Chapter Text
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.