Finding Home
Chapter 39
By Voodoo Queen
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Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers! I hope this update finds you well. I'm very happy to be bringing you our next chapter. Its a little shorter than what I have been posting but I sincerely hope you enjoy it. To answer a question, I'm basing Screamer off his G-1 bio in which he'd actually been a pretty brilliant scientist and good friends with Skyfire aka Jetfire prior to the war. Mix-and-Match. I just pick and choose what I like from different continuities but I love G-1. It's my favorite, lol. Thank you from the very bottom of my heart for all the faves, follows, and especially for your wonderful reviews: SunnyandSidesFemme17, 'Guest', 'Anonymous', Deimoss, jellybeanz513, Dicome, shelby20125, kvanausdoll, Oddity Empress, Geek By Nature, monkeybaby, SolusPrimeLightblast, TheHeizeEffect, poppycakes (muwhahaha!), o-dragon, KayleeChiara, HalfwayParanoid, .Princess, xIliadx, jgoss, Loki Tyv, aquarius89, the everchanging, Songbird's Spirit, SoundlyManners
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, just my own original characters and plot.
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"I can't do that," Amy insisted as she paced around her work space. They'd been engaged in the same discussion since leaving their picnic at the seaside and she still wasn't sure exactly what to make of it or what had brought it on. "I'm sorry, I just...I can't."
"Why not?" Sideswipe prodded as he leaned against the railing that ran the length of the mezzanine. "It might not solve all our problems but it's a good start. I mean, at least we'd actually get to see each other."
Sunstreaker, who'd taken over Jazz's chair in his absence, nodded, "I don't see what the big deal is. Seriously, Squishie, I'm just pointing out the next logical step in the progression of whatever this is that we have going on."
Amy looked at the mech incredulously, "You just asked me to move into your quarters. Living with another person is a pretty big deal. Don't you think that's kind of jumping into things kind of fast?"
"Actually," Sunstreaker smirked, "Under the circumstances, its pretty fragging strange that we still stay apart. If you were Cybertronian the three of us would probably already be spark bound and way beyond all this slag."
Amy blinked in confusion, "What does that even mean?"
Sunny shrugged, "It means this should have already been settled and agreed upon deca-cycles ago but we've been dragging our tailpipes trying to work around your weird human sensibilities."
"What Sunny's trying to say is," Sides quickly clarified, "is that we're trying to do right by you, sweetspark. We're pretty sure humans don't have anything comparable to what we're going through at the moment but where we're from, when things like this happen, you do something about it. Matters of the spark don't get much more serious than this. It's inevitable when you think about it."
"What it is, is begging for trouble," Amy argued. "I get where you're coming from and I'm not trying to make light of the situation but there's no way you guys can think this is a good idea."
"It's not a good idea," Sideswipe countered. "It's a great idea. Think about it, Ames." Sides leaned forward over the railing, obviously already completely sold on his brother's idea. "We'd be kind of like...a real, live family unit. Just the three of us."
"And Jazz," Sunstreaker interjected for the woman's benefit. "Kind of...By virtue of association."
"Right, and Jazz," Sides nodded, agreeing with his brother. "We can even run the idea by him if it'll make you feel better. I'm almost fairly sure that he probably might not say that we're glitched."
"What?" Amy shook her head, disbelieving they were even having this conversation.
"We can make this work, Ames," Sides pressed. "I know we can. It's all any of us has ever really wanted, right? Just a nice, normal family."
"I hate to be the one to break it to you, but," Amy protested, "this is not a normal family."
"It could be," Sideswipe insisted. "If you wanted it to be."
"It's not about what I want." Amy shook her head, "We could get into a lot of trouble over something like this. Heck, we could get in trouble now. It's completely against the rules."
"Who's rules?" Sunny raised a brow plate in question.
Amy turned to face the mech, shoulders squared, "The UCMJ-"
"Doesn't have scrap to do with us." Sunstreaker smirked, "I realize you're all hung up on rules. I've already looked up all the Articles involving interpersonal relationships and we don't really fit into any of the offending categories."
