(sorry for the delay-I'm out of town and I brought my trusty netbook and...it's not so trusty. Harddrive failure, I think? So, anyway.)
36. Assault on Principle
Starscream sliced down through the atmosphere, feeling the layers of atmosphere heat against his plating. But at his core, he felt a strange, heavy numbness, as if part of him was in a chrysalis of denial of what he was contemplating. He was going to outright attack Megatron. Open assault.
No. It wasn't Megatron. Not entirely. It was some unstable gestalt of arrogance and self-serving that had lost sight, entirely, of the mission. Which was, Starscream remembered, a free Cybertron. One where mechs weren't locked so rigidly into classes. One where the military had been allowed to do their job, protect Cybertron, and more than that to expand their dominion, find resources, keep the machine going. The Council's open secret: Cybertron had been running out of resources—rationing energon and supplies to the lower classes, to the military. Promoting false virtues such as making do with less. For certain classes, of course, while others reveled in their glittery comfort. The machine was…unsustainable, headed for a collapse. They'd needed to expand and live (by conquest or control), or die. Starscream had chosen life, always life. No matter what that life had made him eat, forced him through. He had chosen always life. Strength over weakness.
Not…now. And he felt a strange unsettled sensation that might have been fear, but it might have been the heady exhilaration o freedom.
And for a long time, he thought, as the atmosphere abraded his skin, the Decepticon army had been a model of precisely what they were promoting—grounders and airframes, gestalts and individual mechs, all working together, each using their strengths, letting their weaknesses simply become a gap for someone else to fill. It had been…beautiful in a way.
And somewhere along the line, aeons ago, they had lost that. Starscream had lost it, and recognized only that he was losing himself, cutting himself off from contact with his Trine, isolating himself from anyone and anything that might remind him. He'd buried that awareness, and himself, in leadership, in the belief that if he tried hard enough, climbed high enough, he could recapture that, reignite it in the mechs under him as well as himself.
He'd half-hoped Megatron's return would have galvanized them. Half-hoped, but half-envied as well, because it would have been an admission that, all along, Megatron was superior, was a better leader. He'd had…mixed feelings as well when that hadn't turned out to be the case. Under Megatron, if possible, the Decepticon forces had splintered—the Constructicons' reunion had bred ill-will among the other gestalts; airframes had begun throwing their ability in front of grounders.
Could no one see he was trying to pull them together?
No. Why should they, when he couldn't see it clearly himself. It tasted like treason. Like betrayal. It felt like the hard, hot, worried optics of Skywarp, judging him. It felt unstable, like standing on blowing sand, the way Barricade had focused on him, ready to follow, ready to throw himself into a fight he did not start. Starscream ached. Barricade remembered. Even when Starscream had lost that part of himself, through all these ages, Barricade had held onto it, deeply buried, stifled, but not strangled, the poignant belief in someone. Not something, not an ideal, but a living, functioning mech. The weight of that loyalty was crushing.
Please, he thought, as he leveled his flight path to intercept the thing that had once been the mech he had believed in, be safe, Barricade. Hold onto that. And…if I can be greedy and selfish and all the things I have been accused of being, please…remember me better than I was. Remember the better me. Just…remember.
[***]
"What are you doing?" Skywarp asked. Barricade had called up a host of screens, his talons flashing almost faster than Skywarp's optics could follow.
"Combat screens," Barricade said. He was, of course, partially lying. He'd made the decision that Blackout and Vortex should continue to search for the pieces of the spacebridge. And keep it quiet. And keep them the frag out of it. Someone had to survive. Someone had to make it, and he owed them that much.
"Are you going to watch?" His tone of voice was mildly appalled, as though he'd expected Barricade to enjoy it.
Barricade's optics flicked to Skywarp's, which were looking at him a little too keenly. "No," he said, flatly.
"Starscream ordered you not to—"
"You hold his betrayal secret? Hold mine, too. In the end, we're both dead, what does it matter?" His vocalizer grated at the words. He'd do something to repay Starscream back for…everything. Sorry that the best I can do is die with you. Going against your orders. It's all I can do.
"How can you fight…from here?"
Barricade wasn't aware he was grinding his electrum lipplates until a spark flashed in his vision. He hissed through the tension that seized his system. "Have a way. Need…something from my recharge."
[***]
Blackout frowned when he got the orders. First, because they were a reiteration of orders he was already following. Second because Barricade sent them on flat recording, not live. No chance to ask questions. No chance to gauge the tone of the smaller mech's voice. He hit a recall signal anyway, listened to it buzz in dead air. Frag. Something was up.
And he wasn't the only one who felt it. "What the slag's that about?" Vortex cut in.
Blackout hesitated. "Repetition of orders. We're to find and assemble the space bridge."
"Yeah, got that," Vortex said. "Twice now. You know what I mean."
Blackout did know. And a part of him smoldered slowly with an old rage. "Something's going on they don't want us to see." It was like…the last orbital cycles had been erased, and he was back facing off against Starscream. Betrayal.
Vortex's turn to pause. "Got a lock on one of them. Starscream." An uncomfortable moment. "What do we do?"
Well, Blackout, you never wanted to lead. You merely wanted a leader worth following. But sometimes…you don't get what you want. Sometimes you have to do…this. "Vectors for intercept."