Step by step, Starscream trudged up the slide. His feet crunched in the packed snow. This was a disaster, a disaster of incalculable magnitude. If he could not find his equipment, how could he repair his wings? How could he repair the drone? How could he build the fleet he had planned? And what would become of him without the supplies that had been meant to sustain him over the course of decades? With no oil, no engine cleaner, nor any of his spare parts, how could he remain alive?

He came to the spot where his house had been. There was nothing there now but snow. He gazed at the line of footseps that led back down the valley. The slide had pulled him down into a sort of gully that curved off into the trees, and from there the avalanche had travelled straight down into the main forest and spent itself.

He would have to dig for whatever he could find. Lifting slowly into the air, he made a careful, painful transformation. Almost by instinct, he formed a grid in his mind and began flying back and forth down the hill, looking for anything metal.

For awhile he found nothing, and feared the worst. He had rebuilt his geological sensors to search for Skyfire-sized hunks of metal—not isolated bits scattered around beneath the snow. Just as he was growing discouraged, he noticed a change on his conductivity sensor.

He transformed and quickly began to dig. Two feet down he touched metal, and brought up a charred constructo brick. A small triumph, but a crucial one—where there was one piece, there was more. And if the microfactory could be found, then he could use it to build a proper metal detector to find the rest.

But then he frowned. The brick was charred? Where had that come from? He studied the brick, turning it over in his hands. Only one side of the block was blackened. For a moment Starscream was puzzled—then he remembered the energon shed. He hadn't heard any explosion, but the contents of the shed must have detonated when the slide hit. Not good.

As the hours passed, the day waned and darkness fell. He dug up four more constructo bricks, a specimen case, and a piece of the materials lab. For awhile he dared to hope that everything might still be recoverable. That was before he found the microfactory—or rather, what was left of it. A tree had neatly impaled the device, gutting the arms and tearing out the inside. He dug around the place he found the machine, looking for the missing parts, but found nothing more. It was scrap.

After that he sat numbly for awhile, staring at the wreckage. All of his hopes had rested upon the power of the microfactory, and now it was gone.

Over the course of a week, he unearthed a pile of bricks, some pieces of the roof, the door, six twisted shelves, the work table, a box of spare thruster parts, his wing, two specimen cases, the crumpled form of the drone, and the box that had once held the cartridges. The case had come unsealed when the avalanche struck, and now it was empty. Of the rest of his gear, there was no sign save for charred pieces of metal. He suspected that most of it had been destroyed when the contents of his energon store had blown.

He set up a makeshift camp at the top of the ridge where the trees grew thick. The square bit of solar sheet he had kept on him was now his sole means of gathering energy. He kept it carefully weighted down. There weren't enough constructo bricks left to rebuild his house, but he could at least fashion a shelter from the wind. Numbly he began stacking the bricks. The task would stave off the decision he would have to make.

One brick wouldn't fit onto its fellows. He turned it over, expecting to see damage from the explosion, but instead he found packed snow. He began digging it out with tired fingers. Underneath something hard was lodged. Bit by bit he worked it free. It was round on the bottom, like—No, it can't be.

He brushed the object off. Crystals glittered in the starlight, and he broke into a sobbing laugh. What were the odds? Still laughing, he clutched the geode to his chest. A weight he hadn't suspected fell off him.

He settled back against the shallow wall of his shelter and drew his knees up to his chest. Ejecting a probe from his finger, he began to delicately clean the snow out of the geode. His mind wandered over the surface of 283, searching the continents, the oceans, the ice caps. Then he looked down at the geode.

If he stayed, he would be stay for years, and he would be alone. His systems would gradually wear down, his oil would grow old and sticky, and finally something would fail. Even now, with his lost wing welded back on, it would take months for it to heal. He wouldn't be able to fly till spring.

He looked up at the starry sky and picked out the distant glowing spot that was the Great Spiral. Beyond the stars lay home, friends, supplies, help. But to go back would mean certain death for Skyfire.

He looked back down at the geode. On the bottom faint scratches were still visible: "Crack it open! :)"

"Oh Skyfire," he whispered. He clutched the geode to himself and buried his face in his arms.

For another week he lingered at the slide, digging around and trying to choose a course. He played out countless arguments in his head.

"I won't, I can't leave him to die."

"Staying here is a slow death for you. Leave while you can still fly."

"He's my friend. How can I desert him?"
"You aren't deserting him. You're returning to Cybertron for help."

"But by the time I return with help it will be too late!"

"It's too late now. He's dead already."

"No he's not!"

