DISCLAIMER: I do not work for Transformers!
Starscream floated alone. The last sounds he had heard, were the pleading cries of his Trine, infected with scraplets, doomed to deactivation. Megatron, learning of the deadly infestation of Nemesis, ordered the contaminated decks be rinsed with acid. Upon hearing that two of his last seekers had contacted the deadly, unstoppable pathogen, Megatron demanded they also undergo the acid treatment.
Despite being the Second in command of the Decepticon forces, the Flight Leader, the Air Commander, and Megatron's assistant in every aspect, Starscream could not save either Thundercracker or Skywarp. The power, the position, the authority, they all meant nothing, and were of no use when poised against the smallest metal organism known to Transformer kind.
Through sheer stubbornness, Starscream survived the permanent deactivation of his trine. He lasted longer than anyone expected. Lasted longer than everyone else he had ever known.
The mech had been adrift for millennia – the sheer relief of surviving the last Great War had worn off long ago. He was all that remained of a once proud, great race.
Starscream slowly circled a dying star – the last star in existence, the last star untouched by war and he vented. Hard. "This is not how I wanted it to end. I wish for a chance to do it differently."
Alone, in this nearly empty void, Starscream heard a musical voice whisper, "So you have wished it, so shall it be."
The star exploded. The flaming gases touched and burned Starscream, melting his armor in one swift blast. In pain, he offlined.
The next feeling he experienced, an unknown time later, jarred him into wakefulness. Long engrained habits caused him to react before his processor engaged.
"Easy there, bro."
Starscream opened his eyes. "Jetfire?"
His younger brother, looked at him in concern. "That was a nasty jolt. You sure you won't see a medic?"
"I'm sure." Starscream reassured his brother. The seeker's processors were working just fine. Refusing to admit defeat in any aspect, he lit up his thrusters and hovered. " Come on, let's race." Most observers watching would be excused for missing the slight wobble in his flight caused by unsteady gyros.
Jetfire grinned and hovered beside him. "You're on!"
It wasn't until the riots of Kaon were broadcast that Starscream realized his night terrors were a sign of something serious. Before, he thought the fear and loneliness were remnants of almost crashing during a practice flight. After watching the live coverage of the widespread riots, he realized that somehow, he'd gone back in time and had the opportunity to change things for the better. So, acting on information half forgotten (dreams had a habit of not revealing important clues, giving everything the same urgency, and hid from active processors trying to dismantle and interpret them)
Some things changed. Other things remained the same.
Vos's destruction he managed to postpone, but not stop. The Decepticon forces bombed the city, turning homes into rubble, without any concern for the flight-capables, femmes, or family units that had not already fled or joined their forces. Starscream, risking deactivation, had gone ahead of the main task force, trying to warn everyone. Most laughed and ignored him. The commoners, the ground-pounders, the neutrals, and the empties, Starscream ignored in turn.
He got to his home, where his brother remained, ignorant to their deactivation. Jetfire, heard his pleas, but stubbornly refused to listen. Not until the first bombs hit, did the older mech pause and agree to leave behind everything.
Together, the brothers were among the last living sparked frames to escape before the overwhelmed defenders all fell. As they flew, avoiding the missiles as if it were child's play, Starscream heard a young friend cry out in pain. He ignored the summons and kept on going. Jetfire, did not. He spun around and zoomed back in, reassuring the trapped flyer he wasn't alone.
Starscream slowed and turned. He hovered, watching the skies. A bomb zeroed in on the friend's beacon. "Jetfire! We have to go NOW!"
Jetfire refused to leave their friend to die alone. Starscream refused to risk his life helping a doomed friend. The bomb hit, killing both fliers instantly.
Time passed. The current experiences matched his memories too closely. The pain and loss were stronger because it happened again. In an effort to remain sane Starscream closed off his 'future' memories and eventually found himself as the last Cybertron.
Many vorns later, long after the myths and legends of metal robots faded way, the dying universe, evacuated eons ago, void of habitable planets, still had one individual hanging back, waiting for someone or something.
As the star collapsed, the lone figure, searching endlessly for someone else, whispered, "This isn't how I wanted things to go. I demand a second chance."
A faint note of sound, felt more than heard in the vastness of space, seemed to agree. Before the speaker could flee the inevitable supernova, the star exploded, searing his body, and causing such pain, he blackened out.
This time, when he awoke, it was to the sound of laughter. A quick glance down, revealed he was much younger than before. The dream felt so real, he dared not ignore it, but at the same time, he did not have a brother named Jetfire – let alone any younger brothers. Older brothers, those he had plenty of.
