Until the Dream Ends

Chapter 7

For his earlier violent outburst, Starscream was remarkably subdued after his legs were disconnected, leaving Perceptor to continue work on him in peace. Rather remarkably, he was conscious despite the operation and the tampering that was an inevitable part of his reparation. Once again, the microscope-transformer suspected that it was more a case of Starscream's own stubborn refusal, or perhaps a subconscious reluctance, to pass into stasis when his body was clearly telling him that would be the sane thing to do.

Amazed at the strength of will from the air commander, who seemed to be such an arrogant opportunist coward in most situations, Perceptor found that, obsessed with knowledge as he was, he was wondering what could have caused such an aversion to sleep as that which his patient was displaying. In fact, Perceptor had time to think about many things now that his fixtures didn't need as much pinpoint accuracy as they had earlier, and now that Starscream was being so obedient.

He wondered not only at Starscream's determination to remain awake, but also at what could possibly keep the jet in the Decepticon ranks when this was his reward. He wondered at himself for even being in the same room as his torturer. He wondered at the lack of anything but the odd twinge through the bond, for he had been expecting it to be all the more unbearable for the closeness between its bindees.

The seeker's displeasure at his submissive, dependant position was betrayed only by the occasional twitch, the slight shudder through his chassis, but, for the most part, his body was relatively relaxed considering that he was having unanaesthetised open surgery carried out on his fuselage. In stark contrast to this unexpected docile display and astoundingly high tolerance of pain, which defied his persistant begging whenever it looked like Megatron was about to beat the slag out of him, his grey face wore a dark expression that was, perversely, both taut in concentration and so, so distant.

It was such a confliction of signals that the Autobot paused several times in his working to attempt to figure out what Starscream was doing. His curiosity piqued as it was, he almost considered probing at the bond between them before he remembered that to do so would be to acknowledge and even accept it, and he had no wish to admit that the hated link between him and this cold, ruthless warrior existed.

In fact, Perceptor had an inkling of what was going through the seeker's processor, if only because he had been through the same ordeal just over an Earth week prior. The glazed look over red optics, as though Starscream was focussed somewhere far, far away, twinned with the antithesis of expressions on his face led the scientist to the conclusion that the Decepticon was building up his defences in a morbid expectation of torture, just as Perceptor himself had done when it had been him in this position. The difference, though, was that, while torture as a prisoner of Megatron was almost a certainty, that Starscream would be interrogated in such a brutal way was very unlikely indeed. It was simply not an Autobot thing to do.

After a lengthy silence, there was an odd sound, a sort of grating squeal; it took Perceptor a moment to realise that it was Starscream grinding his teeth. Just as he was about to admonish the seeker for the sound that was causing his audio receptors to tingle in complaint, the latter spoke in a tense, strained voice.

"Just get it over with, you insufferable weakling."

Far too taken aback at the content of the sentence to think of retorting at the insult, Perceptor ran several different options over in his processor – but each one turned up a blank, and he could not for the life of him work out what Starscream was talking about. "Um... Get what over with?"

Starscream gave him a derisive, withering look, indicating his foul temper. Though he was trying to be subtle about it, it did not escape Perceptor's notice that the cobalt hands were gripping the side of the operating table, trembling almost imperceptibly. The seeker was terrified, and still trying to be an assertive bully – trying to make himself bigger than life, like the felines of Earth puffed their fur out when threatened. How strange, he had usually resorted to desperate pleas for mercy when Perceptor had seen him in situations like this.

When the air commander snapped his answer, his voice was taut with nerves. "Fool of an Autobot, stop playing games with me! It's obvious you're going to use that – that thing between us in reverse, so hurry up and get it the frag over with!" The shuddering of his blue hands against the metal of the berth increased, chiming faintly with each impact now, as the Decepticon's voice lowered and he began to mutter rebelliously to himself. "Stupid slagspawned frag that Megatron is, making me do such a stupid thing, it's his own damn fault, never woulda been caught out like this if I ruled..."

