Disclaimer: There is much I do not own, but I do own a little.
VIII
The Autobots were indeed looking for Thundercracker and I as we returned to their headquarters. After constructing half-truths to placate them, my trine mate and I made our way back to Vos. For the rest of the night cycle, I tossed and turned on my recharge berth, processors distracted by thoughts of Megatron, his proposal, and Skywarp's revelations. When it finally became apparent that I was not going to get any recharge, I decided to check on my little experiments.
In hindsight, calling them "little" was rather understating.
I got up from my berth, and walked to the shelf covering the far wall. Reaching for its third level, I counted for the twelfth data pad from the right, and took it off before entering a sequence of codes. The shelf gave a quiver as I replaced the data pad, and it began to slowly shift apart. The doors to my personal laboratory appeared, and I patiently waited while they slid open. The room that came into view was not strictly scientific as it used to be. There were now only a few containers of chemicals, beakers, and measuring equipments to be seen. The contents of this chamber had undergone great changes, and it has become entirely dedicated to the development of experimental weaponry. My personal favourite, the null ray cannons, was created here, along with many other weapons my military used.
Rifles, missile launchers, and many other types of artillery lined the walls, some fully assembled and waiting to be tested, while some were still in their second or third developmental stage. At the very end of the long room sat my most powerful and ridiculous creation yet: the Fusion Cannon. Its massive, black, monstrous appearance was a perfect reflection of its firepower. Just the sight of it alone was enough to make even me, its creator, a little wary on my peds. Despite being currently deactivated and cold, it radiated power. I had only tested the cannon once. It blasted half of the firing range to complete slag and blew off an entire wall.
I had no idea why I bothered to make such a horrendous thing. The Fusion Cannon was of no use to fliers. It was simply too big and heavy, even for the Space Shuttles. In order to test this large chunk of dead weight, I had to build a platform specific to its size and the force of its backlash. I could never forget the look on Nightfire's faceplate as he rushed into the firing range after the explosion. He had been worried enough when he heard the noise and felt the impact. However, once he fully took in the amount of damage I had inflicted with my creation, I honestly thought he was going to blow a major fuel line.
I patted the Fusion Cannon fondly, albeit somewhat sadly. Having it simply sit here collecting dust was such a shame. Without exaggeration, I could confidently say this was the most dangerous frame-attachment weapon yet created. Though it was useless on a flier, on a strong enough ground pounder, it could bring down buildings with one shot alone. Not that I would ever give the indication that such a weapon was hiding in Vos, of course. I was not so stupid as to expose my ownership of such power.
After I polished the Fusion Canon, I spent the next few joors working on my various projects. The silence of my lab comforted me, and the precise care needed for my task kept my processors from revisiting what had happened during the night-cycle before. By the time I finally took a big stretch of my limbs and checked my internal chronometer, morning court was fast approaching. I had just enough time to have a brief wash.
Putting my tools and projects away, I left my laboratory, and reactivated the locking mechanisms. Once I was sure everything was secured, I walked across my berth room, and entered the shower chamber. With a quick flick of my wrist, I flipped open the cover of the setting pad on the wall, and selected a medium-pressure spray with mild-grade solvent. After a small beep of acknowledgement, the showerheads turned on, and I stepped under them, shoulder vents making a small sigh of comfort.
From all direction, warm water cascaded over my frame. It streamed down my wings, tickling my flight sensors. Before long, steam rose from the floor, and its scent was sweet from the solvent in the water. I offlined my optics, and tilted my helm back, simply allowing the wash to do its job. My wings swung slowly back and forth so the sprays could reach their joints, and a small moan left my lips when they did, the sensation pleasant and soothing. I thought I could melt from how good it felt, tension leaving my frame with the flow of the water. By the time the shower cycle ended, I was feeling both cozy and content, and was gleaming quite beautifully.
A comfortable current of air started to circulate in the shower chamber, drying the lingering moisture on my plating. I opened the cabinet holding my cans of polish, and sifted through the numerous containers while I waited for the drying cycle to end. I decided on a wax for extra-shine, and took a new polishing cloth from the rack. Once all dampness vanished from my plating, I left the shower chamber, and hopped onto my berth to apply the polish.
I was not as careful with the application as usual, but the end result was satisfactory for morning court. My form was smooth and sleek, without a single speckle of dust marring its perfection. The bright glimmer of the wax complimented my paintjob brilliantly, and it added a nice, glossy touch to my plating's natural sheen. By the time I arrived at the Grand Hall, I was feeling more refreshed than I had been for decas, despite not having had any recharge. I waved at Thundercracker with one of my wings when I walked by, and even gave Nightfire a playful wink with my left optic. He almost dropped his data pad out of flustered embarrassment, and I hid a snicker.
I ascended the stairs leading to my throne, and took my seat. The customary procession of hailing my designation and rank followed, and I waited for the flourish to end before bidding my subordinates to rise. Advisor after advisor stood forward to say their individual greetings, and each of them presented me with a report regarding different aspects of my city. I listened attentively, and asked question only when necessary or curious.
Overall, Vos was functioning as per usual. First patrol of the cycle saw no suspicious activity outside my city's walls, and the only noteworthy incident from the interior guards had been about a group of inquisitive younglings, who had attempted to sneak into Vos's Central Archives to see if its caretaker truly recharged dangling from the ceiling. Thundercracker had to take care of another situation involving Swiftglide's Autobot conspiracy theories, and energon production was a little behind, though Nightfire was confidence the numbers would be caught up by the end of the cycle. An aerial commander requested permission for a training mission outside of Vos for his Elites, which I easily gave. There was still no progress in regards to Firechaser's disappearance. However, more Autobot security forces were engaged in the search when perimeter expanded to include more cities.
By the time morning court ended, the only odd event that really caught my attention was a new trend from the middle-class Seekers. They took a liking to thinner and longer thrusters for their younglings, and some of them even underwent such upgrades themselves. I frowned as the director of Commerce, Skywake, went in great detail to convince me to allow him to manufacture more products. I hesitantly gave my permission, despite being thoroughly confused by the popularity of this trend. There was no proof that such upgrades increased one's speed, and thinner, longer thrusters certainly did not make walking any easier.
Shrugging off the urge to investigate such peculiarity, I decided to take a leisure flight around the perimeter of my city. I had a little more than a joor to spare before my scheduled meeting with Ramjet, and I intended to utilize this rare window of free time to its full potential.
Ramjet was the impulsive young General of the Conehead Seeker Fleet. Despite being a boisterous aft, he was an efficient general, blunt enough to be called honest and straightforward to the point of being borderline tactless. Fortunately, his personality traits meant meetings with him were direct and quick to finish. Perhaps I should instruct him to join me in the sky instead of a conference room. He always loved to chase me around, attempting to ram into me with his nosecone.
I took off from the highest flight deck of my tower, and instantly transformed into jet mode. I pierced through the air, engines making high screeches of exhilaration as I accelerated toward top speed. I broke the sound barrier in merely three kliks, soaring higher into the sky. In very little time, I reached the outer edge of my city. The high walls of the labyrinth came into view, and, right away, I received a ping from my personal comm.-line. I accepted the request, and my chief officer of border patrol, also Striker Jet General, came on.
:All hail Prince Starscream.: He greeted with formality. :This is Stormstrike.:
:Greetings, Stormstrike.: I answered jovially.
:Taking a joy flight, Sire?:
:I felt the need to stretch my wings.: I did a few lazy barrel rolls in the air as I replied.
