Chapter Text
Starscream activated the dispenser, tapping a pede as it took its time granting him a cube. Other mecha in the room took notice, but none approached—not since Slipstream reprimanded Dirge on that first day. Someone lined up behind him, and he set his sensors to monitor them, resolutely ignoring their presence until it became a problem. The cube finally dispensed.
A hand brushed against his shoulder. Starscream flicked his wing, swatting the hand away, and turned toward the mech behind him with a biting remark ready to exit his vocalizer. It was silenced as his optics met Slipstream's.
Her wings were in neutral position, but they were tense, nearly quivering, as if they were being held there. She brought her hand back to her body and rubbed her wrist. Then, she motioned toward a table in the corner of the room. Acid Storm and Ion Storm sat at it, optics fixed on them. A third cube sat between them, guarded on both sides.
"Sit with us," Slipstream said.
Her wings twitched downward, and Starscream understood: she was anxious.
"Sure," Starscream said.
What did he have to lose? Slipstream wouldn't harm him. What would the point of that be? Though, why else she could possibly want him with her, he didn't know. Just attempting to defend her from Galvatron before made her defensive and bitter. She hated him.
But she had shown a different part of herself the night he brought her into his room. Something quiet and vulnerable, if prickly, like a cobalt spinehog showing its unprotected belly. Perhaps she wanted to thank him for not taking advantage of it.
He followed her to the table, sitting between her and an empty seat. Of the group, he was the closest to the aisle, allowing for a quick escape if this went sour. But it wouldn't. He had to believe that.
Acid Storm and Ion Storm quickly busied themselves with their energeon, looking away whenever Starscream glanced in their direction. Starscream opened his own cube and began to drink. Beside him, Slipstream tapped at the top of hers, optics focused on some distant point as if lost in thought.
"Any particular reason you asked me to sit here?" Starscream said.
Slipstream blinked, wings shooting upward. She stared at him. Then, her gaze sharpened to a glare, a scowl forming on her face.
"Do I need a reason to?" She said.
Starscream took a long sip of his cube. "I was just asking. You haven't seemed very fond of me until now."
Slipstream finally opened her cube. She looked up from it, not quite meeting Starscream's optics.
"I thought you were trying to replace me," she said. "Now I know you're not."
The thought hadn't crossed his mind, for obvious reasons. Being Air Commander would bring him closer to Galvatron, but it wasn't something he could do. Not like this. At home, most of his duties had shifted to remote and desk-based ones, which was an easy transition to make due to the lack of an ongoing war.
He was an endless pit of determination, but he still understood that he had limits. He just thought they were a bit further than most others assumed. Perhaps that would come to bite him in the aft later, as Hook kept telling him, but frag it all if he wasn't going to do as much as he could for as long as he could. He'd work his aft off until he couldn't.
They finished their cubes in an awkward silence, and received a summon from Galvatron at a suspiciously serendipitous time. Slipstream bid farewell to her wingmates, who simply waved her off, and they were down the hall. Today was a good day—Starscream's legs were strong and his aches were minimal—so he didn't even need support as he walked. Still, Slipstream hovered close to him, her wings twitching.
Starscream stepped ahead of her. She stayed behind him, occasionally brushing against his wings as he changed his pace. Normally, she stormed ahead, determined not to be near him for any longer than necessary. Why was she so close now?
Galvatron's harsh optics glared from the doorway, and Starscream forgot his confusion in favor of pulling the chair from his desk to the front. Slipstream hesitated as he headed toward her desk, taking a step toward him as if she wanted to follow. But he was back quicker than she could make up her mind about whatever she wanted to do. As usual, Galvatron silently and impatiently watched Starscream settle in.
"Good," he said.
The meeting followed the same progression as every other. Starscream made modest suggestions that Galvatron accepted, and anything Slipstream said was treated as an insult, no matter how productive. It was easy to rephrase her suggestions and insert them back into the conversation a few moments later. Either Galvatron actually viewed her contributions as useful and was rejecting them out of spite, or he listened to her so little that he didn't notice when Starscream brought them up again. Either seemed equally plausible.
