Chapter Text
The floor was dirty. She knew it wasn't what she was meant to be focusing on. But it was dirty. It would get in her joints and grind against them, and it was so hard to remove.
Slipstream forced herself to sit up, fighting a wave of vertigo. This was familiar. Something happened before she…
She froze. Thrust. The energeon. Ramjet. Oh, Ramjet. Was Ramjet okay? She sprung up. Like before, she wasn't bound. The room was windowless. A dim light shone above her, coating everything in a faint red.
Then, there! Ramjet was on the floor, ropes around his limbs. A clip rested on his wings, forcing them still and preventing any chance of transforming. His optics were closed. Slipstream leaned down and untied the ropes.
Why tie him but not her? She didn't have anything restricting her movements. If they were after her specifically, why even bother taking Ramjet?
There wasn't anything she could do for the clip. If they escaped this, they would have to flee on pede. Maybe that was the tactic—they knew she wouldn't leave him. The time spent freeing him would give them precious moments to prepare whatever it was they needed to.
She was proven right as the walls around her lifted away. Optics watched from the shadows, faces hidden behind masks. Slipstream rose and fanned out her wings, standing above Ramjet. There were still no windows. No doors, either. No way to escape.
"What do you want?" She hissed.
One of the masked mecha stepped forward. He was large, larger than even Galvatron. Wings jutted out from his back, thick and heavy. An ancient make and model—one of the first flight Warframes.
"I am Tarn," the mech said. "I want you to return what you stole."
"I didn't steal anything," Slipstream said.
Tarn pointed a large, sharpened claw toward her chest. "Return it. Now."
Of course. The Matrix. Slipstream brought her own claws to her chest.
"I can't," she hissed.
"So be it," Tarn said, stepping forward. The shadow he cast was long, almost as if he were consuming the light around him. "You have taken the Matrix from its rightful owner, and misled the Decepticons with talks of peace. There is no peace until all Autobots are destroyed. You are a traitor to the Decepticon Cause, and unworthy of the Matrix."
Tarn reached for her. Slipstream stepped back, nearly tripping over Ramjet. It was this stumble that allowed Tarn to grab her, pulling her close to his chest. She attempted to charge her rays.
{ERROR: Unable to connect to weapons systems.}
They thought of everything, didn't they?
"It seems like you need an incentive," Tarn growled.
Another mech stepped forward from the darkness. Even with the mask on, Slipstream recognized him.
"Thrust!" She hissed.
Thrust bent down, picking Ramjet up as if he weighed nothing. He was Thrust's wingmate. Surely, Thrust wouldn't—
Thrust brought his arm up, pushing his ray beneath Ramjet's chin. It hummed as he powered it up.
"How could you?" Slipstream yelled.
"The Matrix," Thrust said. "Now."
Thrust was going to kill him. He was going to kill Ramjet. Slipstream's spark seized. She couldn't give them what they wanted, not without…
"I can't!" She yelled. "I already said I can't! The Matrix is part of me. It's attached to my spark chamber! Do you think I haven't tried?"
Tarn's grip tightened around her.
"Then I suppose we'll have to tear it out," he said.
He reached around the front of her, hooking his claws under her chestplates. He yanked. The plating didn't give. The soft mesh attached to it burned. Slipstream let out a hiss of pain, squirming in his grip.
Tarn continued to pull. She couldn't get free. He was going to kill her—
A shot rang out. Ramjet. No, no! Not Ramjet—
Thrust tilted sideways, his grip going slack. Ramjet slipped out from beneath him as he crashed to the floor. The ray that was aimed against Ramjet's helm smoked. Ramjet stood, his helm stained with energeon and his dentae bared.
He leaped at Tarn, launching himself at his shoulders. The blow forced him to let go of Slipstream. She slinked away, getting out of grabbing range as quickly as she could. Tarn and Ramjet wrestled like wild mechanimals, growling and howling.
The crowd didn't move forward. They watched, still sitting within the shadows. She had to do something.
Then, she remembered: Helex. Thrust's frame was right there. She leaped for it, tearing open the panel and connecting. Behind her, Ramjet screamed.
She didn't look. She couldn't. This was all she could do.
She found the latest set of coordinates in his files and saved them. Her comms hadn't been disabled, thank frag. But that led to yet another thought—Tarn must have known she wouldn't have the coordinates. Why else would her comms not be cut?
It explained the lack of concern Helex showed the first time she was kidnapped, too. How did they know?
She shook the confusion off and reached for Starscream's channel. He would be able to forward the message. She received a reply fairly quickly, but was unable to read it as she was yanked away from the corpse.
