An Unwilling Sun
AN: Yes, its been AGES since I updated and to be honest, I had felt like I was in a rut. Ideas weren't very forthcoming and the few I did have were rather banal. So I took a break, and it's paid off. Got some fresh ideas generating and now, thanks to a friend, I can interact with my fans on a personal, one on one basis and not rely upon this, or AO3, to be my platform. I can have more fun, with less restriction, and possibly pass on some knowledge and help guide/support young writers into developing their own voice, whether its for original work or fanfiction.
For the month of September, I'm offering free previews on my homepage. All one word...
PAT
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After Oct 5th, only patrons will be allowed to see full content. I'll still offer polls and share my photography and give a few peeks at upcoming projects (original and fan) but patrons will have unlimited, behind the scenes access.
Anyway, here's the next chapter for Take Two…. And it's a long one!
THANK YOU FOR STICKING WITH ME ALL THESE YEARS!
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"You have any idea why we were summoned?" Sideswipe asked with trepidation. It wasn't often he was scared, being an ex-pit fighter, but he wasn't ashamed to fear what awaited at their destination.
"Not a clue,' Sunstreaker said. His last gallery opening had been a success. Naturally. In fact, he had raked in thirty percent more profit than projected. His net worth was rising, just as he and his brother were doing in the posh transport.
It all started three cycles prior. Sunstreaker's gala opened to rave reviews, and astronomical prices were asked for pieces that would surely double in value with the notorious artist offering so scant few pieces for purchase. Sunstreaker had just checked his credit account when there was a chime at the door to the apartment he shared with his brother.
Sideswipe maintained a very lucrative trading enterprise and was currently in negotiations to purchase another dock and two warehouses. He had quite the analytical mind, despite his constant jokes and unnerving pranks he loved to pull on his brother.
Sunstreaker wished his brother would find other victims. He was getting tired of the scheming and could figure out what his brother was up to by his spark singing with happiness. When Sideswipe was ecstatic, for no apparent reason, Sunstreaker knew he was in danger of being pranked.
But the prim, curious jet that greeted Sunstreaker at the door that fateful morning, was most certainly not part of an elaborate prank.
The jet was very thin, lightweight. Sunstreaker immediately assessed his battle potential, and calculated at least four thousand ways to kill the small jet before he even realized who had extinguished his spark. The jet was clearly not meant for any warrior activities.
His plating also earned a second glance. It was platinum, shined to mirror-like perfection. He resembled a sliver of glass, with pale golden optics that were bright and focused on Sunstreaker with such an intensity, he felt his plating burn.
He accepted the missive handed to him by the courier, but instead of the jet leaving to attend duties, he snapped to attention, wings held high, his servos folded behind his back in complete statuesque poise.
"Friend of yours?" Sideswipe asked, joining his brother at the door and noting the jet's attitude.
Sunstreaker shook his head and glanced to the missive. The emblem on its surface made his engine stall.
It was from the Wing Lord of Vos.
"The Wing Lord?" Sideswipe shared his brother's surprise.
"My Lordship awaits your reply to his summons," the jet said in a deep rumbling voice that betrayed his diminutive stature.
Sunstreaker opened the letter and read the perfect Cybertronian script. It inquired an audience with the twins, both mentioned by name, to be offered an official invitation to the royal court of the Vosian capital. Both were to make their decision and send the courier with their response.
If they refused then no further contact would be made. If they accepted, they must ensure they are polished and presentable and examined by the medics for any potential viruses or errant coding. They were to also have filters installed that would allow their ground frames to benefit from seeker grade, as most delicacies for the winged denizens were far more potent than what a normal ground based frame could handle.
Both twins smirked at that.
They could drink half the Vosian population under the table on their own brew. Sunstreaker had learned how to brew different ranges of high grade, and could make something that would knock the Vosian's flat on their wings.
Excited over such a rare opportunity, both had immediately agreed. The small jet offered a gracious smile and handed over a datapad with the day and time of their transportation.
An official envoy would arrive to take the twins to the reclusive capitol, where they would meet with the Wing Lord Air Razor. As far as the twins knew, the winged Cybertronians kept mainly to themselves and rarely were ground pounders invited. Even the Prime was rarely granted such an honor. Those who were not graced with flight had to take transports to reach the floating city.
The Wing Lord's had always deemed that those that dwell on the ground were not worthy to walk with Primus's chosen defenders. Vosian history stated that before Primus transformed himself into the planet, he plucked a passing comet from its orbit, broke off the ice and gathered star dust to bind the metals. When he set himself to slumber, the chunk of metal began to orbit his body as a natural satellite, collecting debris and assorted matter until the first Cybertronians were gifted with flight. They cultivated the orbiting chunk of land, eventually establishing a colony that grew into its own independent city state of only air frames. No ground based Cybertronian was granted to step foot on the floating city without express permission from the Wing Lord, who wanted to ensure his land remain free of the tire marks of the slagging land crawlers.