:Should I make arrangements for an exit, your Highness?:
:There's no need.: I brushed off his inquiry,:I won't be leaving Vos.:
:Affirmative, Sire. I will inform all patrol officers that you are in the perimeter.:
:Good. Starscream, out.: I concluded our short comm. conversation, and made a swift turn as I neared the inner wall of the labyrinth. I decreased my speed once I began to circle my city, and took my time in admiring its splendor. I encountered a few Space Shuttles and quite a number of Seekers along my way. They all transformed in midair, and hovered, dipping their helms as I approached them. I engaged in a slow flip in the air to acknowledge their greetings, and slowed down minutely when I flew past them just so they could fully worship my dazzling form.
After a few breems of slow, relaxing flight, I spotted a group of younglings at a much lower altitude, playing games. They were mostly Cargo Shuttles, though there were a few Strikers and Fighter Jets. They were all very young, barely past sparklinghood. They darted around clumsily, and made quite a ruckus for tossing a thin piece of scrap metal at each other. Their laughter was so loud that even I could clearly hear them from my altitude, where I had slowed down and was flying a wide loop. The piece of metal glinted in the air as it was flung from one hand to another, and each youngling scrambled to catch it before tossing it to a friend. Strangely, no one in the surrounding towers seemed to mind the noise. I made another loop, and was just about to leave them to their fun when I noticed another spectator watching their game.
I almost missed the small frame hiding in the shadow of one of the towers. If it were not for his big, bright optics, I would have overlooked him completely. Most of his frame was hidden. Only his helm was in full view, peeking out and tilted toward the group of younglings fluttering about above him. He wore a curious, fascinated expression on his small, dark faceplate, and, right away, I knew he wanted to join the younglings in their game.
I felt a small tinge of worry in my spark, half hovering as I engaged in another slow loop. While I could not clearly see his frame type, he was obviously only a sparkling. Where were his creators? I could not spot any adult fliers in the vicinity. No matter how safe my city was, sparklings should never be left to wander on their own. Their frames were still fragile, and even if they had already gone through flight lessons, they should not be flying without supervision. A sparkling's thrusters and wings were weak. The simplest distraction could cause them to fall right out of the sky. After all, they were easily startled, and were much more prone to panic.
The little sparkling continued to hide, looking hesitant to approach the younglings. Eventually, he seemed to have made up his mind, and floated out of the shadow. Had I been in base-mode, my optics would have widened. He was a Seeker sparkling, frame still in protoform gray. Small wing stubs could be seen on his back, and from the way they twitched up and down, I could tell he was very interested in the game the younglings were playing. From his size and the fact that he could float easily in the air, I deduced that he was definitely old enough to choose his first paintjob. How strange that his creators had not brought him to a medic and done so, I thought, swerving around for a better view.
The sparkling floated further away from the tower, and slowly made his way toward the younglings. The younglings did not notice him, engrossed in their game. One of the Cargo Shuttles made a wide swoop in the air to catch the spinning piece of scrap metal, and my spark practically jumped out of my spark chamber when he almost swiped the Seeker sparkling with his wings. The shuttle still had not seen the sparkling, and neither did his friends. Dread began to seep across my spark as I watched the sparkling float around the laughing group in a semi-circle, wanting to join in. This whole situation was building up to disaster.
One of the Fighter Jet younglings swung the piece of scrap metal as hard as he could, and sent it hurtling toward one of his Striker friends. The slice of metal spun as it travelled toward the Striker at great speed, but due to its curvature, it flew off track. The Striker youngling anticipated its deviance, and began to chase, ready to intercept its course. There was a high, sharp cry of alarm when one of the Cargo Shuttles finally spotted the Seeker sparkling, but it was already too late. Startled by the shout, the Striker missed the scrap metal, and it continued to shoot through the air, heading straight for the tiny Seekerling. With no time for dismay, I instantly nosedived, engaging my thrusters for top speed.
There was a painfully loud clang as the piece of metal crashed into the Seekerlet. All the younglings cried out, and watched with widened optics as the sparkling let out a high-pitched shriek of agony, and started to fall. None of the younglings reacted, rooted to their spots by horror, and I cursed, blasting after the small Seeker. My spark strummed with anxiety, and my engines screeched, pushed to their limits. I shot past the group of still stunned younglings, and began to gain on the falling sparkling. He was almost within my grasp. My thrusters gave a final surge of speed. I dived past him, and immediately transformed, flipping around in midair in preparation to catch.
He fell into my arms, and I hugged him to my cockpit. Warnings blared in my processors at the speed by which I was continuously travelling downward at, so I turned, and pointed my peds down. There was an audible, whooshing sound when the strong air currents of my hurried descend came in contact with my suddenly suspended frame. I hovered for a few kliks, simply allowing time for my erratically thumping spark to calm, before I slowly started to ascend. Uncurling my hands around the shivering sparkling, I cradled him against my chassis, and began to check for injuries. The sparkling stared at me with rounded optics, and he looked as though his processors could not figure out what had happened. He was undoubtedly in shock, gaping at me while I scanned him with my optics.
So far into my assessment, he seemed to suffer no external damage. There was no visible dent on his body, and no scratch was to be seen on his plating. However, I knew something must be wrong. The chance of him receiving no injury from such hard impact was impossibly small. When it became clear his front side was fine, I carefully turned him over, and could only grimace when I saw his wings. Fortunately, they were still attached to his body, and under the given circumstances, he was already an extremely lucky sparkling to have survived a sharp piece of metal slamming into his back. However, he was far from being unhurt. One of his wings sported a large dent visibly seeping small beads of energon, and the other was clipped on its bottom edge.
As though waking out of a nightmare, the sparkling jolted violently, and began to shake. His optics rebooted, and he tilted his helm back to look up at my faceplate. I could almost hear his processors clicking away as they put together the pieces of the most recent events, and, almost the exact klik after, coolant washed down his cheek plates in streams. His lips abruptly parted, and, suddenly and loudly, he began to wail.
I winced, wings flinching. I had no idea how to comfort sparklings, and this one was screaming at the top of his vocalizer capacity in pain. His reaction was completely understandable, of course, since any flier with such damage would be under enough hurt to shed a few coolant tears, let alone a sparkling. Carefully placing him on his front against my canopy, I shushed him gently, and cooed as softly as I could. He continued to cry, but he seemed to be a little comforted by my presence.
The younglings had flown down. At first, they appeared to be intimidated, as though they did not know how to act around me. I was not certain if they recognized me as their sovereign, but quickly decided to not say anything to alarm them further. Eventually, they gathered around, and looked at the sparkling with concern.
"Is…Is he okay…?" One of them asked, and I glanced over. It was the Fighter Jet youngling that threw the piece of scrap metal. He obviously felt guilty. His wings were almost completely pointed down on his back.
"He has not deactivated, and that's fortunate enough," I answered, and rubbed the sparkling's wing joints with a finger. The sparkling sniffled, and clung tighter around my cockpit. The rubbing seemed to be calming him, perhaps elevating some of the pain.
"B-But if—…if you weren't here…then he would've—…he would've—…" The Fighter Jet looked like he was about to burst into coolant tears as well, and I had to physically bite back a sigh. I was not the mech for this.
"That may be true, but I was here, and that's what matters," I held his shaky gaze with a firm one, and spoke kindly. I was surprised myself by how smooth and warm my voice was, despite the lingering fright in my own spark.
"…What do we do now?" One of the Strikers spoke up, optics darting around at everyone.
