twisted the wrong way. His plating crawled as bitterness coated his mouth. What were they doing here?

"Soon," Star said.

Why did she keep repeating that? Why couldn't they just let him out now?

"Why are you here if you aren't going to let me out?" Pharma cried.

Star twitched her wing. "Just checking in."

She turned away. Skyfire followed her toward the exit. But Jetfire hesitated and that moment of hesitation was his downfall. Pharma's optics landed on him and his struggle renewed in fervor.

"You!" He yelled. "Let me out! Please!"

"I—I can't!" Jetfire squeaked.

"Please! You have to—"

Jetfire was seized by the arm. His pedes dragged as Skyfire pulled him away. Pharma jumped at the electrical field again.

"No!" He howled. "Please!"

He screeched as he was electrocuted yet again. The doors shut, blocking out the noise. Jetfire pulled himself out of Skyfire's grip.

"Why are you keeping him there?" He whispered.

"He's dangerous," Skyfire said. "That's the only place he can't hurt anyone."

Jetfire clutched at his chest as his spark churned. His fuel tank hurt like when he ate something he wasn't supposed to, but he hadn't.

"He's hurting himself," Jetfire said.

Star huffed. "He always does. First Aid will take care of it when he gives him his checkup."

"W-why not just keep him in a room? Why do you have to keep him all alone in a cell?"

"He'd just escape," Star said, not even looking at him.

Jetfire clenched his fists until the metal creaked. "Did you even try?"

The silence was the only answer he needed.

What kind of place was this? Were the Autobots always this cruel? Was that why the Decepticons fought them? How could they do any of this and think it was okay?

First, they pinned Starscream down when he was stuck. He needed privacy and understanding, not to be manhandled! Then, they locked a sick mech up all alone and let him hurt himself! If Jetfire got stuck, what would happen to him?

Skyfire's sigh pulled him out of his thoughts. The mech laid hand on his shoulder.

"Look, Jetfire—" Skyfire closed and opened his optics, silent for a moment, as if the words pained him to speak. "Some mecha are created with processors that don't work right. It makes them unstable. They hurt other mecha. They hurt themselves. They scream. They cause disruptions. There are only two ways to fix it: make them behave, or lock them away so they can't hurt anyone again."

Jetfire decided it would be unwise to tell Skyfire his processor didn't work right, whatever 'working right' meant. He hurt others, but not on purpose. He caused disruptions, but he didn't want to. Still, he didn't want to be locked away. Not like Pharma.

Jetfire searched for Star. If she was a version of Starscream, did she have the same glitch he had? If she did, then did she realize this also applied to her?

She frowned at him. Closing her optics, she looked away.

"It's the truth, Jetfire," she said.

It wasn't.

◇◇◇

They just finished spark resuscitation training, and Jetfire had sore, trembling hands to show for it. Placing the wires correctly and holding them in place took just the right mixture of strength and carefulness to cause strain. Even First Aid admitted it was a tiring procedure, but ultimately a necessary one to learn. The need rarely arose, and success was even rarer, but if it saved even one life, it was important.

Jetfire put the wires back in the cabinet. He turned to ask First Aid where the spark simulator went, only to jump backward with a yelp as First Aid stood directly behind him. In his hands was a large energeon cube. As he held it out to Jetfire, the viscosity made one thing clear: this was medical grade energeon.

Medical grade energeon was a general term. It referred to all heavily supplemented energeon intended for medical use. The high amount of additives resulted in a thicker liquid. Jetfire glanced at the label on the cube. This particular kind was for fueling after severe injuries or a highly invasive surgical procedure—it encouraged rapid growth of nanites and was processed quickly.

"Why do you have that?" Jetfire asked.

First Aid pushed it toward him. "Take it. You'll need it."

Jetfire stared at him. Why would he need it? All he'd done was training!

"I know about your role in Project Safeguard," First Aid said. "Skyfire sent me the files last night. You're going to need this."

Jetfire took the cube carefully.

"Okay," he said. "Thanks."

He didn't drink it until he said his goodbye and entered the hallway. After a quick glance down the halls to ensure no one was there, he opened the cube and downed it as quickly as he could. Both of his tanks were on the lower end, so the fuel was needed. He just wasn't sure he needed medical grade energeon specifically.

Unlike mecha with a single tank, he could go long periods without refueling—especially if he shut many of his systems off, like he would if he were drifting through space. It was easy to change the configuration of his secondary fuel tank from everyday use to storage. He never told anyone about it, but that was what he did when the Decepticons and Autobots were heading back to Cybertron. Energeon supplies were so low that barely anyone had more than the bare minimum.

So, to be here, where energeon was handed out so freely, and to hold a cube of med grade in his hands…

The CRI had modified them to eat metal and other materials because they ran out of energeon. He could eat other things. The mecha of this world couldn't. Was it wrong to drink that cube when he knew it wasn't necessary, and another mech might need it?

But First Aid insisted, so he did. Why was he so insistent, anyway?

Jetfire flinched as something in his chest pinched, distracting him from his thoughts. He rubbed along the seams of his plating to find the cause, but as quickly as it came, it went. Whatever it was, it didn't matter.

