Thanks so much everyone for the wonderful response last chapter. I assure you the story is no where near complete. If you leave questions or comments you'd like me to respond to, please remember to leave your email address or be signed in when you leave your review so I can contact you through private message.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Reactions

For it being an early evening in the middle of the deca-cycle, Sideswipe was pleased by the number of bots in his bar. At least two dozen patrons sat at the counter or filled the tables, sipping colorful energon drinks. It looked like he was going to make a nice little profit that night.

After the war, Sideswipe had retired from the army and decided to open a bar. It had taken a bit of legal wrangling, but he'd managed to buy the rights to use the name "Macadem's." The bar had been an almost overnight success. His brother, Sunstreaker, had invested some money into the bar as well, but he mostly kept himself busy running his own custom paintjob shop. Sunstreaker catered to some of the richest and most fashion-conscious bots in Iacon. A number of his clients were senators, businessmechs, and even one well-known movie star. All in all, both of them had found success in their post-war lives.

As Sideswipe set aside an empty energon cube he'd been drying, said brother walked into the bar and took a seat across the counter from where Sideswipe was working. Sunstreaker often visited Macadem's for a quick drink after he closed his studio for the day.

"Hey, bro."

"'Sides," Sunstreaker blandly replied.

"Bad day?"

"Long day."

Sideswipe snickered. "What happened?"

"I just spent more than four joors with possibly the worst pain-in-the-aft customers I've ever had. This mech comes in – without an appointment! – and demands the full treatment – wash, buff, wax, shine, new paintjob, interior and exterior detailing, the works! Apparently he's getting bonded and the ceremony is tomorrow. Needed to look good, now. Luckily, I didn't have any other appointments, so I take him back, give him the works, but as soon as his new paint dries, he decides he doesn't like that shade of blue anymore and wants a different shade. So I have to start all over. This happens a total of three times before he finally decides on the color he likes – which happens to be the exact same shade of blue I first painted him with! I swear to Primus, 'Sides, I was this close to deactivating him right then and there."

Sideswipe picked up another wet energon cube from the wash rack. "You charged him extra I hope?"

"You bet your tailpipe I did!" Sunstreaker growled. "Charged him for all the extra paint I wasted too. I carry only the best products, and it's expensive! Do you know how much a gallon of Altihexan paint costs nowadays?"

"Lots?"

"Lots," Sunstreaker confirmed.

"Here," Sideswipe said, tossing aside his rag and setting a freshly dried energon cube in front of Sunstreaker. "Sounds like you need something strong tonight." Grabbing a bottle from the top shelf behind him, Sideswipe poured a finger of dark red fluid into the cube.

"Damn right I do," Sunstreaker grumbled as he took the cube and downed it in one swallow.

Sideswipe couldn't help but snicker. For someone as picky and downright obnoxious at times about his own paintjob, Sunstreaker could be easily annoyed when he had to deal with the same attitude from one of his customers. It was kind of ironic if you thought about it…

"Hey!" a mech suddenly called from the other end of the counter. "Can you turn the teleconsol up? Something's going on in the news."

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker glanced at the teleconsol that was mounted on the wall behind them. The evening news feed was going. Sideswipe had put it on for lack of any races or other sporting events that night. A mech was urgently talking to the audience behind the news desk on screen. Sideswipe could barely hear him over the background noise of the bar. A red bulletin with the glyphs 'breaking news' was scrolling across the screen underneath him. As they watched, the screen flashed to a picture of a sparkling. It looked like a school roster picture.

"Hey, isn't that Prime and Ironhide's son?" Sunstreaker startled. "That little seeker? What was his name?"

"Starfall," Sideswipe said. He hurried to the teleconsol and turned the volume up.

"- authorities were scrambled to the kidnapper's last known address in Varlan Heights. Varlan Heights was one of five residential areas recently selected by the High Council for demolition and rebuilding in accordance with the Council's new "Rebuild Iacon" campaign. All residents of the area had been relocated to other housing units last deca-cycle. A search was conducted on one of the buildings. Our reporter and camera crew arrived on the scene just in time to witness this:"

The image on the screen changed to camera footage. It was an outside shot of a derelict building. A line of Enforcers were spread across the front of the building, creating a makeshift barricade to the jostling crowd of reporters. As Sideswipe watched a mech suddenly appeared in the doorway of the building and rushed down the stairs. It took him a moment to realize the mech was Ironhide. Jazz followed close behind him. Ironhide was holding something. It was only as Ironhide came closer to the crowd of press-mechs to force his way through to the street that Sideswipe realized what Ironhide was holding. A blade of horror went through Sideswipe and twisted.