As Starscream was speaking, Perceptor was aware of his own expression displaying more and more disgust, outraged not only at the thought of renewing that horrible bond – it had been a nightmare for him, and it probably hadn't been too enjoyable for Starscream either, from the way he was reacting to the thought of repeating it – but also at the fact that Starscream truly thought the Autobots would find it acceptable to use such a sickening means of interrogation.

"Howdare you suggest that we – that I – would do such a thing!" The scientist flared, his azure optics flashing in affront. "We Autobots have morals, we would never use an act of devotion so callously, how dare you even assume that just because you Decepticons have no notion of right and wrong it means that everyone is just as, as twisted as you! You – you make me sick!"

Finished with his tirade, Perceptor stared angrily at his recovering prisoner. The air commander's optics had dimmed from a bright scarlet to a burning crimson, his grip on the sides of the table had loosened and his hands were no longer trembling quite to the degree they had been. A smile that seemed half mocking and half relieved crossed the dark face, and some reign of control had been regained over the high-pitched voice when he breathed shakily: "H-ha... you Autobots, with your weak ethics and your sappy beliefs... too useless to take an opportunity when it comes, that's why you'll lose this war in the end."

Perversely, Starscream's assurance that the Autobots' kindness would lead to their downfall calmed Perceptor instead of provoking him even further; he had been expecting this much, at least, from the arrogant robot in his custody.

"No, you're wrong." He answered softly, resuming his work on Starscream's wound. "We have what you don't. We know how to love, and that is the greatest gift of all."

"Sentimental drivel!"

"It is good to be an Autobot. We are never alone because we know how to care for each other." The scientist insisted firmly, chancing a sly sideways glance at the Decepticon, whose eyes had slanted almost sulkily. No response came – had his words hit too close to home for any snarkiness? - Perceptor attempted to brush it aside, working in silence.

The silence dragged on, increasing in its awkwardness. The realisation that what he had been dreading would not come to pass a welcome boon in his otherwise hopeless-seeming situation, Starscream had relaxed considerably, which made Perceptor's job a lot easier, meaning that the scientist had concentration to spare. Normally, he would be happily chatting away to anything, be it his patient or the components he was fixing, or sometimes even the tools he was working with, but Starscream set him on edge, and he was not comfortable with talking to the aloof seeker, perhaps unsurprisingly considering their history.

However, the urge to speak at all overwhelmed his uncertainty, and besides – his curiosity was aroused by the conclusion he had reached about the rogue emotions that had flooded through his processor so many times in the past week.

"Starscream..." The meek Autobot murmured, almost nervously, trying not to let his hesitation show and failing most miserably, waiting for a grunt of acknowledgement from his patient before continuing with his quiet question. "Were you... lonely among the Decepticons?"

An expression of what could only be described as disbelief crossed the grey face before any answer came. "Wh – no! Of course I wasn't! What a ridiculous thing to suggest, as if any Decepticon can trust anyone but himself! Stop trying to analyse me with your inane Autobot programming! I am not a weakling like you!"

Perceptor did not press the point, but he did not for an instant believe any of Starscream's answer, which had been vehement and altogether too quick to be entirely truthful. More likely, the Decepticon was still trying to appear tough and fearsome – that in itself was almost amusing, considering the number of times that Perceptor had seen Starscream living up to his namesake by loudly whimpering and whining to Megatron for mercy, as cowardly as they came if he thought his life was in danger.

The microscope-transformer adjusted his lens, squinting through it at the extreme magnification as he soldered across a blocked linkage before slotting a transistor into place carefully. Under the close scrutiny, Starscream shifted uncomfortably, distaste crossing his noble, aristocratic face.

"Get a move on, will you? Cut it out!" He roughly demanded of his doctor, who looked up in some surprise and mild indignation.

"I'm working as best I can, you ingrate, so shut up and let me do this or I'll disconnect your vocaliser." Was snapped back, Perceptor adopting Ratchet's amazingly effective bedside manner, if only because Starscream was grating at his nerves. "The more you distract me, the longer it will take, and, believe me, I don't really want to be stuck here with you longer than necessary."