The hall was still empty. Jetfire tapped on the sides of the now-empty cube. Something in the back of his processor told him to bite it. He started fiddling with the bracelet to find the charm. The pit wasn't here, so why did he want to eat it?

He found the nearest receptacle and recycled it before it could tempt him further.

The rest of the day followed a similar pattern—doing his usual tasks, feeling something pinch somewhere that went away the moment he tried to investigate, and fighting temptation to eat things he shouldn't. After his processor screamed at him to eat the datapad in his hands, he just gave up and laid on the floor.

It was close enough to night, anyway. No one would care if he went to recharge early. A decent defrag might clear out whatever this was. So, he closed his optics…

And jolted awake. The room was dark. Skywarp was curled next to him, her arms across his cockpit. Jetfire squirmed away, the contact burning. If his plating hadn't finally become fire-resistant just before this whole incident started, he would've assumed he was on fire. As a wave of pain crawled through his plating, he forced back a scream, not wanting to wake anyone.

He dug his claws—claws? He didn't have claws—into the floor. They sank in easily, creating divots that held him in place as he trembled. His body laid at an odd angle, as if he couldn't sit flush to the floor anymore.

What was happening? Was this what First Aid was trying to warn him about?

Another wave of tremoring agony washed across him. Energeon flooded his mouth as his dentae met his tongue. As the wave receded, he ran his bleeding tongue along his dentae. Small, sharp projections stuck out of them. Those hadn't been there before. They must've been what punctured his tongue.

He wished Starscream was here. He'd know what was going on. He'd hold him and tell him it was okay and—

He dug his claws in again as more pain shocked his systems. Too distracted to swallow, energeon dripped from his mouth to the floor, splattering his arms. When it finished, he was a mess of energeon and oral lubricant. His fans clicked on, body hot from the exertion the tremors caused.

He waited a moment, then another. No tremors came, but he had no idea if they'd stopped. Still, he had to act while he could. He crawled back toward Skywarp. Careful of his new claws, he tapped her gently on the shoulder, and shook her when that didn't work.

She grumbled as her optics opened.

"Whaz goin' on?" She muttered.

"Help," Jetfire whispered. "I have no idea what's happening but it really hurts."

Skywarp's optics widened. She sprung into action, feeling along his plating. It burned like before, and Jetfire let out a whine as he tried not to back away.

Then, the tremors came back. He tried to push her away, but his claws snagged on her seams. She yelped as she was slammed to the floor. Jetfire tried to back away, but only succeeded in dragging her with him.

"It's fine, it's fine—" Skywarp whispered desperately. "You'll be fine—"

Eventually, the wave stopped. Skywarp disentangled herself from Jetfire.

"I'm gonna get Aid," she said.

With a whoosh of air, she disappeared.

There was shuffling behind him. He dug his claws into the floor in case another wave came. Pedesteps approached, stopping right next to his audials.

"Could wake an entire barrack with that," a voice—Star's voice—said from the other side of the room.

"Don't be rude," came the voice right beside him.

Thundercracker. Jetfire shuffled away from her, but he didn't get far before his trembling arms gave out.

"We should've predicted this." Skyfire. "He's a warframe. They're not very flexible."

"Well, what were we going to do?" Star said. "Not like we had the resources for a manual reformat."

More shuffling. The whoosh of quickly and irritably fluttered wings.

"If you thought this might happen, you should've warned him!" Thundercracker said.

Star's optics were bright enough that Jetfire could see as she rolled them. "Would he have agreed if he knew?"

Jetfire honestly wasn't sure. But, if he knew they would withhold this sort of information from him, he wouldn't have agreed. It didn't matter whether he would experience this—it mattered that they intentionally didn't tell him.

A whoosh of displaced air silenced the group as Skywarp reappeared with First Aid in tow. Her hands clutched her chestplates, and she stood stiff for a moment. Then, with a few bleary blinks, she motioned toward Jetfire.

First Aid knelt in front of him. He held out his hand, palm up.

"Let's see what's going on," he said.

Jetfire opened his medical panel—

The wave washed over him again. Panic building in his spark, he pushed himself backward, only to smack his wings against Thundercracker.

"Get away!" He yelled. "You need to get away right now!"

First Aid stepped back immediately. Thundercracker hesitated, but quickly backed off as the tremors began. Jetfire dug his claws into the floor again—the only thing keeping him anchored. He rode the wave, flopping into a heap when it receded.

"Does it feel like it's going to happen again?" First Aid asked.

Jetfire shook his helm.

"Can I try to get some readings now?"

Jetfire nodded and offered his arm. First Aid connected himself to Jetfire. After a moment, he hummed.

"Your processor is experiencing surges—particularly in the locomotive node," First Aid said. "They're making your neurocircuits misfire. I have a temporary program that should help."

Jetfire tried to speak, but his vocalizer refused to cooperate quickly enough. So, he settled for nodding. He received a notification as First Aid uploaded the program.

"I'm going to place a pain patch now, if that's alright with you."

Jetfire hummed an affirmative. The patch took the edge off, but the pain was still there.

