The hover-train station was packed the next day, so much so that only those with chips to ride were allowed inside the terminal. I stood for a moment outside with Thundercracker and Skywarp and tried not to think about what I was about to do. It would be fine. I would be fine. They would be fine. Everything would be fine. But my spark was hammering painfully and my vocalizer felt as if there was a crack in it. TC and Warp slagged around with each other to lighten the mood, but we were all a little sad. We stood around in a small circle, the tips of our wings touching and making fun of the grounders who couldn't take their optics off us. Seekers didn't take hover-trains very often, I guessed.
When the announcement came for boarding, none of us moved. I saw a pained flash in Warp's optics. I could feel our trine bond tighten and we formed a closer circle as passengers flowed around us and into the terminal.
"I guess this is it," I said, horrified at how squeaky my vocal processor sounded. My speech patterns were distinctive enough as it was without adding this into the mix. "It won't be for that long. Less than a vorn. I'll be back before you know it!"
"Yeah, but I'm taking over your berth. It always was the best in the house." Skywarp was smiling, but his vocalizer had the same squeak that mine did. "When you come on leave, we'll have to race for it!"
TC laughed. "Warp, even teleporting you're as slow as energon running uphill when it compares to the two of us. Don't worry, Star. Your room is gonna be just the way you left it when you come back. We'll even restock that little hiding place you have under your berth with more high-grade."
My optics widened. "How did you ..."
"Can't keep a secret from a trine-mate," he grinned. "Besides, who do you think had that room before you did?"
I chuckled and drew them closer. "I'm going to miss you two," I murmured. Our bond pulsed and hummed around us and I felt the warmth of it all the way down to my stabilizing servos.
"We'll miss you, too, Star. But it's not like we won't ever talk or anything," said TC. Warp nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, but I don't think the trine bond stretches out all the way as far as Kaon."
"Maybe not, but you can write to us. Tell us all about your new job, the sparklings …"
"And if you meet any Decepticons!"
Several mechs and femmes turned to glare at us, and I felt my faceplates sizzle as TC harshly whispered: "Warp!"
"What? He's going to Kaon. It's not like it isn't a possibility."
TC shook his head and shot me an apologetic look. I just shrugged. It was Warp being Warp, and considering that I wouldn't be seeing either of them for awhile, I was all right with that.
"You'd better go, Star. They've just called for all passengers to report to the platforms." TC stroked a hand over my wing. "Take care of yourself, all right? Don't let the sparklings frag you around too much -"
"- And make sure to get loaded off your aft as often as possible. I'll bet this mech has a fully stocked energon cabinet -"
"- Keep up with your studies and your flying -"
"- And if you ever finally manage to get your seal broken, we want details -"
"Skywarp!"
"All right, all right, sorry. That was wrong," he grumbled, then grinned. "TC doesn't want details, but I do."
TC groaned and shoved him with an elbow. "Go before he starts giving you advice on what positions … oh, Primus, never mind! Have a good trip, Star. Write us when you get settled."
"I will. Thanks, you two. For everything."
I squeezed both their servos and walked into the terminal. At the entry, I turned around and they waved at me, both of them smiling, but with sadness in their optics. I waved back, sure I had the same sort of expression. When I got inside the terminal, I found a window and looked out in time to see them both transform and fly off. It took everything I had to not fly after them. It hadn't seemed real to me until that moment; I was leaving Vos. For the first time in forever, I'd be without my trine mates. I felt nervous and apprehensive, but there was a tiny trill of excitement thrumming through my wires, too.
… But that died as soon as I got on the hover train
The femme at the agency insisted that my employer wanted me to go by train rather than fly. It's why, as I'd told TC, I didn't think the mech knew I was a Seeker. That hadn't been put on my applications, which surprised me. The femme said that all my employer required was a military-designate with a strong science background. It hadn't bothered me since it meant I wouldn't have to stockpile the energon needed for the flight from Vos to Kaon. But the train was … tiny! I fit into it all right but it obviously was made for grounders. There wasn't one seat that looked as if it would accommodate my wings. A femme who was working the aisles and scanning passenger chips noticed me looking around and she did manage to find me something toward the front car where I could stretch out a little and my wings weren't too cramped.
"We're not used to having flyers on here," she said, eying me with a little smile. "Are you being reprogrammed?"
"No, just thought I'd try it out … different perspectives and all."
I was always a little awkward around femmes. Military-designates had no female counterparts, so we really didn't interface or bond or even interact much with femmes. But they seemed to be attracted to Seekers like glitch-mice to energon shavings. She smiled at me again, and I hoped that she'd leave me alone soon. I didn't want to have to fake wanting to recharge, but if I had to pull that out of my aft, I would.