She turned, clawing at her captor. But Tarn's armor was thick. Still squirming, she charged up and fired her rays, not caring that a shot in such close range would damage her as well. She was flung backward as Tarn stumbled.
Ramjet? Where was Ramjet? A white shape laid behind Tarn, steadily leaking energeon. Slipstream sprinted for it.
"Ramjet!" She hissed. "Slag!"
His arm was severed midway through the forearm. One of his pedes was crushed. Slipstream knelt before him. But she couldn't linger. Tarn would be back up at any moment. She charged her rays and turned, aiming them at where she last saw Tarn.
The mask was split, a quarter of it missing. The face was familiar, but she couldn't place it. She knew this mech, but not well. She fired again, and the mask flew off.
She recognized him now. One of Galvatron's most loyal mecha—a member of his elite squad of triplechangers. After the loss of the other two members, he was sent away on a mission and never returned. They all presumed him dead.
Before she could speak his name, the walls shook. A thud echoed through the room. The ceiling collapsed, crumbled rock falling. A massive figure emerged, flame cloaking them. Like a falling star, they crashed into the unmasked mech. Then, with a swift motion and a wicked grin, they tore off his helm.
It clattered to the ground before Slipstream. She widened her wings, readying her rays. The massive mech just laughed. The fire faded into smoke, his plating sizzling. It was split down the middle. She recognized the pattern.
The Autobots' combiner.
As suddenly as he arrived, the combiner split apart. In his place was two mecha: one she knew and one she didn't. The unfamiliar mech simply stared, a small frown on his face. Jetfire rushed toward them, optics wide. Immediately, he settled down in front of Ramjet, pulling a medkit from his storage space.
There was a whole crowd of mecha here. Why were they just standing there? Slipstream searched the darkness, but it was empty. Where had they gone?
They were still out there. That thought froze her lines. That triplechanger may have been their leader, but that wouldn't stop them from coming back. Her spark crackled in her chest.
More noise—were they back? Slipstream jumped. A large jet flew through the opening the combiner created. It landed gently. Hook rested on top of it, clinging to it with a shaky grip.
"We have landed," the jet said.
Hook slowly got down from the jet.
"Remind me to never agree to fly on you again," Hook said.
The jet transformed into robot mode.
"I will," they said.
There were tank treads on their legs—another triplechanger. If they hadn't arrived with Hook, Slipstream would've fired. Hook approached, joining Jetfire in treating Ramjet.
The triplechanger approached.
"Are you alright?" They asked with a furrowed brow.
"Alright enough," Slipstream said. She narrowed her optics. "Who are you?"
"Blitzwing," they said.
"Of Starscream's world, I'm assuming."
Blitzwing nodded. "Yes. I happened to be visiting Jetfire when he got your message, so he contacted me."
The Blitzwing of her world was cold and murderous, one of the lost members of the triplechanger squad. This one was decidedly less dangerous. Slipstream's gaze fell to the severed helm. Blitzwing followed it.
Their face fell.
"Oh," they said quietly. Their wings lowered, their composure changing completely.
"Oh what?" Slipstream said.
"I knew him, once," Blitzwing said softly. "My world's version of him. It's… a shame."
"It is."
∆∆∆
Ramjet survived. They weren't able to reattach his arm, but he survived. Wheeljack offered to make a replacement, which was quickly accepted. Missing a limb meant Ramjet couldn't transform, leaving him particularly antsy.
He tapped a pede as Wheeljack tweaked the new arm, occasionally stimulating it with a charge. He rested his cheek on his palm, staring at the wall.
"Can you feel that?" Wheeljack asked.
"Yes," Ramjet said flatly.
Wheeljack hummed. "Try moving your fingers."
Ramjet's new fingers twitched.
"Good," Wheeljack said.
"Good to go?" Ramjet said.
Wheeljack shook his helm. "Just a few more tests."
Slipstream reached out, placing a hand on Ramjet's shoulder. He turned toward her.
[You'll fly soon,] she sent.
Ramjet looked away. His wings twitched downward.
[I want to crawl out of my plating,] he replied. [Haven't been without flight for this long in a while.]
A pang of guilt passed through Slipstream. This was her fault, in a way. If they hadn't taken her and Ramjet, he wouldn't have lost his arm.
[We'll go for a flight the moment he says you're ready,] Slipstream promised.
That seemed to settle him. Ramjet sighed, some of the tension leaving his frame. True to his word, Wheeljack finished after a few more tests. He looked up at Ramjet and smacked his palms together.