"That program should stop the tremors," First Aid said as he disconnected. "Or at least reduce their intensity. If it doesn't work, someone needs to come get me."

"I will," Skywarp said.

First Aid dipped his helm. "Good. Now, I have a feeling I know what caused this."

"Wh—" was all Jetfire managed to get out.

First Aid understood despite the lack of actual words.

"Reformatting mecha into combiners doesn't just change the frame. It alters the processor, too. The reformatting program must've hit a snag it couldn't cope with. It should self-correct eventually," he said. "But I want to give you an exam tomorrow to make sure it actually does."

Jetfire nodded. That was fine with him. Anything to keep this from happening again.

"Okay," he said, standing up. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

A hard-won word finally exited Jetfire's vocalizer.

"Tomorrow."

First Aid smiled at him as he passed through the doorway. A brief silence fell over the group. Then, Star flopped backward over in her berth. Skyfire laid back down in his, and motioned for Thundercracker to join him. She obliged, wrapping herself around him as she settled back in.

Skywarp laid down beside Jetfire.

[You doing alright?] She sent to him.

[As alright as I can for now,] he replied.

She laid an arm across his cockpit, hesitating for a moment as her arm slid off of its surface. She repositioned it and closed her optics. Jetfire followed her example.

He could learn more about whatever this was tomorrow.

Unfamiliar walls faded into view. Starscream was on a berth—an uncomfortable, flimsy berth. With a tired groan, he rolled over and pushed himself into a sitting position. A smattering of errors pestered him, but none were too important, so he ignored them all.

He checked his fuel levels. They came back low, so he flopped out of berth. He leaned against the wall as he walked, aching limbs beneath him. Frag, he missed his rollator. If he knew he was going to land himself in another universe, he would've taken it with him.

He snickered to himself. That wasn't something anyone expected. Not even Skyfire.

Dirt crunched beneath Starscream's pedes and he grimaced. This place was filthy. Stray flecks of energeon stained the walls, and the floor was covered in mud. By the looks of it, no one had even bothered to maintain it. Yet another difference between worlds. Maybe without Starscream, the Decepticons didn't care about living in squalor.

The few mecha he passed in the hallway didn't greet him, not that he expected them to. Some stared, but none spoke. He entered the mess hall. What was a jovial and rough around the edges place was now a silent, awkward hole.

No conversation filled the room. The handful of mecha that populated it drank their energeon quickly, too busy gulping to speak. They watched the room as they drank, as if they expected someone to drop from the ceiling and take it.

Starscream crossed the room, heading for the energeon dispenser. The room remained silent, optics tracking him the whole way. He ignored the stares. A cybernetic lock guarded the dispenser. Starscream nearly chuckled. Those were such easy things to bypass, alternate universe selves or not.

He rolled his optics and tried it anyway. No point in bothering unless he was being rejected. It would be a waste of effort. The dispenser chimed and gave him a cube.

Huh. He was already in the system, then. Galvatron worked quickly.

Starscream took his cube and searched the room. Plenty of the tables were empty or close to it. He settled for the one farthest from the others. Just as he popped open the lid, someone approached. He trained his sensors on them, but didn't look in their direction. What business would anyone have with him here?

"Give me the cube," the mech said.

Starscream recognized the rough, deep voice. It was one he hadn't heard in a long time—not since before the war left Cybertron. It was some quick thinking mid-battle that saved Starscream an eon of power struggles, and now, in another world, that idiot was alive.

He turned to face Ramjet. The warframe stared back, stupid cone on the top of his helm and all. His wings were wide, but not fully extended—he wasn't intending to fight yet. That could change at any moment.

"No," Starscream said, lifting the cube to his lips to take a sip.

Ramjet slammed his fist on the table, wings fanning out. "Now!"

Starscream glared at him. The idiot was as obnoxious in this world as in his, it seemed. Before he killed him, Ramjet insisted Starscream was unfit for basically any duty. He accused him of weakness, and attempted to take his rations whenever he could. Starscream learned to drink his rations in his room or with his wingmates, unable to take the fragger by himself.

He was barely half Ramjet's size back then. Now, as he rose to show off his own wings, he was at Ramjet's shoulder. The idiot was barely shorter than Megatron, which was owed to his status as a flight warframe.

"Why should I?" Starscream said.

Ramjet bared his dentae. "I'll kick your aft if you don't."

Such a boring threat wouldn't have cowed even his younger self. Starscream placed the cube behind him on the table. He leaned forward and bared his dentae.

"You?" He said. "You couldn't even beat a glitchmouse in a fight."

Ramjet growled. "I'll show you a fight!"

He lunged at Starscream. How predictable. Starscream sidestepped, compensating for his weak leg by swinging it. With a loud crash, Ramjet hit the table cockpit-first.

Starscream began charging his rays, setting them on medium—he didn't want to kill the fragger quite yet—when Ramjet whirled around and grabbed him by the top of his ray. He yanked Starscream forward, moving his hold to the top of his arms before swinging him.

Starscream activated his thrusters just before he would've hit the table. He grinned. With his pedes off the ground, the real fight could begin.