The Prince of Vos, the youngest of thirteen sparklings, looked around with a heavy spark. As his optics passed over ancient walls and majestic buildings, he could faintly see smoking ruins and puddles of mech fluid staining the streets. The overlaying vision was all too much, and Starscream managed to forget the dream, and ignore any tinges that told him, 'I have seen this before'.
He grew and learned, trained in the old ways, yet was shoved aside and jeered at, for he did not fit in. Starscream excelled in flight maneuvers, and beat instructors in combat stimulations, but because of his youth, the gossip grew more vicious and hate-filled. He would have encountered some of it, simply because of who he was related to (the royal family was envied because they could afford the best frames, the best fuel, and had the power to rearrange flight time anytime), but the age combined with his abilities - breaking ancient records, surpassing any living memory, capable of tricks even grown seekers envied – meant everyone talked, and the rumors grew. Even the adults who could shelter him, stood aloft, wondering where this youngster got his information.
Lord Megatron, visitor to the Vos Royalty, did not treat the youngest Prince with indifference. He, alone of everyone, saw the potential Starscream had, and offered to give the young mech power and authority. Starscream, ignoring the tiny voice in his head screaming 'this is a bad idea' agreed before knowing the particulars.
When the time came to act, while Megatron's land-bound forces were distracting the palace guards, Starscream wandered from one brother's hidden chambers, to the next, pleading for protection and sanctuary, wondering if they knew what was happening. The bodyguards, busy trying to restore order in the compound, were unconcerned, for they saw one brother after another cast him out. Starscream made it to the last one, still crying out for help. The oldest, heir to the throne, looked up, spotted his full-grown brother, and looked elsewhere. "Hadrian," Starcream hated being ignored. "Do you know what's going on?"
Hadrian snarled no. He looked again at his brother, ready to forcefully remove him from his private quarters. The first-sparked mech offline his optics in shock. It was Starscream standing before him, however his claws were stained with what looked like energon and coolant fluids. "Pity. I do." Giving his last brother no time to react, Starscream killed him as dispassionately as he had the other eleven fully grown brothers and sisters.
Once Hadrian lay deactivated on the floor, Starscream activated the private comm. "My Lord, Vos is yours."
The war resumed, nearly unchanged. The differences that did pop up, meant nothing – cities either pledged allegiance to Megatron or were destroyed. What did the dates matter? Or their names? Autobots failed to insert spies, and battles were fought. Eventually, Cybertron was reduced to ruins, the armies consisting of a bare handful of individuals. They too died, either from starvation, or wear-and-tear, it did not matter.
Starscream alone remained. He stood tall when the planet broke. He flew against the pathetic windstorms that emerged from the desolate lands. Starscream, hated the silence. In desperation, he flew across the planet, seeking life.
Again, Starscream survived the war when countless thousands did not. This time, when Cybertron's star went critical, a weary Starscream fled not. Mere klicks before the hot stream of molten gases touched and ignited his internal mechanisms, Starscream wished 'I don't want to be the last. Give me another chance.'
He rose from recharge, wondering at the odd images his processor had bombarded him with. "Perhaps I should lay off the high grade", he muttered to himself before crouching down and crawling towards the wounded gladiator at his feet. "Hey, Bulkhead."
The giant mech, crammed into the medical bay (really, just a hole in the thick stone walls of the gladiator pits), had cracked and torn legs. He winced. "Give it to me straight, Doc. Am I going to live?"
Starscream critically examined his latest patient. "As long as Crankshaft doesn't send you against those spark-twins again, your nanites will repair the damage."
"In time?" wondered the warrior, " 'Cause I'm scheduled to fight a new 'bot by designation of Wasp, in just a few joors."
Starscream shook his head. "Crankshaft is an idiot," was all Bulkhead heard as the medic did something to his legs. The pain increased for a moment, then vanished completely. Starscream reappeared by Bulkhead's helm. "Stay off the legs as much as possible." He warned. "I don't have the equipment to continue fixing gladiator wounds – and without the proper materials I'm not sure how long the modifications will last, or what damage they will handle before failing complelty."
Bulkhead eased himself up to a sitting position. He gave a cheeky salute. "You got it." Managing to stand upright on his own two legs, Bulkhead stumbled from side to side, needing to use the pitted walls and rusting support beams to keep from falling over.
All the gladiators knew if they couldn't fight, they weren't worth the energon needed to keep them alive. Not even the medics or repair drones were given a temporary reprieve. Most of the time, spare parts and replacements were non-existent, but when Crankshaft found a mech who either wouldn't or couldn't fight, they were recycled. Or sold, if the smelters were willing to pay excessive amounts of high-grade for whatever metals might be on the frame.