Slipstream stayed at his side the entire time, periodically glancing at him. The stares made his plating itch, but Starscream did his best to ignore it. Whatever this weird behavior was, he didn't care enough to confront it. Then, after what seemed like an endless amount of time—
"Slipstream, you're dismissed."
Slipstream headed toward the door, then paused halfway through. She glanced back at Starscream, wings twitching as she hesitated. Starscream rolled his optics and waved a hand. Biting her lip, Slipstream turned away and left the room.
Spark beginning to pulse, Starscream stayed still. Galvatron had few reasons for holding him back. He could think of one. Would he be gentle this time? Or would he rifle through files until he overheated?
The dictator rose from his throne, optics bright as the room dimmed. He stepped closer, pedesteps echoing through the room. Digging his claws into his armrests, Starscream prepared himself for what was to come. There was an escape, but not yet. He was just biding his time. It would come.
That was the only reason he allowed Galvatron to tip his head upward. The dictator smiled—a wide, dangerous thing. Beyond the heat of battle, Starscream only saw it in moments like this. Galvatron thought he had Starscream in his claws, but he was wrong—utterly, utterly wrong.
Those strong, unrelenting claws closed around Starscream's wrist. They coasted along his panel.
"Are you in need of more information, sir?" Starscream whispered.
Why was his voice so weak? Pathetic. He could do better than that. He had done better than that. Why did he tremble now, when in the past he faced such monsters with a sharp tongue and weapons at the ready?
"Yes," Galvatron said. "Give me what I desire, Starscream."
Starscream opened his panel and released his cable. A moment later, he found Galvatron's waiting port. The dictator never plugged himself in, nor did he take Starscream's cable from him beyond that first time. With focused optics, he always watched as Starscream made the connection.
It was a reminder: this was his choice, his folly. He gave himself to this monster willingly. All he had to blame for this was himself.
{Connection detected! Authorize?}
Starscream allowed it. Immediately, the claws sank into his processor, files flipping open at alarming speeds. His fans clicked on.
"Please go slow," Starscream muttered. "I'm tired."
"I'll move at the speed I please," Galvatron said.
Right. Of course. For a moment, Starscream thought the dictator might've had a sensible piece of code in his processor. His mistake.
Galvatron continued to flip through files, most of them having nothing to do with the Autobots and everything to do with Starscream himself. It was never about the information, but Starscream already knew that. The dictator dug deeper and deeper as Starscream's frame grew hotter. The fragger barely bothered to close most of the files he opened, and last time Starscream tried cleaning up while he was still in there, it wasn't appreciated. So, Starscream sat still as the endless open files ate away at his memory.
{File selected!}
Finally, Galvatron decided to play one.
☆☆☆
{Playing file…}
"Catch me!"
Starscream soared through the air, wings slicing through it with unparalleled speed. Behind him, a bright yellow Seeker did his best to pursue. With a flourish, Starscream ducked beneath a ledge. The Seeker fell behind as he battled with the ledge, not quite as skilled in the air as Starscream was.
Starscream turned his nose sharply upward as a rush of air passed over him and purple plating materialized in front of him. As he ascended, he rolled, enjoying the rush that came with flying so high. But he quickly flattened out, knowing that he couldn't go too far.
[I almost had you!]
If Starscream was in robot mode, he would've rolled his optics.
[Warping is cheating,] he sent to Skywarp.
[Nuh-uh!]
Skywarp appeared beside him. He turned to avoid them, but they just warped again. So, the next time they appeared before him, he completely reversed direction.
[This is a speed game, Warp,] Starscream sent. [Warping isn't going fast. It's just taking shortcuts.]
Skywarp didn't reply. But, this time, they didn't immediately materialize in front of him. Maybe he got through to them after all. Suddenly, something landed on his back. He jolted at the sudden weight, but quickly righted himself. Then, he transformed into robot mode, turning himself so he could wrestle with his assailant.
"Got you!" The yellow Seeker said, grinning. "You were so focused on Skywarp you forgot about me!"
