Chapter 8: Ghosts Past and Present

The next few days passed in a whirlwind for Alexis. She fell into a simple, yet rigorous routine—eat, sleep, fly and repeat—with some minor variations thrown into the mix. True to her word she didn't breathe a word of the ghost's presence to anyone else. After that first training flight when she returned shaken and trembling, Crow had badgered her incessantly about the status of the aircraft; however, Alexis remained resolute and insisted it was just "initial" flight jitters following McFarland's accident. What Alexis deliberately failed to mention was that the flight had terrified the living daylights out of her. The ghost had taken complete and total control of her jet and put her and it through maneuvers that—by the book—were illegal, unsafe, and too extreme for a human pilot to handle. Her body made sure she knew it too. The amount of gs the ghost had subjected her to had forced her into more than one blackout. Had the ghost of Stillwell not been in control, she knew that the Auto GCAS (Auto-ground Collision Avoidance System) would have engaged on more than one flight. Despite her obvious limitations, the ghost insisted that pulling the extreme gs were necessary and vital to her new training agreement. Alexis wasn't so sure it was necessary as much as it was entertaining for her instructor. She got an acute sense that her jet seemed to take wicked glee in her suffering and her apparent physiological weaknesses.

However, despite her new training regimen the ghost had—so far—upheld its side of the bargain too. The hijinks surrounding her aircraft had dissipated. Tools remained in place. Compartments stopped opening and closing of their own accord and even the strange avionic anomalies had resolved themselves with minimal troubleshooting. By the first week's end her crew were slightly more relaxed and beginning to settle into the familiar old routines she remembered prior to encountering her ghostly resident.

Yet still Alexis worried for several reasons. First, she worried that her body would be unable to handle this level of punishment for much longer. Each day she flew, she returned exhausted. The ghost was relentless, cruel, and unforgiving. He pushed her to the very threshold and then somehow, someway always nudged her a little more beyond.

She worried that someone would notice, either her extreme exhaustion or the extreme maneuvers her jet performed. She was no mechanic, but she was acutely aware that limitations were in place for a reason and she worried that one of her crew would notice the excessive wear-and-tear on her aircraft. Stillwell's ghost had already assured her that the flight data recordings would be altered and there would nary be a hint of their acrobatics so long as she continued to opt for solo flights. However, she could only fly solo for so long and she knew a multi-ship flight would need to happen.

Tomcat had returned from her cross-country trip, and while Alexis did desire to catch up with her friend and roommate, her current schedule had thus far prevented them from talking much. Both pilots found themselves thrown into a busier-than-normal flight routine and for once Alexis was grateful that she didn't have to make up excuses to her friend. And speaking of busier-than-normal schedules, she and Tomcat were not the only ones.

For better or for worse Coldstone had been sent TDY immediately for two weeks. Despite the abruptness of the orders, he had contacted Alexis nearly every day since he departed and every day she stalled him, not wishing to have such a sensitive conversation over the phone and saying as much. There was just too much to be said for it to be adequately conveyed, but Alexis assured him that the ghost had not harmed her nor anyone on the ground. To abate his concern, she just simply told him that the ghost had stopped interacting with her since their confrontation.

It wasn't exactly a lie. After each flight as soon the wheels touched down, she would regain control of the aircraft and her spirited passenger would never speak again afterwards. After each phone call (not to mention flight) Alexis fully expected lights and sirens from Security Forces to arrive, arresting her and impounding the aircraft. Coldstone had never said he would report her aircraft as a rogue Decepticon, but then again, he never said he wouldn't either. He had more than enough incentive to do so. Alexis wasn't sure if his hesitancy to report her was cause for relief or cause for more anxiety. His opening up about his past had been enlightening, but Alexis still had reservations about her wingmate and his motivations. The pressing uncertainty only added to her exhaustion and the increasing strain. However, the first week marched by with grueling progress and by the end of the second week, Alexis felt a glimmer of relief that nothing had transpired by either Coldstone's hand or the ghosts'.

