Chapter Text
[Meet me in the command center.]
There was no room for delay, so Starscream rolled straight out of berth and headed for the dreaded room. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw trailed after him. The message was on a channel with both him and Slipstream on it, so he let them follow. If the meeting already wasn't private, what was two more guests? Besides, they were in the command room the last time Galvatron called him there.
He entered the room to silence, pausing in front of Galvatron's throne. The dictator lounged in it, sparing him a fleeting glance before waving him toward his desk. When he sat, Galvatron glared at the door.
"At least you understand the importance of arriving to meetings on time," Galvatron said.
This meeting hadn't been scheduled, but Starscream didn't say that. There was no point in stoking Galvatron's ire. Instead, he hummed, burying himself with one of the old datapads. He already went through this one, but Galvatron didn't need to know that. All he needed to do was look productive.
Another few moments. Galvatron sighed.
"She really is irresponsible," Galvatron muttered. He turned toward Starscream. "How has she been treating you?"
They hadn't interacted at all since she reprimanded Ramjet in the mess hall. Did Galvatron know that? Starscream twitched his wing. Probably not.
He could tell Galvatron everything. She'd done little beyond berate him. But, even if Galvatron cared, it wasn't worthwhile. Something in his spark just… twinged at the idea. She was the closest thing to an ally he had beyond Laserbeak and Buzzsaw, however reluctant she was to play the role.
"She's been fine, sir," Starscream said.
Galvatron narrowed his optics. "Just fine?"
"Just fine," Starscream echoed.
Galvatron harrumphed and turned back toward the door. He tapped his claws against the arm rest. Starscream went back to poking at the datapad. As Buzzsaw hopped onto his shoulder, he nearly dropped it.
The door slid open.
"Finally," Galvatron said.
Slipstream stepped through, wings quivering. They were in neutral position, so she must have been forcing them to stay that way. As she crossed the room, she stared up at Galvatron.
"Forgive me for my tardiness," she said. "My idiotic air force couldn't understand basic maneuvers. I had to set them straight."
Galvatron leaned forward in his throne. Slipstream's wings twitched. They sat slightly lower after the twitch, as if she didn't notice they moved. Galvatron reached over and grabbed her chin.
"I've given you too many chances. This will not happen again," Galvatron growled.
Slipstream yanked herself backward, wings shifting low. She clutched her arms.
"Y-yes, sir!" She stammered. "It won't happen again."
Galvatron stared at her for a moment. Slipstream wilted under his gaze. As silence passed, Starscream tapped his claws against his desk. Were her optics dimmer than usual?
Galvatron leaned back in his throne and pressed a button on the seat. Wings returning to a slightly lower than neutral position, Slipstream relaxed. A hologram popped up in front of them, and Galvatron waved Starscream closer. Starscream approached, dragging his chair with him. Galvatron's optics landed on the chair, and for a moment Starscream contemplated how long he could stand before his frame protested, but the dictator quickly looked away.
Thank frag. Being around the dictator was difficult enough without having to deal with his spontaneous bouts of weakness unassisted.
"The Autobots have located a new energeon cache," Galvatron said. He entered a code into the keypad on his armrest, and it brought up a location on the hologram. "We need to ensure it falls into our hands."
Thus began the planning for a raid. Starscream suggested placements when he could, but he only had so much knowledge even with Soundwave's datapads to catch him up. Still—
"Good suggestion, Starscream."
—Galvatron took the majority of his feedback into account. The same could not be said for Slipstream, who spent most of the meeting grumbling just out of hearing range only to be forced to repeat her words.
"If you do that, Ramjet and Thrust will distract Ion Storm and Acid Storm! They've been fighting lately."
"That wasn't what I heard," Galvatron said.
Slipstream scrunched her olfactory ridge. "It's what I said."
Galvatron leaned forward. "It wasn't. Now, Air Commander, repeat your exact words."
Slipstream lowered her wings.
"I don't hear anything," Galvatron said.
Slipstream ran her claws down her arms. Her gaze fell.
"I told you to repeat yourself," Galvatron said. "Do as I've asked."
"I—" Slipstream froze.
What was that sound? Starscream turned up the sensitivity of his audials. Cooling fans? Was she that worked up?
"If you can't repeat it, I can only assume it's something treacherous."
Wings high in alert, Slipstream snapped upward.