Amy huffed, hands on her hips. "Oh, I'm sure they could squeeze us in somewhere. JAG is creative like that."
"How about this," Sides bargained, "Just give us a week. Kind of like a trial period. If for whatever reason you aren't happy with the arrangement we can go back to how things are. No questions asked."
Amy pressed a hand to her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "Sideswipe..."
"A week, Ames," Sideswipe was near begging. "Please? Just one week and if it's not working out we promise to never bring it up again. Come on, what do you have to lose?"
"Uh," Amy ticked off on her fingers, "my rank, my security clearance, my job, possibly my freedom." Her eyes widened at the thought. "I've never been in the brig..."
"We have," Sideswipe unhelpfully interjected. "Lots of times. It's not that bad."
Amy whimpered.
"That's not going to happen," Sunstreaker sternly promised the woman, shooting a warning look at his brother. "We won't let it happen. Sides and I can be discreet when the occasion calls for it."
Amy looked skeptical, "You two? Discreet?"
Sunny flashed a wicked grin, "More discreet than standing on the curb in front of the barracks at two in the morning yelling for you to come outside and play."
Amy paled.
"I'm just saying," Sunstreaker shrugged.
Sideswipe pouted, "Please, Ames?"
Amy tried a new tactic, "I'd just be underfoot and in the way..."
Sunstreaker snorted in amusement, "On this fragging planet everything is underfoot, Squishie. We're used to it. We're not going to step on you and you're too small to be in anyone's way."
Amy sighed and sank down into her chair, " Why are you two so dead set on this happening?"
Sides grinned, "Because we lo-"
"Because," Sunstreaker quickly interrupted his twin, It's what people in our situation do."
Sideswipe shot his brother a knowing look, "Right. What he said." He turned back to Amy, "So...what do you say? One week. That's, like, no time at all. Come on...you know you want to..."
"Ugh..." Amy pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. "You guys are so persistent. This is such a bad, bad idea. Why is it so hard to tell you two no?"
Sides shrugged, "Because we're slagging adorable?"
"Yeah," Amy dropped her hands into her lap and tilted her head back to stare contemplatively at the ceiling. "Maybe that's it."
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"I don't know how you do it," Ironhide groused. He fidgeted in boredom. Though Ratchet had finally deemed him well enough to "get dressed", he was still confined to the med bay until the cantankerous old medic saw fit to end his torture.
Jazz had postponed his morning checkup to catch-up on some of the goings on around base. He didn't like being out of the loop which was why he'd been meeting with Prowl earlier. He'd eventually left the mech's office after a long discussion involving the 'domestic situation' that had drawn Lennox's attention. All they could really do, they determined, was to advise the trio to lay low and not draw undo attention to themselves. The couldn't very well split them apart to alleviate possible suspicions. Aside from being terribly cruel to all involved, there were also health and safety concerns to be mindful of. Jazz pushed the whole scenario out of his processor as something to worry about later and focused on the mech currently sharing in his misery of limited duty. He chuckled and glanced over at the Weapon Specialist who was laid out on the berth next to his. "Do what 'Hide?"
"Spend so much time trapped in this fragging prison putting up with Ratchet and all his rules," the larger mech grumbled. "Sitting here not doing anything is enough to fry my circuits."
"Perhaps you shouldn't stand in the line of heavy weapons fire like some sort of defunct target dummy," Ratchet snarked as he breezed back into the room with his arms full of medical supplies. "Then you wouldn't have to worry about fried circuits."
Ironhide made a passive sound, "It wasn't that bad."
"Not that bad?" Ratchet scoffed as he dropped his load on the counter and started sorting through it. "You severed a main energon line and one of those rounds came within less than an inch of hitting your spark chamber. You're damn lucky it didn't. As advanced as modern medicine may be, it still hasn't provided me with the means by which to resurrect the dead. You'd best keep that in mind. You're still having erratic spark fluctuations and until those are resolved, I'm monitoring your rusty aft for your own good. Whether you like it or not."
"Nah," Ironhide rumbled in amusement. "I think you just enjoy the company."