By the time two weeks had passed, Alexis was exhausted and had little time to process all that had transpired. She was relieved that her crew were finally returning to normal mannerisms and operations; even Crowbar had relaxed his pseudo interrogations after her first week of flights without incident. But despite the seeming return to status quo something was on the wind. The high operations tempo had put her on edge. Alexis suspected something was coming down the pipeline—something big; they just hadn't been briefed yet. The impending feeling didn't abate the closer she edged to Coldstone's return. He would want answers and she had yet any to offer him.

It had taken a bit of time, but between the training flights and debriefs she had finally received a reply from one of several emails sent a few weeks ago. The information was a solemn reminder of what she was dealing with and just how dangerous an enemy could potentially be within their fold. She pulled the folded pieces of paper out from her flight bag and gave them another cursory review. One was the same tattered and creased picture of the three Decepticon jets known as the Seekers. The other was an email response from one of the close relatives of the survivors of Three Mile Island.

Alexis felt there were unresolved issues to be brought to light—issues that could, no would, impact future outcomes. And so, in a strange state of déjà vu, she found herself walking onto the flightline the Saturday night prior to his return, anticipation and trepidation roiling within her stomach.

Aircraft 84-09017 was the furthest jet on the line, a circumstance that left her feeling both relieved and anxious in equal measures. Unlike the hangar, her footsteps were soft in the open air, barely discernable as the desert wind gently caressed her face. Ahead the jet gleamed with a silvery hue under the waning crescent moon, the canopy airframe repair seemingly brighter than the surrounding metal.

Alexis slowed her approach and gave her aircraft a studious glance. Not one light blinked; it appeared as every other jet on the flightline. Taking a deep breath, she continued until she was abreast of the front landing gear. She turned and then sat down at the base of the wheel and began her wait. She didn't know how long it would take, but she was willing to stay until dawn if necessary.

Starscream both hated and enjoyed the newfound agreement between himself and the female pilot. He abhorred humanity; that had not changed in the least. They were always running around appearing to be busy but never seeming to accomplish anything of importance. The one exception to this observation were the pilots and the flight schedule. Each day they went up, they practiced maneuvers and combat skills that would one day distinguish between a victor and a loser. The maneuvers were a faint reflection of a time long, long ago on a planet he had long given up hope of ever seeing in its golden-aged splendor again. While the aircraft shapes and speeds were markedly different, there was something longingly familiar about the maneuvers—the loops, and rolls, and sharp-twisting turns. The actors were different, but they sang the same song. There were times when they would go up—neither he nor the human speaking in those first few nautical miles—that he could almost…almost imagine being whole once more. But then the memory would shatter as the VHF radio would squawk and he would be forced to deal with his current plight and all its shortcomings.

While he hated humans collectively, he soon found Alexis to be…tolerable.

Her skills were woefully lacking but compared to her associates she possessed a definitive edge. No wonder she had taken such offense to his comments, he ruefully recalled. The female had talent and it was that one particular trait that he focused on to forget how much he hated everything else about humanity. He also appreciated that she wasn't a human to prattle. Each day that she was scheduled to fly she came, donned her equipment, and settled into the cockpit with nary a word to him. She was all business and he found that he liked that. Once airborne and in a suitable arena, he would begin their lesson the same way each day by flickering the word "Ready" across the HUD. She would nod and their lesson would begin.

Sometimes he would speak to her via her helmeted headset. His corrections were sharp, caustic and to the point. He wouldn't mince words and she wouldn't complain. As they accrued more and more hours together, Starscream found himself analyzing her physiology, mental state, and other attributes. Humans were such weak creatures, but with his observations of Alexis he realized a vital characteristic that he would have otherwise overlooked had he been mortal. While humans were physically weak compared to Cybertronians, he quickly discovered that they were exceptionally adaptable. The repeated stressors he subjected Alexis to were in constant flux and he swiftly saw that she was able to tolerate longer and more extreme maneuvers. By the end of the second week, he could discern a marked improvement in her skillsets.

Despite himself, he found it quite pleasing. The flight instruction gave him something to focus on and for a few hours he once more could almost forget that he was a ghost—he was the aircraft spinning, looping, and barreling across the Terran sky as he had before, and it was for those few precious hours that Starscream came to appreciate each day.

