A/N: Enjoy guys! With a little luck and mine and my husband's over-active imaginations, this will be a Starscream and Alexis story like you've never read! (I hope anyways! ;)

Chapter 2: Intelligent Hauntings

Oddly enough Alexis had no further problems as she landed her Eagle with the practiced ease of hundreds of hours of experience. The wheels touched down with a short screech, a small puff of white-grey smoke signaling the final touchdown. She applied the air brake and eased back on the throttle feeling the jet begin to slow, surely and steadily. Off to the right, Scorch maintained his airspeed and altitude, finishing his escort of Alexis back to base. Once he saw her safely touchdown, he picked up speed and altitude to bank banc around and land himself.

Alexis brought her bird to a complete stop a several hundred feet shy of the hangar and began to initiate her shutdown procedure. With a dying thrum the twin Pratt and Whitney F-100 turbofan engines whined to a stop, sounding almost reluctant to be silenced after such a short run. Fire trucks were on standby, their lights flashing in the morning sun. Several people were already gathered, anxiously waiting for her to complete the shutdown. One of Alexis's crew members quickly secured a ladder and scaled its height to her cockpit. Alexis then opened the canopy and handed her pilot satchel to the crew member before climbing down the ladder herself.

"What happened, Captain?" her crewman, A1C Scott McFarland, asked once she was on the ground and walking towards a very agitated crew chief. "We heard you call for an IFE! What happened?"

"Your guess is as good as mine at this moment," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders. The Airman gave her the satchel before hurrying off to help his fellow crewmen maneuver the jet back into the hangar for repairs.

"What the hell happened, Spades!?" Crowbar said somewhat gruffly as he approached his pilot. "Please tell me you didn't ingest a bird or…"

"I don't know what happened, Crow," Alexis said, cutting her crew chief off before he could begin one of his famous rants. In many ways, Crowbar treated the jet like it was a person; even his wife joked around and said he spent more time with that "damn plane" than he did with her. But that only showed the man's level of devotion to his job, his country and especially his pilot's safety.

"Scorch and I hadn't gotten 15 minutes into our maneuvers when it started to act up. At first, I thought maybe I had a fuel leak, but my pressure held steady and no alarms went off; it just lost power, not enough to stall, but almost. Then, I lost all hydraulic control. I couldn't bank left or right, climb or dive. It's like it just froze; even the manual override had little effect. Then as quickly as it began it stopped. I regained control, notified Scorch of what happened and headed back here. Never had another problem."

"That's very odd. I gave that bird a clean bill of health; checked over every nut, bolt, nook and cranny," Crowbar replied, watching as the crew pulled the jet into the hangar. He placed a calloused hand on his chin and stroked it thoughtfully. "Hmmm. Maybe something came loose after take-off. Well, nothing to do now but take another look-see." He clapped Alexis over the shoulder before resignedly walking into hangar to begin the post-flight check.

Alexis gave a sigh and watched as Crowbar disappeared into the tall, half-cylindrical building. After watching her crew chief disappear into the shaded depths, she turned on her heel and made her way to a different building. Crowbar had his duties to attend and now she had hers. Looks like it was back to the flight room to give her post-flight debrief.

Later that evening, Alexis returned to her apartment flustered, drained and more than a little irritable. Tomcat had yet to return from her day's assignments so Alexis had the place to herself. Her post-flight debriefing had gone just about as well as she expected it would—she was currently the laughing stock of her squadron. Her fellow squadron mates had razed her pride fairly good. She knew it was all in good fun and if the same set of circumstances had befell any of them she'd be right there with the others egging that unfortunate soul, but still it all changed when you were the object of everyone else's laughter.

She walked into the bedroom and quickly changed out of her uniform, preferring a more casual pair of shorts and a brown T-shirt to the olive drab flight suit. A black and stainless coffee pot set upon a small counter in the kitchen. She quickly prepared a pot for brewing knowing that the bitter fluid would help smooth her ruffled nerves. She walked back into the living area and plopped down on the couch, turning the television on as she did so. She idly flipped through the channels trying to find a program of interest while the delicious aroma of brewing coffee filled the small apartment.

Crowbar was still no closer to finding the source of the problem than he had been earlier that morning. As a result, her crew chief was just as irritable as she was. After her post flight debrief, Alexis had hung around to try and help Crowbar as much as she could, answering questions, fetching tools, anything really to help her friend out and to learn as much about her jet as possible.

