(I believe I finally know what I want to do with this concept.)
Starscream had found the weather patterns of this wretched planet to be unbearable. After only a few solar cycles of hiding, the desert he roamed suddenly became subject to a terrible monsoon. The first storm sent him into the nearest cave. The first earthquake drove him into space, thrusters (and himself) screaming all the while. It was there that he stayed, lurking just above Earth's gravitational pull, hoping he would not be discovered on the off chance that any other parties made a similar choice.
When the storms finally seemed to calm down, he made his way back to one of the dryer climates of the planet. The cracks in the surface were telling of the destruction that occurred while he fled, but they could also prove useful. If the seeker was lucky, a small, previously hidden cache of energon would now be accessible. If not, Starscream would have to go through the nerve wracking process of tracking and raiding the Nemesis.
He flew low over the cracked surface, sensors finely tuned, searching for a trace, any at all, for the precious fuel. An entire cycle of this, and the seeker grew aggravated with each passing moment. It seemed that he would have to resort to stealing after all—
There.
An odd reading, barely perceptible, caught his attention. He began to circle, honing in on the trace, trying to make sense of the readouts. Below him, a canyon that had been deepened, its gap widened by the once quaking planet. Somewhere within, something valuable lay buried. A second pass, and he knew the general location. A third, and he was able to land.
The Earth's star hung high in the sky. Starscream gazed deep into the canyon, searching for any visual indication of something unnatural. Deep down, he glimpsed a cave, shape oddly geometrical, but he was unable to truly tell from this distance. The mech jumped down and transformed in midair, using his thrusters to slow his descent. He transformed again once he was close enough, landing sloppily as the ground crumbled slightly under his feet, causing him to stumble forwards, metal striking metal.
The 'cave' was indeed geometric, the tunnel a perfect hexagon, a mark of old age Cybertronian architecture. The platform he stood on seemed to have been part of a teleportation matrix, and when he turned he was able to see the rest of it embedded in the rock behind him, mostly still intact.
Sensors primed, he began his exploration.
As a seeker, tight spaces tended to make Starscream uncomfortable. He had grown used to it after countless light years spent on the Nemesis, but the added knowledge of knowing he was buried under megatons of stone and dirt, in a location almost impossible to find…
He tried his best not to think about it.
When Starscream came across the first room of the structure, he felt a slight chill run through his spinal strut. This room, seemingly once a central hub, simply lay in ruins. The general structure remained intact, but some doorways lay barricaded, locked down and further reinforced with whatever items could be spared. Remnants of screens decorated the walls, perhaps salvageable, but also likely outdated.
There were a few doorways that were unfettered by debris. Not feeling too keen on exploring, Starscream chose the path that seemed to lead him closer to the signal. When he turned the corner, an ancient storage bay sat before him, shelves mostly empty, but he could detect a faint glow coming from a compartment, his sensors pointing him in the same direction.
The seeker hurriedly made his way over, prying it open. It seemed to be a set of medical equipment, as it held slots for both liquid energon and the accompanying injectors. While there were several injectors present in their slots, only one vial of energon sat in its place.
Starscream felt relief wash over him. Although it was only a single ration, it would be enough energon to help refill his tanks to a moderate degree. He would still be forced to raid the Nemesis, to get the rest of the supplies he required, but this refueling, however meager, brought him time. Time to track, to plan and prepare.
He felt nervous using energon from such a place, but he squashed his fears, clicking the ration into one of the injectors and subsequently into the fuel line in his arm. As he watched the fluid drain, he felt a wave of nausea wash over him, and he leaned on the counter nearby, waiting for it to pass.
This was to be expected. Although energon did not decay, the composition of the liquid would surely be different than normal. This structure was ancient, and older methods would surely fail to get rid of some impurities. It took a few cycles for the discomfort to pass, and a quick scan revealed that nothing else of interest seemed to lie in the facility. Eager to leave such a confined space, Starscream all but ran through the tunnels.
He made sure to make note of the location, marking it as somewhere he could scavenge for scrap when he found somewhere decent enough to reside permanently. He took off, thrusters screaming with renewed energy, in search of a less cramped place to rest.