"Welp!" He said cheerily. "That's all the tests I needed to run. You're good to go. If you have any issues, let me know!"
They said their goodbyes. The moment they left the facility, Slipstream turned back toward Ramjet. He was flexing his fingers, his arm out in front of him.
"Do you think you can fly?" Slipstream asked.
Ramjet looked up. His wings rose. He smiled.
"Yes."
Slipstream smiled back. She leaped into the air and transformed. She flew ahead, but circled back, waiting for Ramjet to join her. An engine sounded behind her and she rolled, catching a glimpse of white plating.
Ramjet surged ahead of her, picking up speed before doing a slip. She followed him.
[Is everything working?] She sent.
Ramjet did another flip. [Yes!]
If Slipstream were in robot form, she would have grinned. Her spark warmed. Ramjet generally wasn't one for tricks, but clearly, a while grounded tempted him to test himself.
As they flew home, they weaved around each other. Because Cybertron was beyond saving, the humans had agreed to give cybertronians select territories. Because of this, they didn't need to worry about human aircraft as they coasted across the sky. But this also made the areas densely populated, and as they got closer to home, the chatter and screech of busy mecha reached them.
Somewhere below, two grounders in alt-mode barely missed one another, causing the entire street to back up. It was a good thing they weren't caught in that. The past few days of taking transports was already a slog.
Eventually, they reached the apartment complex. They landed on the roof, then quietly made their way down to their room. As they entered the hallway, Slipstream froze.
She wasn't sure what it was, but she heard something. A voice, maybe? It was muffled and deep. Familiar.
"Slipstream?" Ramjet said softly.
The moment was broken. She couldn't hear nor see anything unusual. She pressed ahead. They entered the apartment. The sunset through the window stained it red.
A large hand loomed—
She turned. It was Ramjet. Just Ramjet. Who else would it be?
He offered her a cube of energeon. She took it and they settled at the table. Ramjet picked up the datapad that laid facedown on it and placed it on a stand, then turned it on.
It wasn't anything special, and the quality wasn't great, but they lacked the space for a proper TV. So, a datapad it was. They searched for a movie to play, finding one quickly—some trashy romance with a lot of action scenes.
Most cybertronian media was lost in the war, destroyed in battles or left to decay on Cybertron. Final copies rested only in the helms of the dead. But when peace deals were made and construction began, one mech stepped forward.
She had a large collection of media, mostly romance novels. But a few were movies. This wasn't one of them. It was the first film created since the start of peace, directed by her.
The film began with a pair of wingmates. Slipstream tried not to snicker as she recognized the actors. There were only so many Seekers around, after all. It was a good thing they were finding new purposes.
The wingmates were soldiers in a war, sent on a mission. One of the enemy soldiers caught one of the wingmates' optics—classic love at first sight. But it quickly turned dark. The enemy soldier killed the other members of the mission. In an attempt to kill the enemy soldier, one of the wingmates was caught in the crossfire.
It was a shot from his own wingmate that took him out. The scene was exaggerated, but it pulled at her spark. The acting was decent, and the score was beautiful. Beside her, Ramjet stiffened. Slowly, he placed his cube on the table.
His optics were fuzzy. His wings shook.
"Ramjet?" Slipstream said.
His optics fell to the table. "Yeah?"
"Are you alright?"
Ramjet brought his hands to his face, burying it in them. His wings clattered against the chair. He hunched, curling in on himself.
"I killed him," he said, voice muffled by his hands. "I killed my wingmate."
They'd been so busy with his recovery that it must not have had time to sink in. What could she say?
"You saved me," she said.
Ramjet crumpled. The action sent needles through Slipstream's spark. What could she do? Gently, Slipstream reached for the end of his wing and rubbed it.
"I knew it was him," Ramjet said, voice cracking. "Recognized the override button on his rays. And I pressed it."
Slipstream hooked her arm around his shoulders, pulling him toward her. He turned, wrapping his arms around her, and buried his face in her shoulder.
"He was going to kill you," Slipstream said.
Ramjet squeezed her. His hands shook.
"I don't know what happened to him," he said. "We used to be so close."
Slipstream was reminded of Acid Storm and Ion Storm. The Matrix hummed angrily in her chest, sending a small stab of pain. She ignored it. Comforting Ramjet was more important.
"A lot of things have changed," she said.
"I just don't understand it."
She rubbed his shoulder. "I don't, either."
∆∆∆
Ramjet's demeanor changed after that. He was sullen and quiet, his wings always set low. No matter what Slipstream tried, she couldn't get him to brighten. So, she turned to one of the few mecha who might be able to answer.
[What do I do?]