He launched himself at Ramjet with a graceful leap, aiming a kick toward his cockpit. Ramjet grunted and folded backward as Starscream made contact with his target. Glass shattered beneath his pede.

Starscream aimed his rays at Ramjet, ready to ask him to surrender, when Ramjet shot upward and grabbed his face, forcing his dorsal strut to bend at an awkward angle. Starscream hissed in a mixture of surprise and pain as he attempted to pull his leg out of Ramjet's cockpit.

He could fire his rays, but with Ramjet's hands on either side of his optics, it would be a blind shot. It was better than nothing. He decreased the power of his rays and fired both of them at once. He and Ramjet were flung across the room in different directions.

{Alert! Fuel levels low!}

Of all the times…

Starscream attempted to push himself up, using the seat of the table he crashed into as leverage. His wings burned, plating creeping as energeon dripped down them. He stilled as his cooling fans kicked on.

Ramjet rose, energeon weeping sluggishly from a handful of cuts. He had few marks to show.

"Ready to surrender?" Ramjet sneered.

Starscream's spark pulsed. His chestplates tightened.

"No!" He hissed.

Despite the shakiness of his voice and the quivering of his wings, he wasn't afraid. His frame just didn't get the fragging memo. He forced himself to stand.

He would not lose his rations to a mindless brute!

Ramjet stepped into range. Starscream swiped upward, catching one of his optics. Ramjet stumbled backward with a cry.

Starscream's limbs shook as he watched Ramjet clutch at his optic. He flexed his claws. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't.

When he killed his world's Ramjet, it hadn't been a fair fight. They were in the middle of the battlefield. Ramjet flew down to engage an Autobot. Starscream followed him.

So distracted by the Autobot, Ramjet didn't notice the shot that struck him cleanly through the helm. It hit the autobot, too—two for one. Starscream left them there, spark humming anxiously for the rest of the battle. Laserbeak flew overhead, and he knew he was done for.

But Megatron didn't call for him. Ramjet was counted among the soldiers lost, and no punishment came. Starscream never told anyone. He was a traitor all along, no matter how much he lied to himself.

It was for the cause. He convinced himself of that for a long time. Ramjet was disruptive and insubordinate. But it wasn't for the cause, and never had been. He'd done it for himself.

The ultimate act of hypocrisy.

"What's happening here?"

Ramjet immediately straightened at the voice, wings snapping upward. Starscream sank to the ground as he disengaged his thrusters. At the doorway was Slipstream, hands on her hips and wings held high as she surveyed the room.

"Winglord Slipstream!" Ramjet exclaimed.

Starscream kept himself from laughing. Winglord? Like that stupid nickname the Seekers gave him at the start of the war? That Winglord?

"Explain what happened here," Slipstream said.

Ramjet's wings fluttered anxiously. "Just showing the new recruit how things work here, Winglord!"

"You'll do no such thing," Slipstream said, glaring at Ramjet as she pushed past Starscream. "This one is under Galvatron's protection."

Ramjet's wings lowered. "I—I didn't know—"

Slipstream raised her hand and raked her claws across his face. He clenched his dentae, averting his gaze.

"Now you do," she said. "Go fix those tables. No rations for you tomorrow."

Ramjet saluted her. "Yes, Winglord!"

Ramjet practically leaped toward the nearest overturned table. His wings were still low as he righted it. The remaining mecha in the room watched him silently.

Slipstream turned toward Starscream with a sigh. "Now, you. Come with me."

Starscream resented being ordered around like a common soldier, but he had no other options. So, he followed her into the hall. Her plating was tense, her dentae bared. The moment they were out of audial range, she whipped toward him.

"You worthless piece of slag!" She spat. "Galvatron wants you alive, so I'll keep you alive, but just know that I'd rather leave you to die! Get into another altercation like this, and I'll scrap you—Galvatron's current fixation or not! He won't mind if his property is damaged as long as its spark still turns."

Seriously?

"Do you understand me?" Slipstream hissed.

Starscream fought not to roll his optics. He had to play nice here, if he wanted his plan to have any chance of working.

"I do," he said.

Slipstream fluttered her wings.

"Good," she said. "Galvatron asked to see you. Primus knows why, but that's where we're going."

The command room opened to a familiar sight—a tyrant lounging on a throne. Galvatron stared down at them, a hand on his cheek as he leaned his head. He sat up as they approached.

"Satisfactory work, Slipstream," Galvatron said. He motioned toward the desk at the side of the room. "You may take your place now."

Slipstream obeyed, fluttering her wings. She sat, glancing at Starscream before redirecting the entirety of her attention to Galvatron. Starscream did the opposite, allowing his optics to wander. On the other side of the room, a second desk sat. Buzzsaw stood on the top of the chair, helm turning toward Starscream. Laserbeak pecked at the datapads that sat on it.

A closer examination revealed a thick coating of dust. Cobwebs sat between the datapads in the stack. The desk was disused for some time. Starscream understood the obvious implication: Soundwave was dead, and had been for a while. If this universe was anything like his, that meant the Decepticons currently had no communications officer nor third in command.