"Oh, yes." Ratchet rolled his optics as he began shoving items into cabinets, "Because it's always been a dream of mine to be trapped in the same room with you day in and day out, professionally obligated to see to your every need, all while listening to a constant stream of endless whining that would put even the worst behaved sparkling to shame."
Ironhide rolled his shoulders, "Yeah, I figured as much."
"Play nice, 'Hide," Jazz joked. "Don't get the doc too riled up. I think I saw an arc welder hidden in there."
Ironhide looked distinctly uncomfortable at that thought and settled back onto the berth. He grumbled, "This is a fragging waste of time. I should be running the humans through combat drills."
"Bee's handlin' it," Jazz assured. "He even roped Mirage into helpin'. They're havin' fun with him."
"Drills aren't supposed to be fun," Hide grumpily insisted. "I've worked hard to instill the fear of Primus into those tiny fleshlings. Now thanks to Ratchet I'll have to start all over."
The CMO released a long suffering sigh, "Why can't you be more like Jazz? Do you hear him complaining?"
"Easy for you to say, Ratch," Ironhide huffed. "Jazz gets to leave and go play with his human when he's done."
"Hey, now," Jazz raised a brow plate as he addressed the other mech, "You watch your mouth, 'Hide. I'll have ya know that the scraplet 'n' I are conductin' serious business down there. Music doesn't listen to itself," the TIC grinned.
Ironhide harrumphed.
"Speaking of the femme," Ratchet began, ignoring his problem patient as he made his way over to where Jazz lay with what looked like a car computer diagnostic scanner in hand. "How is she doing? Physically, she seems to have bounced back from her little episode splendidly but I do worry about the psychological strain this all must be having. I don't spend nearly as much time around her as you do to notice any significant change in her demeanor. She's well, I hope?"
"Oh, yeah," Jazz agreed as he lay back and retracted the panels that hid his spark. He was familiar enough with the drill by now that the medic didn't even have to say a word. "She's doin' great. Finally startin' to settle in and settle down."
"Good to hear," the CMO nodded as he began his diagnostics. "And the twins? I've amazingly not had the pleasure of their company lately so I haven't been able to ask."
"Ya know," Jazz mused, "I thought I was gonna have to stay right on top of 'em. You know how they can be. Kinda..."
"Reckless," Ratchet provided. "Irresponsible? Erratic? Promiscuous? Inconsiderate of others?"
"I was gonna say impulsive," Jazz laughed, "but yeah, those work too. They've been really mature about the whole thing, though. They're really tryin' hard. I wasn't sure they had it in 'em to start but I've been pleasantly surprised so far. I'm pretty proud of 'em."
"Well, it's not that they don't have good sense," Ratchet surmised. "They certainly have the processing power. It's just getting them to actually use it."
Jazz chuckled, "I think Amy's doin' a pretty good job of keepin' 'em honest."
"Perhaps we can talk her into putting on some sort of a how-to presentation for the rest of us," Ratchet smiled softly in amusement. "Not even Optimus has been able to rein in those two the way she's managed. She can teach us her mysterious human ways."
Ironhide groaned in disgust. "How much longer are you planning on letting this slag go on?"
"It ain't slag, 'Hide," Jazz frowned at the mech. "I'm tellin' ya, it's the real deal."
"Don't get me wrong, Jazz. I know you're close to the femme and all but," Ironhide squirmed, "I don't like it. It's not natural."
"Natural or not," Ratchet as-a-matter-of-factly pointed out, "I can confirm that they have indeed somehow managed to imprint upon one another. I may not understand the hows or the whys of it but I cannot deny the significance of it and neither should you. More to the point," the CMO continued, "What the twins and Miss Doe get up to privately isn't any concern of yours. You don't have to like it."
Ironhide shrugged. "Doesn't mean I can't think a flesh fetish is weird."
"It's not a fetish, 'Hide," Jazz propped himself up on his elbows. "Sunny doesn't even 'like' humans ta be perfectly honest. Amy's just...a special case. They're young. They truly care about somebody for possibly the first time in their lives. They're workin' it out. Leave 'em alone."