The cool, desert nights revealed another frustrating, yet curious facet about being a spirit. Starscream learned that he could float nye undetected. It had always been a risk he had been unwilling to take. He had sewn enough chaos, anxiety, and terror remaining hidden. But it was difficult to remain with the aircraft all day and all night. Restlessness and boredom soon overpowered his logic. Nights on Caldwell presented a reduced human presence. Dark shadows obscured all but the fastest movements and most of the human activity centered in the hangar bays and workshops. Administrative buildings were empty, lifeless husks to be explored and investigated. On this night, he found himself floating idly through several locked offices. The chairs within were empty, the desks mostly barren. Some cubicles were posted with colorful pictures, photographs, and other tchotchkes. There appeared to be nothing interesting here. He was just about to leave when a faint, blinking light caught his attention. Curious, he floated over to it. It was a computer console, one that had been left asleep rather than shut down. Having not much else to do, he phased into the computer's circuitry and began to idly review its hard drive contents. Finding nothing of use, he phased back out and floated away just as a sheet of paper caught his attention. He returned to the computer monitor and floated above the document. One word was partially obscured. Curiosity piqued; he manifested into his apparition. The ghostly fingers swept the document up and pulled the cover sheet to the side.

/CLASSIFIED/

Now this was more like it.

He perused the document with mild interest; however, his brow creased with concern the deeper he read. By the time he finished, Stillwell's image was scowling deeply. This explained the increase in sorties, the higher operations tempo, and the longer training flights.

Of course.

How cruel fate was to finally let him find some semblance of peace only to rip it away once more. Disgusted, he dispersed his image and left the conference room.

Hours passed and the night air transitioned from a warm caress to a biting chill. Alexis maintained her vigil, unwilling to give up. He had to know that she was there. He had always known in interactions previous. Still, she wrapped her arms a bit tighter to her knees tucked her head and waited.

The moon was high in the sky when Alexis felt a slight disturbance. She raised her head to assess her surroundings. No one was near and the jet remained as it had since she began her wait, but still she felt unease. The fine hairs on the back of her neck began to raise and gooseflesh raced up her arms.

"I see you are determined to wait here until termination. What do you want, human?" a familiar voice finally broke the long, chilly silence.

Alexis scrambled to her feet, looking for the apparition, but it did not appear.

"Well? Out with it!" the voice barked; irritation plainly evident. Alexis found it terribly awkward to be standing next to an aircraft and speaking to it, but not wishing to draw anymore ire she directed her focus to the cockpit.

"Coldstone returns tomorrow," she began hesitantly unsure of how to present her request. "I've been lucky to avoid him this long, but that will all end tomorrow. After what transpired between the three of us last time, I keep thinking about that conversation—" she paused, "—and his accusations."

"I think I know where this is going," the aircraft replied with faint amusement.

Alexis responded by pulling the papers from her flight bag once more. "I know you aren't actually the ghost of "Sniper" Stillwell and Coldstone does too. And since you don't even come close to matching the personality of him, that means you would have to be one of the three Seekers that were present at this fight masquerading as him."

"You are quite a tenacious creature; I'll give you that," the ghost growled reluctantly. "So, what if I am? Will you be so bold as to report me to your superiors now?" the ghost challenged softly, a warning and a dare both enveloped within its tone.

"I don't know," Alexis answered truthfully. "I would be lying to you if I said I didn't want to." She looked up from the papers to the canopy. "Whoever, you are—whichever one you are—I can't ignore the fact that one of you killed my wingmate's father—killed so many of my countrymen, my people. You killed one of my crewmembers! How can I not want to see justice served for what you did?" she said bitterly.

"It is a time of war, O'Connor. If it is remorse you are seeking from me, you will not find it here. I will not apologize for the actions I took during that time or even now. Your species' lives are but a flicker in the winds of existence. You may or may not ever be faced with the decision to destroy an enemy combatant. And if you are, you will quickly discover that it is either you or them and only one of you will be leaving the arena of combat."