Galvatron tapped loudly at his armrest, drawing Starscream's attention back to him.

"Now that you've recovered from proving your trustworthiness—" Starscream wouldn't quite call himself recovered. "I wish to speak with you about your place in the Decepticons."

Time to put on the show again. Starscream twitched his wings.

"I'm an accomplished scientist—"

"The Decepticons have little need for scientists," Galvatron said.

Starscream's optics wandered toward the empty desk again. He couldn't allow Galvatron to rank him as a common soldier. That would exponentially increase the difficulty of his plan, and plant a massive target on his back—from both Autobots and Decepticons. He would be killed on his first mission.

"Are you in need of a communications officer?" Starscream asked. "I trained under the Soundwave of my world. It's been a long time, but I do know how to work the console."

Galvatron hummed. "Yes. I did see you were very close with Soundwave in your memories. Take his old desk and console."

Starscream dipped his helm and stepped away. "Thank you, sir—"

"I didn't tell you to sit."

Starscream froze in place. His plating crawled. A memory file begged to play in the back of his mind. He declined it.

"W-what else do you need from me, sir?" Starscream asked.

Galvatron leaned forward in his seat. "We need to set a few ground rules."

Starscream's wings twitched. He flexed his claws. The game never ended, it seemed.

"What are those rules?" He asked.

"You will come when called. No hesitation."

Starscream swallowed his protests and nodded. What was another controlling fragger in his life at this point?

"You cannot refuse a meeting with me. If I request a private meeting, that meeting stays private. No interruptions, no uninvited guests."

Didn't that overlap with the first rule?

Galvatron's optics narrowed. Starscream flexed his claws again. His chestplates were tight, barely containing the spark that pulsed beneath them. But he wasn't afraid. He knew what this was going to become when he made his choice.

"Final rule: You will give me what I ask of you. If not, I will take it."

Silence crept between them. Starscream tapped his pede as energy built within him, seeking an outlet. He couldn't do this. He had to do this.

"I—I understand, sir," Starscream said, voice weak and shaky. He cursed his frame for betraying him.

"Good," Galvatron said. "You may go to your desk now."

Starscream obeyed. The quicker he could get Galvatron's attention away from him, the better. He waved Buzzsaw off the chair and sat at the desk. The bitzzard cassette let out a squawk before settling on his helm. Starscream would've scolded it, but his attention was forced elsewhere as Laserbeak picked his hand.

He flicked the retroraven in the beak.

"Stop it," he hissed.

Laserbeak chirped sharply. Starscream rolled his optics and pulled the first datapad off the stack, determined to see what Soundwave was working on before he died. Immediately, both cassettes were upon him in a flurry of angry squawks and pecking beaks. Starscream swatted them with the datapad, but they kept attacking.

"What's wrong with you?" He growled.

He whacked Laserbeak with the datapad. It flew off of the table with a loud clank. Then, it activated its boosters and hopped back onto the table, immediately resuming the pecking.

Starscream resolved to just ignore them.

☆☆☆

Ignoring them didn't work. They only got more persistent. Galvatron glanced his way a few times, but did nothing about them. This was up to Starscream, like it had been every other time members of his own faction wanted to make his life difficult.

Starscream entered the communications office. The console was as dusty as the desk. Without the monitors on, the room was dim. Were they operating without a security officer this entire time, too? How were they even functioning?

Two bright lines stared at him from a visor. Laserbeak stood in the middle of the console. There were no signs of Buzzsaw, but it would be there any moment. The two cybirds never moved alone.

"Stupid fragging birds," he muttered, plopping himself in the seat. He waved a hand at Laserbeak. "Shoo!"

Laserbeak pecked at his arm insistently. Another beak joined the pecking, and Starscream sighed in frustration as Buzzsaw landed on the edge of his wing. He flicked it. The bitzzard flapped its wings and landed in front of him, joining Laserbeak in pecking at his arm.

Whatever. He'd just ignore them like every other time. Starscream opened his panel and unspooled his cable. The console would only work with a manual connection. As he pulled his cable out, Laserbeak snatched it from him.

"Hey!" He said.

He swiped at it, but Laserbeak just leaped backward out of his reach. It tilted its head. Then, quietly opened its medical panel. It moved Starscream's cable toward its panel, but glanced at him before it could plug the cable in.

Did it want to show him something? Is that why it and Buzzsaw were being so obnoxious?

Ravage and Frenzy could speak, verbally and through comms. Ravage could only speak through comms—the cybercat's vocalizer could only make the same noises as the creature it mimicked. As far as he knew, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw couldn't speak at all.

Perhaps this was their way of communicating. Starscream nodded, and Laserbeak plugged the cable in.

{Connection detected! Authorize?}

Starscream allowed Laserbeak limited access. It could read, but not alter any of his files. On its end, it did the same.

A memory file played for just a moment. Soundwave sat at the console. Then, another file—Soundwave motionless on the ground, multiple of his limbs missing as energeon pooled beneath him.

"He really is dead," Starscream muttered.