Ah, there was another chunk of desert stone stuck in the grey metal of the fuselage. That would probably be a problem if it was left to fester. Shaking his head at his own oversight, Perceptor brought down a cutting device specially designed for accurately rending metal; three concentrated laser beams that rotated at speed to create a deathly powerful circular implement. As he lowered this towards the stricken metal, Starscream's optics widened and shut off abruptly but briefly.

The seeker sat bolt upright, almost impaling himself on the surgical device as he struggled to pry it from Perceptor's hands or knock it to the floor; the shocked scientist loosened his hold on his tool, and it went skittering away across the orange ground, sparking whenever the cutting edge hit the reinforced alloy of the panels of Grapple's structure.

For a while, Starscream just sat there, staring at nothing with wide optics, lips parted in apparent horror, arms limp over his unresponsive legs, the vents on his chest whirring as they worked to cool overheating systems. The Autobot scientist bent to retrieve his appliance, switching it off and turning back to face his anguished patient as the spinning laser blades slowed.

"What," he queried calmly, after a moment, "was that about?"

"... Don't do that..." Came the squeaky antiphon, Starscream laying back slowly after running his hands down his legs once, as though to check that they were still there.

"I know that now," Perceptor sighed to himself in exacerbation; he had expected the air commander to be a pain to deal with, but had not thought him to be quite so... contrary, "but what on Earth happened?"

The whirring of the chest vents returned to their normal dull thrumming, Starscream shutting off his optics before giving his response in a disturbingly dreamy tone. "Nothing on Earth, no. Do you remember when our Space Bridge malfunctioned and we were sent to that planet with those giant green monsters?"

"Yes," Perceptor acknowledged, wracking his recall centres and bringing up the memory – the indigenous natives of the planet they had ended up on had had a particularly murderous streak when it came to researching new life forms.

Suddenly everything started to make sense.

"Well,you were lucky." The Decepticon snorted in surfeit. "You got away without bein' poked about by their moronic scientists."

He left it at that, but Perceptor understood; he had, after all, been in a transparent containment cell with the other Autobots, watching the processes that the huge green species had been carrying out on the luckless Decepticons, all of whom had been pinned supine by their ankles and wrists – rather like Starscream's current predicament, thinking about it – and examined closely. Starscream himself had nearly been dissected alive; the huge researcher had brought his circular scalpel down with an almost sadistic slowness towards the restrained robot's chest.

Seeing the similar circular device, even though it was so much smaller, moving towards his unprotected middle must have thrown Starscream unpleasantly back into that situation of about to be cut to pieces. No wonder he had panicked.

It seemed that the air commander was really not as tough and heartless and unaffected as he wanted everyone to think. The Autobot could not imagine having to pretend to be strong; he was suddenly thankful that he had such friends among his faction, people around whom he could be himself without pretending to something better.

"Don't look at me like that!" Starscream growled, and Perceptor was shaken rudely from his reverie; he had been lost in his own thoughts, and they must have displayed on his facial components as he looked at the seeker. "I don't need your pity!"

Knowing better than to argue, Perceptor rolled his shoulders in a shrug and re-focussed the lens on his microscope, resuming his work and hoping that Starscream would not have any more panic attacks, if only because it would slow them down and keep them together for longer.

O

"Well, that's all I can do here, I'm afraid." The microscope-transformer stepped back, rubbing his hands together as he surveyed his handiwork. "It's not perfect, but it'll keep you going."

"It sure took you long enough." The seeker snorted, without a word of thanks.

Bristling at the lack of gratitude and feeling rather used, though he should have expected as much in retrospect, dealing with a Decepticon as he was, Perceptor turned away abruptly, his voice cold and distant. "It would have been over a lot quicker if you had gone into stasis or not moved about so much, it's your own fault really."

When the only response to that accusation was a sulky, grudging grunt, the scientist let his optics dim, laying one dark grey hand on the gamboge wall, faced with a new and more pressing problem now that the seeker was out of any immediate danger. What was he going to do with the Decepticon now he was fixed? As far as he knew, the only Autobots aware of Starscream's presence within the bunker were himself, Jazz and Prowl. Perhaps he could ask Jazz or Prowl what to do? Yes, that would work, Prowl would think of something. He was good that way.