"Does any of you know the family unit this sparkling belongs to, and where I can find them?" I asked, knowing that if there was anything that made a sparkling feel better, it was to be with his creators.
All of the younglings looked at each other, and shook their helms with helpless expressions on their faceplates.
This time, I did sigh, shoulder vents sending out a huff of air. "I will ask around then." Concluding the matter, I rose higher in the air, and addressed the group as a whole: "Be watchful, always, of your surroundings." I instructed, "Knowing precisely what's around you at all times is crucial for being a good flier. You are still young, but one can never be too young to learn. Be careful in the future."
They collectively nodded, helms lowering in shame and optics downturned. Suddenly feeling rather awkward, hovering amidst a group of younglings and berating them as though I was their creator, I made a small, coughing sound with my vocalizer, and bade them farewell with a curt nod. Turning around, I took my leave, and flew higher into the sky.
The sparkling was still sniffling, tiny shoulders jerking as his intakes hitched. Coolant continued to flow from his optics, but he was a lot calmer than before, only whimpering every once in a while. I kept my rubbing of his wing joints, and did not speak to him until we were above all towers of the surrounding area. Once I had adequate view of all proximate towers, I looked down, and caught sight of his wet, circular optics.
"What's your designation, Seeker?" I asked in a quiet, comforting voice.
He continued to stare at me, lips quivering before emitting the tiniest of whines, and hugged me tighter.
I frowned, not quite understanding what he was trying to convey.
"…You…have a designation, don't you?" I tried again, and was glad when he made a small nod.
"Do you want to tell me what it is?" I prompted, and, when he nodded again and whispered something, I leaned down, turning my helm to place one of my audials right beside his huddled form. He repeated his whisper, and I heard his quiet reply:
"Sunstorm."
"Sunstorm," I smiled at him, "That's a good designation for a Seeker."
"…Thank you." He replied politely, and my smile tilted higher.
"My designation is Starscream."
"Starscream," He repeated, voice still small, and quirked his helm upward to once again study my faceplate.
"That's right," I gave him a quick nod, "and I'm going to return you to your creators."
His optics flashed at the mention of his creators, and his helm jerked up completely. Despite his wet faceplate and tremours of pain, he started to make happy clicking sounds in succession. No Cybertronian beyond sparklinghood understood the language of sparklings, but Sunstorm was obviously pleased that he was going to reunite with his creators.
"Now, tell me, Sunstorm, where do you live?" I asked, and kept hovering while he looked around.
"Down," He answered, and pointed at the towers.
I began to slowly descend in the air. We lowered past the tips of the towers, and eventually reached the mid levels. We proceeded to pass several takeoff decks until we were well beyond the middle of the towers, yet he gave no indication of asking me to halt. I paused, and frowned in confusion. We were already amongst the lower levels, which were mostly deserted at this joor. There were only two or three takeoff decks left below us before we would reach the storage chambers, and there was nothing beneath the storage chambers.
Sunstorm looked up at me. "Down," He said softly.
My frown deepened, and I wondered if the hit jolted something loose in his processors.
"Sunstorm, there's nothing down there. Are you sure this is the right way?"
I was not certain what part of my words alarmed him, but Sunstorm suddenly stiffened. "…Down! Down!" His little voice gained an edge of urgency, and he pointed downward, faceplate twisting into an expression of fear. "Down!" He begged, and coolant once again swelled from his optics. The large drops of clear liquid rolled down his cheek plates, glistening under the diminishing light around us.
Completely befuddled as to why he was becoming so frightened, I almost chose to comm. the local med bay to have them deal with the situation instead. However, just as I searched through the list of med bays in Vos, a memory file resurfaced:
Skywarp had mentioned something about fliers living at the bottom of the towers, some even right at Vos's foundations.
I looked down at Sunstorm, who was growing more agitated by the klik, even going as far as to struggle in my arms in attempts to get away. He kicked with his little peds, and whimpered loudly. His wide, wet optics darted around, and he made choked, sobbing sounds, hopelessness dawning onto his faceplate. Realization finally pierced me, and I startled when I came to understand the source of his anxiety.
Sunstorm had assumed that I was lying to him, and that I was not returning him to his creators. This little sparkling thought I was going to keep him from his family unit. He thought I was going to take him away and hurt him.
"Sunstorm, calm down," I tried to make my voice as soothing as possible, but the effect sounded awfully flimsy. "I'm going to take you to your creators. I promise." I pretended to not notice the quavering of my reassurances, and ignored the squeezing sensations in my spark. "Don't worry," I ended awkwardly, and started to descend further. Only then did the Seekerling stop struggling, and I hugged him close, even though he did not clutch onto my cockpit as tightly as before.
We went beyond the lowest takeoff decks that I knew of, and the light from Cybertron's sky eventually dimmed. The increasing darkness made my wings twitch, and my optics glanced around rapidly, trying to keep track of all the shadows. There was still enough light for me to see without changing the default settings of my visual sensors, but the towers remained visible mainly due to their inherent glow. Everything was illuminated by a foggy haze. I felt as though Sunstorm and I were leaving Vos behind, and entering a new realm altogether.
I never intimately knew how tall Vos's towers truly were until I began my journey toward their foundations. I was moving at a slow pace for the comfort of the sparkling in my arms, but still, I had good speed. The darkness beneath my thrusters seemed endless, and it felt like a singular entity, immense and alive.
The air here was much too still. It held none of the cool currents swift and abundant at the tops of the towers. Its pressure felt heavy and oppressive around my flight sensors, and its thick presence urged me to cycle air though my intakes with extra vigor just to feel some movement around me. I searched keenly for the bottom, but I could not see it. A tingle of apprehension started to spread in my spark as I peered down, watching myself heading deeper into what took the appearance of an infinite pit.
I shook my helm quickly. I should not think of my own city in such a manner.
"How much further, Sunstorm?" I asked in a mere whisper, optics darting left and right. I thought I saw movements in some of the shadows, but by the time I looked, there was nothing there.
"Down," Sunstorm whispered back, and only then did I realize he had become abnormally quiet. I could still feel the tickling sensation of coolant where he pressed his faceplate against my cockpit, but he no longer soundly cried. He was still obviously in great pain if his shivering was any indication, but he had stopped making small noises. His mannerism was very strange, and it made my spark cool by several degrees.
I ran a deep cycle of air through my system, and did as he asked with minor reluctance. A long, silent moment later, I took another look down, and frowned in confusion when I noticed a dark shape taking form. The dark shape sharpened as we neared it, and eventually became a short takeoff deck. I could not believe my optics, so I rebooted them, and looked again. It was still there, shabby and rather abruptly cut off at the end, but it was a takeoff deck nonetheless. I was so surprised that I unconsciously slowed down to a hover right in front of it, and openly gaped at the structure. The takeoff deck led to a door, which I could only assume led to living quarters. There were dusty windows on the thick wall, and, through them, I could see shadowy forms moving about.
I hovered and stared until Sunstorm gave me a small nudge. I jolted, shook my helm clear of shock, and continued down without a word. Though there was no reason for Skywarp to lie about fliers living down here, seeing their actual dwellings still threw me off. To my greater disbelief, more takeoff decks came into view, gaining in numbers the more downward I went.
My wings gave a startled flick when figures started to cautiously emerge from all direction, floating out of the dark. They were fliers, my fliers, and they stared at me with the same amount of disbelief as I stared at them. The only difference was that they slowly and awkwardly bowed, as though they had just begun to recall the proper conduct when in my presence. I nodded back out of habit alone, and continued on my way, processors skidding as they tried to find a logical reason for these fliers, my fliers, to be living in the shadow of my grand city instead of living within it.