Most pilots were merely concerned with operations and flying their exercises; only a precious few every really learned just how their jet worked. Since Alexis had been a former maintenance mechanic herself on the F-16 platform before she went officer, the young woman had a passion for all things mechanical. As a result of her background, Crowbar allowed her to help out now and then as much for the conversation as for the help. By the end of the day, neither had come up with a theory as to what caused the complications or how to prevent them in the future.

A sharp, repetitive beep announced her coffee was finished brewing. Tiredly, the pilot stood to her feet and walked back into the kitchen to pour herself a cup of brew. The bitter drink made her cringe at first, but she welcomed its sudden jolt of invigorating caffeine. About that time she heard the door click open. Stepping to doorway, Alexis saw Tomcat enter their room and gave her a small wave around her coffee cup.

"Heard what happened," Tomcat began. She threw her satchel onto the couch and plopped down next to it. She quickly began to release the elastic bands that held her hair back, allowing the fiery locks to fall free around her shoulders. She shook her head vigorously and ran her long, slender fingers across her scalp, relishing the feeling of fresh air kissing her roots.

"I figured you did. Bad news around this joint goes from 0 to Mach 7 in less than five seconds," Alexis said wryly. "Want some coffee?"

"Sure," Tomcat replied, beginning to untie her boots. "Have you and Crowbar figured out what went wrong or are the gremlins still stumping you at this point?"

Alexis walked back into the kitchen and grabbed another coffee cup. She poured her friend a cup of the black, aromatic drink and then walked back out to give it to her. "Gremlins 1, us 0. We're still working on it. However, Crowbar is considering bumping it back up to Code Two status. Jury's still out on that one. "

"Eh, don't sweat it, Spades. Everything happens for a reason. You'll be back in the clouds before you know it. Unless, you really do believe in gremlins…" Tabor trailed off, a mischievous grin pulling on her lips.

Alexis snorted. "Pllleeeaasse. I stopped believing in ghosts, gremlins, and goblins when I was six! There's a logical explanation for everything and I'm sure me and Crowbar will figure it out."

Nestled deep within the intimate circuitry of an F-15C Eagle, Starscream fumed. Well, he fumed about as much as an ectoplasmic entity currently residing in a metallic construct possibly could. He had hoped to be able to wrest complete control of the jet from its human operator, but his attempts failed miserably. He refused to think that it wasn't possible. The fact that he fought with the pilot until a near-fatal stall-out proved that. He needed to practice more, needed to explore his new physical state more. The capabilities of this new state of being were still incredibly new to him. The idea of ghosts or ghostly existences was also still new to him. Up until Galvatron disintegrated his body, he never believed that such an existence was possible. Cybertronian science wasn't devoted to the following of supernatural pursuits as humans often did. Cybertronians believed your spark became one with the Matrix as soon as it ceased functioning, that was that—no grey area, no room for questions. Unless of course, Primus deemed you a worthy addition to the collection of poor souls burning in the Pit. But still, a mech either went one way or the other; there was no trapped in transition slag. Well, there wasn't until now. Starscream harrumphed silently to himself; it seemed Primus had a sense of humor when it came to his death.

But still, he was learning things he never thought possible. Since his time within the jet, Starscream had come to master the little nuances that controlled the machine. Honestly, what else could he do? Starscream had never been a mech to sit idly and watch life pass him by. He was a scholar by trade, a deceiver by profession. Even if he didn't have a body, he would still learn as much as he could about his new form and how it would interact with his surroundings. Every new discovery, every failed attempt, every small success could mean the difference between finding a way back to his old glorious and wonderful self, or remaining a glorified lightbulb for the rest of eternity.

A few of his discoveries had been very beneficial. One of which it seemed he was undetectable to human instruments and perception—at least as long as he remained within the jet. Hah! Even in death, the humans couldn't detect a being as magnificently intelligent as he! Although admittedly, they were ignorant of his presence (and he would like to keep it that way), but still he doubted had they known he was there, they would be unable to track him. Yes, being a spiritual entity did have its advantages.

As such, he would put to work his other discoveries while in this spectral coalescence; most notably, his ability to manipulate anything touching or connected to the plane. Just because he couldn't control his new found home as he would have his old body, didn't mean he couldn't wreak havoc with the squishies' pathetic, feeble minds. Psychological warfare often yielded more plenteous if entertaining results than the real deal anyway.

