A/N: Woah, long flashback chapter!

10. Past: Losing


Skyfire and I loved space. It was our home, our sanctuary from the pressures and annoyances of Cybertron. We loved to fly through the endless abyss, our only company stars, planets, comets, and each other. Other times, we simply floated, letting our inertia carry us as we rested our engines. Other mechs may have found our existence boring, including myself, once upon a time. But being with Skyfire made everything better.

It was easier to talk out here, with so much room to ourselves. That, together with our new bond, made us more like one being than two – I knew his thoughts as well as he knew mine. There were other effects of our bonding, also. I calmed considerably and gained a tendency to think things through first, though I still retained my spontaneity. Skyfire was noticeably more playful than he had been before, although he remained as steady as always. He tended to join in on my dangerous games, the ones where I would dive headlong into a comet trail or an asteroid belt to test my agility. Obviously he wasn't as good at it as I was, simply because he wasn't built to dodge and weave, but fortunately we both became accomplished field medics.

//There,// he said, subspacing the repair kit. //How does it feel?//

I flexed my wing, glancing at the patch-job. //Better now. Are you sure there's nothing more you can do?//

//Certain. Your self-repair can take care of the rest. Besides, that's what you get for playing in asteroid fields,// Skyfire chided. //It was reckless.//

//You wouldn't like me any other way,// I purred, kissing him on the cheek and firing up my thrusters, accelerating away as I laughed. He followed, keeping up (but only because I allowed it – I was much faster than he was, even in bipedal mode). //I've got some planets coming up on my scanners. This system has several, it seems.//

//I don't get any life-readings,// he added as we approached the first planet past the asteroid belt.

//Nor anything else,// I agreed. //It doesn't look like this planet has anything to offer us.// I increased my speed, grinning playfully back at him. //Race you to the next planet. Catch me if you can, Sky!//

The third planet from the sun was an organic world, like many of the others we'd found during our travels. Our scans revealed little life; clearly this world was early in its evolution. Since Cybertronian lifespans lasted for as long as we kept ourselves energized and in good condition, we had the ability to observe the growth and fall of alien civilizations, even entire species, but it was rare that we found organic life so early in its development.

//I'm getting high energy readings, but there's so much atmospheric interference that I can't be sure,// Skyfire said. //I wouldn't mind taking a closer look. You?//

//What are we waiting for?// I answered. //Last one down's a rusted bearing!//

//Nova, wait just a klik—//

I'd already transformed into my alt-mode and begun my entry. Skyfire followed doggedly. Our temperature-regulation systems were built to withstand the sudden change from the all-penetrating cold of space and the blazing heat of atmospheric entry, in addition to temperature extremes on any of the planets that we visited.

This particular planet seemed to be of the cold extreme. We arrived over a vast stretch of white – one of the polar ice caps that we'd seen from orbit.

//Rusted bearing,// I teased as Skyfire came up beside me.

//I prefer not to dive right in,// he said. //It's dangerous to make entry without at least analyzing atmospheric patterns… you know that.//

//Yes, well, nothing bad happened, did it?//

He laughed over the comm. //This time. Just don't do it again, Nova.//

//How are the energy readings?//

//Off the scale! This planet could mean an end to the energon shortages if we can find a way to convert the natural energy to something we can use. Besides, a planet like this would be a golden opportunity to study organic life.//

//Looks boring to me. All this snow and ice… hey, what's that?//

//It looks like a storm! Put up your deflector sh—"

The world twisted into a blurry swirl. I lost track of gravity; I didn't know up from down. I couldn't get my bearings, I couldn't stabilize myself. I caught a final staticky transmission, so weak that I couldn't tell where it came from-- //Nova!//-- before something clipped my wing and sent me careening out of control.

The shrieking wind was merciless. I had no way of knowing how far it dragged me and it was only thanks to sheer luck and that last strike on my wing that saved me from slamming into the planet's surface.

At last it released me and I tumbled for a Spark-wrenching moment before finally stabilizing. I still saw nothing but white. I activated my long-range sensors, scanning for a Cybertronian signal, standard procedure in case of a separation. Skyfire would do the same, wherever he was, and we would use the signals to track each other until we met in the middle. Then we would laugh the incident off and carry on as if nothing had happened, maybe after a cube of energon – my reserves were already low from my fruitless struggle against the wind, and Skyfire carried our backup supply..

Except that my scanners came up with nothing.

Perhaps my sensors had malfunctioned, I reasoned, running a diagnostic and trying again. Still nothing, and my sensors were in perfect condition.

Then it was Skyfire's side that was malfunctioning. He must have sustained damage, but it was only a subsystem, so he was all right. Instead I activated my comm.