They looked nothing like the fliers of my city. I bit my dentae, and felt the corners of my lips quiver. My fliers were proud, beautiful creatures of the sky, whereas these mechs…they were dull, and faded. Their optics were hardly bright enough to be seen, casting only a weak glow and flickering in the dark like dwindling flames. Their wings hardly moved, and sagged pitifully on their backs, pointing downward. Their entire disposition was tattered and worn, a reflection of the vacant expressions on their faceplates.
They looked empty, and forgotten, and my spark constricted in pain when I realized they were right. Prior to this cycle, prior to Skywarp's confession, I had no idea that they were here at all, their existence a mere blind spot behind the glittering magnificence of my city. They lived a parody of all that Vos stood for, of what the founding beliefs of Vos were. Vos was everything to a flier, but here, in the shadows, these mechs had nothing.
"…How much further, Sunstorm?" I had to forcefully tear my optics away from meeting those hollow stares. Even though I whispered, the trembling in my voice sounded awfully disruptive even to my own audials. It penetrated the flat silence and stillness of the place, and sent out a ripple in the air.
"Almost." Sunstorm replied, voice even quieter than before, and I had to strain my auditory receptors to hear him. Some of the fliers, perhaps attracted by our speech, came a little closer. Their optics admired my form, and I felt almost repulsed, almost nauseated. I was a stark contrast to what they were not, and that notion hurt me.
A distant sound came within range of my audials, and my wings flicked. Someone was shouting, his vocal frequency high in tension. I could not quite make out what he was yelling for, but the klik Sunstorm became aware of that voice, he started to struggle in my arms. His opened his mouth, and a loud call left his lips. The sound made me jump, and it took me a moment to realize he was calling for his carrier creator in sparkling cant.
The reaction was immediate. As soon as Sunstorm made his call, the voice became louder. It was coming closer, and, before long, I could hear the sound of thrusters blasting at full capacity. Several kliks later, I could make out the shape of a Seeker in the distance flying toward us in jet mode. Sunstorm immediately cried louder, and his little arms stretched forward. His little thrusters whirred, and I almost dropped him in alarm that he was going to activate them right against my cockpit. He almost did, but one twitch of his damaged wings sent him squealing in pain, whimpering and shuddering as he curled into himself. His large optics, once again overflowing with coolant tears, kept an anxious watch on the shape of the Seeker with desperate eagerness.
"Sunstorm!" The Seeker called out once again, and transformed in midair as soon as he was close enough. In root mode, he was slightly bigger than I was, and his frame was in a paintjob of white and orange, though the colour had faded and the paint was flaking. His faceplate was white, and he was visibly overwhelmed, optics catching Sunstorm's in a teary gaze. He came closer, and instantly reached out with his arms. Sunstorm began to struggle with renewed vigor, thrusters whirring in ignition once more, but this time, I let go.
Sunstorm made one leap toward his creator, and was instantly engulfed in a tight embrace.
"Oh Primus…Oh Primus!" The orange Seeker exclaimed, furling around his sparkling. He offlined his optics, and ducked his helm, faceplate lowering from view. I could not see if he was crying, but I knew he was upset. His wings shook violently, and his energy field grew erratic. "Where did you go?" He asked his sparkling, voice thin and hitched. "We looked everywhere for you! You had us so worried!" He sounded almost angry, and Sunstorm wailed louder, burying his little helm into the crook of his creator's neck cables.
"It's okay, sweet spark. It's okay. I got you. I got you now." The Seeker's intakes made sharp gasps and hiccupping sounds, but his voice became gentler. He hugged his sparkling close to his cockpit, and rocked back and forth in the air. With an audible sniff, he tilted his helm back to check over Sunstorm's frame. Horror immediately took dominance on his faceplate when he spotted the damage Sunstorm had attained.
"Oh Unicron-above…Sunstorm, you wings!" The Seeker, clearly distraught, let out a strangled whine as though he was in as much pain as his sparkling, "What happened to your wings?" As though on cue, Sunstorm whimpered loudly, and nuzzled closer against the chassis he was pressed against.
"Sunstorm was caught in an accident," I chose to answer for the sparkling, since he was obviously in no condition to make sense after a near-deactivation experience. "He wanted to play with a group of younglings, who were unaware of his presence. The younglings were tossing a piece of metal to each other, and Sunstorm was struck."
The Seeker's helm snapped up as though he had just noticed me hovering a few wingspans away from him. At first, he only stared, holding Sunstorm protectively around his cockpit, but slowly, recognition dawned in his expression. Shock made his optics widen, and he parted his lips, but no sound left his vocalizer. I pondered over the idea of waiting for him to grasp his processors. However, the silence quickly grew awkward, and he was starting to become flustered.
"I was taking a leisure flight over top, and I happened to see the accident. I caught Sunstorm before he could fall far, and decided to help him find his creators." I felt a bit silly, explaining myself to a common civilian, but something in my spark pushed me to do so. The way this Seeker gaped at me made me feel extremely self-conscious. If I were not hovering above ground, I would have shifted on my peds. I felt as though I needed this Seeker's approval for my actions, which was beyond ridiculous. I ended up resetting my vocalizer with a small cough instead, and crossed my arms behind my back just for something to do.
"I am…glad that Sunstorm has found his way home…" I made a stiff nod, and bit back a grimace, not liking how hesitant I sounded. The Seeker did not seem to mind, or even notice my uncertainty. He shook his helm swiftly, and stuttered.
"Y-Your Highness—…I-I'm—I'm…I can't—I can't express just how much-how much I-I—I can't talk—…Wait, no—" He instantly became embarrassed, and bowed low in the air.
"It's alright," I released a silent sigh from my vents, feeling more familiar with the situation now that the Seeker was showing his subordination instead of gawking at me like I was a wondrous reincarnation of Primus himself. That thought made me infinitely pleased, but I gave no outward reaction to it aside from a proud flick of my wings. "I'm glad I was in the vicinity when the accident happened."
"I am too, your Graciousness," The Seeker bowed even lower, almost completely bent in his midsection, "Primus has blessed Vos with a magnificent sovereign, Sire."
I gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "You may rise." I addressed him with formality.
"All hail Prince Starscream!" He spoke firmly and loudly before he straightened, and a murmur from surrounding fliers echoed his call. He glanced at me, but quickly averted his gaze away as though he was not sure if he was allowed to look at me in the optics. Sunstorm made a small mewl of pain in his arms, and he quickly rubbed the sparkling in his wing joints soothingly.
"You should take Sunstorm to a med bay, Seeker," I frowned, looking at the sparkling's wings with worry, "Sunstorm is not in immediate danger, but he took a rather hard hit."
The Seeker's wings made an odd jerk at my suggestion, and he lowered his helm. His optics flashed momentarily before he hid his faceplate from my view, and my frown deepened, not understanding what such a reaction meant.
"O-Of course, your Royal Highness. I will do so as soon as I make a trip home." He replied, voice barely above a whisper.
I felt a little annoyed. A suggestion from me was an order to my subordinates. His response was not satisfactory, and I easily let him know.
"Any creator would bring their sparkling to a medic as soon as they know their sparkling is hurt, Seeker. Why do you need to return home?"