"Yeah," Ironhide grumpily relented. "Whatever."
Jazz shook his head and resumed his previous position.
"At any rate," Ratchet offered, "l'm pleased things are going well for them. Everyone deserves a chance to be happy. Especially in times like these." He shot a side glance over toward Ironhide, "No matter how strange it may seem to those on the outside looking in."
"You can say that again, doc," Jazz quietly agreed.
Ironhide simply grunted and rolled his optics.
The room lapsed into silence for a moment, a peculiar stillness settling over the occupants of the room as each seemed occupied with their own thoughts. It didn't last long, however. A quiet rapping at the med bay doors broke the quiet and drew everyone's attention.
"What now?" Ratchet vented and called out, "it's open!"
The doors slid open far enough to allow Sideswipe to slip between them before the mech quickly closed them once again.
"Speaking of Unicron," Ironhide muttered as he flopped back onto the berth, closed his optics, and sighed.
Ratchet, looking wholly uninterested as the mech skated towards them asked, "What can I do for you Sideswipe?"
Sides grinned at the medic, "Download yourself a sense of humor?"
The CMO scowled at the mech.
"Relax, Hatchet," Sideswipe chuckled. "Don't get your wires all tangled. I didn't come in here to harass you. Well...not entirely. I need to talk to Jazz. It's about Ames."
The mech's words immediately drew Jazz's full attention. He again rose up onto his elbows, a look of concern plastered across his face, "Is something wrong? Is she alright?"
"Oh, yeah, yeah," Sides waived off the TIC's worries. "She's fine. It's not anything bad. At least, Sunny and I don't think so. It's more of a courtesy thing, I guess. We're trying to do things the right way, you know?"
"Okay..." Jazz slowly answered. "Ya got my attention. I kinda need to talk to you two, too. I had a strange run-in with Lennox this morning that I think ya need to be aware of. Where's Sunny?"
"He's, uh, taking care of some housekeeping stuff." Sides asked, "You want me to comm him?Ames and I had sort of a weird talk with Lennox, too."
"Nah," Jazz shook his head. "Just make sure you pass the message along. Can ya do that?"
"Sure, Jazz," Sides nodded. "Will do."
"Good," Jazz adjusted himself on the berth, getting comfortable. "You first. What's goin' on with the scraplet?"
"Well," Sideswipe drew air down deep into his intakes. "Things have been going really well between the three of us. Really, really well. We all had lunch together today and Sunny came up with the fantastic suggestion of having Ames stay with us in our quarters."
"Primus," Ironhide groaned and rolled over onto his side to face away, as if turning his back on the conversation would somehow render the subject matter null and void.
Ratchet sputtered, "Sunstreaker suggested it?"
"Yeah," Sides confirmed with a nod.
Disbelieving, the CMO asked again, "Our Sunstreaker?"
"Yep," Sides again nodded. "Why?"
Ratchet merely shook his head and moved to lean against the counter. The perplexed look on his face suggested that, at least from his point of view, the world no longer made any sense.
Jazz looked more contemplative. "What brought this on?"
Sideswipe shrugged, "We just thought it was time. We like Ames. A lot. More than like but," the mech chuckled, "you know how Sunny is. We want to spend more time with her. We thought this would be a good way to do that."
Jazz vented, "That might be a problem."
Sideswipe opened his mouth to argue but Jazz didn't give him a chance.
"Ya know the weirdness with Lennox this mornin'," the TIC asked.
Sides nodded, "Yeah..."
Jazz frowned, looking unsettled, "Somehow he got the impression that the scraplet and I were together...romantically."
Ironhide rolled back over at that revelation, reengaging with the conversation. The look on his face a mixture of confusion and distaste, "The frag?"
"Oh, for Primus' sake," Ratchet blurted in disbelief. "Why on Cybertron would he think that?"
Jazz shrugged, "No clue, doc. Maybe 'cause we spend so much time together?"
"But," Sideswipe looked perplexed, "that's just wrong. You're her guardian..."