"No!" She cried, optics wide. "It wasn't! I swear!"
"Then you wouldn't mind repeating it," Galvatron said.
Slipstream's wings drooped. "I… I don't remember what I said."
Galvatron scowled. Starscream tapped a pede—quietly, so the dictator wouldn't hear.
"I have full confidence that you didn't 'forget' something you just said moments ago," Galvatron said.
With her wings pulled close and her shoulders hunched, Slipstream was small. Not as much in the literal sense as the figurative. Processor glitch or not, something tugged at the back of Starscream's mind. It was calm, simmering, and righteous.
"We have a raid to plan, don't we?" Starscream said. "This… kerfuffle is diverting our focus."
Galvatron turned toward him. Starscream's wings twitched as his spark began to pulse in his chest. Then, with a grand sigh, Galvatron leaned back in his throne. The pulsing faded.
"You're correct," he said. "Let's focus on the raid."
As they resumed planning, Starscream's plating burned. He turned to the source of the burning. Slipstream glared at him, teeth moments from being bared. Starscream resolved to ignore her. After all, he just saved her aft. What was her issue?
Perhaps she felt indebted and despised it. Or perhaps she was just a fool and thought Galvatron would be merciful. If Starscream had his favor, he didn't want to know what being the target of the dictator's ire was like. The least he could do was spare her the suffering.
No one had done that for him.
☆☆☆
With all the grace of a dying cybercat, Slipstream avoided him until the raid. Starscream knew something was off beyond her odd resistance to being defended—her wings still quivered and her optics were still dim when she took off with her air force. So, as he supervised the raid, he paid extra attention to her. But just like a dying cybercat, she slinked off somewhere before he could catch her.
Oh well. He'd just have to find her later.
Buzzsaw flew over the battlefield, streaming data across its wireless connection to Laserbeak. Through the cord Starscream had connected to Laserbeak, he could see it all. They attempted to connect him wirelessly before the raid—with much direction from Buzzsaw using the datapad—but his systems weren't compatible. So, a hardline connection was their best solution.
It started off well. The Autobots had no idea they were coming, and the first half of the plan was executed perfectly. But as plans were wont to do, it fell apart midway through. Thoroughly beaten back, it seemed that the Autobots were about to retreat when the sky began to roar.
A gigantic mech crashed from the sky, his stature dwarfing even Galvatron's. Flames surrounded him, swirling as if carried by a mysterious wind. A single hand was all it took to crush another mech's limbs.
Laserbeak fluttered its wings as Starscream slammed a fist against the console. As the giant mech's hands burned with fire, so did Starscream's fuel lines. After all his efforts, Skyfire had managed to go through with it. How could he?
Starscream utterly destroyed all of the frames but one, and the single damaged frame was enough for that coward to rebuild from. His claws scored the surface of the console. Not only was a newspark thrown into battle like they were nothing more than a weapon, it was his newspark! Jetfire—his beloved, sweet Jetfire—was in the middle of the battlefield!
He was going to kill that coward and all of the stupid fragging Autobots that let this happen—
Laserbeak chirped. A request to play a memory file appeared. He didn't accept it, but the message was sent. The particular memory was of him, Jetfire, and the rest of New Decepticon Command together.
"Right," he said to Laserbeak. "I need to focus."
Laserbeak trilled approvingly.
A battle which seemed to easy to win now fell apart in front of him. Ramjet, in a reasonable but unprincipled show of self-preservation, took off as the combiner approached, commanding Thrust to do the same. This left Acid Storm and Ion Storm to the combiner's ire.
With an audial-splitting screech, the edge of Ion Storm's wing was torn. He cried out, squirming in the combiner's grip. A well-placed acid spray from Acid Storm made the combiner release him. Acid Storm pulled him away, wings trembling.
The Air Force was in shambles. Whichever members hadn't already fled were in a similar state to Acid Storm and Ion Storm. The rest of the Decepticons weren't faring much better. Galvatron grappled with Elita and Prowl, thoroughly distracted from the state of his troops. Starscream didn't have the authority to call a retreat, and there was no way Galvatron would listen.
[Find Slipstream,] he sent to Buzzsaw.
Buzzsaw flew across the battlefield, using its guns to rescue other Decepticons where it could. A few times, an Autobot or two noticed it, and it had to detour to avoid fire. Starscream saw every Decepticon twice without ever seeing Slipstream. Where the frag was she?