Ironhide was cradling a small body to his chest. Starfall was barely recognizable. If Sideswipe hadn't seen Starfall's school picture before the footage he doubted he would have connected the Prime and Consort's son to the battered body cradled against Ironhide's chest. Ironhide's entire front was smeared with mech fluid. Although the camera-mech was filming from several paces away the panic in Ironhide's optics was clearly visible. Starfall's legs limply hung over Ironhide's arms, his head lulled against the old weapons specialist's chest. The little seeker's back was mangled. What were left of his wings hung off his framework in jagged strips of metal. It looked like someone had taken a knife to him.

"Primus…" Sunstreaker whispered behind Sideswipe.

As Ironhide transformed down around Starfall and sped away with Jazz and two other Enforcers as his escort, the screen changed back to the anchor-mech at the news desk.

"The Prime and Consort's son was immediately taken to Iacon General Hospital. His condition is still unknown. No one from the Prime family or the Enforcers has released any statement yet about this tragedy. Despite numerous attempts by this station to gain more information, the Enforcers refuse to release the identity of the kidnapper just yet. Stay tuned to KVX-5 for more updates as they occur."

As the newsfeed broke for commercials, Sideswipe looked at his brother. The same shell-shocked look of disbelief was plastered across the gold twin's facial plates.

OOOOOOOO

Burnout could only stare at the tele-consol in horror as the anchor-mech solemnly reported the latest news of Starfall's kidnapping and torture. He covered his mouth with one hand and looked away from the screen as the footage of Ironhide carrying Starfall from the rundown building was once again played. He'd been relentlessly scanning the newsfeed channels since he'd brought Convoy home from school several joors ago. He'd seen this same footage at least three dozen times now. It was all the newsfeeds were talking about. The story was so sensational Burnout was certain all of Cybertron and half of its colonies had heard about Starfall's kidnapping by now. He couldn't bare to watch Ironhide carry the mangled body of his son to the street anymore. The image was already permanently seared into his memory banks. Convoy had been so upset about his friend's kidnapping Burnout had sent him to his room to rest. He'd promised he'd wake him as soon as there was any news on Starfall.

Burnout knew he should go tell his son the news – to be the one Convoy heard it from. But try as Burnout might he could not make himself get off the lounge. The news was still too shocking – too unbelievable. Burnout's fuel tank churned just at thought of telling his son.

"- just moments ago, a representative of Iacon General's public relations department held a press conference and announced that despite its medics' best efforts the Prime and Consort's son, Starfall, passed away while receiving emergency treatment for injuries he sustained at the hands of the kidnapper who abducted him from his school grounds earlier this orn. He was only five vorns old. Enforcers have officially labeled this attack a hate crime. The suspect, Crosshairs – now identified as a former Autobot – is currently in police custody. Commander Prowl of Iacon's Enforcers stated that Crosshairs is being charged with first degree murder. Neither the Prime or Consort Ironhide have been able to be reached for comment. As many of our viewers will remember, it was the Prime's son - Iacon's only known native-born seeker - that initiated the Vosian Emirate to send a representative to Iacon to negotiate Vos reopening its borders and retaking its place on the High Council and Senate…"

The anchor-mech droned on but Burnout heard nothing more of what he said. He was still trying to comprehend everything he'd just heard. Starfall – his son's best friend – was dead. How was that even possible? The little seeker had always been so full of life. And so very, very young…

What kind of mech would kidnap and torture a child – let alone the child of the Prime? It was inconceivable. Why hadn't anyone been watching Starfall? Burnout couldn't even imagine what Starfall's fathers were going through. He had seen the footage of Ironhide carrying Starfall out of the building a hundred times now. Every time he saw it all he could focus on was the utter panic and fear in the Consort's optics. He couldn't imagine what he himself would have done if it had been Convoy that had been kidnapped. Just the thought of being told his son had died in such a brutal way made Burnout's spark ache with sympathy for Ironhide and the Prime. The two were undoubtedly devastated. Although Ironhide had always struck Burnout as an emotionally reserved bot, one would have had to been blind not to see how much the Consort doted on the little seeker.