Despite knowing, factually, that this was the case, it was different to see it. More flashes of memories interrupted his thoughts—various moments of Soundwave at the console and desk, as if to say, 'these were his.'

"I know," Starscream said. "But he's not here anymore."

Laserbeak fluttered its wings and chirped. It pecked his hand gently and played the set of memory files again. Starscream responded with his own.

He and Soundwave freeing the Decepticons after they were held by humans. A dark room, he and Soundwave laying on the floor with Ravage stretched across their chests. Standing before the New Decepticons, held hands raised in the air as they cheered. The night before he, Skywarp, and Jetfire were taken to another world—settling into berth with Soundwave, Rumble, Frenzy, and Ravage beside him.

Laserbeak let out a long, mournful caw. It settled beside his arm, curling its wings into its body. Staring up at him, it placed its head on his arm.

Starscream reached down, running his fingers up the crest on its head. Its visor dimmed as it leaned into the touch. Beside them, Buzzsaw let out a quiet call and tilted its head.

"What do you want?" Starscream muttered, tone less biting than intended.

Buzzsaw stepped onto his other arm, talons wrapping around it. Hand tensing, Starscream prepared to shake the bitzzard off, when it shoved its face into his. It nuzzled his cheeks with a deep rumble.

Laserbeak ejected Starscream's cable from its port. Automatically, Starscream's cable snapped back behind his panel. He sat still for a moment, stunned. Laserbeak gleefully let him fall into stasis right before he joined this world's Decepticons. Both cybird cassettes were harassing him up until this moment. Was showing them he knew Soundwave really all he needed to change their minds?

Starscream carefully removed his arm from beneath Laserbeak. It raised its head, staring into his optics.

"I need to work," he said.

Laserbeak rose to its pedes and fluttered its wings. Then, with a swift leap and short burst from its boosters, it landed on his shoulder. Buzzsaw did the same, climbing along his arm until it reached his pauldron. Starscream sighed and unspooled his cable.

He was terrible with nonverbal communication. He needed concise, clear words. It was one of the reasons that despite the tension in there relationship, Megatron was predictable. There was a certain comfort in knowing what to expect, even if the expected was insults and injuries (Though, that had changed recently. Starscream never thought he would miss it, but familiarity was a major glitch in the processor).

Buzzsaw's beak dug into one of the seams on his neck. Starscream hissed. The bitzzard backed off with a quiet chirp.

The console booted up. A moment passed as his processor connected with it, summoning long-disused programs. Once it loaded, he could tune into any audio or visual feed in the base. But for now, he was left with his thoughts.

He knew he was complete scrap at reading others. Too many attempts at manipulation failed for him not to notice. A processor that considered EM field data junk was only partially responsible. He was just generally plain awful at it. Maybe it was another part of his stupid glitch. Reading body language could only do so much to compensate when he didn't know what different gestures indicated half the time.

But that made communicating with his new allies difficult. If they couldn't speak, and he could barely read body language, how could they communicate? They couldn't plug in every time they had to talk! They needed some sort of system.

The spare datapads resting at the edge of the console caught Starscream's optics. No one would miss them. Perhaps he could do something with those.

He let the audio feeds play in the background, setting them to switch at a specific interval, as he reached for a datapad and got to work. The easiest solution would be to just set the datapad to read aloud any text typed. But if they didn't use comms, would that be any different?

Laserbeak showed him only visuals when they were connected. Did they have an easier time with those? If he could create a set of symbols…

Yes! That was perfect! With little else to do and no interesting chatter in the base, the work went quickly. Soon, he had a program ready for testing. Starscream placed the datapad on a flat area of the console.

"One of you try this," he said.

Buzzsaw hopped off of his shoulder. It stared down at the datapad. With a quick peck, it pressed one of the buttons.

"Greeting," the datapad said in a monotone voice.

Buzzsaw tilted its helm. It pecked the datapad again.

"You," the datapad said.

"Yes," Starscream said. "Hello."

Buzzsaw fluttered its wings. It stared at the datapad, head bobbing as it viewed the buttons.

[Come to my office.]

Starscream stiffened. A message from Galvatron. The first rule—come when called. The second—keep private meetings private. If he wanted all of this to work, he had to leave now.

He shooed Laserbeak off his shoulder and stood up, hastily telling the two cybirds where he was going before entering the hall. As Starscream gave them one final glance, Buzzsaw attempted to follow, but Laserbeak held it back. Starscream nodded and closed the door.

As was growing typical, few mecha looked his way as he traversed the halls. Galvatron's office was not the command room, but he'd seen fit to send the room number and hall along with his message, so Starscream wasn't concerned about finding it. When the Decepticons of his world occupied a similar base, Megatron stayed in the exact same room.

Frag, it was the same door too. Same vent on the ceiling in front of it. Starscream reached for the access pad—

The door opened before he could press it. Narrowed pink optics glared at him, then widened. Slipstream paused mid-stride, plating tense and wings set wide.

"You!" She hissed.

Starscream stepped aside to let her pass. Instead of walking down the hall, she turned back toward Galvatron with a sneer.

"Well!" She spat. "Have fun with your new plaything while I do the real work!"