For the next several orns, Starscream found himself plagued by the images his processor played nonstop, imposing faint outlines over the real world. The double-vision was disorienting and annoying, but the gladiator medic managed to ignore the lapses caused by pauses, trying to identify which would was real, and which was a glitchy processor-overlay.
The war came, as it always did. Deaths happened with regularity. Why should Starscream care if they were caused by gladiator bouts, or battle wounds? Mechs died either way. He found himself recruited by Megatron, the Lord Protectorate, needing a proven medic who could take over the medbay when Hook was unavailable.
The fact Starscream could fly and managed to get to the wounded in the midst of the fighting, only meant he was sent to the front lines more frequently – Hook, limited to the ground, could not reach the dying as quickly. Instead, the Constructicon, found himself taking care of the walking-wounded.
Eventually, Megatron took the offensive, and captured Autobots before they could self-deactivate. Starscream happened to go by the prisoner block late one orn, and recognized a particular mech. "Bulky,"
The mech heard his almost-forgotten nick-name. "Stars." As if it were inconceivable to see him again, after so long. "What are you doing here?"
The medic shrugged. "Walking back to my quarters."
"Could you help me escape?" Starscream blinked. "I could, but I won't."
Bulkhead's jaw dropped. For a long, long moment, the bigger mech remained speechless. "Why not?"
"It is not a good idea for any mech to release a prisoner that has been scheduled for execution." Starscream shrugged. "No can do."
"But what about our friendship?"
Starscream had to laugh. "You mean before the war, in the Gladiator pits? You called that friendship? It was just a means to an end, ensuring I didn't have to go out and fight as often." He turned and left, yelling over his shoulder, "It's nothing personal, Bulky, it's just the times."
Megatron invited Starscream and Hook both to the execution. They were the only witnesses. Again, Bulkhead pleaded for the life of his team. None of the three were moved – and the energon blade sliced, culling the faint cries.
The war continued, taking its toll on everyone. After the faction leaders leave the planet, the armies follow. Some out of loyalty, some out of fear of dying alone. Starscream left reluctantly, but obeyed orders.
Everyone but Starscream eventually succumbed to the war. Everyone but Starscream died in the energy flashes of war. Starscream alone of hundreds of thousands remained.
Thirteen times Starscream found himself wandering the universe. He watched Cybertron die thirteen times. The planet Junkiton followed in Cybertron's footsteps, quickly relapsing to a barren world after the Transformers were irradiated. Starscream wished for an opportunity to make things right, to save his trine, his brothers, his family, again and again. Each time, he failed in protecting those that are precious to him.
The last time around, Starscream breaks. He screams, sharing his rage, his anger, releasing the frustration. "What did I do to deserve this?" he shouts, "My destiny is to survive, not to linger, to watch as my family is killed over and over again!"
To Starscream's considerable shock, a figure emerges from the heart of the dying sun. "Starscream" the mech gently chides. "Haven't you learned yet? Your choices affect you and everyone around you." The tone is not mocking, nor does his voice contain the melodically tones that always proceed Starscream's fall into a simpler, gentler time. "As long as you ensure you survive at all costs, you will always remain. Alone."
The mech moves closer, away from the intense glare that hides his features. Even now, he is outlined in bluish green flames that cast shadows onto his face and form – except for the deep red optic, and the glowing scar that bisects his other optic. "Be willing to sacrifice yourself for another and you won't be alone." His left arm stretches to the side. It holds a golden scepter with a blue-glowing sphere inside. "I cannot revert time back forever. You must learn this final time, or remain in this state for all of eternity."
Starscream has no time to screech out a question. Before his optics can widen in shock, the sphere dims, then brightens, becoming brighter than the star. The sun responds to the device, and a stellar pulsar jet engulfs the war-weary seeker immediately.
"Are you alright?"
The voice is familiar. Starscream blinks, resigned to the fact he is again laying on the ground. "I think I am." He holds out a hand, anticipating a gentle tug upwards. There is no friendly grasp of limbs. Just a concerned voice, asking again if he should contact a medic.
"I said I'm Fine!" Starscream barks out, belatedly forcing himself to his feet before looking upward.
And upward some more. Very few mechs are twice the size of Starscream, but this one, is easily that tall. "Do you have a name?"
The giant of a mech, peers downward. "I am called Skyfire."
"Nice to meet you Skyfire. My designation is Starscream."
Skyfire's concerned facial plates life upwards. "Then you are the newest addition to Iacon Academy?" He does not wait for a confirmation. "I am looking for a roommate."