Before Starscream could escape, the Seeker pulled him tightly against his cockpit. Starscream resigned himself to his fate. The Seeker spun them before settling in for a landing on a nearby building. After landing, the Seeker released him. Small sparks of light flew from the Seeker's hands as he gestured, wings fluttering.
"It was smart, wasn't it?" The Seeker said. "I knew Skywarp would break the rules, so all I had to do was wait until they got impatient!"
A quiet call of "Hey!" was ignored as Skywarp landed.
Starscream flicked his wings. "I will admit it… that was clever."
He'd have to work on that. Getting distracted on the battlefield could be the difference between life and death. If Sunstorm was an enemy, Starscream would've been dead.
"Hey, Stormy!"
Sunstorm turned toward Skywarp as she called out. "Yes?"
Skywarp gestured to his claws. "You're doing the sparky-lighty thing again."
Sunstorm stared down at his claws. The sparks of light continued to emanate from them, growing larger and brighter with each passing moment.
"Oh!" He exclaimed. The light faded away. "Oops. I just… got really excited."
Sunstorm's outlier was uniquely useless. Thundercracker could generate ground-shaking sonic booms and shatter glass. Skywarp could transport themself anywhere instantly. And Sunstorm? Well, he got a little bit sparkly when he was excited.
That was an exaggeration. He could manipulate light, but most of it was just getting sparkly when he was excited. Sometimes, he could form the sparks into a tiny ball of light, and when he lost control of that, it would cause a blinding flash. Everyone in the room had to reset their optic feeds, but it did little harm beyond that. For a prank or two, Skywarp convinced Sunstorm to periodically shut off the lights in some of the rooms at Darkmount, but that was really all it had been good for so far.
Still, something about the ability fascinated Shockwave, their resident scientist and frame expert. Starscream really didn't understand it, and he never would. Megatron thought they could combine Sunstorm and Thundercracker's abilities to create a flashbang, but Sunstorm had so little control that all efforts proved fruitless.
An alarm went off, citing the time on Starscream's chronometer. Starscream tapped a pede.
"We should get back," he said. "We've been out for a while."
Megatron couldn't care less what they did in their spare time, but Thundercracker would have a fit if they weren't back soon. She was always worried about them, even when they were completely fine. It was strange.
Seized by the waist, Starscream let out a surprised grunt. He was pushed against an equally surprised Sunstorm, both of them squished against Skywarp's chest. Skywarp chuckled as the world twisted around them. When it finally stopped contorting, Starscream shoved himself away from Skywarp. His wingmate just grinned at him.
"We could've flown back!" Starscream said.
Skywarp shrugged, their slag-eating grin only growing wider. "Easier to warp."
Starscream scoffed. He kicked a pede.
"You can't rely on your outlier for everything, you know," Starscream said.
Skywarp picked at the seams between their fingers, digging out bits of dirt and grime. "What? You think I'm gonna forget how to fly or something?"
"You know what I mean!" Starscream said, glaring at them.
Slowly, methodically, Skywarp extended their arm, a single finger pointing. It landed on the tip of Starscream's olfactory ridge.
"Nope!" Skywarp said. "I've got no idea!"
Starscream opened his mouth and swiftly bit Skywarp's finger. Hissing in surprise, Skywarp withdrew their hand.
"Well behaved as always, Starscream."
Starscream fluttered his wings as he turned toward the source of the voice. He held them high in greeting after they stilled. Shockwave stood before him, singular optic shining brightly. Starscream placed his hands on his hips.
"Is that sarcasm I detect?" Starscream said, leaning forward.
"It's only sarcastic because you let it be," Shockwave said.
The mech's voice was always flat, even flatter than Soundwave's—a byproduct of the lobotomy he underwent. Criminals, particularly ones that spread ideas the Council declared dangerous, were rounded up and subjected to empurata, a process that robbed them of their faces and much of their social and moral programming. Starscream and his wingmates had captured many mecha to be placed into this process before they freed themselves from the Enforcers. He had no choice, so he didn't dwell on it.