"One more snide remark and I'll deactivate your vocalizer!" Galvatron shouted from the back of the room.

Slipstream's wings fluttered as she cringed. "I apologize, sir—"

"Just get out of my sight."

Slipstream sped quickly down the hall, her wings brushing against Starscream's shoulder. Bitterness coated Starscream's mouth as his spark twisted.

"Get in here."

You will come when called.

Starscream entered Galvatron's office. His spark pulsed, locked beneath too-tight plating. Before him, Galvatron lounged in a large chair, a cube of energeon in his hand. As Starscream approached, he leaned forward.

"How have your duties been going?" He asked.

Starscream flicked his wings as he straightened his posture. A report. He could do this.

"They're going well," he said. "I've managed to review all of the datapads and files Soundwave left behind, and am on track to pick up where he left off. I have already integrated with and updated the communications console."

Galvatron hummed. "Have those spybirds given you any trouble?"

Had he known and just ignored it the entire time? Well, frag him, then.

"We had some quarrels at first," Starscream said. "But we've reached an understanding."

Galvatron sipped from his cube. It was an odd color—a very familiar odd color. The memory files clicked into place. Starscream flexed his claws, a zing coursing through his plating.

"Sir, i—is that—?"

Galvatron held the cube up so it caught the light. It shone a deep, dark purple. He grinned.

"Yes," he said. "Dark energeon. I've sustained myself on it for quite some time."

Dark energeon was a poison. It strengthened the frame while weakening the spark—a deadly combination that led to the deaths of many soldiers. While convinced it was enhancing them, the substance slowly killed. Starscream hadn't taken it even at his lowest, fearing first its status as an untested substance, then its effects.

Did Galvatron know he was slowly killing himself by subsisting on it? He must have, with all of the memory files he went through in Starscream's processor. Should Starscream tell him anyway?

No. It didn't matter. Dark energeon wouldn't be what killed him in the end. That would take too long.

"But enough about that," Galvatron said. "I've called you here for some information."

Starscream flexed his claws again. "What kind of information?"

"The Autobot base. Where is it?"

The moment he made his choice, Starscream purged the coordinates from his processor. He hadn't navigated to or from the base without aid—Skywarp always teleported a portion of the way—so he couldn't use his memories to estimate where the base was, either. Starscream may have despised Skyfire's cowardice, but he wouldn't let Skywarp and Jetfire get hurt if he could help it.

"I don't know, sir," Starscream said. "You've been in my processor. You should know I don't know."

Galvatron rose from his seat, placing the cube on his desk. He wound around the desk, making optic contact with Starscream the whole way. Starscream flicked his wings.

"That was a cursory search for intentions," Galvatron said. "Not an in-depth search for knowledge. Now, I need knowledge. Even if you don't know where the base is, I can glean something."

Starscream took a step back. "This isn't necessary—"

Galvatron seized his wrist. His optics burned into Starscream's.

"I determine what's necessary," he growled. "Now, give me your cable."

You will give me what I ask of you. If not, I will take it.

Starscream closed his optics as he sent the command to unspool his cable. His frame still ached from the overheat and subsequent crash Galvatron's last search caused him. A shudder crept up his dorsal strut, and he fought not to shake.

{Connection detected! Authorize?}

Starscream allowed it. He didn't have the energy to resist. Who knew what kinds of hacking programs Galvatron carried to enforce his threat?

Galvatron perused his files at a leisurely pace. Was he going to be gentler this time, now that he was looking for details instead of the larger picture? Starscream could only hope. Another overheat like the last would confine him to the berth. Even if temporarily, it would hinder his plans and draw attention toward him through a reduction in his productivity.

If this was what having Galvatron's attention was like, Starscream didn't need any more of it.

Starscream's fans clicked on as Galvatron increased his pace, quickly scrubbing through every memory file Starscream retained since he arrived in this world. Starscream pulled away slightly, but Galvatron grabbed him and pulled him back. He'd looked at the files. They were done, right?

Galvatron went further back. He skipped over Starscream's recent files, heading straight for some of his older ones. What was he doing?

{File selected!}

☆☆☆

{Playing file…}

He told him the plan wouldn't work, but when had Megatron ever listened? Instead of doing the sensible thing and delaying the raid to create a real plan, here they were, getting thrashed on the battlefield! Energeon splattered as yet another Decepticon soldier fell, and Starscream had enough.

[Decepticons, flee!] He sent over the broad-range channel.

Immediately, the majority of his air force took to the skies. They knew he wouldn't call this unless the battle was no longer worth it. Some of the foot soldiers obeyed, but most ignored the order, knowing that Megatron hadn't called it.

Starscream shook himself as he dodged stray laserfire. Whatever. Those idiots could die if they wanted to. He gave them the excuse to save themselves and they didn't take it. He wasn't going to stick around.

He leaped into the sky, sending power to his thrusters. Then, he activated his transformation sequence. Pain flared across his plating, the process aborted as he crashed to the ground. He hissed as he rolled onto his cockpit, one of his wings bending awkwardly. Energeon seeped into the ground beneath him.