"Papa?" a small voice startled Burnout out of his thoughts.

He looked to the side of the living room to see Convoy standing in the doorway. He snatched the remote from the side of the lounge and snapped the tele-consol off as fast as he could. Convoy did not need the image of his best friend hanging so limp and damaged in his father's arms that he already looked dead haunting his dreams.

Convoy looked exhausted, as though he'd spent the last several joors quietly sobbing into his berth. "Papa? Have they found Star yet?"

Burnout's fuel tank churned. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want have to be the one to tell Convoy. It was so unfair. Hadn't Convoy already suffered enough? He'd already had to watch his carrier slowly waste away from a devastating disease. Why did he also have to have the first real friend he'd ever had be so brutal snatched away from him? He was still so young and had already suffered so much loss. Convoy already blamed himself for Starfall's abduction. What would this news do to him?

Burnout got up from the lounge and went to his son. He knelt on the floor in front of Convoy and sorrowfully met his optics. "Yes. Starfall's father found him. But the mech who took Star hurt him. They took Star to the hospital but he was too badly injured for them to help him… He- he's gone. Star's gone, Convoy."

The words didn't seem to immediately register in the little sparkling's processor. "Gone?"

"Yes. Starfall died."

A broken sob clicked in the back of Convoy's throat line. The edges of his optics slowly filled with static. "No… No! Star can't be gone," Convoy angrily shook his head. "Not like Papa! He can't be gone like Papa!"

Burnout grabbed Convoy and pulled him to his chest as though holding him might somehow smother away his pain. The little sparkling's cries were gut-wrenching.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Convoy," Burnout helplessly murmured against his son's helm. Convoy buried his face into his father's windshield and wailed in despair. His entire body shook with the intensity of his grief. Burnout could only hold him closer.

Not since Convoy's carrier died had Burnout heard his son grieve so loudly or so hard.

OOOOOOOO

Skyfire felt weak in the knee-joints as he listened to the latest breaking news. The scientific data pad he'd been holding numbly slipped through his fingers and clattered to the floor by his pedes. For a long moment of eternity he couldn't move. It was like time had stopped around him, sealing him inside a vacuum bubble of horror. All he could do was stand in the middle of his living room and stare at the tele-consol. He'd just returned home from a long orn of work and absentmindedly turned on the tele-consol for background noise while he hunted through the piles of data pads on his desk for some notes he needed. He'd only been half listening when he'd heard the first report of Starfall's abduction and rescue.

He wanted to believe it was all somehow a mistake. He didn't want to believe the anchor-mech on-screen was telling the truth. There had to be some kind of mistake. There had to be.

"Starfall was taken to Iacon General Hospital where he died shortly after arrival. The brutal kidnapping and torture of the Prime's son has already sparked a firestorm of controversy. Not since the end of the Great War has such a case of violence been seen in Iacon or any of the other great city-states of Cybertron - especially towards a child. The tragedy of Starfall's death has already sparked anger among minority-model groups in Iacon and other major cities. Reports indicate that the Prime's son was targeted because of his model. Leaders of these minority groups are calling this a blatant hate crime and demanding that extreme actions be taken against the kidnapper who remains in police custody. Several high-ranking senators – most notably Senator Scion of Iacon - have already released statements to the press stating that they intend to seek new planetary legislation that would make any violent act committed against another because of his or her model automatically punishable by one hundred-vorns imprisonment in an off-world detention center. The maximum sentence for convicted hate crimes is currently only twenty vorns. Because this attack was committed against such a young child who ultimately died from his injuries, it is likely that this case will be tried in Iacon's High Court. The fact that the victim of this crime was also the adopted son of the Prime leads many to suspect that the maximum punishment for first degree murder – which is death – will be sought. The Prime family remains unavailable for comment at this time. The date and time of Starfall's funeral still have yet to be determined."