Supposedly, Shockwave could never hold an emotional relationship with another mech. He could value a mech for their skills or actions, sure, but he couldn't care about them on an emotional level. The lack of attachment made him a bit more predictable. It was almost a relief at times. Starscream knew nothing he said or did to Shockwave would change the mech's thoughts on him as long as he held value, and why wouldn't he? He was Starscream!
Starscream hummed, amusement warming his spark. "Do you need anything?"
(This was… familiar. Not just because it was his memory. He knew this one. It lingered. Why?)
"Thundercracker was looking for you," Shockwave said. "She was concerned that you were out so long. But I have no business with you. Sunstorm—"
He motioned toward the aforementioned mech, who turned toward him with his wings raised. "Yes?"
"I've set up today's tests. Please follow me to the lab."
Starscream flicked his wings. The lab… that was a thousand times better than spending the night trying to convince Thundercracker he and Skywarp could fly on their own. As Sunstorm passed him and Shockwave turned away, Starscream stepped forward.
"Can I come?" He asked.
Shockwave paused. Slowly, he turned toward Starscream.
"You'll get in the way," he said.
Excitement dying down, Starscream twitched his wings as he did his best not to be offended. Shockwave was merely speaking what he thought was the truth. It wasn't his fault he was wrong—he didn't have all the data.
"I've worked in labs before!" Starscream said. "Yours may be different, but I can learn."
Shockwave's singular optic stared, endlessly bright as it burned its way through Starscream's face. His plating crawled at the intense stare. He fought not to fidget beneath it, tapping his pede as silently as he could manage.
"I suppose an apprentice would be useful," Shockwave said. He turned away. "Come along."
They passed through the halls and entered the lab—a retrofitted frame production room, with much of the equipment still in it. Starscream only had vague memories of such rooms, a single bright optic staring down at him as he woke for the first time. The lighting was much dimmer back then, but Shockwave needed clear vision for his experiments, so the new lights were nearly blinding.
Shockwave attached a set of monitors to Sunstorm as he stood perfectly still, a small smile on his face. The Seeker was used to this. When he wasn't out with Starscream and the others, he was here, practicing with his ability. For a moment, Starscream watched the process, but quickly grew bored. Did Shockwave really need three different spark monitors?
Starscream picked at the surface of a scratched up berth. There were many scattered throughout the room. How else would the frames be stored? Waking for the first time was a confusing process. Many mecha squirmed and thrashed, hence the scratches, but not him. He was calm when he woke.
It could have been in this very room. Something in his spark was drawn to Shockwave, and he knew, deep down, that the mech had something to do with his creation. Although he asked if Shockwave was his spark donor, Shockwave never confirmed it. The best he received was a dismissive, "I've created many drones. You could be one of them."
Sunstorm, being much newer, still had a clear memory of his onlining. He was part of the final batch before Darkmount was freed. So, Sunstorm knew that Shockwave created him. Starscream assumed that was why he humored the mech, beyond simply wanting to practice with his ability.
Shockwave finally finished placing the monitors. Light brightened the room as he instructed Sunstorm to activate his ability. The numbers on the monitors fluctuated, the graph on the datapad Shockwave had rising and plummeting. Starscream wasn't sure what Shockwave was measuring. He hadn't explained, and Starscream forgot to ask.
Suddenly, the lights went out. The glow within Sunstorm's hands blanketed them. Sunstorm startled, and with a pop and a flash, it disappeared, leaving them in darkness.
"What?" Sunstorm said quietly.
Starscream flicked his wings. "Probably Thundercracker and the repairmecha messing with the power again."
"No," Shockwave said. "They didn't give a warning."
Right. They always supplied warnings, or quickly sent a message if an outage was unexpected. What was this, then?
(Starscream knew. He knew. This memory was familiar for a reason. He couldn't let it keep going.)
"If this isn't them," Starscream said. "Who is it?"
Shockwave charged his cannon. Starscream followed the action, charging his rays. Sunstorm glanced between them before doing the same.
[Skywarp?] Starscream sent. [Thundercracker?]
No response. Not even a 'message read' indicator.
The door slid open to an empty hall. Shockwave peered through it. Then, he stepped back, the door sliding shut before him. He pressed a button on the keypad and a second door shuttered over the first.