When he awakened from his recharge, Starscream felt like he was burning.
His chassis were heated, fuel consumed at a slightly accelerated rate. The sun had set cycles ago, and he lay hidden in a crevice, propped up against the rock walls. At first the mech was afraid that he had made a terrible mistake, that he had fallen ill with some terrible energon borne disease, then realized that the desert he resided in had simply grown too cold, and that he was now subconsciously attempting to warm himself.
It occurred to him that this had never happened before, that he had been in the desert several times now and never felt the chill, but he chalked it up to higher energon levels that lessened the need to conserve power.
He felt itchy, erratic, burning with the need to do something, but also with the desire to stay still, to stay hidden. Starscream reasoned with himself. It was the extra energon, coupled with the sense of freedom that being without factions brought him. Flight especially was incredibly important to seekers, and the sudden shift to near continual flight was now beginning to take its toll. Seekers were historically nomadic, and this little adventure of his was simply reigniting those core desires.
Having reassured himself, Starscream forced himself to grow calm, utilizing the discipline he learned over his function, forcing himself into recharge. He would rest for now, conserve energy. The chance to fly would come tomorrow. There was much to be done.
While he waited patiently near an active energon mine, it occurred to Starscream that he was free.
The seeker's immediate reaction was to stamp out the idea, as it was completely ridiculous. Free? Of what? Certainly not the war. He was a traitor to one faction, and hated by the other. Both wanted his helm to roll.
Then there was the case of fuel. Where would he find energon? The decepticons had their servos in near every mine on the planet, including the resources to guard them. If he dared to infiltrate even a small mine, any injuries the mech would surely receive would cost more than the energon that he could possibly steal. He didn't have the tools or the knowledge in order to treat himself, and if he were to be crippled the Vehicons would surely capture him anyway.
And then there were the humans. The group who captured Breakdown, who stole his optic, were a clear and present danger. If they caught wind of Starscream's solo status and managed to catch him, he doubted anyone would bother trying to help.
Finally, the weather was simply unbearable.
His cons were clear. Hostile forces, dangerous natives, a lack of supplies to allow sustainable function, and an unappreciated environment.
He could try to return to the Nemesis, back to roaming those cramped halls, trying to navigate the infighting, managing his allies and enemies despite technically being of the same faction, trying his best to make sure everything under Decepticon command was in perfect order lest Megatron blame him and—
Starscream didn't remember when the beatings first started. He remembered the fear, the betrayal, the naive determination to do better. He remembered how everything was broken down, leaving him aggressive, vengeful, inclined to make others suffer. Demanding perfection because it was his wings on the line if things weren't up to par.
He remembered how Megatron often mangled his wings when the brute was particularly displeased, how they seemed to enjoy hearing him scream. He remembered how joyrides were banned in order to decrease energon consumption, to increase 'focus' within the ranks. How after a particularly brutal beating the seeker would practically be crawling the walls, even willing to fly out in such a sorry state, risking death or capture, just to help calm his nerves.
A mere few solar cycles and his mind felt much clearer, sensors much sharper. The refuelling was probably a major factor, but this newfound freedom seemed to lift a weight from his spark. He knew it would not last, and eventually he could be starving in a ditch somewhere.
On one servo, everything would be predictable, manageable. He would have to suck it up and be on his best behavior, and hope with all his spark Megatron would forgive his insolence.
On the other, nothing would be certain, and there would be so much to do. Constant scouting for energon. Fussing over a place to make a base, somewhere safe to store energon and tend to the wounds he would undoubtedly receive. Making sure he was constantly moving so he was impossible to track. Stealing enough medical supplies so that he could repair himself if things ever got to that point.
Never getting beaten again.
He heard the rumbling in the distance as the ship arrived, and pulled himself deeper into the crevice he was hiding within. He could see the shadow looming over the mine, loading fresh energon into the storage bays.
He wouldn't be able to execute his plan until after the ship had departed, so instead he let his wings vibrate, scratched at the rock absentmindedly, hoping that the choice he had made was the right one.