Skyfire's fuel tank churned. No. This couldn't be happening. This had to be wrong. Skyfire spun away from the tele-consol and rushed for his vid-comm station. He frantically punched in the code for Optimus and Ironhide's personal line. He'd memorized it from all the times he'd called to set up times for flying lessons with Starfall. His hands were shaking so badly he mistyped the number twice. When he finally managed to hit enter all he got was a black screen and the slow, heavy drone of a busy signal. He cut the line and tried again. The same thing happened.

Skyfire numbly powered off the vid-comm station and sat back in his chair. He wanted to believe that he couldn't get a hold of Optimus because he was too busy calling the news stations and correcting their false reports. Starfall couldn't be dead. It just wasn't possible. He was probably home right now resting in his room.

Yet… as Skyfire glanced at the tele-consol and saw the same footage of Ironhide carrying Starfall's battered form out of a dilapidated building for the third time since turning on the newsfeeds, he knew he could no longer deny the truth.

Starfall was gone.

The newsfeeds had been covering Starfall's abduction for what sounded like the last several joors – at least since that afternoon. It was now late evening. If Starfall really was still alive Optimus would have already held a press conference and dispelled the rumors. If something important was happening Optimus was always there to comment on the situation and give his wisdom. It was just one of his many duties as their race's leader. And Optimus was nothing if not committed to his responsibilities as Prime. The only reason Optimus would ever refuse to appear in public would be if there was some kind of personal emergency.

Or tragedy…

Skyfire's fuel tank sank. Deep down he knew he could no longer deny what he knew. Hanging his helm down his chest, Skyfire was unable to stifle the sobbing click of despair that sounded in the back of his intake line. As the clicking rose harder in his chest, the edges of his visual display began to fuzz with static. His spark suddenly felt too large for his spark-casing, as if it were about to explode out of his cockpit. His processor whirled with thoughts – each one excruciatingly more painful than the last.

Starfall had been so young. So innocent. Starfall had been Starscream's second chance at a peaceful life – a chance to redeem his soul and perhaps find some measure of happiness he never could have if he hadn't accepted Prime's offer of rebirth. Skyfire had spent the last fifty-seven vorns hopelessly waiting for some sign that Starscream had returned. For so long he'd believed he would never see his lover again. And then Optimus had called him to tell him that he'd found Starscream's reincarnated spark in the form of a little seeker living in a hatchling facility. When he'd heard that Skyfire had been sure that Primus had finally heard his prayers and orchestrated events to finally give Starscream back to him. Even if they were never meant to be lovers or even close friends again, Skyfire would have been content with the knowledge that Starscream lived on - that he had a second chance to have a happy life.

But now that chance was gone – brutally stolen before Starfall ever even got the chance to realize his potential. It wasn't fair. It didn't make sense for Primus to bring him back only to savagely take him away again. It wasn't fair! What kind of god allowed such evil to befall someone so young?

Agony tore at Skyfire's spark as though a million invisible hands were reaching into his soul and tearing him apart from the inside. Never had he felt such grief before. Knowing Starfall was gone was even more painful than when he'd turned against Starscream to join the Autobots. Not even saying goodbye to Starscream that last time in the prison had hurt as much as this because Skyfire knew there was no chance of him ever seeing Starscream or Starfall again. Starfall was dead. There was no Vector Sigma to restore his spark to another body.

This time Star was truly gone. There would be no more second chances. He'd lost his love yet again.

Unable to fight it anymore, Skyfire succumbed to grief. It pulled him under like an undertow. He let the agony drag him into the inky black depths of loss. He no longer cared what happened to him. If he ever managed to last to the point where his grief no longer stabbed at his core like a plasma-blade, Skyfire knew his spark would only be left an empty husk. He wouldn't have any more emotions to feel after this. A bot could only endure so much pain and loss before he was brought to his breaking point. A spark could only suffer so much agony before it could no longer heal and was left irreparably broken. He'd lost Starscream twice now. It was Starfall who'd lost his life, but it was Skyfire who felt like he'd lost his reason to try and find happiness anymore in the cruel meaninglessness of life.

OOOOOOOO

"I want a full report of what is happening, Cloudbreaker," Slipstream snarled at the vid-comm screen of her private office. "Now. All I have are confusing news reports and slap-shot attempts at intelligence reports from spies not worth half the credits I'm paying them."