"Yes, he is."

"No, he's not."

Then he would change the angle and start the argument anew.

"The only reason you want to give up is so that you can go back to Cybertron."

"So what if I want to go back? The point is, I can't continue on without any gear."

"Don't give me excuses. You're only giving up because you want to go home. If you were a true friend, you would stay even if it cost you your life. Only a coward would abandon the search. So what will it be?"

Starscream rubbed his face and heaved a sigh. How could he make this decision?

Moonlight shone on the dark peak of Shrieker Mountain. Starscream had returned to the spot where he had landed in the storm all those years ago, or as close to it as he could make out. The storm had not yet begun, but the wind was picking up. It was only a matter of time.

Suddenly he felt the prickling changes on his sensors. He braced himself, and there came a distant roar. A frightened part of him cried, avalanche! But it was wind, not snow, that came howling down the mountain. In a flash he was thrown back almost to the ground.

He fought to remain upright, holding his arm up in front of his optics to block the blinding snow. The storm blotted out the moon and stars, and all was blackness. He hunched down in the depression he had selected. For a few moments he listened to the shrieks and moans of the wind.

He offlined his optics.

"Skyfire, I...I don't know if you're alive or dead. I've been wondered if you were calling to me in the wind, trying to tell me what happened." He paused, feeling foolish, then continued, "If you can hear me now, please tell me what to do."

He listened, and heard the wind scream like a dying mech. It buffeted his sore wings with savage blasts. He turned sideways to ease the strain, and it began to gutter in his intakes.

Then he heard it.

"Staaaaaaaaaaaarscreeeeeaaaaam!" It sounded like it was coming from somewhere far away, yet he could not tell if the voice was Skyfire's.

"I'm here!' he shouted. "I'm listening."

He leaned forward intently, every sense keen. The only noises that came were the sounds of the wind. You're imagining what you want to hear.

"Save me!" a voice cried.

Starsceam's optics flared. He leapt to his feet. "Skyfire? Skyfire!"

He looked around, searching for a familiar set of blue optics piercing the storm, or a ghostly figure, or anything, he didn't know what.

"I'm here, I'm here!" he shouted. "Tell me what to do!"

But there was no response. He waited, and an hour passed. Sometimes he thought he heard the wind whisper, Go away, but then it seemed to plead, Stay, stay. He stood with his optics off, listening as hard as he could. But he was no longer certain if he was hearing or imagining.

The dark hours passed one by one, and Starscream waited in increasing desperation. He had never been superstitious, and he did not believe in gods. But Skyfire had believed in a God—not Primus, exactly, though he said Primus was a facet.

Starscream knelt. In a voice he tried to make as humble and respectful as possible, he said,

"I've never prayed before, to you or anyone, but I know Skyfire worshipped you. If you care about him at all, please help me. I can't find him, and I don't know what to do." His voice took on a note of unfeigned pleading. "I've run out of supplies, and I need guidance. Help me for Skyfire's sake. Please. If you help me, I'll do anything you want. I swear it on my wings."

Maybe some sacrifices would help, a sarcastic corner of his mind suggested, but he listened anyway, hoping against hope for a response. But there was nothing but the unintelligible murmur of wind words, and he could not understand that tongue. You fool, he thought.

Then he remembered that many peoples believed that deities lived in mountains and streams. What if there was a spirit who dwelt inside Shrieker Mountain, who was trying to speak with him? Was he praying to the wrong god?

Starscream bowed his head. "If—if anyone can hear me, then please help."

It struck him as absurd that he was now praying to the mountain which he blasted with lasers at every opportunity. Then he realized that it was Shrieker Mountain which had sent the avalanche which had destroyed his hopes.

A supernatural chill ran through him. The darkness seemed to take on a life of its own, a cold, snowblind wrath that would have ripped him apart had it possessed the strength. What if the mountain really was alive? Hadn't it released a storm upon him and Skyfire when they first came? Nature spirits could be evil as well as good; the storm gods were usually portrayed as malicious demons. Mockingly the wind laughed and tugged at his wings.

He would have left then, but the storm was blowing so fiercely he didn't dare leave the ground. Trying not to look afraid, he found a depression behind some rocks and took shelter as best he could. Superstitious nonsense, he thought. He tried not to imagine dark, hissing voices whispering in his wind.

Time passed. Why had he hoped that coming back would solve anything? He was still as torn as ever. How he wished Skyfire could speak to him. Or did he?

It had been a long time since Starscream had listened to the logs that he and Skyfire had made together. He could not bear the pain. But now he tentatively opened one.