"I know," Jazz agreed. "We cleared up the confusion but the point is, as upset as Will was thinkin' me an' Amy were engagin' in some hanky panky on the sly, I don't think he'd take it too well findin' out you an' Sunny have serious intentions, if ya catch my drift."
Sideswipe narrowed his optics, "So...what? You're saying she can't stay with us? That we have to distance ourselves?"
"That's not what I'm sayin' at all, Sides," Jazz assured. "I believe ya have good intentions but keep in mind that human culture is different from our's. Besides the whole interspecies aspect, ya need to understand that they aren't too keen on certain types of relations. Human twins don't share the same dynamics."
"We know," Sideswipe nodded. "I did some studying up on human relationships. We know all about the do's and do not's. We're not glitched, Jazz."
"Good," Jazz took on a serious aura, "Then you're smart enough not to go around drawing unwanted attention to yourselves. Things could get ugly, Sides. Real ugly. I don't want that. For any of ya."
"We know not everyone would be happy about this. Ames is smart. She doesn't want anyone to get in trouble. That's what we were talking about earlier and why she's hesitant." Sides vented, "Why does everything have to always be so fragging hard? We've done every single thing that's been asked of us since this fragging war started and have never asked for scrap in return. Is it really too much to ask that we have just this one thing for ourselves? Just this one little thing?"
"No," Jazz admitted, "It isn't."
"So," Sideswipe looked at the mech hopefully, "You're okay with it?"
"I'm not endorsing this in any way, shape, or form," Ratchet interjected. "It's certainly not the brightest idea these two slaggers have ever had but, for what it's worth, Jazz, from a medical standpoint it couldn't hurt. It may even help with her sleeping patterns if she consistently remains with them during night cycles. She did mention in passing that she was having issues with not being able to sleep. With everything else going on at the time, however, that was the least of my concerns so we didn't really address it. Though, she did seem to rest easier with this burnout and his brother hanging around the med bay."
"That's right," Sideswipe readily agreed. "She's stayed over a couple times. Well...more like she fell asleep on us and we hated to disturb her but, she slept peacefully all night both times. We actually had to wake her up so she wouldn't be late to post. It'll be good for her, Jazz. What do you say? We've almost got her talked into it. She just needs that little extra push. If she knows you're okay with it, she'll feel a a lot better about the whole thing."
"I'm not tellin' ya that I disapprove. I know that under different circumstances this would a non-issue. But," Jazz looked at the mech pointedly, "With the situation bein' what it is, I am tellin' ya to be careful. My scraplet get's hurt, so do you two. You dig?"
A grin spread across Sideswipe's face, part excitement and part relief. "Absolutely," he nodded his head emphatically. "You have our word and...thanks, Jazz. I really mean it."
"I know ya do." Jazz waved, "Now go on and get outta here. Ratchet needs to finish all his pokin' and proddin' and you and Sunny have business to attend to."
"Right," Sides' voice carried obvious relief. "Catch you later."
The TIC watched the mech make his way back out of the med bay. As the doors shut behind the silver twin, Jazz vented and collapsed back onto the berth in quiet contemplation as Ratchet resumed his work.
Ironhide grunted, "I cant believe you're just going to stand by and let them shack up together."
"I'm not lettin' 'em do anything, 'Hide," Jazz quietly informed. "The three of 'em are joined at the spark. I don't have any control over that. You try tellin' those two to stay away from her. Lemme know how that works out for ya."
Ratchet chuckled, "I've already beat the dents out of you once this week, Ironhide. I'm not doing it again."
Ironhide grunted and rolled back over.
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Starscream was seething. He'd been relegated to no better than a sparkling sitter, attending to the remaining pods that housed the humble beginnings of Megatron's would-be new army. He'd come to detest the soulless husks, suspended in their vats of viscous hydro fluid, in their perpetual state of sleep. He'd briefly considered the repercussions of pulling the plug on them all if for no other reason than to spite his leader for bringing Shockwave back into their midst as his replacement. In the end, however, his still-healing injuries from their run-in with the Autobots reminded him that another brutal beating was the last thing he needed.
So it was, with gritted denta and a spark full of malice, that he continued to provide sustenance to and care for the protoforms he'd reluctantly helped to forge.