Alexis swallowed hard, the words harsh and cold, but one small little word overcame the wave of emotions churning within her. "Is?" she said questioningly. Her green eyes glistened with moisture as she fought off the intense conflict of morals she was facing. "What do you mean 'it is a time of war?' Your side left our planet decades ago. I thought the war was over."

"You humans are too quick to forget when things are calm and mundane. There is a war raging still, O'Connor. And while frontline battles may not be occurring on your planet currently, you would do best to well remember that our war could return at any moment."

"So where does that leave you?" Alexis countered. "You were a Seeker! An enemy! I guess technically still are an enemy! Or aren't you? One moment you kill and the next you're teaching me! Why?! And don't give me any bullshit about how you can't stand my flying! Why are you really here?" She paused then and placed a hand delicately on the fuselage. "Who are you? What happened to you for you to be like…this?"

Starscream refused to answer her immediately, his own conflicting emotions rampaging within. What had happened to him? Could he even call himself a Decepticon commander anymore? Here he was, Starscream, once the second highest commanding officer of one of the mightiest armies—reduced to a floating shadow that enjoyed playing parlor tricks on organics. Dear Primus, he had fallen so very far.

There was no going back. Galvatron had ensured it. So, what else was there? Why had he even bothered staying among the humans? He once thought he could intimidate them. Manipulate them in some way. Now he was realizing his expectations were but a farce—a sick, twisted mockery of what he once was. He had no true power anymore—not like when he was mortal. He reflected on the canopy incident. He did not regret his actions, but he did regret his motivations for doing so. Had it been truly necessary? To what end did that human's death contribute to his betterment? If he were being truly honest, it had done nothing but stir up even more trouble for himself. For the first time, Starscream was coming to the realization that his prior tactics, powerplays, and manipulations weren't very beneficial when one was but a floating light bulb. Without Alexis' aircraft, what was he but an ethereal energy source capable of intangibility and mild electric shocks? Once others realized just how powerless he truly was….

So, why had he remained? Why linger? There was another hard, unearthed truth he had been unwilling to face. Earth, despite its unpredictable weather, absurd climates, and abhorrent native life, represented something familiar and tangible. It also represented the last place where he had truly felt in control of himself and his circumstances. And it was that feeling that he had been chasing since happening upon this sham called an "air force." But rather than finding it, his time with Alexis revealed the ugliest truth of all: he was alone. Skywarp and Thundercracker were gone. Their trine link, just an empty void echoing with his own tormented thoughts. Commandeering a human aircraft didn't fill that void, but flying among them—in formations, in dog fight simulations, just being airborne—did if only but a micron. It was an ugly, horrible, tormented truth and he hated it.

And now just as he was able to finally find some modicum of peace, human intelligence indicated it was not soon to last. Starscream felt true bitterness rise and consume him. Even in death there was no peace. It was such a simple, innocent question: what had happened to him for him to be like this?

The silence that followed was so long and so deep, Alexis felt that he would not respond. On the horizon, the inky darkness of night was beginning to lighten into a navy blue, the first indications of dawn. With no response offered, Alexis stuffed the papers back into her flight bag and prepared to leave. She was grateful that it was Sunday and there were no scheduled flights. She still wasn't entirely certain she wouldn't say anything to her command, the guilt of working with such a dangerous enemy weighing heavily upon her. She had walked about 10 meters away when the voice replied soft and barely discernable.

"I am here, back on your wretched planet because—there is nowhere else left for me to go. The Decepticons have their leader back and the Autobots would seek to imprison me or worse—imprison my essence to experiment on it and extinguish me permanently." It paused once more. "Perhaps I should let them. It would at least end this cursed existence."

Alexis turned ever so slightly, her gaze glancing over one shoulder. When nothing else was forthcoming, she turned completely back around to face the aircraft.

"Ok. That answers part of it, but still who are you?" she pressed. "Do I even want to know which one of the three you are?"

He chuckled lightly at her last question. Despite the uncertainty he heard in her voice, he knew she wasn't going to let him live in anonymity any longer. Given what he knew was coming, why not indulge her this one time? If what he saw in the classified documents came to fruition, her knowledge of him would be short-lived and it would not matter. None of this would matter ever again.