[Give him something to care for,] Starscream replied. [That's what saved me.]
'Something to care for' was a very vague statement. Ramjet had little interest in plants, so Slipstream settled for an animal. It took some research, but she had a few ideas. The only issue? Humans.
"Is this the… animal shelter?" Slipstream asked.
The human looked up from the doorway, tiny optics wide.
"Yes," they stammered. "I-it is!"
There was no way they would fit inside that building. It was tiny, and much too short. Perhaps this wasn't the best idea, but they were already there.
Slipstream leaned down. "We want to adopt."
She had done research. Any of the animals in the shelter would have plenty of space in their home. She had no preference herself—ideally, Ramjet would be the one to pick.
The human kept staring. They glanced between the two mecha and the interior of the shelter.
"Oh," they said. They glanced away and back again. "Come around the other side. We have a catio and pen."
Slipstream nodded. The human went back into the building. She and Ramjet went along the side. On one side, a wire mesh enclosed a set of small animals with many climbing features. The other, in the side facing perpendicular to the first, housed a set of loud animals of varying sizes.
The human popped out from a door. They smiled.
"Just, uh… look around!" They said. "We can discuss the details if you find one you like."
Slipstream nodded. The loud ones were cute, but the tiny ones caught her interest. One came toward her and rubbed its face against the mesh before letting out a noise. She knelt, placing her finger at the edge of the mesh. It didn't flee.
The air shifted as Ramjet knelt behind her. She took her finger away and gently grabbed his, resting it against the mesh. The animal made a noise again.
"Soft," Ramjet said quietly.
The animal reared up, placing its paws against the mesh. It made a noise again. Ramjet stared at it, face crinkling.
Slipstream turned toward the human. "Can he hold it?"
The human furrowed their tiny brow. They looked between the two mecha and the little creature.
"You won't harm her?" The human asked.
Slipstream glared at them. "We're here to adopt. Why would we hurt the animal we're trying to adopt?"
The human blinked, staring up at her.
"Right," the human said.
They disappeared into the building. A few moments later, they reappeared inside the wire mesh and picked up the animal. It protested with a squeaky noise, but quickly went limp in their arms. Then, the human came back outside. They held the animal up, offering it to them.
Ramjet glanced at Slipstream. Slipstream motioned toward the animal. Slowly, Ramjet placed his hand before the human. They set the animal down on top of it. Ramjet brought the hand to his chest, offering one of his fingers to the creature.
It made a noise and rubbed itself against his finger. Ramjet's optic lenses shifted as he focused on the animal, carefully bringing his finger to the top of its head. He scratched the animal's head. It leaned into the touch.
He smiled.
"Can you hear it?" He whispered.
Slipstream turned up the sensitivity of her audials. The creature was purring. No wonder Ramjet was excited. She turned back toward the human.
"We'll take this one," she said.
∆∆∆
The animal came with a name: Swansong. A bit macabre, but Slipstream didn't see any reason to change it, especially when Ramjet's suggestion—Turboclaws—was much more ridiculous. The humans, despite clearly being afraid of them, scrutinized them at every part of the process. But Slipstream had done her research.
So what if she forgot the creature was called a cat? She still knew what one needed.
So, after a few days, they were able to bring Swansong home. Swansong spent most of her time following Ramjet around, occasionally nearly ending up under-pede. Her favorite place to rest was inside Ramjet's cockpit, something he rushed to tell Slipstream the first time it happened. He had extra cushioning put in for her.
The cat proved a wonderful distraction. Ramjet finally brightened up, spending his spare time finding treats and trinkets for her. He often brought her to work in his cockpit, and she seemed to enjoy flying.
Which led to situations like this one.
Ramjet opened his cockpit and gently set Swansong on Slipstream's desk. With a quiet trill, Swansong leaped onto her datapad. Slipstream petted the cat's head.
"Swansong wants you to take a break," Ramjet said.
Slipstream looked up at him, amusement warming her spark. "Swansong or you? Last I recalled, she couldn't talk."
Ramjet smiled and held up his hands.
"Fine," he said with a chuckle. "You got me."
He was so sweet. She never would have thought him capable of something like this when they first met. But…
"I have another meeting soon," she said.
"But you have some time in between!"
She shook her helm. "I have notes to sort through. I need to get ready."
Ramjet's smile fell. He scooped Swansong back into her cockpit despite her protests.
"Right," he said, turning toward the door.
He was just trying to help…
"We can go out after work," Slipstream said.
Ramjet looked back, the smile returning to his face as he nodded. He closed the door. Her office was so quiet without him.