"Useless," the Seeker muttered as he went about his daily ritual of carefully adjusting internal incubation temperatures and replacing empty energon infusion sacs with fresh. "All of you fragging useless...a waste of time and resources..."
This duty was far below him. In fact, the entirety of the Decepticon ranks were far below him. Where their roster was filled with little more than brutes and cannon fodder with little to no concept of the importance of tactics and strategy, Starscream had excelled at the Cybertron War Academy. Earning accolades for his superior cunning and intellect. It was, after all, to be expected. He'd been a brilliant and respected scientist and explorer prior to taking an interest in his planet's political unrest. In his humble opinion, the smartest thing Megatron had ever done was appoint him Air Commander since he was, naturally, the most skilled pilot within the Decepticon Forces.
If Megatron were truly intelligent, however, he'd step aside and allow Starscream to perform his duties without restraint or the interruption of half-thought-out, dim-sparked schemes that did nothing but cause delays and setbacks in their quest to destroy the Autobots and overtake the pitiful inhabitants of Earth. If he'd said it once, he'd said it a million times. Megatron had lost his edge. The Decepticon Warlord spent his days unhealthily obsessing over the continued existence of Optimus Prime. Instead of planning ways to end the war and setup their new empire on the human planet, Megatron plotted petty ways in which he could, as the humans say, rub salt into his opposition's wounds.
It was frustrating and infuriating and Starscream felt as though he were the only one not blinded to their leader's shortcomings. It seemed mechs had been bowing to the altar of Megatron for so long that they could no longer see a more viable alternative right before their optics. No, they were complicit with their leader's maniacal ramblings. They were too dense to realize they were chasing dead end schemes. They were all too happy to embrace the presence of Shockwave in their midst under the guise of eradicating their enemies and establishing rule. Starscream, however, refused to be fooled.
Deep into the midst of his own self-pity, the sound of heavy footsteps drawing near brought the Air Commander up short. His spinal strut stiffened. His wings tensed almost painfully against his back. The foot steps grew closer, echoing through the mostly empty space with an eerie, ominous sound. They came to an abrupt stop directly behind where he stood. He could feel the heat of another body radiating against the plating on his back, feel the weight of a heavy gaze drilling into the back of his helm. He squared his shoulders, refusing to be intimidated, and turned around slowly.
"Shockwave," Starscream sneered. "Can't you see I'm busy? What do you want?"
The intimidating mech continued to stare down the Air Commander. His lone optic, unblinking, glowed a dull blood red in the dim light of the warehouse. Shockwave's face plates remained passive, showing no hint of either emotion or intent. He stayed perfectly still, deathly so. The only sound emanating from him was a nearly inaudible hum that resonated from somewhere deep inside his chassis. Briefly, Starscream wondered where the Driller had slunk off to. He half expected the vile creature to come bursting through the concrete beneath his feet. He certainly wouldn't put it past the mech to perform such a dastardly trick.
In a move to put distance between them, Starscream casually reached for a data pad and stepped back toward Megatron's precious pods. The mech may have been psychotic but he had doubts he'd risk damaging potential assets. To cover his unease, he snapped at the mech, "I asked you what you wanted."
Shockwave remained silent. The only indication he'd even heard the Seeker speak was a near imperceptible tilt of his head.
Starscream fumed internally at the audacity of the mech. Had he come here simply to mock him? Had he forgotten who he was addressing? Megatron may have passed the responsibility of retrieving his sacred shard to Shockwave but there was no doubt that Starscream remained firmly entrenched in his position of Second in Command. He'd allow himself to be damned straight to the Pit before he let Shockwave forget it.
The Air Commander drew himself up to his full height. He puffed out his chest plates and held his wings up proudly. "Don't just stand there like a slagging drone! Have you forgotten who I am? I'm your superior! I don't have time for your games! If you have nothing of importance to say then leave!"