"So now what!?" The air commander snapped peevishly, voicing the question running through the scientist's mind, pushing himself into a sitting position with some difficulty, as Perceptor had not yet reconnected the neural transmitters to his legs. "Are you going to let me go now that you've finished pratting around with my circuits?"

"Of course not." Though he had prepared himself for this, Perceptor, being the gentle soul he was, could not help but feel a little guilty – but, he reminded himself, this was Starscream, who had ruthlessly tormented him... "I don't want a Decepticon loose in here."

"Then let me back to my own people!"

"You'd just attack us again." Was the listless counter. Surely fixing one of the enemy, pulling him back from the brink of death, only to have him shoot at the other faithful warriors in your faction counted as some sort of treason?

Starscream did not take this denial well.

"What the slag was the point of saving me if you're just going to keep me locked up in here until I corrode!?" He demanded, his grating voice a high-pitched whine. "You can't do that to me!"

His whinging continued in this manner, escalating in pitch and volume until Perceptor could barely hear his own central processes, let alone slip a word in edgeways. Not for the first time, he seriously began to regret saving the abrasive seeker's life.

"Stop it!" The meek scientist barked at last. "Shut up, please, for the love of Primus! Or do you want me to take you out in to the desert and dump you for dead? Like you did to me?"

"Ha!" Starscream pouted childishly, glaring with his fiery optics, the very depths of rebelliousness and defiance in them, at his saviour. "That's because you were stupid and naive! Fool Autobot, it's your own fault, you deserved everything we did to you! The way you provoked Megatron, it's almost as if you wanted to have a forced bond! HA! Maybe you did! Maybe that's the only way you fool Autobot reject could get bonded atall -!"

His words were cut off when, in a fit of uncharacteristic violence, Perceptor struck the dark grey cheek of his patient in a fierce backhand, azure optics smouldering in rage and contempt, unable to believe that Starscream had the nerve to mock him for his bravery, and especially when he had been trying so hard to forget that the mech he was fixing was his reluctant bondmate. The grey head snapped to the side at the impact, and a cobalt hand was raised slowly to the abused metal as Perceptor stared down in fury.

"H-How dare you..." He managed, his normally-docile voice warped with icy indignation, teeth clenched in the fierce injustice. "After everything I've done for you...! I hope you're satisfied!"

"Oh yes," Starscream sneered airily, malevolence glinting in his cruel eyes, "nothing makes me happier than hurting an Autobot!"

And he threw his head back and laughed.

A new wave of emotion assaulted Perceptor's enraged spark, through what the scientist believed was the feeble remains of the weak connection between himself and the seeker. Quite contrarily to what the Decepticon was saying, however, it was far from happiness or joy, or even amusement; the nearest way to describe it would to call it... resignation. The stark contrast almost made the scientist question his captive, wondering whether Starscream regretted initiating the bond, but still he burned in the ire that Starscream's taunting had unearthed within him, and it was not quick to let go of his soul. Besides, such a question would only provoke Starscream to taunt him further, and he could do without those sneers and those jibes when he was in such a towering rage.

Ha, and the very thought that a Decepticon could feel for another creature was ridiculous anyway, Starscream had demonstrated that well enough, selfish egotistical megalomaniac that he was. No doubt he was just resigning himself to the fact that Perceptor was not going to be setting him free any time soon.

Static crackling reached the microscope-transformer's audio receptors and he had the presence of mind to shove Starscream from the table hurriedly, ignoring the muffled complaint as the crippled seeker hit the floor with a 'clang', just in time as the communications screen flickered on, showing Wheeljack's face peering expectantly at the camera.

"... Perceptor? Hey, is this thing workin'?" The jovial engineer tapped his side of the link with one finger, and the reverberations it caused in Perceptor's laboratory made the scientist's head pound as he moved to stand squarely in front of the Decepticon lying on the floor, blocking him from view of the communication screen.