Starscream, irritated from having to look up to see his newest companions face from the ground floor, decided to do something about the unequal height difference. He engaged his thrusters and floated upwards, hovering at optic level. "The Science Academy wants us to buddy up?"
Skyfire shrugged. Incalculable vorns of watching mechs try to hide their emotions, and countless more vorns of playing politics in the Decepticon Ranks, let Starscream read the emotions that flirted across the white mech's face as if they were being broadcast on a sparkling show. "Almost everyone else in the Academy already has a teammate for their science explorations. I do not. The few wandering around who are also in unassigned quarters cannot tolerate my presence for even a hundred orns of study."
Starscream watched and filled away the emotions he saw. Skyfire felt embarrassed. The larger mech wasn't looking for anything more – just a friend who could assist and help out on off world studies. "And everyone knows that all space-flights must be in teams of two or more. The teams must be compatible and comfortable together, able to spend many tens of thousands of orns together, away from any one else." He summarized it all up.
Skyfire nodded. "I am sorry, that was presumptuous of me."
Starscream waved a hand in front of his face. "Don't worry about it. I need a guide to this place, and you just volunteered. What can you tell me about the instructors and the classes?"
Starscream surprised himself, making small-talk with Skyfire, and not worrying about the outside world. Rumors of fighting reached the ears of the students of science, and most of them dismissed the stories. Starscream did not. Skyfire noticed his companion's unease, but did not push for an explanation. If Starscream wanted to tell you something, he would. If he didn't want to talk about it, no one could make him talk. Starscream was quite good at pretending nothing bothered him.
Before the rumors on the street were confirmed by news reports, Skyfire and Starscream were given permission to go on their search. Starscream remained optimistic for Skyfire's sake.
About midway through their survey of worlds and solar systems on the fringes of the Cybertron Empire, a nitrogen storm came upon them. This wasn't gaseous nitrogen, nor the chilly liquid form of the element. No, this was the frozen solid, precipitation form.
IceStorms were rare, but tolerable. One could remain encased in solid ice for centuries, for millennia, and not be harmed. Methane storms were dangerous, but not normally deadly during the short term they lasted, anyway. As for the rare Nitrogen storms, well, no one who got caught in one emerged intact. Even the outskirts of such rare events were cold enough to send mechs into emergency stasis.
Skyfire, less maneuverable and slower than his companion, noticed the gathering Nitrogen crystals first. He did not wish to alarm his friend, but he also did not wish for his friend to die. "Um, Starscream?" He immediately began moving away from the oncoming Nitrogen Storm
Upon hearing the hesitation and worry in those two words, Starscream dropped everything and flew up, catching up to his companion. "What's wrong?"
Skyfire tried to laugh, but all that came out was a nervous chuckle. "You might want to take a look at this."
Starscream examined the data feed Skyfire sent him. He hissed. "Is that a nitrogen storm forming?"
"Yes." Skyfire ground out, not liking what his readings were revealing. "It appears to be comming right on top of us."
"Screw the universe. I'm not leaving you behind."
"Starscream –"
"Stuff it, Skyfire. I've lost too many acquaintances to accept another death. If we go down, it will be together."
Skyfire didn't respond. He told himself it was out of respect for Starscream, but it might have been because it was useless to argue with Starscream when he used that tone of voice.
When he first noticed the suspended Nitrogen crystals, Skyfire had immediately turned away from the planetary gravity field. If he had waited any longer, the crystals would already be forming inside his lines, clogging important gears and mechanisms. Even now, near the outer boarder of the fast-forming storm, the extreme cold was already effecting his systems – the readouts were sluggish, the transformation slow.
Skyfire's last conscious thoughts were 'I got my best friend killed due to my limitless curiosity.'
Starscream, noticing his friend slowing, braved the deadly cold and grasped onto the slick, frozen frame. "I am not leaving you!" he vowed, straining his engines. Warning signals popped up on his helmet. Starscream ignored them. Iacon Acadamy, the Elite Scientists, the Cybertron rulers, they had no time to go searching for lost mechs. Starscream knew this, because he'd already gone through this once before.
Then the storm hit. The first blast of solid Nitrogen particles cut all sensors. He was flying blind.
The same stubbornness that got Starscream through the first war (and the thirteen repeats), allowed him to survive this storm too. Engines burnt out, energon reserves gone, but they were finally free.
Pulling them both free, Starscream felt himself drifting into recharge. He would have continued fighting the deep need, except for the fact Skyfire was safe. Knowing that, Starscream realized they had all the time in the universe to recover – and when it ended, it would be the final end.