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The next cycle, the twins visited the finest detailing shop in their neighborhood, receiving clean virus checks of their systems, and even splurged by buying wireless dampeners that would block strange bots from transmitting anything remotely contagious.
Before the transport arrived, both were buffed, polished, and detailed to absolute perfection. Even their polishing attendants were surprised, and quite revved up by the time the twins exited. They kept their faces impassive, but played joyfully over their bond.
At the designated time, the transport showed up at the docking station two floors down from Sunstreaker's apartment. A short femme, also flyer judging by the set of sharp wings resting like blades against her back, greeted them and escorted them onto the sleek transport.
The twins had to hold back their gasps at the luxurious accommodations. The ship was ultra modern, the twins guessing that the ship was worth half of one of their fortunes. The transport was nearly twice as long as regular models, with smooth lines, a powerful humming engine, and lines that could have been sexy if it was sentient. Sunstreaker was certainly appraising the lines and rumbles that came from the back of the ship. A pilot's voice crackled over the open comms.
"Transportation takes approximately fifteen breems." He had a deep, resonating voice that sounded bored. He was probably a flyer and wanted to be out of the ship, feeling the wind under his wings, not stuck inside a long cylinder and piloting two ground pounders to his home. He cut the comms without any acknowledgements.
"Would you care for refreshments?" the little femme flyer asked in a soft, respectful voice.
Sideswipe smirked as he swaggered over to where she stood by a bar decorated in so many colors contained in crystal decanters, it looked like Sunstreaker's pallet had exploded. Both twins caught the slight tremor in her hands as she attempted to pour their drinks.
"Allow me," Sideswipe said, ever the gentlebot.
She blushed, her optics taking in his taller form. Her gaze lingered on his wheels for a moment longer before she blushed and turned away.
Sideswipe flooded the bond with lust, making Sunstreaker rebuke with burning acid that always made Sideswipe's libido die down several notches. Now was not the time to be thinking of conquests.
"I apologize that we only have seeker grade," she said, that molten hue still gracing her cheek plates.
Sideswipe thought it was very flattering.
The twins took tentative sips, pretending to be wary of the higher octane brew. When it crossed their analyzers, both had to hide their smirks. They brewed stronger stuff than this. Poor seekers. Maybe the twins could talk some of them into drinking games? The seekers wouldn't know what hit them.
The ride was shorter than what the twins expected. The pilot called out the final approach and when the ship sat down on the landing pad, the only sign of its resting state was the soft hiss of hydraulics.
When the twins exited the transport, they were greeted by a regal mech with brilliant gold planting. His plating must have been real, for his shone like a deity from the heavens above. And when the twins realized how high the city was in orbit, it made the celestial being seem even more realistic.
Sunstreaker had to fight back a smirk. The mech may have the ultimate in plating, but Sunstreaker had the ultimate in paintjob and symmetrical lines. He was the embodiment of perfection, and paid enough credits to maintain his sexy allure.
"I am Air Razor," the gold mech said, "Lord of Vos and leader of the Vosian seekers."
"Sunstreaker, Sideswipe," Sunstreaker said in his deep baritone, pointing between himself and his twin. "We thank you kindly for your invitation. It's a great honor to be invited to Vos, when so few have been granted such a privilege among ground based forms."
Air Razor gave a slight incline of his head, acknowledging the praise. "There are a few who have been allowed access to our domain. We must remain selective with who we allow on this sacred land."
The twins nodded. They knew that the floating city was considered sacred. A gift from Primus to his children below.
"This is my heir, Starscream," Air Razor said, motioning to the smaller mech behind him.
The twins first impression of the young winglord was he was easy on the optics, but obviously arrogant and condescending. He looked down his olfactory sensor to the two ground base models, a sneer curling his lips in acknowledgment. His wings were held high and rigid on his back in a clear sign of agitation. Apparently, he wasn't approving of his sire's company, nor the idea of grounders encroaching on the sovereign city-state.
Air Razor turned with a snap, his red optics narrowed at his offspring. "Have you forgotten your manners, Starscream?"
Starscream visible quailed under his sire's gaze. He dropped his optics to the floor in submission, his wings lowering. "Apologies, Sire." He lifted his own fiery gaze, searing the two wheeled mechs with as much vehemence he could muster. "Welcome to the prestigious city of Vos."
Sideswipe, ever the poker of sleeping Predacons, donned a superior, if not confrontational smirk. He received a silent glare in response.
"Please, follow me," Air Razor said. He cast his heir a look laced with warning before walking into the main complex.