He was too far to send a comm. They only worked in close range without Cybertronian-compatible signal boosters, which, being an alien planet, Earth was distinctly lacking in. Some had been built on his world's Earth toward the end of the war, but this one was too early for that.
Specialized connections like those between a console and their cassettes were entirely different beasts. Signal boosters had actually been modeled after components originally designed for consoles. He was already forwarding messages through Laserbeak. Perhaps Buzzsaw could…
[Buzzsaw, can you forward a message?]
Buzzsaw chirped affirmatively.
[Tell Slipstream to call a retreat.]
Buzzsaw chirped again. It did another lap through the battlefield. No retreat was called.
[Has Slipstream responded?]
A low hiss. Negative.
[Try sending it again.]
Another lap. Another hiss. Where was she? Why wasn't she responding? Frag it all.
[Tell Galvatron to call it.]
Buzzsaw growled, but did as he requested. A response came through.
[I will call a retreat just this once,] Galvatron sent. [But remember your place.]
Starscream knew his place. He belonged at the helm of the Decepticons with his trusted and loyal allies beside him every step of the way. But those allies were left behind in another world. He was not some sniveling and beaten cyberdog begging for its master's appreciation—he was a turbofox lying in wait. And because of that, those words had the opposite impact on him. He was not cowed, nor was he silenced. Rather, a sick satisfaction crept up within him. The fool had no idea what he was toying with.
Still, he had to play the part.
[I understand, sir,] he sent.
The battlefield cleared as the Decepticons fled, leaving the Autobots to do whatever it was they did after a victory. Starscream leaned back in his seat. He held no doubts that Galvatron would want to speak with him. He had evaded the dictator's ire for now, but that couldn't last forever.
After a brief stretch, Starscream left his seat. Laserbeak settled on his shoulder, cable stretching as it did so. But the connection remained. So, at the back of his processor, Starscream tracked the return of the Decepticons. He still had quite a while before they got to the base, so he walked to the mess hall.
A quick exploit and the dispenser gave him an extra cube. He held it close to him as he walked back toward the communications room. Buzzsaw flew a lot today. If the bitzzard didn't need to refuel, he'd be surprised. He sipped his own fuel slowly, savoring the silence that coated the base.
Just as he finished, it was broken. Voices traveled through the air, bringing with them a cacophony of pedesteps. Starscream stayed where he was, knowing his summons would eventually arrive. A ceiling panel moved, and Buzzsaw popped out from beneath it.
As it landed on the console, Starscream slid the cube toward it. Buzzsaw cawed appreciatively. With a deft peck, it opened the cube and began to drink.
His summons finally came. Starscream rose from his seat. Voices drifted through the halls, injured mecha paying him little mind as he passed by. They had a paltry understanding of who he was beyond his association with Galvatron, and for now, he intended to keep it that way. The less they knew about who he was, the less likely he was to be targeted.
Galvatron was on his throne, as usual. Energeon leaked from various wounds on his body, and the dents were obvious from a distance, but he sat proudly despite them. It sent a powerful message: nothing could keep Galvatron down. Though, the complete lack of treatment and open display of injuries reminded Starscream of comments Slipstream made while his processor was stalling with overheat.
The Decepticons had no medics. Every injured mech had to pray another soldier took pity on them or fend for themselves. Even at the height of his cruelty, Megatron wouldn't have let his soldiers go without aid. Just how foolish and callous was Galvatron?
Galvatron tapped his claws against his arm rest. His optics scanned the room. What was he looking for?
Oh. Starscream knew exactly who he was searching for. Where was she? He hadn't been able to message her during the battle. He hadn't seen her at all since the combiner appeared. Had the Autobots gotten her?
She seemed off when they planned the raid, and didn't improve before it began. He knew from experience that engaging in battle when one wasn't in top condition was a foolish endeavor. If she was ill or injured, she may not be able to return on her own. It would explain his inability to message her.
"Do you know where Slipstream is?" Galvatron said.
He spat her name like it was a curse. The words came from his vocalizer in the low, rumbling growl of an enraged predator. Starscream flicked his wings.
"I lost track of her during the battle, sir," he said, bowing his head. "I was unable to contact her through Buzzsaw."