//Skyfire? Can you hear me? Skyfire?// What was taking him so slagging long? //Come on, it's not funny. Skyfire, respond!//

This was making me uneasy. I ran a diagnostic on my comm and found nothing amiss. //Skyfire, you big moron, answer! Skyfire? Please, Skyfire…? Can you hear me? Are you there?//

I tested our connection and received an unsympathetic response. Signal lost. There was nothing on the other end of our link. I rechecked and came again to the same conclusion.

No. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not ever. We… we'd only just bonded. Skyfire was just playing a prank. A cruel, un-funny, completely un-Skyfire-like prank. Because there was just no way… Skyfire couldn't have… he couldn't be…

There was only one way to be sure. I retreated inside myself, into my Spark, and reached out through our bond.

All at once I was assailed by numbing cold. My armor shook in violent spasms and my systems seized. My optics frosted over; my thrusters stuttered, threatening to drop me to the planet's surface. My processor grew sluggish, but somewhere I understood that I had to let go or perish.

I jerked out of the bond, defrosters working at full capacity on my optics. Even with the blessed heat that my temperature-regulation system was pumping into my circuitry, my Spark felt icy cold.

No.

I would find him, and then I'd scream my vocals into static at him for frightening me, and then I'd fling myself at him and he'd kiss me senseless and we'd lose ourselves in the heat of Sparkmerge, because Skyfire wasn't offline. Skyfire couldn't be offline.

Except that I couldn't deny the evidence forever.

I flew, vocals turned to their highest volume, scanners tuned to their best, sensors on high alert.

"Skyfire! Answer me, slag you! It's Nova! Skyfire! Skyfire!"

No answer.


Half the planet I searched, my energy levels dropping lower and lower. I found no sign of Skyfire, heard not even the slightest signal.

I wanted to stay and search until I fell into stasis lock, if need be, but the more logical part of me – the part Skyfire had given me – convinced me to call off this fruitless scouring of the planet. If I went into stasis lock, then who would return to Cybertron to tell them of the accident? Who would convince them to send out a search party, one far more competent than I to find my missing partner?

I would return to this planet, I swore as I blasted out of the atmosphere. I had to. I had to find him. I would return, even if it took me five million stellar cycles…


I never figured out how I made it back to Cybertron. I spent most of the journey in stasis to conserve my dwindling energon levels, awakening every so often to adjust my course. I tried to stay awake only for short periods – any longer and I would remember.

I didn't even remember the crash that left me offlined for solar cycles. My next clear memory was of medics and Elite Guard investigators poking about in my processor, trying to discover what had happened. They told me that parts of my memory were missing entirely, probably lost in my crash to Cybertron's surface. I told them what I knew: Skyfire had presumably crashed in the ice and hadn't responded to my signal. The circumstances leading up to the accident were fuzzy; the investigators exchanged glances, and I knew I wasn't going to like what they told me.

The entire mission was now under investigation, they told me. The gaps in my memory, they said, were suspicious. They suggested that Skyfire was too experienced an explorer to crash on entry to a new planet.

They didn't accuse me out loud just then, but I could hear it in their voices, see it in their optics.

They thought I'd murdered Skyfire.


There had to be a mistake, I thought as they read out the sentence. Life in the Stockade? This wasn't really happening. This couldn't be happening.

Sniper turned to me when everyone began to disperse. "I'm sorry, Nova," the lawmech said. Not Prime. Not anymore. "I'll do what I can."

"Ask them to send a search party," I begged. "I don't care what happens to me. They have to look for Skyfire."

"I'll keep trying, Nova. I promise."


The forcefield crackled with energy, the only sound once the clang of my plating striking the floor faded. I still couldn't quite comprehend what was happening to me… the blow hadn't really sunk in yet. I worked to sit up, a difficult task with the cuffs keeping my wrists together before me.

A pair of clawed hands assisted me and I jerked in shock, whipping my head about to see a dark-plated mech with a single red optic. A crude, unfamiliar symbol was scratched into his chest armor.

"Don't move," he said in a hoarse, cultured voice… and then he slammed me into the forcefield. My shriek was muffled substantially by the vocal inhibitor. I spasmed as the electricity surged through my systems. My unknown cellmate pulled me back just as brusquely and brought his claws slashing down through the now-dead stasis cuffs, splitting them open. I shuddered on the floor so another half-cycle before scrambling away from the stranger.

"It was the only way to remove the stasis cuffs," he told me. "If you'll come back, I will remove the mask as well."

I shook my head vigorously, already struggling at the latches. He had no face with which to form any expression, but I got the impression of disapproval.

"My designation is Shockwave," he said. "And you are Nova Prime… or, rather, just Nova."

It was much harder to deal with the inhibitor when it was on me, but I knew all the tricks, and a moment later it clanged to the floor. "How do you know my designation?"