Her son was onscreen, transmitting from Cybertron's capital halfway across the planet. As Vos's newly appointed representative to the High Council, Cloudbreaker had gone to Iacon to assume his position several orns ago. Cloudbreaker was to spend a portion of his time living in Iacon now. Rainstorm and Cloudburst were to follow as soon as he had a permanent residence set up for them. They were originally supposed to remain in Vos and visit Cloudbreaker through frequent visits. Cloudbreaker had not been pleased with that original arrangement. Despite his and Rainstorm's bond being arranged, the two were uncommonly fond of each other and did not like to be separated for long periods of time. Slipstream had had to use a combination of stick and energon treat to convince Cloudbreaker to accept the post. Being a representative to the High Council would be an opportunity for him to make outside contacts with other high-ranking Cybertronians before he became Emirate, she'd told him. Cloudbreaker had still been hesitant, however, and Slipstream had had to agree to allow Cloudbreaker's family to accompany him to Iacon before he finally accepted.

Everything still worked out in the end. Perhaps even for the better this way. The plan was to give Cloudbreaker an excuse to bring Cloudburst to Iacon to give him and the Prime's son more opportunities to solidify a friendship that would one day result in a trinebond. Slipstream had already given orders to Commander Fallout of the Air Force to find some reason to send Thundercracker and his family to Iacon for an extended period. Starfall, Cloudburst, and Thunderclap had shown great potential together as a fledgling trine. It didn't make sense to let the next step of their friendship be left up to chance. Slipstream wanted to forge a tangible tie with Iacon that went beyond the scope of open borders and renewed political relations. She wanted a connection through Starfall that would ensure her city's position in the hierarchy of Cybertronian politics.

But now there were rumors coming in that threatened the possibility of that happening.

The Vosian prince looked drained and extremely tired. The protomatter around his optics was tinged gray as if he were running low on energy and recharge. Slipstream did a quick calculation and realized it was the middle of the night in Iacon. It was probably actually closer to dawn. If even a fraction of the reports she'd received were true, it was doubtful Cloudbreaker would find any rest within the foreseeable future.

"All I know is what the newsfeeds are saying, mother," he said. "All the information I have indicates that the newsfeeds are correct: Starfall is dead. A mech kidnapped him from his school and was torturing him when Enforcers and the Consort finally found him. I've tried numerous times but have not been able to reach the Prime or Consort. They… they seem to have gone into mourning."

Slipstream leaned back in her chair, staring at the vid-comm screen with an expressionless face. She had been hoping the reports were false. Over the vorns she had gotten used to receiving bad news. But that still did not completely desensitize one from the initial shock of such devastating news.

"I am already being asked by other council members and senators how Vos plans to react to this," Cloudbreaker continued. "Starfall's death puts Vos into a very tricky situation. The mech who kidnapped him targeted him because he was a seeker. Even though Starfall is technically Iaconian many consider him, at least partially, a Vosian. Starfall's death was at the least an indirect attack on our people. If we decide to react negatively to this everything we've done so far to reopen Vos will be forfeit. All inter-city relations will go back to the way they were before Starfall's adoption."

"I know what will happen, Cloudbreaker. I am not stupid," Slipstream spat.

Cloudbreaker vented a heavy cycle of air and tiredly scrubbed at the protomatter underneath his optics. Slipstream had never seen her son look quite so weary as now. If he truly wanted to become Emirate someday, then Cloudbreaker had better get use to long and sleepless nights since this was only a taste of what he had to look forward to.

"What do you want me to tell the Council?" he asked. "They want an official response. Several senators actually expressed worry that Vos might see this as a declaration of war and retaliate militarily."

"What nonsense," Slipstream scoffed. "Vos is not about to go to war because one seeker was attacked in a foreign city. Even if he was the son of the Prime, Starfall is still only one bot. No one bot's life is worth enough to dictate the start of a war that would cost countless others theirs. Vos has only just begun to recover from the Great War. I do not plan to make my people go to war for such a foolish reason."

"What is Vos's official stance then concerning this?"