The Seeker instantly grew nervous. His helm snapped up, and his optics widened. He immediately tried to explain himself, expression becoming alarmed, "I—I do not mean to challenge you, Sire. P-Please forgive me if I gave you that impression! It-It's just that—It's just that—…" His optics began to dart around. His wings gave a minute jerk. I sincerely hoped he was not contemplating on trying to escape my question by flying away.
"I'm the fastest Seeker ever sparked in Vos," My voice carried a small hint of a threat, and I narrowed my optics slightly, "Just so you know." I was not about to waste my precious leisure flight time chasing this rugged-looking Seeker just to make sure he took care of his own damned sparkling.
I could practically see his daringly stupid idea evaporate from his processors as his helm returned to its lowered position.
"Of course, Sire, I-I know…"
"Good," I spoke more snappishly than I anticipated, and felt a little bad when the Seeker flinched. I paused a little, and waited for my small wave of annoyance to pass before resuming our conversation. "Answer me, Seeker: why do you need to return home?"
The Seeker could not have looked more uncomfortable as he somehow managed to squirm on his peds in midair. He hugged his sparkling closer, and made absentminded coos when Sunstorm sniffled and made sad, little whines.
"I need to…I need to return home to tell my bondmate I found Sunstorm, Sire…" He whispered, and looked ready to be physically reprimanded as soon as his words left his mouth.
I indeed would have smacked him if it were not for Sunstorm. Does this Seeker think me stupid? He did not need to travel home to inform his bondmate. They were bondmates. They could communicate by spark alone! Not even the universe could stop bondmates from talking to each other.
"I will pretend you did not just insult my intelligence, Seeker," I growled, and did not feel bad at all when he flinched again, "Tell me why you need to return home."
The Seeker started to shake, making tiny sounds with his vocalizer as he struggled to find his answer. He even looked around at the other fliers watching us, seeking aid, but none of our spectators volunteered to help him.
"I…I need to return home because—…because I—I…I need to…consult with my bondmate, your Highness…to see how many energon cubes we can ration…" His wings progressively sagged lower on his back, and his voice was laden with shame.
I was confused, and my silence must have told him such for he explained without my asking.
"We…don't have enough credits at the moment, Sire…" His fingers slowed in their gentle rubbing of Sunstorm's wing joints, and the sparkling made a soft noise of complaint, though his creator did not seem to have heard. "…Sunstorm is already long overdue for his checkup, and the med bay cannot do any repairs unless they have the most updated reports."
"Get him a checkup then." My lips curled at having to state the obvious, and I was starting to feel annoyed again.
"B-But we don't—we don't have enough credits, Sire," His voice abruptly gained a note of desperation, "We don't have enough credits for both a checkup and a repair at the same time! …So—…So I have to—…I have to return home…to see how many energon cubes we can spare as substitute payment instead."
Energon cubes as payment? What absurdity!
"How exactly do you plan to function without energon?" I grimaced, feeling stupid just asking such a question.
"W-Well…we can find a way to be efficient with as little fuel as possible, your Highness…" The Seeker answered meekly, and when my energy field promptly flared with rising anger at his answer, he hastily added: "We would never starve Sunstorm, Sire! We always make sure he has enough energon, but-but we are mature mechs. We can handle a little hunger."
I stared at the Seeker still squirming in the air, a frown prominent on my brow ridges. "I'm afraid I cannot fully understand your implications, Seeker." I uncrossed my arms from behind my back, and allowed them to hang by my sides, "I've always been informed that every flier in Vos who has financial difficulties is being aided by the Flier Welfare Program."
"We are being helped, your Highness." The Seeker replied quickly, voice soft with gratitude, "We wouldn't have been able to afford having a sparkling if it weren't for your generosity."
I waited for him to continue, but he did not.
"…Does your bondmate…not work?" I chose to ask, furthering the discussion.
"Oh yes! Yes, he does, Sire! He works very diligently!" The Seeker's helm perked up right away as he eagerly defended his bondmate, "Ever since I had to ask for sparkling-leave he's been working even more than usual, but he…he recently had an accident, so he was asked to leave his post until he's been repaired."
"Does his employer not give him compensation for his injury?" I felt another inkling of anger starting to burn in my spark.
"He did, your Highness," The Seeker replied, quelling my anger, "Every cycle my bondmate is away from work, credits are being transferred to our account."
"Then why is your bondmate still unrepaired?" I pushed on, insistent to get to the bottom of this situation. The Seeker bit his lips, and he visibly deflated, helm tilting downward shamefully.
"…We thought it was better to buy Sunstorm some refined energon first, Sire…" He curled further inward around his sparkling. "Sunstorm was having aches in his system from what he had been consuming, so…" His voice trailed off to silence, and that silence remained for many kliks, during which the whole situation finally came together in my processors.
Just the thought of any flier, let alone a sparkling, consuming anything other than refined energon made my tank churn with discomfort.
I needed to see the living conditions of my forgotten fliers.
"…Take me to your home," I instructed, voice even but mildly tense.
"…Y-Your Highness…?" The Seeker looked startled.
"Take me to your home," I repeated, and added when he looked like he was about to argue: "That is an order."
"…Yes, Sire." He bowed respectfully, though he sounded rather reluctant. "Please follow me." He waited till I gestured for him to start leading the way before turning around and flying away. I made to follow, but a glimpse of my surroundings stopped me. The fliers were still here, watching me with darkened optics. They were all mine, equal in every manner as their counterparts living at higher towers, yet they led such different lives. I nodded stiffly at them before taking off after the Seeker. Once I returned to my tower, I would have to do something about the living conditions of these citizens.
The Seeker took me around towers, swerving left and right. A breem later, he flew downward, and landed on one of the short, stubby takeoff decks. I landed after him, and sent him a wondering glance when he chose to fidget as opposed to opening the door.
"I…I wasn't expecting any company, your Highness," He explained, "so I didn't make any preparations, not that there's much for me to prepare to begin with…" I suspected he had wanted to make a small joke, but it fell stale. Embarrassed, he hurriedly turned around, and entered the code to the door. The door slid open after a soft beep, and he waited by the side to allow me entrance first. I walked into his home, and was instantly put off by how cramped the place was.
Upon second inspection, the size of the Seeker's home was not small. It was the low ceiling that made my wings twitch in discomfort. The room was extremely bare. There was a table by the right side with two chairs around it, and a simple couch sat on the left with a few data pads thrown on top. There were toys on the floor, but they were little more than reshaped scrap metal. Upon a full sweep of the place, I noticed only one inner chamber door, which was currently closed. Across from the door, there was a counter, and some cabinets. A half-emptied energon cube sat on top of the counter, and its colouration immediately told me that it was low-grade, which was almost as coarse as industrial-grade energon. Low-grade was usually only consumed by hard-labourers such as miners. I could not believe such energon could even be found in Vos, and the fact that it was obviously being sold for consumption was even more preposterous.
The Seeker entered after me. He took one look at my faceplate, and instantly grew even more fidgety. I only became aware of my scowl of displeasure when he walked around, and started to bow in an apologetic manner.
"I'm very sorry, your Highness," He spoke quickly and fearfully, "I will clean up right away if you wish."
"…It's not that." I frowned, optics glancing back at the energon cube.
He followed my line of vision, and almost balked at the sight of the cube. His intakes gasped, and his helm whirled back to face me. His wings jerked unevenly, and he rushed to answer my unspoken question:
"Please don't misunderstand, your Highness! My bondmate and I would never give that to Sunstorm!" The Seeker looked horrified, "I only consume it because I'm not working right now, Sire, so being at optimal functionality is not a requirement."