"We are going to stay here—"
{Playback suspended.}
☆☆☆
Burning optics stared down at him. His spark pulsed in his chest, pain crawling beneath his plating. Not this one. He couldn't let him see this one. His cable disconnected as he sent the command, snapping back beneath his panel.
He pushed the chair backward, gasping as his arm was seized. Galvatron pulled him out of the chair as if he were weightless, dangling him by the forearm. His optics seared into Starscream's.
"I wasn't done," he growled.
Starscream was. Galvatron had no right to see that. He had no right to see any of his memories. Why was he letting him do this?
"Let me go!" Starscream hissed.
Galvatron's grip tightened. Too-thin plating groaned, threatening to collapse. Pain shot through Starscream's arm, and he fought a flinch. Galvatron dragged him closer. Warm air from the gaps between the dictator's plating washed over Starscream.
"We had an agreement," Galvatron said. "You will give me what I ask of you, or I will take it. Have you forgotten?"
Starscream squirmed, trying in vain to push himself away. "N-no, sir. I haven't forgotten."
Galvatron turned, holding Starscream before his throne.
"Then you know you've brought this upon yourself."
The brute threw him onto the throne. Before Starscream could rise, the dictator was already upon him, pushing him against the throne. Starscream scratched where he could, even attempting to bite, but he had little hope against the brute's strength. One arm forced against the armrest and another against the back of the throne, Starscream found himself thoroughly pinned.
He forced himself to meet Galvatron's optics. The dictator stared back, teeth bared as he snarled.
"Please," Starscream begged. "Don't."
With disgusting precision, large fingers forced themselves beneath Starscream's medical panel. It opened with a screeching click.
"You have one more chance," Galvatron said. "Your cable. Now."
No, no, no. He couldn't. He couldn't.
"Fine, then."
{Connection detected! Auth—}
{ERROR}
☆☆☆
Dirty, stained gray covered in scratches. An equally dirty floor. A set of double doors. He was…? Starscream's claws clutched his chest, his spark pulsing wildly. His fans were at full power, the sound consuming his audials.
He… where was…?
His entire frame shook. He felt every aching strut and every dent. He felt nothing.
A quiet chirp, just barely extant over his fans. A flash of yellow at his side. He closed his optics.
'Buzzsaw?' He tried to ask, but no words came. So, he brought his arm to his mouth and sank his dentae into his arm guard. Metal crunched beneath his dentae, and… oh, frag. Where had his arm guard gone?
He took it off to expose his panel. Had he never put it back on? The taste of energeon in his mouth. He was still biting himself. Slag. He didn't pull away.
He placed his free hand against the floor and pushed himself onto his knees. He couldn't stay here. Wasn't safe. But was anywhere safe anymore?
He placed his hand against the wall as he walked. One pede after the other. Just like that. It wasn't far. He could make it back.
Was that smoke from him? The temperature warning said yes. Nothing he could do about that now. He paused in the middle of the hall as his vision swam. Why was it so hard to move?
"What the frag is your issue now?"
He knew that voice.
"If this isn't worth my time, I'll—"
Pink optics met his. Slipstream. Her wings twitched as she studied him. Laserbeak hovered beside her.
"What happened to you?" She said.
'Galvatron,' Starscream tried and failed to say.
Slipstream's brow furrowed. She offered him a hand, and as her gaze drifted toward the crushed and bitten exposed plating of his arm, her brow furrowed deeper. Rather than waiting, she grabbed his wrist, dragging him forward.
"Come on," she muttered. "Let's get out of this pit-damned hall."
They passed through the few halls that remained before reaching Starscream's room. When she reached the door, she took Starscream's hand and placed it against the keypad. It dinged and the door opened. She pulled him toward the berth.
They sat. Buzzsaw landed gently on Starscream's shoulder, and Laserbeak in his lap. He reached beneath Laserbeak's chin and scratched it. Laserbeak cooed. Starscream shuttered his optics and purred his engine.