Thoroughly fed up with the other mech's mere presence, Starscream made to pivot on his heel. He had every intention of turning his back on the mech in hopes that if he ignored him long enough he'd simply go away. It wasn't to be. No sooner had he made a move to turn away, he found his forearm shackled in the other mech's vice-like grip. Thick fingers biting into his plating, pressing into the delicate sensors beneath creating a sensation just short of pain. The fingers flexed, perhaps in warning, sending an uncomfortable jolt straight up his arm and into his neck causing him to grit his denta together.
"What do you think you're doing?! You dare put your hands on me?!" Starscream demanded, "Release me this second!"
"I require subterranean surveying equipment." Shockwave's affect remained flat and his voice devoid of inflection as his lone optic continued to bore back in the Air Commander's.
Starscream wrenched his arm out of the mech's grip and spat back, "Why should I care about what you require?"
"The human military is monitoring air traffic following your unsuccessful attempt at retrieving the Allspark," Shockwave's head tilted slightly in the other direction. "A systematic, underground grid search of military and government installations is the most expedient method with which to locate the shard's energy signature for subsequent retrieval."
Starscream sneered, "If you want to go slink through the mud and dirt like some kind of vermin, be my guest. Take Barricade with you. That useless pile of scrap seems to enjoy filth. Now leave," he demanded.
"I require subterranean surveying equipment," Shockwave repeated in the same, flat monotone. This time adding, "You will provide me with the equipment needed to carry out my mission per Megatron's orders."
Starscream's anger finally bubbled over. Not only had Megatron seen fit to pass his assignment off to Shockwave, he now expected him to cater to the mech's needs as if he were some sort of subservient drone. His fingers tightened on the data pad he still held, the material bending beneath his grip until a splintery crack sounded as the screen gave way beneath the pressure. He hurled the now useless pad across the room. It crashed into the farthest pod, the one housing the remaining femme, and shattered completely into a shower of sparks and glass and twisted metal.
"Megatron?!" As Starscream's fury rose, so did his voice raise in pitch until it became no more than a metallic screech. "Megatron's orders?! Who does he think I am?! I'm not here to serve you!"
"No," a dark voice rumbled as the Decepticon Leader himself stepped from the shadows. "You're here to serve me. Consider yourself fortunate that I still afford you that luxury."
"M-Megatron..." Starscream stuttered, pressing himself closer to the pods. "I didn't realize you were here..."
"Obviously," the mech stepped to the closest pod, studying the protoform within as he rapped his knuckles against it. "How are my soldiers doing?"
A confused look settled over the Seeker's faceplates. He'd expected no less than a lashing for his outburst but Megatron seemed oddly mellow this evening. He looked to Shockwave and finally caught the slightest of something resembling emotion glinting in his optic...sadistic amusement. He was enjoying this...whatever it was.
Starscream swallowed the lubricant that had begun to pool in his mouth out of nervousness. "They're...they're well, Sire. Stable."
"Excellent," a serrated smile split Megatron's face a second before he suddenly rounded on his Second in Command. In a fraction of a second, his fingers were wrapped tightly around the Air Commander's throat, squeezing tightly, effectively cutting off the flow of energon.
Starscream sputtered, gagged, and desperately clawed at the hand around his neck. He couldn't even draw enough air into his intakes to cry out. His vision began to swim and blur and his knees buckled. Just as he thought he'd lose consciousness, he was released and went crashing to the floor. As soon as he had enough sense to, he scrambled backwards on his hands and knees. Once he'd gathered the nerve, he chanced a look up to see Megatron staring down at him, loathing plainly etched upon his face plates, and Shockwave flanking him to the right.
The Seeker wheezed, "S-sire?"
"We need the shard to ensure the survival of the remaining protoforms." Megatron spoke coolly, "You will ensure that Shockwave has whatever he needs to complete his mission. Do I make myself understood?"
Anger threatened to overtake Starscream once again but he quickly tamped it down. Instead, he nodded in submission, "Yes. Of course, my Lord."
Megatron studied his Second for another long moment before finally looking satisfied and turning on his heel to disappear back into the shadows he'd emerged from. Starscream was left crumpled on the floor. Shockwave remained, his gaze piercing the suffering mech with its intensity. His optic still unblinking.
End of Chapter 39