Galvatron shifted in his seat. "Interesting…"
Interesting indeed. The Decepticons needed an Air Commander. Without her, who would lead the Seekers? Starscream wasn't physically fit for the position, even if he had experience.
Something in the back of his processor didn't sit well with the idea of her dying. What if she was alive and unable to return, slowly bleeding out? It was much too familiar.
"I believe she may be injured and unable to return, sir," Starscream said quietly. "Should we send someone to retrieve her?"
Galvatron's optics narrowed. "And risk good soldiers getting captured? Waste energeon ferrying her here when it's her own fault she can't return?"
Starscream flexed his claws.
"And how is it her fault, sir?" He asked.
Galvatron hummed. "Soldiers that can't defend themselves on the battlefield deserve to die. We need to weed out the weak or we'll never win this war."
Starscream nearly took a step back, but caught himself. He flicked his wings again, trying to stave off the dread that was creeping through him. What was he, if not a soldier that couldn't defend himself? What was he, if not the weak?
"If she returns, she returns," Galvatron said. "If not, then I suppose it's time for a change in command structure."
Starscream bowed.
"I-I understand, sir," he said.
Silence passed between them. Already, Starscream was planning. He couldn't let this happen. Slipstream was too valuable.
"You're dismissed. I expect a full report by tomorrow."
"Understood, sir."
Starscream entered the hall. Again, no mecha paid him any attention. It worked fine for him. He needed to find Slipstream. The raid was just outside of his comfortable range for flight on a day like this. If he pushed himself, he could make it there and back. It might wipe him out for the next couple of days, but it was fine. He could manage that.
He passed by a few Seekers on his way to the hangar. The woods stretched out beneath him, tiny green pine trees coating the land. He readied himself to jump when voices behind him made him freeze.
"I didn't see her," one of them said.
"We can't just leave her," the other said. "The scavenging'll start soon."
Starscream flicked his wings. Scavenging? That wasn't the term they used in his world, but mecha did comb the battlefield for resources after particularly brutal fights. If the dead had what another mech required to survive, why let it go to waste?
There were no medics here, and no medical supplies. They had to get the resources to treat themselves from somewhere. Did they give it a name because it happened so much more frequently?
Starscream turned toward the voices. Before him, Acid Storm and Ion Storm stiffened.
"Oh," Acid Storm said. "You, uh… you're the…"
"The new communications officer," Starscream said.
"Yeah," Acid Storm said. "That."
"Who were you talking about?"
Acid Storm exchanged glances with Ion Storm, his wings fluttering. Ion Storm shrugged.
"Slipstream," Ion Storm said.
They did have some sort of loyalty to her. It made sense. In his world, Slipstream and Nova Storm were very close. Until Slipstream died, she was at Nova Storm's side. They knew each other before Nova Storm lost her wingmates, but the loss of her wingmates made them inseparable. If Nova Storm was dead in this world, Ion Storm and Acid Storm may have bonded with Slipstream in a similar way.
"I was just going to search for her," Starscream said. "Do you want to come with me?"
Ion Storm stepped forward, but Acid Storm stuck out their wing, forcing him back. Awkwardly, Ion Storm turned to stare at them. They glared at each other for a moment. Starscream tapped a pede. No doubt they were speaking through comms.
Acid Storm stepped forward, her wings high and slightly wide set—cautious, but not hostile.
"We'll come," she said. "But why are you looking for her?"
Starscream motioned them closer. Acid Storm hesitated, so Ion Storm stepped past her.
"She's an important member of command. Why wouldn't I look for her?" Starscream said.
Acid Storm's wings pulled back into neutral position. Their voice was soft.
"Good."
Did they really think—? Starscream stopped himself. They had no reason not to think he was going to scavenge. They didn't know him. At best, Slipstream had complained about him a few times. With his proximity to Galvatron, they likely assumed he shared the dictator's harmful ideals.
In another life, he may have. But here, having experienced peace and dealing with the limitations of his own disability, he could barely stand it. The only thing that kept him from howling about the fragger's stupidity was the plan. For it to work, he had to get close to Galvatron.
"Let's go," Starscream said.
He leaped off the ledge and transformed, not bothering to check if the other two Seekers followed him. Whether they came or not, he had to go. But, soon enough, his sensornet alerted him to two objects behind him.