That was not the problem, I wanted to add, but the door on the side wall slid open, and another Seeker came into view. He was about the same size as his orange and white bondmate, but he was much more compact, possessing quite an impressive wingspan. He was predominantly black with violet streaks, and his frame sported many scratches and scars. He had a limp, which caused him to wince every time he shuffled forward. He stopped once he could lean against the side of the opened door, and he took one look at me before lowering his optics and tilting forward into a small bow. Judging by the lack of surprise on his gray faceplate, his bondmate must have informed him of my arrival.
I did not share his lack of surprise.
Not only did he look like he had just stumbled out of a debris-filled acid rainstorm, he had a very large crack on one of his thrusters, which was what made him visibly limp. While he would not suffer extensively from such an injury, it was serious enough to prevent him from lengthy flying. I assumed that was why he was not out looking for Sunstorm as his orange bondmate was.
What kind of Seeker would willingly refrain from going to a medic to regain his ability of flight? I wondered to myself, and my optics returned to his faceplate, which was downturned. A scar ran across one of his cheek plates. When he noticed me staring at it, he turned minutely away so it was out of my view.
"Your Highness, this is Blazewing, Sunstorm's sire creator and my bondmate." The orange Seeker gestured toward his partner, and I abruptly remembered that I have not even bothered to inquire the orange Seeker for his designation. I felt embarrassed, but it would seem I did not need to ask. "My designation is Sunrift," He introduced himself in the next klik. "And we are most honoured to have you in our home, Prince Starscream."
"I am honoured to be here." I replied out of habit alone, but Blazewing and Sunrift shared a glance, and both of them smiled a little.
"Please, your Highness, have a seat," Sunrift gestured to the couch, "It's…not much, I'm afraid, but it's more comfortable than the chairs." He gave the couch a glance, and, noticing the data pads, quickly scurried over to scoop them up.
"There's no need for that, Sunrift," I waved his concern aside, careless of the possible insinuations of my action. Sunrift paused on his way, and he jolted a little, giving me a wide-opticked look. He hastily turned away when I looked in his direction, and his wings drooped as he nodded. I frowned, for a moment unable to understand his reaction. I did not figure it out until many awkward, silent kliks later, when I became a little flustered.
"I simply do not wish to trouble you," I hastily added. "Your home is…very nice."
Again, terribly thoughtless. I winced, and bit my lips. My wings twitched, and I silently cursed my blundering vocalizer. My words did not help my situation at all. They only made Sunrift's helm tilt downward even further in shame.
Silence hung over us as we avoided each other's optics. Even Sunstorm had become quiet, pressing himself against his carrier creator's canopy. Blazewing leaned against the wall, favouring his uninjured ped. Sunrift's wings continued to tremble, but he showed no other outward indication that he was troubled, if not hurt, by what I had said.
I pressed my lips together, and my hands curled into fists. I was annoyed with how carelessly I acted without processing the consequences of my behaviour. I was trying to be courteous, but the way in which I did so was awfully insensitive. Sunrift undoubtedly thought I believed myself too good for his humble couch, and that bothered me immensely, especially when the very reason they had so little to begin with was my own doing.
They were my fliers, who I was to do my utmost best to care for, yet this was what they were reduced to, mere shadows in face of the splendor which they rightfully deserved.
"…I'm…sorry." I spoke so quietly that I was afraid Sunrift and Blazewing would not hear me, but the stiffening in their frames told me they heard very clearly indeed. "…I'm…very sorry."
I apologized, but my words barely lingered in the thick air.
Blazewing was the first to move. He turned toward me, and, for the first time since he made an appearance, faced me directly, optics bright with confusion and surprise.
I tried to keep his gaze, but my gaze lowered, as did my helm.
"…You must be angry at me." My lips moved on their own accord, and my processors felt numb. "You must be…so angry at me." My helm drooped further, and I bit my dentae.
Sunrift should not have been the one to be ashamed.
"…It's just a couch, Sire," Blazewing replied after a lengthy moment of silence, and his voice was low, devoid of fluctuations.
My wings shivered.
"It's just a couch," Blazewing repeated, taking a step forward, and his voice suddenly gained a firm, determined edge, "which we are grateful to have."
My helm tilted minutely upward, and I tentatively looked at Blazewing, lips slightly parted.
"We are not angry at you, your Highness," The black and violet Seeker bowed a little. "You are our Crown Prince, whom we are grateful to have as well."
Upon hearing his words, my spark tightened painfully in my spark chamber, and I had to look away once again. I shakily raised my hands, and rubbed my faceplate, trying my best to ignore the throbbing sensations deep inside my chassis. I made a few uneven nods, and bit down hard on my lips. I had to wait several kliks before replying, just so my vocalizer would not catch in static.
"…Thank you." I whispered, still avoiding the optics of the little family unit whose lives I had stumbled into. I would have liked to say I crossed my arms, but in truth, I was hugging myself, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shaken and vulnerable.
"It's us who should thank you, Prince Starscream," Sunrift spoke softly and gently, "You saved our sparkling."
My wings flicked, and my helm lifted.
Sunstorm…was still very much hurt, and he needed medical attention.
"You should take Sunstorm to the closest med bay right away," I straightened my back, and my wings fanned out, returning to their customary, proud position. "You should get yourself repaired as well, Blazewing." I turned to look at the black and violet Seeker as I spoke, and gave him a nod.
Blazewing shuffled on his peds, flinching as his movements agitated his injured thruster. "I—I'm afraid we…do not have enough credits for an immediate trip, Sire." I frowned, and he instantly added: "However, please rest assured that we will take Sunstorm to the med bay as soon as we acquire the necessary funds."
This time, I did cross my arms, and a familiar, displeased sneer curled my lips.
"Don't insult me, Blazewing," I spoke curtly, voice sharp, "That was not a request. You will accompany your mate in taking your sparkling to the closest med bay, and get your thruster fixed as well." The two immediately exchanged distressed looks, and I let out a loud, exasperated sigh. "Do you honestly think I'd personally order you to the med bay and make you pay?" I snapped, the mere notion offensive enough to make my plating crawl. Blazewing and Sunrift both jumped, but they did not seem to notice, abruptly turning to gape at me with rounded optics.
I was beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable with their shocked staring when Sunrift finally shook himself out of the stupor, and spluttered.
"B-But—I—…We-We cannot possibly—"
"I did not make that a request, Sunrift." I narrowed my optics, and pursed my lips.
"B-But—"
"Are you challenging a direct order from your ruling sovereign, Seeker?" I raised my voice to a higher pitch, and Sunrift instantly shrunk away, shaking his helm animatedly. Sunstorm chose that moment to let out a pained whimper, and I took it as a sign that he would very much appreciate a medic's presence at the moment.
While Sunrift and Blazewing exchanged more glances, undoubtedly talking to each other through their bond, I accessed the Vosian communications system, and quickly found a med bay close to my current location. After contacting the medic and making all necessary arrangements, I turned back to the family unit, and had to make a cough with my vocalizer to catch their attention.
"Everything has been taken care of. Go to this med bay upon my departure," I gave both of them a data burst of the coordinates. "If I do not receive a report from the medic at the end of this cycle regarding your repairs, I will not be pleased, and I can assure you that nothing good ever results from me not being pleased. Is that clear?"
Sunrift and Blazewing exchanged another look, as though incapable of comprehending what had just happened. Irritated with their lack of reaction, I scowled, and briskly swirled around on my heels, pointedly stomping toward the door.