"Yes, Wheeljack, it's working!" He pressed his hands over the dark vents either side of his helmet, as though it would stop the rhythmic thudding. "It's working! Very well! It is working extremely well, please stop hitting it!"

The masked Autobot laughed cheerily, his audio protuberances flashing neon blue with each sound. "Haha, sorry Perceptor, Teletraan's had a problem and we've only just managed to debug it."

"Right." A nod as the microscope stared at the maniac on the screen wearily, fully expecting to be called back to the Ark to fix up the results of some terrible catastrophic explosion. ... That was a little unfair on Wheeljack, after all, only a few of his inventions ended with catastrophic explosions... Gah, chalk the jibes down to his current ill humour. "What's up?"

"Well, I was just wonderin' if there's anythin' you need a delivery of? Prime's all fixed up, an' he's comin' back out to you in Skyfire," there was an odd noise from Starscream on the floor, but thankfully Wheeljack seemed not to hear, "we can load anythin' up if you need it."

"Oh... no thank you, I think I'm all right." He could have left it there, but he was still smarting from Starscream's earlier baiting, causing him to be more than a little short-tempered than usual with his eccentric colleague. So he continued snippishly. "Couldn't you just have asked Ratchet what he wanted to bring back with him?"

"Ratchet? Oh, he's not comin' back with the others." Wheeljack answered lightly, either not noticing or, more likely, carefully ignoring Perceptor's taut tone.

"What!? Whyever not?"

"There was trouble over in Portland, some human female, uhh..." The engineer appeared to be checking some sort of note in his hands, "... uh, caught pregnancy while Ratchet was on patrol, he's been stuck over trying to cure her."

A quiet yet nigh uncontrollable snickering came from the Decepticon on the floor, but Perceptor ignored it, his concern for the unknown human radiating in droves. "Pregnancy? Is that fatal?" The snickering increased in volume. He considered kicking Starscream to shut him up, but, remarkably, Wheeljack hadn't noticed yet, busy as he was rubbing his head with his hand.

"Enh, Ratchet wasn' exactly definite about it over the comm, but I think he can handle it. Well, jus' wanted to let you know that, and I gotta go, lots of work t'do, unless there's anything else?"

"No, thank you Wheeljack. See you later some time."

The connection shut off, leaving Perceptor standing stoically in the room with Starscream dissolving into paroxysms of mirth on the floor, laughing loud and freely now that there was no fear of his being discovered by any of the other Autobots.

"And what," asked Perceptor snarkily, heatedly, "is so funny? Is a human's suffering really such a joke to you?"

It took a moment for Starscream to regain control over his vocal processor and actually formulate a response, and, in that moment, Perceptor realised that there was no real malevolence in the laughter; it truly was clear and almost innocent – except that nothing any Decepticon did would ever be innocent.

Running a cobalt hand over his dark face, the jet finally managed to modulate: "Ohhh... you fools, how long have you been on this planet? And you're still ignorant!"

Perceptor riled, but realised quickly that Starscream was not being malicious. The seeker was fumbling with his own body, trying to push himself back up onto the table and failing quite spectacularly, as, the scientist remembered guiltily as he moved forward to help, his legs had still not been reconnected. The Autobot had quite forgotten.

"You're an idiot." The air commander stated, matter-of-factly, as he was sat back upon the table. Tremors of cachinnation still shook his fuselage. "Pregnancy isn't a disease, it's how the flesh-creatures create new units. The male models implant premature components within the females and the new unit creates itself within some sort of organic construction chamber. Just over a stellar cycle later, the new unit emerges from the female, complete but diminutive."

"Wh – that's absolutely fascinating..." The astounded scientist tilted his head to the side, interested despite himself; his main weakness was that of learning, and this truly was a discovery indeed! "I admit, I haven't had time to study human biology yet..." A disturbing suspicion took ahold of him suddenly. "Why do you know all this? Surely Megatron doesn't lay much priority on research of this planet's species?"