Taking comfort in this fact, Starscream settled himself deeper into the circuits of the Eagle. Content to patiently (for once) wait for the next unsuspecting victim to dare to mess with his new domain, he settled down to begin to conceive a myriad of devilish little plans he would execute upon their next meeting.

It started with the little things. A technician would leave a wrench resting on the wingtip only to come back five minutes later and find it on the floor. Another mechanic would open a hatchway only to have the lid slam back onto his head, instigating several colorful curses and a few laughs from the other techs that happened to catch the scene. At one point, an electrical systems tech was in the cockpit, checking the instruments only to have the canopy slide close, trapping him within the close quarters. For about half an hour, the tech beat on the inside of the glass trying to escape. Unfortunately, not many believed his story since the occurrence happened around lunch time. Many thought it was a fabricated lie; its purpose to stoke the fires of suspicion beginning to brew within Hanger Seven Alpha. Even Crowbar had his experiences. One day he left a small rubber mallet on the leading edge of the wing. As he stooped down to retrieve an errant nut, he heard a very faint scraping sound. It was the only warning he had.

Ka-thump!

"Ouch! Son of bitch! What the f…!?"

"Crowbar!? Are you OK? What the hell happened?"

"How the hell should I know!? One minute I'm reaching down to pick up this damn nut and the next minute the damn mallet slides off the wing and clobbers me in the back! If I didn't know any better, I'd say this damn jet has a penchant for bodily harm against mechanics."

"Well, it's not just you, Crowbar," McFarland said, cautiously picking up the mallet as if it were a rattlesnake.

"What do you mean?" the crew chief queried, rubbing his back tenderly where the mallet had struck him. That was going to be a nice, pretty bruise come in the morning.

"Well, Crow…" McFarland began, casting a wary eye at the jet, "A lot of the guys are getting mighty jumpy here of late. Things like what just happened to you have been happening to anybody that works on Captain Spades' jet for any length of time. It's getting downright spooky if you ask me."

"Aw, come on Scotty! Don't tell me you believe in ghosts and haints and stuff?"

"I used to not, but damn it, Crow! I don't know anymore. I watched you put that mallet on that wing. You set it a good eight inches back of the edge; now how do you explain it sliding off and hitting you in the back?"

Crowbar was about to reply, but stopped himself short. How did that mallet slide off the edge? He scratched the stubble of dark brown hair beginning to show around the edges of his crew cut. He never really put much stock into ghosts and hauntings before. Sure, he and his old childhood friends used to entertain themselves with spooky stories around a campfire back in his younger days. Heck, they even played around in an old Civil War graveyard growing up; what kid hadn't? But to give serious thought to the possibility of a haunting? He just wasn't willing to accept that quite yet.

"I tell ya what, Scotty," Crowbar said, placing a reassuring hand on his subordinate, "I'll start keeping track of things from here on out. I'm not entirely convinced we have otherworldly visitors just yet, but if things get any worse or continue like they have been, I'll report them. All right?"

"All right, Crow," McFarland said, a small grin pulling the corners of his mouth up. The crew chief slapped the Airman on the shoulder before heading towards the exit of the hangar; a nice, cold bottle of water sounded good right about now.

If Starscream could smile, what an evil, malignant one it would be. He could feel his control growing. Not in a measurable force or a desirable position, but it was more like a mastery over his new home. He could do things now he would have never thought he'd been able to while floating in space. In the several days that have passed since he had returned to Earth, he had learned to manipulate solid objects touching the frame of the plane, he could open and close any door or hatchway at will, he had even begun to master the powerful engines that were the heart of his new abode. He was quickly learning how each and every part worked, moved, shifted and spun so that when the time came, he would be able control the engines as easily as he could the ailerons. Learning each and every system of the jet that used to represent his old body had been an experience to say the least. Unlike when he had been mortal, where every action and relay was a natural split-second reaction, he had needed to go back and concentrate immensely on that one particular action until he could achieve a desired result. The closest thing he could compare his discipline to was the human belief and study of telekinesis—the ability to move or distort an object using one's mental thought processes. Starscream manipulated energy to achieve his goals. As he learned to master more and more powerful surges of it, he learned he could control and manipulate the larger and more complex machinations of the jet. It was thrilling to finally feel as if you were gaining back control over your life!