"W-Wait!" Sunrift's voice reached me, and I felt a light touch on the top edge of my right wing. I instantly froze, my wing making a small jerk. I heard Blazewing taking in a surprised gasp, and, with a startled voice, asking his bondmate what he thought he was doing. Sunrift ignored Blazewing's inquiry, and his fingers glided along the top edge of my wing, coming to a stop at my wing joint. His thumb gave my wing joint a gentle rub, and my intakes hitched.
"Thank you, your Highness." He whispered, and his hand briefly lingered on my wing before falling away. "Thank you."
I could not move, or reply. The sensors in my right wing still tingled from the warmth of his touch. No citizen of mine had dared to touch me without permission for vorns, and to do so in order to express gratitude inexpressible by words…
I did not know why, but it made me feel exceptionally young and inexperienced.
Ignoring the wild fluttering of my spark, I stiffly nodded, and waited for Sunrift to open the door. It slid apart, and I walked onto the takeoff deck slowly and awkwardly, still rather stunned by what Sunrift had just done. Without another word, I transformed, and took off, accelerating to full speed with my nosecone pointed skyward. I emerged from the dark shadows of my city's foundations, and returned to the bright magnificence of Vos's high towers.
I had never felt more comforted by the familiar brilliance of my city.
I slowed down, and flew around aimlessly, processors still reeling from my encounter with Sunstorm and his family unit. It was not until I received a ping from my personal comm.-line did I remember about my scheduled meeting with Ramjet. Checking my internal chronometer, I cursed silently, and hurriedly opened his request.
:Prince Starscream.:
As usual, Ramjet did not wait for me to address him first. If I were in base mode, I would have scowled. There were rules of proper etiquette to be followed when in my presence, and that arrogant slagger never paid heed to any of them. I was lenient toward those close to me, but this stupid Conehead was certainly not of those selected few.
:There's still half a breem until our meeting is scheduled to commence, Ramjet.: I bit out snappishly, letting known the full extend of my annoyance toward him as I abruptly flipped in the air and sped back to my tower.
:I know.: His rough voice replied, :I just wanted to make sure you aren't going to be late.:
Anger flared in my spark, and I almost lashed out at him. I almost did, until a most ingenious idea suddenly popped into my processors.
I felt the urge to smile.
:…I'm not going to be late, Ramjet.: I lowered my voice to a smooth purr, and slowed down to a full stop before transforming back into root mode, hovering in the air with a pleased smirk on my faceplate. :You, on the other hand, are in the danger of being so if you don't start making your way to my current location right at this klik.:
:…What are you talking about?: Ramjet's voice gained an edge, and I quietly chuckled. If there was anything military mechs hated, it was unpunctuality, and the Conehead was certainly not exempt from that generalization.
:Nothing,: I answered airily, voice in a playful lilt, :Just that the location of our meeting has changed.:
:What?: He snapped back peevishly, :Since when?:
:Since now,: I sent him a data burst of my coordinates, and bit back a giggle, lips pulled back in a large grin, :which is why you should really make haste, my dear General. After all, I wouldn't want you to be late.: Without warning, I cut off our connection, and snickered gleefully. Infinitely pleased that Ramjet was definitely swearing up a storm at the moment as he raced toward the nearest takeoff deck, I floated in the air in lazy circles, and kept a keen audial for the sound of his thrusters.
When our scheduled time arrived and I still heard no Conehead Seeker, I laughed. That would teach the insolent idiot to not cross me again.
A few kliks passed, and another alert popped up on my HUD. I activated my comm.-link with a satisfied smirk, and was prepared to hear an angry albeit amusing rant from my Conehead general. However, instead of Ramjet, Nightfire came through.
:Prince Starscream,: He addressed me respectfully, but he sounded shaken and distressed, voice wavering and much darker in timber than usual. It was both confusing and alarming to hear.
:Nightfire?: I did not know how to interpret the tone of his voice, so I quickly inquired, :What is it?:
:It's—It's Firechaser, your Highness.: His words quietened to a whisper, which violently shivered toward the end. He stuttered as he tried to continue his explanation, and let out a hiss of a curse word when he could not. I realized with a start that he was trying to keep his emotions in check, and was possibly failing.
:What is it? What about Firechaser?: I asked, worry rising rapidly. :Was he found?: A thought raced across my processors, and dread began to poison my spark. I feared for the worst, and Nightfire's quiet answer did not help settle the increasing turbulence inside my spark chamber.
:Affirmative,: He only said, and promptly became silent.
:…Well? Where was he found?: My voice rose to a whole new pitch as I grew incredibly annoyed at the lack of a clear answer from the usually eloquent and straightforward Space Shuttle. His behaviour was downright odd, and it was starting to agitate me. :Nightfire, answer me!:
:I-I apologize, your Highness,: Nightfire took a cycle of air, :Firechaser was not…exactly found, Sire. I think—I think it'd be best for you to return to your tower as soon as possible. The situation is far more complicated than anticipated.:
Something in the way he spoke made my spark grow cold, and my wings quivered.
:…Tell me what happened, Nightfire. I don't like surprises.: My hands curled into fists, and I clenched my jaw joints.
:Your Highness—…I think—:
:-Just tell me, Nightfire!:
Nightfire was silent for a long moment, and not a single sound came from his end of the connection. Every joint in my frame was pulled tight, and I waited, fuel pump thumping loudly inside my chassis while my spark squeezed into a small, nervous ball.
:…Firechaser…is unwell, Sire.: When Nightfire finally relented to my will, he was ominously quiet, and his vocalizer was hitching with static.
:How so?: I pressed on.
:H-He's—…I—: Nightfire bit back a strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, and my wings instantly jerked completely upright on my back, joints stiff with tension. :…I think-I think you should return quickly, Sire.:
:Just tell me what happened, Nightfire.: My voice was much firmer than how I felt, and I fought to remain patient with his stuttering.
:I—…I can't—…It's-It's—…I—: Nightfire abruptly stopped, and when he resumed speech, his voice shook even harder than before. :Please, Sire, just come back.:
I growled, and a sharp surge of anger erupted from my spark, making my wings jolt spastically.
:Primus-damnit, Nightfire! I don't have the time for this! Just answer my question already!:
:Please, your Majesty, allow me some time to calm myself first!: Nightfire's voice sounded strained, :I—I contacted you as soon as it happened—…I-I will report to you once you—:
I bit back a hiss, impatience gnawing at my spark.
:What is this "it", Nightfire? I don't know what you're referring to!:
:It—It's this-this current situation—:
:-Oh for Primus's sakes, what's the current situation!: I pushed on, frustrated to my limit and voice rising to a shout.
:—I-I don't know!: He cried out, and I had never heard him so hysterical. :I don't know what had happened! I don't know anything at this point, Sire, so just-just—…please, Sire, just…—Oh Primus! Oh Primus! His wings! His wings!: Horror overcame his voice, and it abruptly cut to silence. A shiver prickled over my back-strut, and I was stricken by how utterly frantic Nightfire sounded.
:…I'm on my way.: I hastily ended the comm., and forcefully quelled down the sudden nausea in my fuel tank. If what had happened to Firechaser was terrible enough to make a flier as collected as Nightfire suffer a breakdown, it was definitely dire enough to require my immediate attention.
I turned to the direction of my tower, and was half a klik from transforming when my visual field was abruptly overtaken by a black nosecone shooting toward me. I did not even have the time to realize what was happening when a Seeker jet suddenly appeared, and quite literally rammed into my frame.