The seeker gave an elegant one-shouldered shrug, the expression on his face morphing from his humour back to lassitude. "I was a scientist and an explorer, before the war. I specialised in alien metallurgy and biology, whichever was relevant for the species I was studying at the time."

It was only when Starscream glared at him uncomfortably a klik later that Perceptor realised he had been staring in astonishment at the seeker. He couldn't help it; it had never once crossed his mind that any of the Decepticons had ever been anything but soldiers, and to hear that Starscream, who had a reputation for being one of the cruellest and most loathed of the enemy, had been a scientist – just like he was... it was mind-numbing.

In retrospect, it had been a stupid assumption; he had had a life before the war as well, had he not? It was only logical that the other faction had been peaceful beings too... once...

But something about the jet's reasoning was still off, and Perceptor put his finger on it within the next nanoklik.

"But," he pointed out, "our war started over nine million Earth years ago – more in, fact! - surely the humans had not evolved so long ago, if what I have studied about natural selection in species is true?"

"They hadn't." Was the toneless answer. "I've carried out dissections since being here."

"You... you what!?" The microscope demanded, horrified.

The Decepticon snorted in disgust, turning himself away from the other robot. "Oh, get over it, I killed them first. Most of the time."

"But – sentient life!"

"Perhaps it escaped your notice," Growled Starscream irritably, "but I am at war with the little fraggers."

And, while that was the truth, Perceptor still could not really bring himself to come to terms with the calm admission of homicidal activities Starscream was admitting to in the tone of one describing normal everyday procedures.

Before he could protest further, Starscream had suddenly and unexpectedly leapt to his feet, knocking Perceptor back and flinging the door to the laboratory open, disappearing out of it at an impressive speed. Getting hastily over his initial surprise, Perceptor cursed himself for not watching the seeker when he was on the floor – who would have thought he would have been able to reconnect his legs? - as he gave chase. And, as he ran, some part of his mind praised Starscream's intellect; not just any Transformer would have been able to accurately reconnect each wire to the correct terminal. The majority would have ended up shorting themselves.

In all honesty, he was torn; while it was obvious that Starscream was pining for freedom and flight, the Autobot was reluctant to turn his imprisoned enemy loose, feeling sure that it would count as some sort of treachery after he painstakingly repaired him. But the chance that he would catch up with the fleeing seeker was looking depressingly slim now; Starscream had transformed, and his afterburners glowed hot amber as he rocketed towards the entrance tunnel.

As for the air commander himself, he was elated. He was finally rid of that stupid Autobot, he was fixed, he was free, he was -

- about to crash into that wall unless he pulled up pull up pull up slag it.

What followed was an impressive display of aerial acrobatics, proving beyond a doubt why Starscream was known as the best flier among the Decepticon fleet, as he pulled up, somersaulting in the air, banking left to dodge sideways through a door that was almost too small for his wingspan and only narrowly missing another of the Autobot warriors before transforming mid-air into his humanoid form and trying to regain some measure of control over his speed. It was simply too cramped in here to try and manoeuvre in jet mode.

The entrance was in sight, at least, and he had the element of surprise and a good headstart over the Autobot warriors; they would never catch him now, surely...

Something very big and very metal and very non-moving loomed in front of the escaping Decepticon's optics, and, before he could stop running or turn, he felt himself restrained by hugely strong arms as the imposing figure of Optimus Prime swept him into a vice-grip.

"Get off of me!" Starscream screeched, writhing vainly, unable to break free.

"A Decepticon spy?" Prime asked in mild but perpetually calm surprise as the warriors who had been giving chase finally caught up. "That's odd. I would have thought Megatron would use one of Soundwave's cassettes, rather than someone as unsubtle as you, Starscream."

Seeing himself severely outnumbered and outgunned, Starscream instantly dropped his tough-Decepticon act, staring up at Prime imploringly; if Prime had not known of his presence, then Perceptor must have been keeping himillegally... "I'm not a spy! I was kept prisoner by that scientist of yours – Perceptor!"