Heat slowly built beneath Starscream's plating as he flew, his systems burning fuel faster than they should have. Whatever fuel processing issue he had made him less efficient at utilizing fuel, so he burned through more of it to accomplish basic tasks. That was why Thundercracker had always been concerned about his fuel intake when he was a newspark—not that he ever noticed at the time.
Since his systems had so much trouble utilizing fuel, it was difficult for him to control his temperature. A heat warning already popped up before they reached their destination. Yet, somehow, he hadn't been able to passively generate enough heat when they were at the poles of the planet. Whatever.
He landed as gracefully as he could manage, which meant catching himself after he stumbled the first few steps. A backward glance brought him a confused stare from Acid Storm, and he fluttered his wings, embarrassed. They didn't know about his issues. Did they just assume he was unskilled? He hoped not, but it was really the only option.
The battlefield was devoid of life aside from the three Seekers. Scraps of metal, entire limbs, deactivated frames, puddles of energeon—all of them littered the area. None of the scrap or frames nearby appeared to be Slipstream's, so at least they had that going for them. Starscream searched for her comm channel and sent a ping.
It was returned.
"She's here," he said.
Acid Storm and Ion Storm nodded. They searched the area as Starscream attempted to ask for her location. He received another blank ping in response. Slag, he'd have to follow the signal. Any other mech would just search for her EM field, but he couldn't do that, so his best bet was sending pings until the signal got stronger.
He took a few steps and sent another ping. Weaker. More steps and another ping. Stronger. A few more. Another. Stronger.
He passed through a dense clump of ferns. Stronger. A set of shrubs. Stronger still. A large rock sat before him. He leaned to the side, something shiny sticking out from behind him. He sent another ping. Stronger.
Carefully, he approached the rock. It could be an Autobot, or it could just be a corpse. Either way, there was no guarantee it was Slipstream. The loud whirr of cooling fans reached his audials. Not a corpse, then.
He rounded the rock. Dim, fuzzy optics stared up at him. He sent a comm to Acid Storm and Ion Storm as he leaned down. Slipstream stared straight ahead, completely unaware of his presence. Was she even conscious?
Starscream placed a hand on her cheek. Immediately, she threw herself sideways, flailing blindly. Her claws caught his arm, but it was far from graceful. With a grunt, she landed in a heap. Energeon trickled from a wound on her side, freshly aggravated by the movement.
"Slipstream," Starscream said. Her wings twitched. "I'm here to retrieve you."
When she didn't stir, he reached out again. All it resulted in was more blind flailing. How aware of her surroundings was she? Did she actually register who he was?
Starscream shook his head. Regardless of her awareness, he needed to bring her back to the base. He reached over again, this time aiming for the spot between her wings. Before she could flailing again, he dug his claws into the plating gap, gently picking at it. She stilled.
"That's right," Starscream muttered as she leaned into the touch. "I'm here to help, idiot."
Starscream took a snapshot of her wound and sent it to Acid Storm and Ion Storm.
[Bring something that can patch this,] he sent.
As Starscream continued to pet her, Slipstream purred. Starscream paused. She didn't seem like the type of mech to do that, especially not with someone she claimed to dislike.
"Why are you so out of it?" He muttered.
She seemed ill before the raid. Maybe it was a virus? Certain ones could mess with higher processing, and overheating definitely didn't help. Pair that with energeon loss, and it made sense that Slipstream was a loopy mess.
Pedesteps rustled the foliage nearby. Wings shooting upward, Starscream turned to the source of the noise, only to relax as Ion Storm and Acid Storm stared back at him. Ion Storm held a scrap of metal in his hands just large enough to patch the wound. Starscream motioned them closer.
"Be careful," he said. "I think her higher processing is altered. She might not recognize you."
Acid Storm and Ion Storm approached carefully. Ion Storm looped around toward Slipstream's head, while Acid Storm settled at her side. Slipstream's head jerked upward, her wings twitching. She sensed someone was nearby—if she could even tell it was someone and not something—but her optics didn't land on either of the Seekers.
Typically, they would clean the wound, but they had nothing to clean it with. The medbay, as Slipstream had warned him before, had no supplies. That was why scavenging was so common among this world's Decepticons in the first place—they needed their patches from somewhere.
So, all they could do for now was place the patch to protect the wound. Except…
"Do either of you have any frame glue? Or something similar?" Starscream asked.