"Where are you going?" she asked as she helped me get situated in the booth. I noticed that she was not-so-accidentally brushing up against my wings.
"To Kaon. I've … got a job out there. I'm actually on leave from the Science Academy, but -"
I stopped. As soon as I'd said "Kaon," her optics had gone chilly and she jerked away from me as if I'd had sent shock pulses through my servos.
"I see," she said in a voice colder than a coolant bath. "Enjoy your trip."
Without another word she stalked away from me. I was a little relieved and a lot confused about her abruptness, then I realized that she must have thought I was a Decepticon. That made me angry; did I look like a fragging Decepticon? Stupid femme. Her magna fuses were lopsided anyway.
I got as comfortable as I could and the compartment filled up. The grounders eyed me with surprise, and some of them seemed really uncomfortable, jostling each other and staring at me not with curiosity, but with fear mixed in with a little anger. I grit my dentics and stared out the window. My mood got darker and I was scowling when we finally pulled out of the station, and I left Vos wishing that I'd listened to Warp and stayed where I was.
"Sir? Sir?"
I jolted out of recharge and forced my optics to go online. I didn't even know I'd slipped under. A femme – not the same one who'd fragged me off earlier – was leaning over me. I didn't understand what she wanted until I noticed a glowing cube in her hand.
"We've begun the refuel service, sir. Your cube …?"
"Oh, thanks. It looks good." I paid her no attention and greedily swilled the energon. It wasn't high-grade, but it was nicely refined and smooth. I'd been so nervous that morning that I didn't think to recharge and now I was hungry for it. With my tanks refueled, I readjusted myself in my compartment and glanced out the window, hoping to see something that would hold my interest for longer than a klik or two.
I had tried to relax and enjoy the train ride at first, the different motions and sounds and sights, but it was just too fragging slow compared to how fast I could fly. I had been curious on how Cybertron would look from a grounder's point of view, but even that became boring. It was just buildings and towers and more buildings and on and on endlessly. It was a little embarrassing to think that my planet looked much better from way up in the sky, but there was no denying it. Everything was orderly and clean and neat and well-put together, but it was just so … plain. Vos at least had some character to it. These cities in the outlands just looked as if they'd been mass-produced and assembled by a bunch of bored consumer-designates. Kaon would be a little different, but it would be different because it was being overrun by Decepticons, and Primus only knew how much they would change things around, and not for the better, either.
I polished off the rest of my energon in a nano-klik and immediately felt the pull back into recharge. It wasn't until the femme woke me up again that I realized I'd slept for almost an entire half-orn. I was more tired than I'd realized, or that energon had a real kick to it. I was surprised when the femme put another cube in front of me. It hadn't been very long since I'd refueled.
"Um, thanks?"
She just nodded and walked on. I glanced out the window and couldn't really tell where we were, but I assumed we were getting on near to the heart of the outlands. I turned to my cube, not really hungry for it – my tanks were still full. I put it aside and reclined, expecting to hear the sounds of other passengers refueling. I didn't hear anything, though, and I poked my head around my seat to see what was going on. My optics widened in shock: hardly anyone had energon in front of them. A few mechs had homemade cubes that swirled with dirty, barely refined energon, and there were some femmes feeding their sparklings energon from a piston drip, but I was the only one who had refined energon in my servos. I saw optics greedily sizing up my cube, then looking at my face and glancing away in frustration or anger. I was confused – why hadn't anyone else been served? I'd had two already.
"Excuse me?" I managed to get the attention of the femme attendant as she bustled past me. "Is there a reason the others don't have their cubes yet? Some of them look like they're about to offline."
The femme looked startled. "A cube? Oh, of energon, you mean? Well, refueling wasn't included in their travel fare. It was included in yours. Is there something wrong with your energon?"
"No … but ..." I wasn't sure what to say. This mech I was going to be working for must've had quite a few oolocks to be able to splash out for high-quality energon like this. I felt torn between feeling smug and uncomfortable. "No, I was just wondering."
She gave me an odd look and walked off quickly, glancing at me over her shoulder. Just fragging wonderful. She probably thought I was a Decepticon, too.
I pushed the cube away and sighed softly through my vents. I should've just flown, to the Pit with this train slag. I wasn't a fragging grounder who didn't have any other options. I was a Seeker – not made to be shoved into a little compartment and looked at like slag. I looked around again, optics narrowing at anyone who dared to so much as blink at me. Most looked away very quickly, which pleased me but made me feel a little guilty. I got to the mech across the aisle from me and was surprised when he met my optics, his own bright blue ones looking on with hardly any expression at all.