He missed Skywarp. Her stupid pranks, obnoxious pokes and prods, even her overprotective and possessive side—he missed all of it. She'd be upset that he hurt himself, even if it wasn't quite intentional. She'd hold him and stroke his wings, and he'd believe that everything could be okay again.
He missed Jetfire. Was he okay? What lies did Skyfire and Star tell him to make him agree to become a combiner? Who was his partner? Did he have more than one?
Starscream wanted to hear him ramble about some random thing again, whether it was something as tiny as an Earthen bug or as unique as an experimental medical procedure that was mentioned in passing during a class. He wanted to hold him close, his newspark's large frame blanketing him. Truly, he missed everyone he left behind, whether they made it to this universe or not—Soundwave and his ill-mannered cassettes, Blitzwing and their mischievous dog, Knock Out, Bumblebee…
Why did he ever think this was a good idea? It was a terrible one, perhaps the worst one he'd ever had. But he didn't see any other options.
"What happened?" Slipstream asked, her voice nearing a whisper.
"Galvatron," Starscream said, finally able to speak. His voice was nearly drowned out by his fans and his own purrs. "He wanted to… ex—exchange. Data."
Why was it still so hard to speak? Slipstream stayed silent, giving him the space to reboot his vocalizer. Maybe that would solve whatever was catching, or maybe it was his usual nervous glitch.
"I—I didn't…"
Slipstream's wings drooped. "You didn't want to."
Starscream looked away. "No."
The berth creaked as Slipstream shifted. She sighed, reaching toward him before pulling her hand back.
"It seems there's no such thing as favor from a mech like him," Slipstream muttered. "I thought he valued you."
Starscream allowed a hiss to escape his vocalizer. "I never deluded myself. I—I knew. We made an agreement. I went back on it."
Slipstream frowned. She flicked her wings, shifting in place again.
"What was it you said before?" Slipstream said. She paused, staring into the distance for a moment, then flicked her wings again. "Oh, right. 'He shouldn't hurt you. That's just plain fragging stupid.' That applies to you, too."
Starscream laughed. How snide, to spit his own words back at him.
"Don't laugh!" Slipstream spluttered. "I mean it!"
Starscream refrained from laughing again.
"Why are you even here?" He asked.
Slipstream's wings fluttered as she pressed her lips thin. "It's simple! You helped me, I help you. You're the only mech that seems to actually… give a scrap."
It all made sense now—the clinginess, the glances sent his way, the awkward invitation to sit with her and her wingmates. Slipstream wasn't some ungrateful jerk. She was just a mech unused to being valued. Like everything about her thus far, it was too familiar.
"It makes no sense to harm one's own soldiers," Starscream said.
Suddenly reminded of Slipstream striking Dirge as he began closing memory files, half of his processor expected her to bristle. Instead, she relaxed, her wings rising to neutral position.
"I suppose not," she said.
Starscream opted not to point out the hypocrisy. He was guilty of the same thing, long ago. Perhaps even worse, since he killed his own soldiers to protect himself. Maybe she would change her methods now, or maybe she wouldn't. The occasional strike was nowhere near equivalent to what she endured at Galvatron's hands, even if it wasn't ideal.
The room quieted as neither of them spoke. Laserbeak's purrs joined Starscream's as he returned to scratching the cassette underneath its beak. His fans finally slowed somewhat, though they weren't back to normal yet. The temperature warning finally disappeared.
"I used to have wingmates," Slipstream said quietly.
Seekers were made, and generally sold in, sets of three. There were many reasons a set could be separated. Most of the time, it was through the death of the wingmates. But Starscream had never seen Slipstream with her wingmates. He just assumed they were dead.
"What happened?" He asked.
Slipstream's claws coasted along her arms, caressing her own plating. Her wings lowered.
"I failed basic testing," she said. "They didn't. So someone sold them together with some other mech, and I got put up for offers."
Many mecha didn't pass basic testing. When Starscream learned that drones deemed defective were melted down for parts, he assumed that was where they all went, but he never knew. Now, all of the Seekers that inexplicably weren't owned by the Enforcers made sense—they'd failed basic testing, but could fetch a decent enough sell price, so they were sent elsewhere.