Ion Storm and Acid Storm exchanged glances before shaking their heads. Great. How could they handle this?
Starscream scanned the area. What did they have here? Rocks? Shrubs? Trees? None of that was adhesive! Unless…
He searched his memory files. Jetfire said something to him once about how the humans used trees to make a type of glue. It was a long, involved process and they didn't have that much time, but he also said some trees produced sticky substances by themselves. What was it?
Aha! He found the file and skimmed it. Pine trees produced sap during specific times of the Earth year. He checked his chronometer. Yes! It was the correct time! Now, were there any pine trees?
Yes! Right there!
Starscream made his way to the closest one. He reached between the branches, feeling around until his fingers reached something sticky. He scooped up as much as he could, but it wasn't enough. So, he moved to a neighboring tree, then the next, until he had just barely the amount he needed.
As he headed back toward Slipstream, Acid Storm stared at him with a scrunched olfactory ridge.
"What is that?" She asked.
"Our temporary adhesive," Starscream said, bending down.
He smeared the sap around the wound—ensuring he didn't get any in it—and placed the patch on top. With all the strength he could muster, he pressed it down. He wasn't sure if the sap needed time to settle, so he had to be cautious. Then, he released the patch, plating relaxing as it stayed in place.
He turned back toward Acid Storm and Ion Storm. "Can you two carry her?"
When he set off to find her, he assumed she would be mobile. Starscream was a swift mech, not a strong one. In his current state, he would be lucky to make it back to the base without immediately falling apart on landing.
Acid Storm and Ion Storm placed their hands under Slipstream, lifting her. She squirmed, letting out a squawk. They ignored it, shifting their grip to account for the squirming. Starscream nodded at them and took off. Soon, they were behind him, and they made their way back.
When they landed, Starscream's fans were at full intensity again. His limbs shook slightly when he put weight on them, but he ignored that in favor of checking on Slipstream. She finally stopped squirming in her wingmates' grasp, hanging limply with dim optics.
"Take her back to her quarters," Starscream said. "I'll get her some fuel."
He exited the hangar, not waiting for a response. As usual, the mecha he passed in the halls ignored him. He hacked the dispenser to obtain two cubes: one for Slipstream to replenish her lost energeon, and one for him to replace the fuel he burned. Knowing he'd become a target if others saw him with multiple cubes, he stuffed them into his cockpit.
Slipstream's quarters weren't far from his. Despite their proximity to Galvatron, both of them were in a regular hall. Starscream knocked on the door. It slid open.
Ion Storm stood in the doorway. He stepped aside to let Starscream in. Acid Storm sat on the berth with Slipstream's head in their lap. Their fingers rubbed the tip of her closest wing.
Starscream pulled one of the cubes out of his cockpit. At the sound of his cockpit latching, Acid Storm fluttered his wings, optics meeting his.
"I like it when she's like this," Acid Storm muttered. "No yelling, no fighting… and she lets me touch her."
Starscream curled his claws around the cube. "Does she not typically?"
Acid Storm shook their head.
"No," they said. "She's meaner than a pit viper on the best of days. Screams if someone touches her unexpectedly."
An itch crept through Starscream's plating. Slipstream was unpleasant, but for her to have such a reaction to touch…
He flicked his wings and stepped closer. At first, he offered the cube to Slipstream, but she didn't register it, staring blankly ahead. So, with gentle hands, he cupped her face and spilled some of the energeon into her mouth. She jerked away, smacking her lips. Her optics widened as the realization dawned on her, and in a swift but graceless motion, she snatched the cube from Starscream.
She drank quickly, gulping the fuel down as if it could be taken away at any moment. When she finished, she held the cube, staring down at it. Slowly, her optics brightened. The fuzz lessened. She blinked.
"You," she hissed.
Acid Storm scooted backward as Slipstream rose, her wings fanning wide. Resolutely, Starscream kept his in neutral position. He wasn't looking for a fight, nor would he engage in one.
"We brought you back," Starscream said. "Galvatron was going to leave you to die."
Slipstream flicked her wings, olfactory ridge scrunching. She turned, staring at Acid Storm, then Ion Storm. Her wings returned to neutral position.
"So you did," she said. She bared her teeth. "What do you want?"