Then I saw them drop to my cube of energon, and the look on his faceplates changed. It hadn't been so long since I'd left the foundling home – I knew that look. It was hunger. The mech looked as if he hadn't recharged in orns. He was older than me, but not by a lot, and was white with red stripes on his structure. There was a case next to him that had the Cybertronian symbol for the regenerative spark on it – our symbol of life and health. I'd noticed him earlier: He was the one mech who had not looked at me in fear or disgust when I'd gotten on the train.
I grabbed the cube and leaned across the aisle. "Hey, are you interested? If I take another sip, my tanks'll burst."
He raised his optics, startled. "What … are you serious? That's premium energon! Double-processed, top-shelf!"
"Yeah, well it is good, but my tanks are full and I don't think I should have anymore anyway. So if you want it ..."
The mech banged a servo on his helm. "Primus, of course! You're a Seeker! Too much ultra-refined energon twists your diodes up, right? You mechs are really energon-efficient, you know?"
He plucked the cube from my servos. "Guess I will take this, since you're offering and since I'm doing you a favor by keeping you from corroding your circuitry."
He took a long swallow and looked less pale in the faceplates immediately. "Primus, that's good. Hey - what's your top speed?"
"What? Oh, uh, 40 tetravoles per klik."
"That's it?" He sounded disappointed. "Well, you look pretty young, so I guess that's not too shabby. You'll add five to seven tetravoles easily over your next two spark-sets. And actually, if you're as young as you look, 40 tetras now is pretty slagging impressive. Must stress your wing struts plenty, though."
I stared at him as he swallowed down the rest of the cube. "You're a ground mech. How … how do you know anything about Seeker speeds?"
"Just finished coursework on Seeker anatomy last term. Never met one outside the classroom, though." He wiped the excess energon from the sides of his mouth and extended a servo to me. "Name's Ratchet."
"Starscream." I shook his servo, still feeling a little dazed. "You're a restoration expert?"
"Was. Used to strip parts from the power factories and rebuilt some of the old munitions towers. But I scored high enough on the diagnostics to get into Mediplex. Training as a medic now. I'm actually pretty much done. I'm on my way to Halcyon to do my practicals."
I smirked. "Halcyon? You must've hit the high-grade pretty hard during exams."
Halcyon was where old and broken-down mechs and femmes went to offline. They were usually beyond all hope, but the government slagfaces sent them there so that it could appear that all that could be done for them was being done. Usually the fraggers from Mediplex who were assigned there either were lazy slaggers that didn't want to do much work or were not good enough for better assignments.
Ratchet looked at me coldly. "I'm second in my class at Mediplex. I could've gone anywhere, but I requested Halcyon."
"You wanted to go there? Why?" I sputtered. "You could go to Eor or Tryon or even the Iacon Surgical Colony! The mechs that get sent to Halcyon are all but scrap, just hanging on by a spark!"
"If there's a spark, then there's life. And hope," said Ratchet. "I figure if I can learn how to bring a mech back from the brink of deactivation, then I'll be some kinda medic. Sure I could go to Iacon, but then what? I don't want a cushy post doing system diagnostics and tightening femmes' tubing and all that slag. I want to actually do some good and make a difference. Otherwise, I would've just stayed in the factories."
He wiped his mouth again. "Wow, that hit the spot. Thanks. Where are you headed?"
I ducked my head. Here was where he'd throw the empty cube at me and turn away. And I had really been enjoying our talk, too.
"Kaon. But it's not the way it sounds! I'm not a Decepticon!"
I nearly shouted the words and several heads swiveled toward us. I didn't pay them much attention, keeping my optics on Ratchet. To my relief, he didn't turn away, just nodded thoughtfully and rubbed his chin.
"I didn't figure you were. Guess that's why you're taking the hover-train, huh?"
"Actually, that was the idea of my employer. I could've flown, but I think he insisted I come this way."
"Makes sense. This corridor is swarming with those Deception slaggers." His blue optics glinted with anger. "They're on a recruiting spree and they try to snatch up as many of you war mechs as they can find. There aren't a lot of flyers out this way, and Seekers are about as hard to find as Primus's lugnuts. You would've been a prime target for recruiting, and I hear they don't exactly like hearing the word 'no.'"
I growled low in my vocalizer. "They'd hear more than that from me. They already tried to recruit one of my trine-mates. Their so-called leader came all the way out to Vos himself."
"Megatron? You've met that slaghead?" Ratchet bowed his helm slightly. "He's been going through towns, riling up the war mechs. Someone needs to yank his transistors out. He's even been saying that home-goods had nothing to do with the rebellion. Can you believe the manifolds on that fragger?"