Slipstream vented a heavy cycle of air. She suddenly felt even older than she was. "Hold a press conference tomorrow. Announce that Vos is appalled by this attack on the Prime's son, especially since it was motivated by Starfall's model. Pledge that we will give whatever assistance we can to help ease the Prime and Consort's pain in their time of loss. But be sure to make it clear that Vos will not be deterred from reestablishing relations with the rest of Cybertron's city-states. Starfall's death is a tragedy, but we seekers will not be turned away because of one act of hate against our kind."

"Yes, mother. I will contact the local news stations and arrange a press conference as soon as we are done talking," Cloudbreaker solemnly acknowledge. He hesitated a moment before meeting Slipstream's optics through the screen. "Mother… please do not tell Cloudburst about what happened yet. He and Starfall were beginning to become close. I plan to call Rainstorm later when she's awake. I would like to tell her and Cloudburst the news myself."

"They are your family. You can tell them whatever you want," Slipstream snorted.

Cloudbreaker stiffly nodded. "I must go make arrangements. I will contact you again as soon as I have more information."

Slipstream waved her hand dismissively at the vid-comm screen. The thin bands of silver on her wrist joint jangled loudly against each other. With the flick of her wrist she cut the transmission. Cloudbreaker's image abruptly disappeared from the screen.

Slipstream leaned back in her chair. A small cube of energon sat on the edge of the desk beside the controls of the vid-comm station. She'd barely had time to refuel as the first few reports of Starfall's kidnapping began to filter in. The incident had consumed her schedule for the last few joors. Slipstream picked up the cube of glowing liquid and lifted it to her mouth. Just as it was about to touch her lips though she realized she couldn't bear the thought of anything inside her fuel tank right now. Everything was ruined. Everything she'd worked so hard to create was suddenly gone. Starfall – the reincarnated spark of her great-nephew – was dead.

A cloying rush of anger suddenly welled up in the back of her intake line. With an unforeseen burst of energy that shocked even her, Slipstream hurled the energon cube against the far wall of her study. It struck the wall with a satisfying crack and shattered into a hundred little pieces. Trails of glowing purple liquid ran down the wall to the floor. Fighting to control her suddenly raging emotions, Slipstream pushed away from the desk and staggered to her thrusters. She stood there, desperately gripping the back of her chair with one hand as though doing so might somehow anchor her down amidst the whirlwind of thoughts spinning around inside her processor.

Starfall was supposed to have been the one that brought them all together again. When she got the first intelligence report saying that the Prime had adopted a little seeker sparkling from a Iaconian hatchling facility, she had instantly known who he was. She had had such hopes that her great-nephew would finally heal the lingering wounds the Great War had caused. He was supposed to have been the catalyst that returned Vos to the rest of Cybertron and brought about a new Golden Age. All the pieces had been there. Starfall had been perfectly placed to help fix the damage Starscream had had a part in causing over the course of the Great War.

But now he was gone. And all because of the actions of one bigoted, hateful mech. He'd ruined it for all of them.

Movement in the corner of Slipstream's visual display brought her out of her thoughts.

"Leave it, Acht," she wearily snapped. The black-painted conehead was moving towards the shattered remains of her energon cube to clean up the mess. He stopped and offered her a brisk nod of acknowledgement. He walked back towards her and took his position just behind her left shoulder. There was more movement from the side of the room, and within the blink of an optic Acht's trinemate Sechs took position on her other side. The two coneheads stood in perfect silence, her ever-present guards. Even when she recharged, Sechs and Acht were never farther than a room away from her. In the midst of the Great War she had taken them on as her personal bodyguards. In all that time she'd never heard either of them utter a single word, yet she understood their little gestures and movements better than she did others with fully operating vocal processors. Over the vorns she'd come to rely on them as her personal pillars of emotional support. Only Sechs and Acht were allowed to see at her like this. She trusted them in ways she didn't anyone else. In front of everyone else – even her own son – she was expected to be the unbending Emirate of Vos. Yet in the privacy of her private study with only bodyguards there to see she could grieve like any other bot.

"He's gone," she angrily spat. She didn't turn her helm to look at her bodyguards. She didn't have to. She knew they heard every words she said. Although they didn't move or do anything to indicate they'd heard her she knew they were intently listening. "He's gone. Just like that. I had had such hopes for that little sparkling. Primus brought Starscream back as such a sweet child… He would have been successful in whatever he chose to do with his life. But just like the rest of my family, he's gone now too."