Starscream fought the urge to look away. "Nothing. You're too important to lose. I was merely correcting Galvatron's error."
"I don't believe you—"
They both stilled as they received a message.
[Meet me in my office. Don't delay.]
Starscream turned toward the exit, whatever argument that was about to start forgotten. It didn't matter. This did. Pedesteps behind him made clear that Slipstream was also on her way.
As they made their way through the halls, Slipstream passed him, sending him a glare as she did so. Starscream rolled his optics at her petty behavior. He saved her life, and what did he have to show for it? Shaky limbs and low fuel.
Tiredness cloaked his body, the strain of running on low fuel beginning to cloud his processor. But he couldn't have his fuel until after this meeting. Galvatron wouldn't allow it. The dictator was the type to view anything but full attention as disrespect.
As they entered the room, both mecha's cooling fans were on high speed, but while Starscream clung to the doorway until he absolutely had to move, Slipstream stood tall. Her wings were slightly wide, as if compensating for dizziness. She probably was, considering how badly the virus had impacted her higher processing.
Starscream slid the chair from his desk over. There was no way he was standing for this. Galvatron watched him slide himself into place, but didn't comment. Despite his callousness toward his soldiers, he never said anything about Starscream's compensations for his limits. Perhaps the accusations of favoritism were true, or perhaps he was just too important to lose.
"Slipstream," Galvatron said.
Slipstream shuddered.
"You not only failed to control your soldiers, you failed to respond to several pings, and required extraction. You were away from your assignment for the majority of this mission. Am I correct?"
Slipstream twitched her wings. Her wrists closed around her arms. As she spoke, she rubbed them.
"I—I was injured!" She said. "My comms were temporarily out of commission. That was why I couldn't respond."
Galvatron leaned forward. His gaze sharpened to a glare.
"But you still left your post," Galvatron said.
"I had to—"
"You left your post," Galvatron growled. "You didn't designate a temporary commander. You didn't alert anyone. Starscream had to notify me, and I had to command your troops."
Slipstream shrank, gripping her wrists harder. "My comms were down! I was injured! I couldn't alert anyone!"
"You still should have—"
Suddenly, Slipstream exploded with movement. She threw her arms wide and fluttered her wings. Her optics fell on Starscream for a moment, then she turned back to Galvatron.
"Starscream was the one supervising!" She cried. "He's the reason the mission failed! Not me!"
Galvatron's hands tightened around the armrest, the pressure chasing the metal to groan. Fury built up inside Starscream, invading his lines and processor. How dare she? He saved her, and now she was trying to accuse him of being the problem?
"Starscream did a fine job," Galvatron growled. "Stop trying to pass the blame, Slipstream."
She stammered an incoherent protest as Galvatron rose from his throne. His pedes reached the ground with an echoing thunk. Slipstream flinched.
Galvatron stepped forward. Slipstream staggered backward. Plating snapping close, Starscream pushed his chair away from the two. As Slipstream backed into a wall, wings clanking against it, she let out a quiet yelp.
Galvatron seized her shoulders. He sighed and closed his optics.
"What am I supposed to do with you, Slipstream?" He muttered.
Slipstream squirmed in his grip, optics wide.
"Sir, please—"
In a swift motion, Galvatron tossed her across the room. Starscream kicked his chair out of the way as she flew past him and into the wall. Glass clattered to the ground as her cockpit cracked. She rose to her elbows, muffling a grunt.
Galvatron crossed the room quickly. She was barely on her knees when he kicked her, sending her sailing a short distance. Before she could stand, he kicked her again. She rolled onto her belly and attempted to crawl away, but he placed a pede on her back. He took no care to avoid her wings, bending them awkwardly as he forced her down.
Starscream's spark pulsed in his chest. The anger that rose up in him earlier swirled with something else. He flexed his claws. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Why was it happening?
Slipstream screamed.
He wished he was the only one. He had to be the only one. Was it better if he was special? Was it worse? Why couldn't he be the only one? Why was it happening again? Why why why—
Galvatron slammed a pede into Slipstream's helm. It bounced against the floor. He slammed it down again. Glass crunched as her optics shattered.
He had to do something. He couldn't just let this happen. Not again. No mech, no mech…
No mech left behind.
Starscream stepped forward, abandoning the safety of his chair. A brute stood before him, optics blazing. Despite every system of his frame telling him not to, he inserted himself in front of the brute.