"Well, the military-designates are the ones who fought the rebellion and drove the Quintessons off Cybertron … they wielded the weaponry. Without that, the rebellion would've sunk like slag in a fire pond!"
"Oh, and so the homers just sat around on their afts eating energon bon-bons?" Ratchet's optics flared a clear, stark blue. "We processed the energon, did refits and kept the war mechs in fighting shape! Without the homers, the Quintessons would've just waited for the war mechs to offline from lack of energon or repairs!"
I stayed quiet for a time. I thought he was overstating the contribution to the war effort. Military-designates had its own medics, its own energon fields, its own workers within the army. They would likely have prevailed without the consumer-designates having to do much. And as it was, scores more military-designates went offline in the war in comparison to consumer-designates. It wasn't a fair comparison.
But still, Ratchet had a point – it was stupid for Megatron to insist that the consumer-designates had no part in the rebellion. That would just incite them even more and make it that much more difficult to persuade them to stop thinking that they had a higher place in Cybertronian society than they did.
"Well, one thing I think we can agree on is that Megatron is a slagging son of a glitch."
Ratchet grinned and seemed relieved to change the subject. "I'll drink to that – or, I would if I had some more energon. You said your employer paid for the train. What'll you be doing out in Kaon?"
"Tutoring. I'm on leave from the Science Academy. The mech I'll be working for has sparklings that he wants brought up to speed so that they have a good chance of passing the diagnostics and being accepted to the Academy when they're of age."
"You're at the Science Academy, huh? Impressive." He tilted his helm at me. "What do you want to do when you're finished school?"
"Exploration, primarily. I'd love to go on a deep-space assignment, scouting out different sources of energon."
"Well, we could definitely use that." Ratchet looked down at the empty cube in regret. "I was only able to afford enough oolocks to refuel for one mega-cycle. Energon's getting scarcer by the nano-klik here. But aren't most of the planets in the nearer solar systems organic?"
"Some are, yes."
He shuddered. "There's no way I'd go to an organic planet. All that moisture, and I hear the ground is like barely hardened slag. Makes my wiring knot up just thinking about it!"
"Well, I wouldn't stay on an organic planet, either. Most don't have any sort of intelligent life on them," I said with a shrug. "But they might have some resources that can be converted to energon. I wouldn't stay forever, of course – just long enough to tap into whatever was there and return to Cybertron as quickly as possible."
"Hmph. Well, maybe one day I'll read about you in the dispatches and see that you've been awarded the Cog of Primus for your discovery of alternative energon resources," said Ratchet with a smile. "And I'll be able to read all about organic planets without having to step a ped on one."
He yawned suddenly and rubbed his optics. "Hey, I don't mean to be rude, but do you mind if I get a bit of recharge in? I'm going to be going right into the thick of it in Halcyon. Might be the last chance for awhile for me to get some shut-optic on a full tank. I appreciate the energon, though. You ever find yourself in need of a refit, look me up. I'm gonna be the best there is."
I couldn't help but grin at his arrogance. "In order to see you, I'd have to be a klik away from off-lining. I don't think I want to be that far-gone just to get proof of your talents."
"Heh. I don't know. You're tougher than you look, I think." He smiled at me and I felt a heat spreading across my faceplates. "Good talking to you, Starscream. Starscream. Think I'll remember that name ..." he said softly, his optics starting to flicker and dim.
In another few kliks, his vocalizer was rattling loudly as he slipped into recharge. I watched him for awhile, feeling a little annoyed. A nice, smart mech, and pretty good-looking, too, for a grounder, and it was just my luck that after this, I'd probably never see him again.
I don't know when I slipped into recharge. Maybe listening to Ratchet wheeze and rumble had lulled me into shutting down for a moment. I woke up suddenly, not knowing where I was at first. It all gradually came back to me and I looked around. Ratchet's compartment was empty. At first, I thought that he might be in the refresher, but I saw that his kit was gone, too. Consulting my inner chrono, I realized I'd been asleep for longer than I'd realized. Ratchet had probably gotten off long before and was probably now elbow deep in the innards of some poor, broken-down mech. I didn't envy him, but I didn't feel sorry for him, either; I admired him. I couldn't think of the last time I could say that of a grounder, and a consumer-designate, at that.
I heard sounds and the train's front compartment opened. The femme I'd first encountered – the one who nearly warped away from me once she found out my destination - walked in and stood right in the doorway. She looked down at me, laser-eyed, with her arms crossed. I glowered back, about to tell her that if she was offering more energon, I had a suggestion of just where she could put it. I didn't get a chance to say anything. Her optics bore into mine as she said in a low hiss:
"Kaon, next stop. The next stop is Kaon."