He honed his new-found skills by tricking and intimidating the humans. Primus, they were as naive as they were before he left this despicable planet! But, oh, how it was so much fun playing with their feeble minds! He relished the look of fear in their eyes whenever they walked by his aircraft; he laughed silently how so many hustled by more quickly than usual, their eyes never departing until they were at least two jet-lengths away. He, Starscream, was still able to induce fear among the masses, even as an ethereal entity! What should he try next?

In all honesty, he wondered if he could leave his new home and search out the rest of the complex around him. His old curiosity was getting the best of him. However, to do so would mean to physically leave the plane and become the semi-spherical orb he had been before. Although he felt that most of the humans would ignore him, Starscream knew that more than enough of the pesky insects were already spooked as it was. He also knew that several beliefs in human society placed great emphasis on floating orbs as signs of a ghostly presence; he had no desire whatsoever to confirm that belief for them. As interesting as it would be to see the humans' reactions to his presence, he had no intention of revealing himself. If wisely implemented, he had the ability to blend in to the surroundings like no other reconnaissance personnel could hope to do. The question was how? Was it possible for him to take on a shape or form that wouldn't startle the humans too badly and still allow him to explore?

He settled down into the circuits to think this enigma through. When he had had a physical body, the need to blend in had been an issue then as well. They had used holographic generators then, an instrument of deception that could project a false image of a human driving or piloting their bodies in order to add to the illusion that they were regular human-made machines. Starscream thought back to the day when he had acquired his holoform.

Suddenly, it struck him. Why could he not apply the same principles he had been using to manipulate the jet's mechanical moving parts to create a holoform? Holoforms were a manipulation of light energy. Theoretically as a ghost, he was the mass of energy. It wasn't too far of a leap to conclude that he may be able to manipulate his own energy frequency to produce an image of his liking. It might be worth the effort—"effort" being the key word. He knew it would take a great deal of energy to create an image with the detail he wanted. Doing it without a generator seemed impossible. Then again, he never thought ghosts were possible until he suddenly found himself as one. So the question remained: could he change his ethereal form? Enough to fool the humans? Well now, there was only one way to find out. So, Starscream began to conserve the energy within the jet, gathering it and hoarding it around his ethereal core like a candle drawing moths to the flame. It would take time to draw as much energy as he felt he needed, not to mention he needed to practice this exercise at night, when there were fewer humans milling about. But that was OK. Time, Starscream had learned, was no longer an issue.

Tomcat idly flipped through the channels of the late evening television programming. Her objective: try to find something half-way decent to watch. It was a losing battle. The sound of rustling polyester drew her attention from the screen.

"Where are you going this late at night?"

"To the hangar," Alexis replied as she finished donning her light windbreaker.

"Why, if I may ask?"

"Let's just say that after working on my next flight plan for the past four hours and fifteen minutes straight, I need a little reassurance as to why I'm actually doing this." Alexis fluffed her hair out from under the collar of the jacket and placed her room keys in the pocket.

"Oh, one of those nights, huh? I get those every now and then. Hey! I bet if you sit down and watch a few episodes of "I Love Lucy" with me you'll be ready to hit the books again in no time." The flickering television screen lit up the mischievous grin adorning Tomcat's face.

"Uh, I think not," Alexis replied, sarcasm plain in her voice. "I Love Lucy" reruns were Clarissa's cure-all for anything. Sometimes Alexis thought the show would make an adequate incentive to not screw up as well, but some punishments were better left unsaid. "I'll be back in a few. Don't wait up."

"'K," came the distracted reply as Clarissa rummaged through the DVR for said reruns.

Alexis made her way briskly out of the apartment complex, eager to get out and taste the night air. The drive was short and uneventful. Coming through the main gate. the base was well-lit and guarded; she knew most of the security forces personally. There weren't very many places where a young woman could walk freely around at night alone, but fortunately for her, Caldwell Air Force Base was one of them.

She jogged the easy quarter-mile to the hangar with ease, the cool, dry desert air brushing her cheeks as she ran. Man, how she loved the desert! Sure, the heat could be oppressive at times, but its weird beauty and solemn nights more than made up for any discomfort. She approached the main entryway to the hangar, her sneakered footfalls nearly silent in the still desert night. On the ramp, every jet was aligned perfectly in a row, the spacing between them faultless. The harsh, florescent glow from the overhead stadium lights cast sharp shadows against the concrete and steel-framed buildings.