Skyfire's achingly familiar voice began speaking, "Have found the fault that separates the schist from the sandstone. Starscream is going to cut a section of the sandstone into thin-sections and analyze each and every grain under the petroscope."

Starscream heard heard his own recorded voice squawk, "That's what you think!" and Skyfire laughed. It was a warm, comforting laugh that beat back the icy voices in the wind. Starscream felt strength and assurance flow into him.

He skipped backwards, playing entries at random and then simply choosing memories from his databanks. Some were happy, others mundane, still others so dear he wept. He moved back and back through the years until finally he found the memory he realized he had been searching for all along.

He and Skyfire had been sitting together on a low ledge of volcanic glass. The sky was orange and clouds of ash drifted across the red sun.

They had been walking together over the volcanic landscape when suddenly Skyfire had fallen through the crust of hardened lava. Beneath was a volcanic cavern with a river of magma flowing into darkness.

All Starscream saw was Skyfire suddenly scream and disappear into a hole. Unthinking, he leapt in after him. Together they plunged into the river of magma. Fortunately it was a very shallow river, coming up only to their knees.

Skyfire seized him bodily and hurled him out of the cavern, then drew his gun. With several well-placed blasts, he collapsed the side of the cave, then climbed up over the debris to the surface. They went over to a nearly ledge and sat down to clean the molten rock of their legs.

"You could have been killed!" Starscream exclaimed, shaken.

Skyfire's voice was unexpectedly harsh. "You could have been killed."

Starscream looked up from his burned foot, startled. Skyfire was silent for a moment, visibly calming himself. Then he began.

"Starscream. If I get in trouble, I don't want you to follow me blindly into it. You should have stayed put until you understood what happened, then helped if possible. I don't want you to throw your life away in a useless effort to save me."

"So I was supposed to just stand there?"

Skyfire nodded emphatically. "Yes! That's exactly what you should have done. This isn't just something I'm saying because you're my friend. It's the smart thing to do. If the lava had been deeper, we would have both gotten trapped, and then who would have rescued either of us? I need to you to stay safe so that you can rescue me."

Starscream stared down at his glass-coated feet, and Skyfire evidently saw the chagrin written on his face, for he reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. In a gentler voice he added,

"But thank you anyway. Just—keep yourself safe first. Do you understand?"

Starscream nodded.

As the wind blew over him, Starscream stared off into the darkness, nodding. He knew now what Skyfire would want him to do. At some level, a part of him had always known, though he had tried to forget it. But how would he ever summon the strength to leave his friend to die?

The warm spring wind blew across the plains, and Starscream's hands meticulously went over his remaining equipment.

If you leave, you are a coward.

He had stripped as many spare parts from the drone as he could. After emptying the contents of the specimen cases, he stored the parts in the subspace compartments that had once held leaves and shells. The drone's empty bodyshell carried everything he could not carry on his person—the bulk of the constructo bricks, the warped shelves, the disassembled worktable, and assorted loose scraps left over. He did not know what he would do with them, but he kept them anyway.

You're abandoning Skyfire to die.

He bound up the geode in soft grasses and tucked it inside a crude basket of woven willows. Carefully he placed it in subspace. He had already said his goodbyes to the roly polies. Unless they had long lifespans, he would never see them again. Chatterjaw's crypt, a single constructo block with words and a name inscribed on the side, was resting up by his old valley camp. He had leaned it against the trunk of a spruce. When he returned it would be covered with moss.

You're going to kill Skyfire.

He plucked up the stakes holding down the solarsheet, then crumpled it up into a ball and forced it back into its canister. The stakes he packed into the drone, along with a large rock. His hammer had disappeared in the avalanche.

You're a murderer.

He looked around. There was nothing left of his temporary camp. He was ready.

You should have been the one to die.

Carefully he shifted into jet mode. He waggled his ailerons, testing his still-sore wings. They would bear him now. Backing up, he extended his tow cable to the crunched nose of the drone and snapped it in place.

One last time he took in the white expanse of the plains, the wet snow, the blue sky with summer clouds coursing overhead. Soon it would all be behind him, and he would not return for fifty years. He would not see Skyfire again for a long, long time.

"I swear I will come back for you," he said. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

For a moment longer he hesitated, then his thrusters ignited and he was going up, up into the blue. The sky dimmed and turned black. He subspaced his atmospheric thrusters and brought out his lightdrive. The hard, cold stars surrounded him. He pointed his nose towards the Great Spiral.

And then he left Skyfire to die.