"You truly want to know? What is that saying you humans are so fond of? Ah! Yes. 'Be careful what you wish for.' You wish to know after all this time, then I will indulge you this once." He watched as Alexis shifted uneasily and he felt a slight satisfaction in her discomfort.

"My leader shot me. I had presumed him offline, but…I was mistaken. As second-in-command I had taken it upon myself to lead our forces into a new era and put an end to our war once and for all, but—" he paused ever so briefly, "—my hubris was my downfall." He watched with satisfaction as his revelation washed over her.

And wash it did. Realization struck Alexis like ice cold water to the face. She felt her stomach bottom out and clench tightly into a ball while a cold sweat began to creep down her back and along her palms. The desert air only increased the chilling sensation racing down her spine. She gazed upon her aircraft as if for the first time.

"You—" she whispered, "—you are—were—the Decepticon Second-in-Command? You are—Starscream!?"

"I—was."

The admittance left Alexis stunned. She had been flying with the most infamous enemy in Air Force history. No wonder the ghost had been so reluctant to reveal its identity. She gaped in awe-struck bewilderment. What should she do now? What could she do? Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the ghost continue.

"So, there you have it, Alexis O'Connor. You sought to know whom you were truly dealing with and now you know. What you decide to do with this knowledge I care not. I will move on and continue this half-life elsewhere on your planet. Perhaps I should have done that the day I realized this aircraft was a piloted machine."

She watched in awe as a flash of blue-white light enveloped her aircraft only to coalesce above it into an orb about the size of a softball. It floated above the aircraft before gently floating down to bob in front of her as if waiting expectantly. When she didn't say anything, the orb rotated and began to float away towards the first rays of sunlight streaking the far horizon.

It was then Alexis realized that the orb was leaving. Perhaps it would be best to let it go. The mayhem and grief it had already caused was more than enough validation to let it be. However, something within her chest clenched tightly at watching the alien sphere drift away on the wind. As previous events replayed in her head so much of the confusion, the conversations, and the actions were finally making sense. And although her flights with the ghost had been grueling physical, and mental ordeals she had slowly come to accept having a sentient presence in the aircraft. It had become an unacknowledged kinship and it was one she wasn't quite ready to give up so easily.

"Wait!"

The orb paused, bobbing gently in the pre-dawn breeze. Alexis approached it cautiously, but her eyes held that same iron hard determination he had come to recognize prior to each flight lesson.

"So, you're just gonna leave? Just like that?" she snapped her fingers for emphasis. She watched as the orb expanded and Stillwell's apparition appeared.

"There's no point in being here any longer," the ghost replied. "I am done here."

"But why?! You said yourself you had nowhere else to go!"

"Things change."

"But what if you did stay? What if you decided to keep helping us? Not just me, but other pilots? It would—"

"I tolerated you and only you because you were the pilot of this aircraft! I could care less what happens to you or your species," the ghost snapped angrily; however, Alexis was having none of it. Given what she had learned this night, she had a hunch—a strong one, so she threw caution to the wind and challenged Starscream's ghost.

"You miss them, don't you?" she accused.

"What!?"

You miss them," Alexis said once more, eyes narrowing. "You miss having wingmates. You miss flying with a squadron or whatever constitutes one in your air force. That's why you're still here."

"You will not speak of things you presume to know!"

"But I'm right!" Alexis interjected heatedly. "Why else have you hung around this long? By your own admittance you can't go back to your old command, your leader was the one that did this to you—" she waved exaggeratedly at his form. "No wonder you showed back up on Earth in an F15 squadron!" She hastily reached into her bag and pulled the creased, dog-eared papers from within. She then slapped an index finger to the photo. This—" she pointed at her aircraft—"is all you have left!"

By this time the sun and just peaked over the horizon. Rays of light burst over the flightline to bathe everything in a gentle golden hue. It was the beginning of a fresh day. But despite the dazzling display of light behind them, neither Alexis nor Starscream took note.

It was too much. His decision made Starscream evaporated as the sunlight struck his apparition.

In the distance, the call of "Reveille" summoned the start of a brand-new day.