Alexis loved the hangar. It reminded her of why she loved her job, especially when she was buried neck-deep in paperwork or queep in Air Force lingo. Whenever she saw a jet or heard its powerful roar, she instantly remembered her first solo flight in the T-38 Talon, or the first squadron she was ever assigned. Those pleasant memories beat back any doubts she had about her career decisions; they reinforced and perpetuated her desire to fly. Too bad her parents still didn't support her decision.

With a soft sigh, she began walking down the broad center aisle of the hangar, eager to see her jet after days of being grounded for repairs. Crowbar had kept her up-to-date on the progress of said repairs such as it were. He still had been unable to determine the cause of her problems, but subsequent testing hadn't revealed any future cause for concerns. So, she and Crowbar had sat down and decided she would still fly her jet under Code Two status. If they experienced no further problems after one month, he would bump her bird back to Code One.

As she approached the area where her jet was chocked, the lights within the hangar flickered briefly, casting everything in deep shadow. Almost instantly, they brightened again, returning to their normal wattage. Odd, Alexis thought to herself as she continued on her way. Must have been a power surge or something. She shrugged her shoulders and continued on down the aisle.

A light breeze had picked up outside; she could hear it whispering between the closed hangar doors to then gently tug on her pants legs. The light touch of air whisked through the hangar, carrying with it just the faintest hint moistened sand. In the distance, Alexis heard a gentle rumble. A storm's moving in; no wonder the power was flickering, she thought idly. As the nose of her jet came into view, Alexis smiled to herself. She wanted only to see her name under that cockpit, to know that it was still real, to know that all her hard work and heartache had paid off. To know that the laughs and jeers she had endured not too many days previously were just a passing discomfort. But what she saw instead, made her pause in startled surprise.

A man was sitting in her cockpit.

Their eyes met briefly—hers filled with shock and surprise and his filled with a shrouded, malevolence that sent a small tingle running down the back of her neck. It wasn't just the fact that a strange man was messing with her plane, but rather it was the disturbing visual that she could see the seat directly behind him. They stared at each other for a few precious seconds longer and then…

A fierce, ear-shattering boom rocked the hangar. Lightning brightened everything into a sharp, violent contrast and then the lights within the hangar went completely out. Alexis jumped and released a startled gasp; she hadn't even realized she had been holding her breath. Then just like before, the lights resumed their soft brilliance as quickly as they had lost it, but they revealed a frightening truth.

The man was no longer in the cockpit.

There had been no click of the unlocking mechanism, no swoosh as the canopy slid back, no heavy thuds indicating the man had jumped down for there was no ladder attached to the jet at this time. No evidence he had exited the jet and left the hangar. Alexis's heart began to beat wildly; she felt the hairs slowly stand up on the back of her neck.

She had no doubts of what she had seen. There clearly had been a man, a pilot, sitting in her jet! She had seen straight through his body, as if he wasn't completely there. It was disconcerting. It was more than a little unnerving. She slowly took a step backward and then another and another until she found herself sprinting out of the hangar as fast as her legs could carry her.

The wind had picked up drastically and large drops of rain were beginning to speckle the dry earth. More lightning flashed illuminating her sprinting figure and thunder shook the windows of nearby buildings. But Alexis didn't even notice. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she hardly realized she had sprinted all the way back to her car. Slamming the door shut, she started the engine and peeled out of the parking lot.

Back at the apartment, she gripped the door handle. Thankfully it was still unlocked which meant Tomcat was still awake.

Alexis yanked the door open, jumped inside and then slammed it shut, locking it in the process. Her sudden entry startled her roommate out of TVland.

"Spades! What the hell!?" She paused in mid-rant, noting the deathly pallor of her friend's skin. Alexis was pale anyway, but the pilot looked almost translucent now. She jumped to her feet and ran over to Alexis, grasping both of her wrists. "Spades, what's wrong!? What happened!? For Christ's sake, you look like you've seen a ghost!" she said, gently shaking her friend out of her daze.

Alexis slowly focused her glassy, green eyes on Clarissa's light blue ones. Clarissa could feel her friend trembling slightly. A light sweat beaded Alexis's brow and her skin felt clammy and cool.

Alexis swallowed hard before trying to speak. "Clarissa," she said, using her friend's real name, "I think I might have."

A/N: Please review; I luvs reviews!