Slipstream still vividly remembered the first time she had met Starscream. It had happened long before she'd had Cloudbreaker or taken over the role of Emirate. She'd still only been the Emirate's Grand Consort - a femme in the prime of her function. Starscream had barely been older than a few vorns. She'd first met her great-nephew the day he came to live with her and her sparkmate in the Palace. His creators had been killed the deca-cycle before in a freak accident, leaving him without anyone else to care for him. As his only living relative – albeit an extremely distant one – Slipstream had been given custody of him. Her sparkmate, Cloudcover, had not been happy about it. He'd spent several orns trying to convince her to just send Starscream to an orphanage. The child was not a member of the royal line, he insisted. He did not belong with them in the palace. It was only the orn before Starscream was scheduled to arrive that Slipstream finally snapped at Cloudcover that talk of them taking in her nephew's child was no longer up for discussion. Starscream was coming to live with them, and that was that.

Cloudcover never mentioned sending Starscream away again after that, but he never once tried to get to know Starscream in all the vorns Starscream lived with them. Although Cloudcover never did anything outwardly hostile towards Starscream, the level of disinterest he showed him was palpable. Children are perceptive. Slipstream knew Starscream had picked up on her sparkmate's feelings at an early age and as a result never tried to become closer to the older mech. Slipstream had tried to do the best she could for Starscream to give him the time and attention he so desperately needed after his creators died, but she had had her own duties to attend to and had little time to spare for him.

Starscream had been so hurt and lonely when he came to live with them. It still stung Slipstream in her spark to remember the confused look of emptiness in his optics the first time she saw him. Her nephew, Starchaser, should have never had children. Starchaser – Starscream's carrier - had always been a vain and self-absorbed bot, even in his youth. Reckless and hot-headed, Starchaser had gotten bonded to a handsome young speed-flier just as reckless and hot-headed as himself at an early age against his creator's wishes. As a result, his creators had disowned him. Within a vorn of getting bonded, Starchaser was carrying a sparkling. The stupid fool.

From what Slipstream had managed to gather in the orns following Starchaser and his sparkmate's death, the two had been the opposite of exemplary creators. Always dumping their infant son off on whatever friends were free at the time, they would go out and do whatever it was young, irresponsible creators did when they did not want to stay home and take care of their creation. It had been while they were out on one of their nightly excursions that they were caught in a freak electrical storm and crashed. Starscream had been left at the domicile of a vague acquaintance of the couple at the time.

Although Slipstream had never told Starscream, he had always been her favorite relative. When Cloudcover died and Slipstream assumed the mantle of Emirate, Starscream had been the only one to ever stand up to her or question her decisions. Some may have thought Starscream crazy or overstepping his position, but Slipstream had always appreciated her great-nephew's courage to stand up to her. It had silently torn her spark apart when she'd heard what happened to him after the war – of what the little sparkling she'd helped raise had been found guilty of doing. She had wanted so badly to use her power to barter Starscream's release and bring him back home to Vos. But some crimes could not be so easily forgiven, even those committed in the midst of war. No matter how much it killed her inside, Slipstream had had to let Starscream accept his punishment.

She'd been so hopeful he would have a better life this second time around. Prime had instantly struck her as a model creator. Patient, kind, and loving he was the complete opposite of Starscream's original creators. Even Optimus's surly sparkmate, Ironhide, was openly protective of the little seeker. Between the two of them, Starfall would have been raised with all the love and attention Starscream never had.

But that promise of a good second life was gone, snuffed out like a little flame before it ever got the chance to catch.

Slipstream didn't know how long she stood there contemplating the past and everything else she had lost. It was only when Sechs silently stepped closer to her side and offered a hand to her that she seemed to shake herself back to the present. Holding one hand out to her, Sechs motioned with his other hand to the door. It was a silent suggestion that Slipstream go to her quarters to recharge.

Too wearied by the crushing weight of memories and loss to argue, Slipstream slipped her hand into her guard's and let him gently lead her towards the door. Acht followed half a step behind.

To be continued

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