"We've been keeping an optic on you. Did you know that you were the last flier in the Elite Guard?"

I stilled, staring at him in disbelief. "I didn't." There had been many fliers when I'd left on that fateful mission… what had happened to them all?

My cellmate guessed my thoughts. "They were drummed out on any excuse."

I shook my head. Surely he was lying… the Elite Guard recognized the value of fliers. Why would they throw us out?

"Why are you here, then?"

I hesitated. "I shouldn't be. I'm innocent."

"Yes, I know. So do the officers. The average Autobot, however, believes that you are a murderer. You never did anything wrong, nothing that they could exaggerate. And your friend, Skydive—"

"Skyfire." Pain in my Spark.

"Yes, Skyfire… he wouldn't have let them do anything to you. That is why you were both sent on that mission.

"You weren't supposed to return… neither of you."

"That isn't true," I snapped. It couldn't be true. I knew his type: paranoid, full of conspiracy theories. He acted logical, but his processor was probably a mess. "Why would they do something like that? It goes against everything that the Elite Guard stands for!"

"Fear," Shockwave answered evenly. "Envy. They are afraid of what the fliers could do to them if they joined together, jealous of those who have abilities beyond their own."

"You're wrong," I growled.

"Search your feelings. You know that I am telling the truth. When were you treated the same as the groundlings?"

A guard struck his weapon against the bars as he passed by. "Quiet in there!"

"Why don't you come inside and put back my inhibitor?"

The guard hesitated, optics widening, then hurried on. I wondered what Shockwave had done to end up in here.

"As I was saying," the other mech continued.

"I'm not listening," I interrupted, moving to the unoccupied berth and determinedly throwing myself down onto it.

"You will," Shockwave answered softly. "When the loneliness reaches you… the boredom… the claustrophobia… you will listen."


I stopped checking my chronometer eventually, for time crept by too slowly to measure without driving myself insane. My world shrank to an eternal cycle of recharge, energon, boredom, recharge, repeat. I memorized my cell before long, mapping out each seam, the marks on the walls left by past occupants, a horrible energon stain on the floor. The symbol on Shockwave's chest had been carved into the wall by another mech.

All through my observations, Shockwave continued to talk.

Next I memorized the guards' shifts, the timing of their patrols. It was all too easy and didn't keep me occupied for long.

And Shockwave kept talking.

When my surroundings failed to interest me, I turned inward, finding the residual combat-simulations and playing through them all. Each time I tried a different strategy; gradually I found which strategies worked best on each situation. I would probably have been the Elite Guard's top strategist… had I still been one of them.

There was only so long that that could hold my attention. When I had nothing to distract me, I heard Shockwave. Though the words changed, the idea was always the same: Autobots feared fliers; the Elite Guard were hypocrites; energon shortages threatened all of Cybertron, and the Autobot Council refused to act on them; peaceful demonstrations had been brutally stamped down by security forces. His words reached my processor and tendrils of doubt wormed into my Spark.

But the Autobots stood for justice! They couldn't… wouldn't do this intentionally. They would investigate. Things would be set right.


I didn't know how long it was until I heard a familiar voice in the corridor and sprang to my landing struts. Sniper was passing in the company of a guard, chatting animatedly about something.

"Sniper!" I called, stopping him. He backtracked to my cell. "Sniper, it's me, Nova!"

He stared at me blankly for a cycle before recognizing me. "Ah, Nova, of course. How are you?"

Ignoring the stupidity of the question, I asked, "Have they sent the search party yet?"

He shifted. "Ah… right. There's been… ah… some holdups. Just procedure. I'll keep trying, Nova. I promise."

"I see," I said blankly. That's what he'd said before. Skyfire was out there somewhere, marooned on some Allspark-forsaken dirtball across the galaxy, and they weren't even looking for him.

"They don't want to find him," Shockwave said quietly from behind me. "That would prove you innocent."


In the beginning I held onto some faith in justice and hope that my innocence would be trusted, but I gradually came to realize that this was foolishness. Shockwave was right – no Autobot would go out of his way to ensure justice for a flier. What hope I might have had was stifled under the shock of Skyfire's death. I couldn't endure the numbing chill when I tried to connect with his Spark. Eventually, I learned to ignore the ache.

In searching for distraction, I listened to Shockwave and his almost-ranting on the corruption of the Autobots and the growing sentiment of groundling superiority. First I listened… and then I believed. I grew to hate the Autobots. I did my best to forget that I was ever one of them.

My wings tingled as Shockwave left the lines of the crude symbol of the rebellion in the wake his razor-sharp claws.


The Stockades shook, the guards ran, and then there was silence.

"He's come," Shockwave said, breaking it.

Heavy steps announced the approach of a large mech. I joined Shockwave at the forcefield and looked up into the red optics of the mech who would shape my destiny.