It was then that the twins realized they were perched on a citadel high above the air dwellers. The spire of ivory jutted toward the heavens. Not nearly as tall as some of the skyscrapers on the planet below, but then again, it didn't need to be. Vos didn't need to grow 'up'. Their population was more suited to expanding outward. The citadel was still a prominent structure, inlaid with an attractive scrolling text the twins couldn't read. Smooth jewels lined the floor on either side of a high polished silver floor that resembled mirrors. A crystal dome allowed view of the heavens above. Light poured in from the windows, casting rainbows over the floor and walls.
They entered a throne room, the Winglord's throne situated on a dais overlooking a wide court. Guards flanked the doors and snapped to attention when their leader entered. They caught glances of their guests from the corners of their optics, but didn't dare break ranks to openly stare. Some of the fliers had never seen a ground based mech before.
Air Razor bypassed his throne and entered a small ante chamber, where a large oval table was waiting with several chairs. Air Razor took his seat first, as was custom, Starscream hiding in his Sire's shadow to his right. His scowl deepened when the four of them were shut within the confines of the room.
The twins exchanged curiosity over their bond, wondering what could be so important the Winglord wanted absolute privacy. And what could make the young heir apparent look so mutinous?
"Sit." It was a command, not a request. The mech was very brusque. Used to being obeyed.
"I've never been one to dally in speculation, so I will get straight to the point," Air Razor said after the twins took seats opposite. "I am aware of your unique disposition. Which is the reason why I have summoned you here."
Both the twins looked mildly surprised at the declaration. Usually those who realized they were half sparks, called them abnormal and evil and all manner of unsavory things. This was the first time either had been called 'unique' and the expression was meant.
The second thing both felt was fear. They were locked in a room with beings who were much taller and heavier than themselves. With no weapons. Surrounded by bots willing to do their winglord's commands. Suspended VERY high above Cybertron without any means of leaving, barring jumping off into space and enjoying the freedom of falling until the ground ended the flight.
"I have a proposition," Air Razor said, without a clue as to the threat level the twins had elevated. "Starscream has come of age for trining, and I would like to propose a merger."
The twins looked to each other. Trining? Merger? What exactly was Air Razor insinuating?
"In case you do not realize our social behaviors and expectations, every seeker bonds with two others, forming a trine. It's what makes us so efficient on the battlefield and in various fields of study. The need for verbal communication is non-existent, as we can sense each other on a deep, spiritual connection." The corners of his lips quirked as he noticed the two look to one another again. "Very much the same kind of instinct that allows the two of you to communicate."
"Wait, you want us to …. What?" Sideswipe asked, noting that Starscream's helm was turned away from his Sire, his vents huffing in short, angry bursts. His wings were trembling with emotion. Apparently he was not too happy with his sire for arranging this meeting, nor the intentions behind it.
"It has come to my attention that we remain too secluded here in our floating city," Air Razor said. "Most view us as unreachable beings who do not feel empathy for those who dwell on Primus's surface. I wish to bridge the gap, between my people and the city-states below. To do that, I must show that I am willing to mingle with those not of aerial birth."
"You want us to… bond, with Starscream?" Sunstreaker asked incredulously. It seemed impossible that such a thing was presented. He thought the matchmaking fad went out during the early days.
"I propose an... alliance," Air Razor amended. "To strengthen the ties to the ground dwellers below, I think it wise to match my heir, the next in line, with someone whom the other Cybertronians may relate."
"You want a mouth piece," Sideswipe retorted, crossing his arms over his chassis, one optic arch quirked. "A puppet. Someone to show to the world that you can lower yourself to the ground."
"Admittedly, humility is not in my programming," Air Razor said, trying to hide his joy at the brashness of the two guests. Someone with a firm hand would have to bond with his creation. Starscream could be flighty and ill tempered at times.
"Political alliance?" Sunstreaker asked.
He had entertained the idea of entering politics. In order to do that, he needed standing. His wealth only granted him so much. If he was bonded to a Winglord's heir, then he would have the clout needed to launch his campaign. On the wings of a jet, as it were. He could use the bond to gain position in the Senate, and Starscream would have the honor of being graced with two gorgeous, wealthy grounders.
"I am not a mech who minces words, so I will get straight to the point," Air Razor said, leaning forward and piercing the twins with his icy stare. "My heir does not want a trine, nor will he actively seek a trine. He has rejected all who come to court. And since he refuses to adhere to the doctrine of our heritage, then I am taking unilateral action."
Starscream shifted, his anger making his wings vibrate with a low hum that could have been mistaken as a pleasant admission.
"Seems to be extreme," Sideswipe said, adopting the same poise at the powerful jetformer. He steeled his long tapered fingers and stared over the tips with shrewd expression. "There has to be more to it that mere forcing your heir to form a trine. Tell me, Wing Lord, what is the true reason for our summons?"