All optics turned on to the meek scientist, who had just come running through the door, vents chuntering and making a noise similar to that of a human undergoing strenuous physical activity. Ever the opportunist, Starscream took quick advantage of the momentary diversion, wresting himself from Prime's grasp, transforming and disappearing into the blue beyond of the vast American sky.

"Leave him." Prime commanded as his faithful warriors started to pursue the seeker. "We stand no chance of catching up with him now." He turned his full attention back to the most scientific mind among his army. "Was he telling the truth, Perceptor?"

"Only partially, Optimus," Perceptor forced his voice to stay strong, feeling the accusatory eyes of his colleagues on him. Only two pairs of optics watched him without any thread of suspicion; Jazz and Prowl, of course, who both knew the story. "He was very badly injured in that fight, Megatron shot him through. I couldn't very well leave him to die passively, I – I'm a thinker, not a killer - so I brought him in for repairs, but I... I underestimated his resourcefulness, forgive me."

The Autobot leader gave his subordinate a scrutinising look that went on for several astroseconds past the comfort zone, no readable expression displayed on his faceplate.

Then his cerulean optics softened and he spoke reassuringly. "You did the right thing, no Autobot should watch another suffer. He should end suffering in whichever way is kindest. However," He added sternly, "I would prefer it, Perceptor, if you had told me you were keeping a potentially very dangerous mech right under our olfactory sensors."

Perceptor looked at the ground, suitably chastened as Optimus glared at his remaining warriors to silence any rebellious muttering.

"I'm sorry, Optimus."

O

Perhaps fifteen minutes after his flight from the Autobot bunker, hindered as he was by his canopy (which was still disintegrating and impairing his vision, as Perceptor had not had the necessary material to repair it) and his radar, fragged by Megatron's blast and not repaired because of lack of components, Starscream finally arrived above the crashed Decepticon starship at the bottom of the ocean far below, radioing Soundwave and demanding the docking tower to be raised for him instantly.

He did not expect much of a welcoming reception, knowing, though not caring, that he was not well-liked among the robots of his own faction, and he certainly didn't expect to see Megatron standing there to greet him as he flew in to the docking bay, what seemed to be mild surprise on the gun-transformer's face.

Seeing his hated leader only succeeded in bringing his indignation and sense of injustice bubbling to the surface and, no sooner had he transformed, he had furiously started to berate Megatron before the silver commander could say anything.

"How dare you shoot me! Me!" The air commander erupted in his master's face, even going so far as to poke the white robot in the chest viciously with an azure finger to punctuate the words. "How dare you leave me behind to die!"

Megatron pushed his insubordinate lieutenant away disdainfully with one hand, commenting coldly: "You should feel honoured, Starscream, that you were instrumental in Prime's death."

"Death? HA!" Sneer. "You couldn't even kill him properly, you failure! He's as alive as I am!"

"What!?" The commander-in-chief snarled, a black hand closing around his officer's throat as though it would make what he was hearing wrong. "How can you be sure!?"

"B-because I ran st-raight into his chassis," Starscream choked, clawing at Megatron's unrelenting vice-grip on his neck, "as I was escaping being tortured by the Autobot Perceptor... get off..." The grip tightened as Megatron digested this terrible news, and Starscream whimpered, scrabbling even more desperately, his confidence rapidly draining away. "P-please..."

The Decepticon general dropped his wayward lieutenant in a crumpled heap, positively fuming at the news that his arch-nemesis was still functional. There was something else in his subordinate's statement that was nagging at his processors incessantly... something small and easily overlooked, but something that could be manipulated and molded and used... And then, as if out of a haze of troublesome processes, a most intriguing idea took hold of him.

"Perceptor?" He questioned, wanting to verify he had heard right, and Starscream nodded. "He's the one I had you bond, isn't he?" Another nod, this one slightly more jerky and accompanied by a most ugly expression on the dark face. "Well well well. How very interesting."

Starscream could not help the full-body shiver that ran through his exostructure as his leader looked him over once, a worrying smirk playing at those flawless white lips.

"Come closer, Starscream." The voice was conspiratorially low, and the air commander could not help but obey, as a puppet whose strings are being pulled, "I have a job for you..."