"Who bought you?" Starscream asked.
Slipstream sighed. "Some old mech. Forged, I think. They wanted me to guard their home and entertain them. I was a glorified pet."
She paused, staring off. Her optics unfocused, as if replaying a memory file. Starscream prepared himself to prompt her for more information, but she spoke again before he could.
"It was humiliating," she hissed. "They left me outside all day with no shelter unless they got bored. Do you know how many times I got rained on? How must rust I had to scrape off myself? And I couldn't leave, because that fragger put a boundary collar on me."
Starscream never thought he would be grateful to have been a glorified police hound, yet here he was. No shelter and collecting rust all day? He almost shuddered at the thought. And she'd been left all alone. It was a wonder she hadn't been stolen.
Thieves and resellers were one of the many types of criminals he had to track down. They made up the bulk of his cases. Drones were expensive, so many mecha sought the return of their property when it was taken rather than just buying a new one.
Slipstream smiled, exposing her fangs. Her optics grew distant again, and her wings drooped.
"Then I saw you," she said. "The other you. Galvatron and Optimus were there, too, but they didn't matter. They weren't Seekers. You spoke of freedom and I yearned for it. So I broke into my master's quarters and killed them right then, and I realized it was something I could've done all along. I don't know why I waited."
Starscream's path to revolution was a lot more convoluted. He befriended Skyfire, visiting the mech every moment he could until he disappeared. After the Council and the Science Committee refused to search for him, Starscream tried to do it himself, despite knowing his frame wasn't built to leave the atmosphere. He crashed, landing right before Megatron, who took him to get treatment at a secret Decepticon clinic.
There was no grand moment of realization like Slipstream. He always thought the system was stupid, he just didn't have the resources to make a difference until he stumbled into them. Without Skyfire's death, was Star's path even remotely similar?
But Starscream knew the crushing helplessness of being controlled by a cruel master. He felt it now, and he felt it beneath Megatron before the end of the war. Slipstream was right—what was stopping him now?
"I came here to kill Galvatron," Starscream said.
He had no fear of being overheard. Who was there to report him? Laserbeak and Buzzsaw were on his side, and he was in control of the security system. Slipstream despised Galvatron as much as she feared him.
She would agree to help him. It was the best option for both of them.
But instead of smirking and asking for the plan, or cackling in delight, her optics widened. She grew still, her wings shooting upward.
"He can't die," she whispered.
Starscream often thought the same thing about Megatron.
"I have a plan," Starscream said. "I've dealt with mecha like him before. But as you said about yourself: I was waiting. We can act now."
Slipstream shook her head.
"You don't understand!" She said, voice growing desperate. "He can't die. I tried to kill him and he just got back up. That's why he hates me."
She must have failed, as Starscream had many times before. But if so, why would she be so insistent? Dark energeon had done terrifying things in the past. Perhaps its frame-strengthening abilities led Galvatron to survive something he shouldn't have, and it rattled her.
"You were alone," Starscream said. "This time, you won't be. The Decepticons are miserable like this—no medic, no supplies, rations low enough they're fighting for energeon… it will be easy to make them lose faith if we put pressure in the right places. I already have control of security and communications. If we play this right, we can turn them to our side and Galvatron won't suspect a thing."
Slipstream stared. In Starscream's lap, Laserbeak stirred, letting out a quiet chirp.
"I still think this is going to be a disaster, but I'll help you," Slipstream said.
Starscream grinned. "Good."
The only security flaw in his plan was himself. If Galvatron accessed his memory files, he would be able to see this conversation. Typically, he ignored the recent files in favor of older ones, but Starscream couldn't risk it. So, he clipped the memory and moved it to a junk folder. Galvatron never touched those—what mech would ever care to?
He would rip the warp drive from Galvatron's chest and stand laughing over his corpse. Starscream would return, victorious, and Skywarp and Jetfire would forgive him for leaving them. They would come home and recharge with the rest of New Decepticon Command, ready to face whatever was ahead.
But for now, he and Slipstream sat side by side, two traitors ready to conspire.