I shrieked in fright and dismay, scrambling and stumbling in the air. Thankfully, the jet had slowed down enough to not cause me any damage upon impact, and had slammed into me with its belly instead of its nosecone. However, such detail hardly made its sudden appearance any less startling. I screeched and punched at the Seeker jet, pausing only when it started to transform. White shoulders formed, followed black arms that reached around me. To my own surprise, I screamed even louder.
"Sweet Primus, you can make a weapon out of that vocalizer of yours." Ramjet's half grimacing, half smirking faceplate appeared, and I almost blew a circuit from rage.
"You glitching fragger!" I tried to grab at his faceplate, but he chose that moment to tighten his arms, and pressed our frames cockpit to cockpit. I was immediately more concerned about how intimate our position was, and started pushing at his chassis. "What the frag is the matter with you!"
"What the frag is the matter with me? I came here on your command!" He pretended to scowl, but his optics were glittering too brightly with amusement for his expression to be entirely genuine.
"I didn't command you to ram me, you idiot! How slagged in the processors are you?" I yelled right into his faceplate, and kicked at his legs, struggling to get out of his grip. However, much to my embarrassment, he appeared to be only mildly bothered by my attacks despite my best efforts. While I knew I could do very little in terms of combat at this proximity, it still made me extremely fragged off that Ramjet looked like he was merely trying to restrain a rebelling youngling. "Let go of me!" I continued to thrash, and almost had a complete system meltdown when I felt one of his hands daring to slide downward, and cup around my aft.
"Why should I?" He murmured, "I'm rather liking our current position, your Highness." His black faceplate split into a wide grin, and his hand made a grope.
"You—You—…!" I was so furious that I could barely speak in an intelligible manner. In the end, I settled for a cry of explosive fury, and grappled for his faceplate with the intention of tearing out an optic or two.
"Settle down!" He growled, tilting his helm away to avoid my fingers. When I did not desist, his hand let go of my aft, and gave it a loud, stinging slap.
I was so shocked that I instantly froze still, and stared at him with optics widened and lips apart.
As if in mockery of an apology, he rubbed the sore plating of my rear, and smirked, leaning forward to nudge the tip of my nose-bridge with his own.
"That's much better," He chuckled, "I've always wanted to do that." His optics shimmered with hilarity, and his smirk grew into a cheeky grin. However, mirth was obviously not the only expression apparent on his faceplate.
Ramjet had been after the vacant spot of my intended bondmate for the past two vorns. No one really knew why he wanted to pursue such position. He seemed to have simply gotten up one cycle, and promptly decided that he wanted to be the next Royal Consort. The only reason I tolerated his advances was because, despite his insufferable arrogance and ever-expanding ego, he was, by Vosian standards, a very suitable candidate. He was one of the fastest Seekers, and a General. He was sturdier than me, which meant that, if we were to become bondmates, our sparkling would have stronger plating, since mine was soft and thin to the extent of becoming a possible vulnerability. Despite his sheer recklessness, he was actually very intelligent, accomplishing whatever that had to be done with unyielding precision.
However, there was one main problem with his courtship:
He always chose the most inconvenient of moments.
…Not to mention I just plainly disliked him.
"Your level of insolence is starting to scare me, Ramjet…" I practically whispered, gaping up at him before finally snapping myself out of my shock. I shook my helm to dispel the stupor, and scowled, wiggling and pushing against his arms. "Now, let go of me! That's an order, soldier! …I need to fly back to my tower!"
"Your tower?" Ramjet frowned in confusion, and, thankfully, let go with minor reluctance. "But I thought—"
"-While it truly pains me to do this, my dearest general, our meeting of utmost importance has to be unfortunately postponed," Sarcasm dripped from my drawling words, and I sneered at him, glaring into his optics. "Something has come up in my tower, and it requires my immediate attention."
"What in the pits, Starscream? I just came from your tower and nothing was happening!" He crossed his arms over his chassis, and made a face.
"That's enough!" I bit out, wings twitching in irritation. "You will treat me properly as your monarch, Ramjet, and that is a direct order. This is your last warning before I throw you into the confinement rooms!"
Sometimes the only reason I bore with his spontaneous bouts of disrespect was the fact that he was the only flier who had made any indication of wanting to be my bondmate. I knew I was hard to get along with, and Ramjet seemed to be the only mech who frankly did not give two slag about it. I doubted he actually liked me though, since he did not care at all that I spent more alone time with Nightfire than him. He was obviously only initiating because we were a good match, and, luckily for him, I happened to have a nice aft to look at.
"Of course, my liege," He released a short burst of air through his vents, but he placed his hand over his spark, and bowed low as he should.
"Good," I snapped out, hands propping up on my hips. "Now, I have some actual important matters to attend to. You may tag along. I have suspicion that it might develop into a situation that will require military participation."
All traces of previous mischievousness immediately left Ramjet's faceplate altogether. He frowned, and a serious glint appeared his optics.
"Do you really think military participation will become necessary, Sire?" The sudden entrance of formalities made me pause. I looked back at Ramjet's abruptly humourless expression, and felt a weighty pressure begin to shroud over my spark. I sighed through my vents, and my wings sagged a little on my back.
"From what I'm aware of thus far, there's a great possibility that a citizen of Vos has been severely injured. If he had been attacked—…" I trailed off, and pursed my lips. "…At this point, I really don't know what will happen."
Without waiting for a response from Ramjet, I turned away, and transformed, taking off toward my tower at full speed. I could hear my Conehead General behind me, keeping up as well as he could.
As we made our way back to my tower, I could not shake off the feeling of dread, or the tension in my wings. Megatron's words from my most recent trip to Kaon kept resurfacing in my processors, playing in a reoccurring loop:
"The Autobots have plans for you and your fliers, Starscream. It'd be a shame to see them succeed."
Notes: Phew! Finished editing this in two days – hopefully I haven't missed anything!
I apologize for the lack of Megatron in this chapter. I'd forgotten to inform you about that during the last update. However, he will be back in the next chapter. The reason he isn't appearing as much is that the story is still in its developmental stage, so please bear with me for now. He'll be appearing tons in the future – that I promise you.
It's special thanks time once again! Big shout-outs to my reviewers (the sweetest people one can ever hope to hear from): Devlinn Reiko, Laura, Alderrin, Keenon, The Happy Shark, Hedgie-Chan, Koluno1986, Krazed Jetformer, tiedwithribbons, trixxybaby95, ChaosGarden, Riley, Ashcola17, rj545, PwnKage, gaarasgrl19, and Wol Lo. I appreciate your comments greatly, and look forward to hearing from you every time :))
Now, another message for anon. reviewer Riley! You have no idea how flustered (in the happiest ways) I get whenever I read your reviews. I am, in fact, very excited and anxious for you to have an account on FF just so I can message you, haha! I really hope your internet troubles will be resolved soon (Primus knows I can't survive without the internet, so I can't imagine what you're going through), and of course I will read your stories! I look forward to finally getting the chance to chat with you very much :D
I'd usually take a paragraph or two to discuss what's happened in the chapter, but I'm simply too brain-dead to think of anything witty or interesting to say. I'd love to hear what you guys come up with in regards to what's happened, though, so please, drop me a few lines.
What did you think of Starscream's trip to the deep levels? What did you think of Ramjet? What are your guesses on what had happened to Firechaser?
I'd love to hear your thoughts, so a review would be fantastic :)
ps: Add me on facebook for alerts on updates and such! The link is available on my profile page.
