A/N: The wing descriptions in this chapter were inspired by chapter 1 of Kyra Neko-Rei's "Wing Kinks."

Thanks to my trusty beta-reader, Lady Prime, who feels better and was able to resume betaing with this chapter.

Also, thank you to all my lovely reviewers! I always appreciate your comments.


"Sing once again with me our strange duet;
My power over you grows stronger yet."
--"Phantom of the Opera," Andrew Lloyd Webber

Chapter 4: Power

Soundwave was rather thoroughly convinced that he had the two most stubborn, thick-headed, dense commanders in the universe. Standing before the closed doors of Megatron's personal quarters, the communications officer watched his superior pace back and forth behind his desk, raging and cursing. Soundwave held in a sigh and pretended to be unaffected. He had chosen to wear a visor and face mask for a reason, after all. A telepath needed to keep his facial expression neutral at all times.

Then again, it was the fact that Soundwave was a telepath that caused Megatron to rant to him. He knew that Soundwave could sense his mood and read his thoughts regardless of whether he remained stoic or not. As a result, some millennia earlier Megatron had stopped bothering to keep his opinions to himself when they were alone together.

"And there they were," Megatron fumed, "pawing each others' wings right in the middle of the control room for all to see! But what enrages me-"

"Reminder: Seeker ritual not sexual," Soundwave said, daring to interrupt. He had reviewed the security footage once his shift started and knew perfectly well what had angered Megatron.

Not pausing in his pacing, Megatron glared at him, optics narrowed into crimson slits. "That is not the point."

Soundwave swallowed a second sigh, grateful once again that his expression was hidden. It was very much the point, and he was tired of watching the two dance around each other. "Suggestion: teach Starscream his lesson by taking over the ritual yourself."

Megatron halted and stared at Soundwave with a shock that crashed through the telepath in waves. "What did you say?"

Gathering his courage, Soundwave decided the time for subtlety was long past. He'd watched this ridiculous charade for two million stellar cycles, not counting the four million they'd lain unconscious on the Ark's floor. Normally, his patience was literally endless, but he'd been sensing strange moods and thoughts from the unstable Seeker, and he suspected time was running out. "Observation: Starscream twitched his wings at you in a suggestive way, as though daring you to take part in the Seeker ritual. Suggestion: show Starscream you can take that role any time you wish."

Megatron gripped the back of his desk chair, squeezing his fingers until the metal screeched in protest. Soundwave could sense his leader's shock giving away to anger at his forwardness, and for a moment he worried for his continued existence. Then, to the telepath's relief, intrigue swirled through Megatron's processor, followed by satisfaction.

Finally, his crimson optics brightened. "Good, Soundwave, good. That may just work."

Soundwave steeled himself for the inevitable onslaught, counted three astroseconds, and inhaled silently and deeply through his intakes as Megatron's lust crashed through the room. He'd never seen a mech so much in denial of his own feelings, but then again, his leader thought things like caring would weaken him or make him too much like an Autobot. Soundwave held no such beliefs. He was physically affectionate with his cassettes as long as others weren't around, although he would occasionally pet Ravage in public if he thought no one was looking. He had a symbiotic relationship with his creations, and he knew perfectly well that he had to keep those bonds strong.

As for Megatron and Starscream, in Soundwave's opinion, the entire Decepticon cause would benefit if they would quit pretending and just interface the slag out of each other.

Megatron was fingering his chin now, chuckling in his I-will-rule-the-universe way. One didn't have to be a telepath to know what images were flying through his processor. "I'll keep him on third shift," he finally said, "lest the brat think he got off too easily."

Soundwave wondered if Megatron had forgotten the fistful of wires he'd ripped out of Starscream's chest. "Indeed, Lord Megatron."

"Still, order Skywarp and Thundercracker to keep their Seeker bonding rituals private," Megatron snarled, dropping his hand back to his chair.