"I th-think she's learned her lesson, sir," Starscream said. Why was his voice so weak? "If you harm her further, it will be a waste of the e-effort I spent to retrieve her."
Galvatron placed the pede he had poised over Slipstream's head on the ground.
"You don't know her like I do," Galvatron said. "Besides, she's replaceable."
Starscream flicked his wings, fury turning righteous.
"Then why haven't you replaced her?" He hissed. At Galvatron's silence, he continued. "I can't fly alongside the Air Force for long enough periods of time, so the replacement can't be me. Half the force hates Ramjet and Thrust, so it can't be either of them. Who does that leave?"
The answer was no one. Galvatron's irritated grunt made it clear that he knew.
"Please," Starscream said. "Let Slipstream recover. She's still needed."
Galvatron stepped away. With a snarl, he said, "I will allow her to recover. But remember your place, Starscream."
Starscream bowed. "I know my place, sir."
Galvatron took a few steps away. Starscream bent down to examine Slipstream when he suddenly turned around.
"We will have a private meeting tomorrow. I expect more information as repayment for this… stunt."
They both knew he didn't need information. He combed through Starscream's Autobot-related memories too many times to count. But that didn't matter. Starscream forced his wings to stay still.
"Yes, sir," he said quietly.
Galvatron finally returned to his throne. With a sigh, Starscream set himself to the task of examining Slipstream. Her cockpit and one of her optics were cracked. Just from looking, there were various dents along her chestplates and limbs.
He laid a hand on her plating to feel for further injuries. Slipstream shot upward, slashing with her claws. The movement was uncoordinated, and she missed by a wide margin.
"Get away!" She spat. "I don't… I can't…"
Starscream searched for Acid Storm and Ion Storm's channels and sent a comm asking them to pick up their wingmate. Their responses were two immediate and resounding rejections. He was on his own.
"I'm helping you!" Starscream hissed.
She continued to squirm under him. "No!"
Resigning himself to scratched plating, he reached underneath her arms and pulled. The hold made it more difficult for her to squirm, but she could definitely still kick. Starscream shifted his hold again.
"Do you want me to drop you?" He spat. "I'm taking you back to my quarters, since your wingmates don't want to help you."
She stilled at that, hanging almost limply in his arms. She blinked a few times. Then, her optics fell to the ground.
"I can walk," she muttered. "Just… take me."
Starscream highly doubted that, but he released her anyway. He was proven correct a few moments later when she paused in the middle of the hallway with a pained hiss. He pulled her toward him, allowing her to lean against him as he leaned against the wall. She scrunched her optics closed and acquiesced.
When they reached his quarters, Starscream led her to his berth. She sat on it, curling in on herself as much as she could with her injuries. He sat beside her.
"Do your wingmates often abandon you when you're injured?" Starscream asked.
Slipstream glared at him, then turned away. Starscream rolled his optics. Whatever. They could sit in silence forever. He tapped the edge of the berth.
"They don't let me in after Galvatron punishes me," she muttered. "It's my fault."
Starscream often thought the same thing when Megatron harmed him. But looking at the altercation between Slipstream and Galvatron, it was undeserved. Sure, she left her post, but she was ill and injured. Galvatron's response was to injure her further. It was completely illogical.
"He shouldn't hurt you," Starscream said. "That's just plain fragging stupid."
Slipstream bared her teeth. "You know nothing about me. I deserve it."
Starscream lowered his wings, not wanting to fight.
"Sure," he muttered.
A wall panel shifted. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw slipped into the room from beneath it. Buzzsaw landed on his shoulder with a chirp. Laserbeak landed on his lap, tilting its head as it studied Slipstream. It turned toward Starscream with a trill.
"She's injured," Starscream said. "Be nice to her. We're recharging on the floor tonight."
Slipstream's wings shot up. "You're giving me your berth?"
Starscream reached beneath Laserbeak's chin to scratch it. The retroraven purred.
"Just for tonight," Starscream said. "You said your wingmates wouldn't let you back in, and I'm not letting you recharge on the floor while you're sick and injured."
He knew how miserable that was. He could deal with some extra aches if it meant she had a comfortable place to recover.
Slipstream stared at him. Her optics darted between his and Laserbeak. Then, her wings fluttered.
"Okay…"