He felt around his plating the beat he could, searching for the wound. His damage logs were vague and unhelpful. The clang of metal against metal and the buzzing boom of laserfire slowly died down as more Decepticons fled. Pedesteps grew closer and closer. Starscream searched the field.

Autobots.

He couldn't let them find him like this. Starscream dragged himself across the edges of the battlefield, searching for a place to hide. If he found somewhere, he could wait until the battle died down before he called for extraction. As no hiding spots emerged, he he cursed his luck, until something caught his optics.

A large rock stuck out beneath a ledge. He dragged himself behind it, but the gap wasn't large enough to hide his entire body. So, he clawed at the dirt until it was. The entire process thoroughly coated him in filth, making it even easier for him to hide.

If it weren't for the energeon still steadily leaking from his body. Starscream curled himself up, ignoring the pain, and waited. If he was lucky, they might not notice.

Eventually, the sounds of battle faded to nothing. Starscream tried his comms.

{Alert! Low fuel levels!}

They fritzed out with a painful zap. Had his systems taken damage in the fall, or had he truly lost that much energeon? Either way, he couldn't call for help now. His spark pulsed. He clutched his chest, sinking further into the hole.

Either the Autobots found him and captured him, or he was going to die here. He let out a whine. There was so much he still had to do! Who would lead the air force with him gone?

The Decepticons would fall apart without him! He was essential!

His optic feed glitched as his systems rerouted power. He whined again, claws scraping against his plating as he wrapped his arms around himself. Slag, he felt like a newspark, huddled in a confined space and hoping not to die.

He wanted Thundercracker. She'd hold him and stroke his wings and tell him it was alright. He wanted Skywarp. They'd talk him out of being afraid. He even wanted—

"Starscream."

Starscream jumped at the voice, his helm hitting the rock. He hissed in pain, scrunched his optics shut as his feed reset. A moment, then two. His processor identified the voice.

He let out an excited chirp, pulling himself out of the hole. He fell out of it with a crash, nearly biting his tongue as his chin hit the ground. Megatron stood before him, a frown on his face.

"Starscream," Megatron said again.

He knelt before Starscream. Uncaring of his injuries, Starscream launched himself at the old mech, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He let out a trill and buried his face in Megatron's neck. Megatron placed a hand beneath him and pulled him up. Starscream clung to him, claws piercing his plating. Megatron grunted, but didn't complain.

"Take us back now, Skywarp," Megatron said.

With a whoosh, they were back in the base. Starscream refused to let go of Megatron until they were in the medbay. He didn't care how it looked. He was just grateful to be alive.

{Playback suspended.}

☆☆☆

{Closing file…}

Starscream blinked as his optic feed reset. Strong hands held his shoulders. Galvatron stared down at him with a furrowed brow.

"Go back to your quarters," Galvatron said. "I have what I need."

Starscream didn't want to ask what it was. He obeyed, fans still whirring at their highest setting. When he got to his room, he flopped straight onto the berth.

Why that memory? What did he gain from it?

Starscream rubbed his chestplates, an ache settling deep within his spark. He hadn't known Megatron placed a tracker in him back then. It just seemed like a miracle.

He was so stupid.

Frustration rose within him. He sank his teeth into one of his arm guards. That fragger just had access to his entire processor. He knew, objectively, that the connection was terminated, but he could still feel it—files opening from calls that weren't his, fingers dragging themselves across his raw, exposed processor.

Had he left something behind? No, Starscream would've been notified of any downloads. So why did it feel that way?

He wanted to remove his arm guard. He craved dentae against plating, crushing and denting until energeon seeped through. But he promised himself he wouldn't do that.

Maybe, just this once, to make the crawling across his plating go away…

No. Starscream rolled himself over. He couldn't. One time would become many. He knew that.

A panel on the ceiling shifted. A bright visor shone as a tiny head popped through a newly created gap. With a chirp, Laserbeak descended from the ceiling, landing beside him. He turned away from it, curling himself tightly.

"Go away," he muttered.

Brazenly, it ignored his words, hopping over him and landing on his other side. She pushed herself beneath his chin, pecking at his arms until he released them from his cockpit. She slipped beneath the top one and settled on the bottom one—just like the way he held his snake plush, Ulchtar, at home.

The reminder sent a sharp sting through his plating. The promise he made was to Skywarp as much as it was to himself. She said she'd be there for him when he felt like this, but he was the one who left. He couldn't even send her a message now.

She was probably furious. Was she able to see past that to help Jetfire? The newspark had never been without him. At least he destroyed those frames. Jetfire would be safe from the Autobots' plans. Skywarp would protect him when Starscream couldn't.

He was, in his own way. Not that anyone would see it. Still…

"I think I made a mistake," he whispered.

Laserbeak chirruped quietly, rubbing her helm against his chest. Hesitantly, Starscream petted her helm. Dread crept into his frame.

Galvatron could do this to him anytime he wanted, for any reason. He agreed to it. He had to agree to it.

The Autobots wouldn't take him back. He was a traitor. He couldn't survive on his own. At least here, he had fuel and shelter—and a chance at making it home.

He just had to endure this until the final step of the plan.