"As you wish, Lord Megatron." Soundwave bowed his head and exited the room. Unsurprisingly, the two Seekers in question were hovering at the end of the hallway.

"Well?" Skywarp asked as the three entered the turbolift. "Does he still want to kill us?"

"Order: No more bonding in public," Soundwave replied.

Skywarp snorted. "You mean 'no more bonding in public and no more bonding with Starscream, period.' The slagger has his wires all tied in knots because we touched his prized possession, right?"

Soundwave suspected that there was no one on base who didn't know the truth of the matter except Megatron and Starscream themselves. "Comment: redundant. Favoritism: obvious."

"That's an understatement," Thundercracker said. "Anyone else would be dead for committing even one-tenth of the acts of disobedience Starscream has."

Skywarp scratched his helmet, apparently genuinely puzzled. "It's still a great mystery. Is a good interface really worth all this suffering and antagonism?"

"Charade: beneficial." Soundwave waited as the lift's doors opened, then stepped into the hallway leading to the mess hall. With a quick survey, he determined no one would overhear them. "Every time Megatron fights and defeats one of us, he affirms his role as leader. Starscream: best example because he's second-in-command."

The Seekers fell into step with him as he headed for the mess hall, and Skywarp shuddered. "Yeah, but what does 'Screamer get out of it?"

"Training," Soundwave replied. Granted, the telepath thought he would make a far better leader than Starscream should Megatron be killed, but he couldn't deny that Megatron had instilled every one of his traits in the Seeker: ambition, hate, treachery, sneakiness, cynicism, cold-heartedness, and outright megalomania. Megatron might as well have cloned himself, except Starscream lacked his bravery and mental stability. Then again, Megatron and Starscream both called for retreat equally often . . .

"Training?" Thundercracker echoed. "You mean that Megatron actually wants Starscream to take command if he dies?"

Soundwave halted a meter from the mess hall doorway. Raucous laughter drifted into the hall, and the telepath wondered if Rumble and Frenzy had created another mock "movie" of Megatron and Starscream interfacing. They loved producing the short clips and filling them with very uncharacteristic and often hysterical declarations of love and other such sap. Frenzy even prided himself on doing a good impression of Starscream's scratchy voice. "Supposition: invalid. Megatron intends to never die."

Thundercracker groaned. "Well, I suppose you're right."

"So what does Megatron want?" Skywarp asked. "I mean, other than to blow Starscream's circuits with the best overload ever."

Soundwave considered the question more seriously than he normally would, given that Skywarp was the one asking. Megatron's root programming as a gladiator left him with twisted logic and missing emotional programming, but Soundwave knew what it was that he sensed. The others would never believe him, however, and there was a secondary answer. "Conquest," he replied, then stepped into the mess hall without further comment.

oOoOo

Megatron stood in the shadows, leaning against the wall and blending into the hallway as best he could. The first shift was winding up its rowdiness in the mess hall and turning in for recharge, and the second shift mechs were ambling toward the mess hall themselves, no doubt excited at the thought of trading gossip over energon. As a result, the control room was empty save Starscream, who had been released for active duty less than a joor earlier. The rest of the third shift was assigned elsewhere: maintenance, patrol, or on missions. This left Megatron to stare, unobserved, at Starscream's sleek form.

Once every century or so, Megatron would allow himself to consider how their lives would have been different if Starscream had never begun questioning his orders. Once every century or so, Megatron wondered if Starscream's hate stemmed from something other than his overblown pride and ambition.

Apparently unaware of his audience, Starscream stretched his wings, no doubt easing any stiffness left from his repairs. He extended them backward, straining faintly and causing the wings to tremble, then slowly arched them forward until they brushed the computer console. After a klik, he returned them to their standard position and shook them faintly, causing the dim overhead light to shimmer over the silver metal.