But the meeting wasn't a lie. She did have notes to review. So, she busied herself by reading them over.
"Oh, Slipstream…"
That voice. Cold claws gripped her spark. She knew that voice. But Galvatron was dead.
The lights flickered. The indicator on the access panel turned red, and everything turned off. Slipstream stood up, her spark crackling. The building was in lockdown mode. Why?
Laughter echoed in her audials. She hissed, searching for the source, but it was fruitless.
"Where are you?" She growled.
Shadows moved in the corner of her vision, but when she turned to face them, nothing was there. She charged her rays.
"Such a pathetic sight," Galvatron said. "You always did need me…"
"I never needed you!" She hissed.
Where was he hiding?
"Did you?" Galvatron said. "It was I who elevated you, I who made you something other than a lowly pet Seeker. Even now, you only bear the Matrix because I had it first."
The Matrix. Was that what this was? An invisible claw scraped down her chest, air rushing over her from phantom vents. What if Galvatron wasn't around her, but inside her?
"Even now," Galvatron said. "You pad after that Seeker like he's your new master. You're woefully dependent. A perfect pet until the end."
"That's… that's not true!" She hissed.
But her spark seized. She knew it was. Starscream had friends, a life, far beyond her own—yet she clung to him. He was an entire universe away and she still couldn't do things without him.
And Ramjet… was Ramjet the same? Was he yet another dependency? Just like Nova? He nearly died. And if the masked mecha tried again…
"I can see the gears turning in your mind," Galvatron purred. "You know it's true."
She couldn't deny it. Despite being leader of her own faction, she had never been more helpless. Galvatron wasn't just still here—he was part of her.
"You don't own me," she said. Her voice was soft, trembling.
"Lie to yourself all you want, Slipstream. It won't change the truth."
The keypad beeped, the light on it turning green. The door opened, and light flooded the room. Gone was the presence she had felt so acutely only moments before.
"Slipstream!"
Ramjet's voice reached her audials. Oh, he was standing in the doorway. His wings were low. He came toward her.
"Are you alright?"
Slipstream forced herself to speak. "I'm fine."
Ramjet offered a hand. She placed hers in his. Gently, he squeezed her hand, pulling her forward.
"Someone activated lockdown mode, but only for this wing," Ramjet said. "I thought they might be targeting you, but I couldn't get in."
They left the entry room.
"There was no one there," Slipstream said. "Maybe they just wanted to cause trouble?"
Best not to let him know Galvatron was inside her. Speaking of… she drafted a message to Optimus.
[You told me I could speak to you about the Matrix.]
They entered the lobby. Ahead of them, Acid Storm and Ion Storm held a mech between them. The mech thrashed, his wings thwacking against their sides. After a moment, she recognized him: Sideways, a fairly unremarkable Seeker.
[Yes,] Optimus replied. [What did you want to discuss?]
[Does the Matrix…] How could she phrase this? [Keep copies of its past wielders?]
Sideways looked toward her and stilled.
[It does,] Optimus replied. [Did one of them speak to you?]
[Possibly.]
[Who?]
Sideways grinned.
[They didn't say their name,] Slipstream lied.
Acid Storm glanced between Sideways and Slipstream. He flicked his wings and flexed his shoulders, as if trying to make himself larger.
"He broke into the control room," he said, motioning toward Sideways. "He was the one who pulled the alarm."
Optimus sent her more messages, but she didn't read them. She already had confirmation of what she feared: Galvatron was inside the Matrix, and he wanted something from her. Was that why the Matrix kept hurting her?
"Take him outside and don't let him back in," Slipstream said.
Acid Storm frowned. "Are you sure you don't want us to interrogate—?"
"He hasn't caused any real harm, and likely wasn't trying to," Slipstream said. "Otherwise, he would've just shot us all."
Sideways laughed. Acid Storm and Ion Storm jumped. Suddenly, Sideways shot forward, barely restrained.
"He's coming for you!" Sideways cackled.
Slipstream stepped back. Sideways attempted to cross the gap, but Acid Storm and Ion Storm pulled him away.
"You're the key," Sideways said. "Destruction or salvation—it's your choice!"
He couldn't be referring to Galvatron. How would he know? But who else could he be referring to? An electric shock traveled across Slipstream's plating. Sideways, still cackling, was hauled away.
There was no way he could know about Galvatron. It didn't make sense. But the timing was perfect.
Later that day, the energeon she shared with Ramjet tasted like ash. Dread crept over her, its tendrils digging into her seams and taking root. Galvatron wanted something from her, and she held no doubt it would destroy anyone close to her.