Chapter Text
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.