Megatron stared, unwillingly entranced, and suspected Soundwave had some sort of plan knocking around in his processor. Now that he was calm, he realized he was inexplicably jealous of the Seekers' bonding ritual. He found the fact mystifying, and yet only the previous night he'd recalled the first time he'd seen Starscream and the way the starlight had raced across his sleek tetra wings. For whatever reason, Megatron was not above one of the most typical preferences among Cybertronians: the desire for one's lover to have wings. Granted, he'd recruited the Seekers for air power, but every femme he'd interfaced with always had possessed either wings or winglets.

Starscream sighed and jabbed a button on his console, switching camera angles in the mess hall. To Megatron, the air commander seemed unusually quiet and sullen. Typically, Starscream was all venom and scathing words. Today, however, even his curse had lacked any rage. It was as though the Seeker had sunk into numb apathy.

"That's not like you," Megatron murmured to himself.

Starscream glanced slowly at the doorway, apparently overhearing the words in the relative silence. No look of terror washed over his face; his optics neither dimmed nor brightened with emotion of any kind. Of course, long gone were the smiles with which the young Seeker used to grace him when he entered the room thanks to simple 'hero-worship.' Or at least Megatron assumed it had been hero-worship.

Starscream flexed his wings backwards again, drawing another tremor from them, then let them settle back in place. "Come to finish the job?" he asked, his tone bored. Flat. "Or did you have me repaired because you've dreamt up some mission for the Seekers?"

Megatron's newest plan did involve the Seekers, but he could have relied solely on the Coneheads. Unable to explain his own change of spark, he simply shrugged and entered the room. "Yes, there's a mission in two orns that you'll be needed for." He sneered. "I must have my top traitor in best form."

Starscream stared at him without expression, as though he were doing his best to impersonate Soundwave, then glanced toward the control room window. A school of fish darted past the glass. "Of course."

The apathy unsettled Megatron. "Where's your fiery spirit, Starscream? Do you plan to usurp my throne with such a lack of passion? Or have you finally learned to hold your tongue?"

Starscream continued to stare into the ocean's blackness. "I still hate you," he intoned. "That is what you wanted, yes? A warrior who stood on his own strength-Decepticon strength, filled with hate, cunning, and treachery?"

Flat, flat, flat. Megatron thought his SIC's voice sounded like a library archival computer. "I wanted you to follow my orders, not shoot me in the back," he said, retaining his calm for once, matching his factual tone to Starscream's apathy.

Starscream turned his gaze upon the monitors. "You said I had a scientist's gaze and knowledge, but a warrior's heart and training." There, at last, was a trace of anger. "You accepted my warrior's training as long as I blindly obeyed your orders, but you ignored and even scoffed at my scientific knowledge. I don't suppose you remember the disaster at Delta Alpha Sigma, when you nearly put me through the bulkhead for telling the truth." He turned his stare upon Megatron, but his anger had apparently already died, leaving only a dull red sheen to his optics. "If you don't want truth, doesn't that mean you want lies?"

Megatron frowned, stung by the embarrassment of that mission's failure. He clenched his fist, ready to punish Starscream for his insolence yet again, only to pause and remember Soundwave's earlier advice. Soundwave rarely commented on personal matters or interrupted Megatron when he spoke. Had his behavior been the result of some thought or emotion in Starscream? What was the telepath sensing from the Seeker?

Suddenly unsure of his footing given Starscream's odd mood, Megatron reverted to Soundwave's plan. "What is this, Starscream? Some version of a Seeker tantrum? Are you pouting because I interrupted your bonding time with your trine?"

Starscream's wings twitched faintly, as though the memory of his trine's touches triggered a reaction. "What? And miss all your resulting threats and violence?" A trace of his usual sarcasm bled into his tone. "Even interrupted, the ritual provoked quite a show, don't you think, mighty Megatron?"

Caught between a smirk and a scowl, Megatron admitted to himself that Starscream's acidic words were somewhat of a relief. This was a game he was used to playing. "So that's it, is it? We're pouting?" He grinned, snickering at his own plan, and his fingers nearly itched with desire. Soundwave did tend to generate solid ideas. He stepped up to Starscream's chair, leaning over him with a predatory smile.

His SIC glared at him warily, then sighed, his wings slumping. The hollow look of apathy returned. "I'm not pouting, but even if I were, you wouldn't understand since you're not a Seeker."

Megatron felt a disconcerting level of satisfaction in his plan. "Then enlighten me, if you are so knowledgeable or wise. What does it mean?" He reached out both hands, running them the length of Starscream's wings. The metal was smooth and cool under his palms, flawless and enticing. Until that moment, Megatron had not realized how much he wanted to touch these particular wings.

Starscream gasped and tried to jerk free, but Megatron held on, running his fingers down the wing seams. The Seeker arched his back with a strangled sound.

"W-what are you doing?" Starscream asked, his voice so low it was almost lost as his coolant system whirled on.

The thrill that swept through Megatron's circuits caught him off-guard. Despite his obsession with wings, he had never imagined he'd have such a strong reaction to Starscream's wings. "Reminding you who has the real power here," he replied, his voice caught somewhere between a threat and a purr. "Now tell me, Seeker. What does this ritual mean to you?" He rubbed his fingers in circles across the length of the now-quivering appendages.

His entire body trembling, Starscream brutally gripped the console before him. "N-nothing you'd like," he managed to spit out. "It reinforces-" He gasped again as Megatron gently caressed the edges of each wing.

Megatron started to smirk at him, but he realized the smirk felt closer to a smile. A very pleased smile. "It reinforces . . .?" he prompted, loving the feel of the wings quivering under his hands.

Starscream seemed to gather his senses and shot him a hate-filled glare. "It reinforces care and brotherhood, and it demonstrates a willingness to protect the other!"

Taken aback by the words, Megatron regrouped and leaned into Starscream's face, their noses mere centimeters apart. "Is that so?" He splayed his fingers across the expanse of both wings, caressing outward slowly and drawing a peculiar, strangled sound from the Seeker. "Then why are you reacting so strongly to my doing it?"

The moment hung suspended between them. Megatron realized with utter shock that he wanted to kiss the slagging traitor, but he was distracted from his own horror when he noticed that Starscream's energy field wavered wildly in a show of blatant desire. What? he thought, taken aback once again. He is actually attracted to me?

Starscream grew unnaturally still, a ripple of tenseness radiating through his body as his optics glowed brightly. Then suddenly he was a flurry of movement. "Don't touch me!" he shrieked, bolting from his chair and away from Megatron's hands. He ran to the doorway, glancing back only for an astrosecond. "It's a Seeker ritual, and you're no Seeker!" His voice rose in pitch with each word, and he transformed into his alt mode and kicked in his thrusters, streaking away.

Megatron stared after the retreating form, for once not even trying to stop his escape. He was too stunned by both his own feelings and Starscream's reaction to attempt following.

Lust? Desire? Attraction? Surely he had gone insane. Maybe they both had.

Yet in his processor, Megatron saw again the starlight on Starscream's wings at his graduation ceremony and later the unadulterated smiles with which he had greeted him. A naïve fool to be used . . . or someone genuinely intriguing. Megatron had been irritated with the idea that Starscream wanted him as a replacement father, as someone to give him the affection and acknowledgement his father had not.

But he had never stopped to ask himself why it irritated him.

No, he had simply reigned in Starscream's behavior and set about remolding him into a perfect officer, except that had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.

Megatron paused, resting his hands on the abandoned chair. He had always assumed Starscream's ego had multiplied because of some basic personality flaw, but he had mentioned a specific day-the disaster at Delta Alpha Sigma. Megatron searched his memory banks, trying to recall the exact conversation he'd had with Starscream and to figure out what importance it held for him. Was Starscream holding a specific grudge that tipped the scales on his treachery?

Distracted with these thoughts, Megatron absently summoned a replacement for Starscream's post and then headed to his quarters.