Sunstreaker sat back, watching his twin do what he does best. Ferret out the truth and barter the best deal for both partiers. Sideswipe was a natural negotiator.
"There is peace now,' Air Razor said, disgusted that his ploy had been called out. He had nothing to bluff with, so he merely decided on the truth. "There are fewer and fewer opportunities for my people to use their talents. With the entire world at peace, we have become obsolete. We no longer need to patrol borders and protect the skies. We have lost our function, and with it, our standing."
Sideswipe gave a solemn nod. He understood the courage it took for the wing lord to admit such short comings.
"I hope to create alliances with other city states in the hopes that my people can find work, and resume their functions. Having a ground frame bonded to my heir will increase our chances of obtaining assistance."
"If you need financial backing, why not petition the Senate?" Sideswipe asked.
"I don't want the Senate involved," Air Razor said. He leaned back in his chair, his face contorted in disgust. "Dusty, rusty, creaking politicians with no idea of the real world. They don't understand the damage they have caused to my people due to their declarations of peace and disarmaments of all weapons."
"But isn't peace worth having to endure some discomfort, if it means that the entire world is free from war?" Sideswipe pressed. He was finding this situation to be very interesting. He caught sidelong glances to the wing lord's heir.
Yes, he was an aerial frame. Yes, he as arrogant, but so wasn't Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had survived him all these eons. There was an obvious stubborn streak. Again, nothing the twins hadn't dealt with their entire existence. Though it was obvious he was still growing, judging by the growth seams around his wings and thrusters, he was going to mature into a very attractive mech.
"I also want to prove that we can provide a service, not just for military" Air Razor said. "If my heir bonds to ground frames, it would show the world that we are not obsolete, and that we accept the ground pounders."
"Accepting?" Sunstreaker put in, an optic ridge cocked. "For ground pounders?"
"That is a term used to describe those who inhabit the surface," Air Razor said, waving his servo dismissively. It didn't occur to him that someone may take offense to the title.
"So you want us to bond with your creation in order to bolster his standing and to display our unique trine to the world as a showpiece?" Sideswipe asked, still staring daggers over his steepled fingers.
Air Razor riled, his wings hiking in agitation. He wasn't used to his suggestions not being followed, or called into question. His face darkened.
"I wish to show the world that we are all alike, and it's possible for those on the ground to bond to those who fly." He shifted, clearly agitated that he was being stared down by the wheeled mechs seated opposite. "My people must have a purpose again. We must find a way to adapt. To function in a world at peace. Word has reached my audios, that there isn't enough energon to go around because we have exhausted our reserves, and credits are no longer being supplied by employers. I know that you have wealth and some measure of status. Being bonded to the future Wing Lord will elevate your status among my people and your influence could ease the transition of welcoming grounders into our midst."
"You would sacrifice your creation to a possible empty bond, merely to prevent your people from starving?" Sunstreaker asked. He was weighing the words with the actions and subtlety of the two. Body language said both were agitated, uncomfortable, and fighting their natural arrogance. In other words, they were telling the truth.
"The survival of my, our people, is paramount," Air Razor said.
The twins had kept an open communication between them. Like most who shared a link, though theirs wasn't the normal type of bond, they could communicate with words and feelings. Sunstreaker was curious, Sideswipe interested. Both had felt an attraction to the future winglord. If only his olfactory sensor wasn't so high in the air and he softened his disgusted expression. He could be quite handsome, if he put his mind to it. Right now, he just looked murderous.
"We wish to see for ourselves," Sunstreaker said. His olfactory sensor was in the air in a perfect imitation of the elitists who favor his gallery.
Air Razor quirked a brow in a haughty manner. "You believe I would falsely claim such things to sway your decision?"
"Not to validate your claims, no, but to check the level of poverty and perhaps I can involve some of my clients to do an energon donation." Sunstreaker was already running a mental list for contacts who would be able to help.
"Charity?" Starscream spat. His anger was sending stabbing waves of hatred toward his two intendeds.
Air Razor's servo lifted, preventing his offspring from continuing with his venom. "You doubt my sincerity?"
"Bonding is permanent," Sideswipe reminded the Winglord. "One has to ensure it's for all the right reasons and that they are compatible. We would like visit your citizens. Gauge how they react to having ground frames among them. If we are to bond with their future Lord, then we should have an idea as to our future subjects."
"Agreed." Air Razor nodded. "When do you wish to meet your future subjects?"
The connotation behind his words were not lost to the three expecting to hit it off and form an unconventional trine.
"Early next cycle," Sideswipe said, stretching and hearing his joints pop. "It is getting late and we have much to think upon." He turned to his twin was still observing the silently fuming Starscream.
"Starscream, show our guests to their quarters," Air Razor said. He didn't realize how late the hour was getting. Where did the time go?
Starscream gave a jerky flex of his body, as if trying to obey but retaliating against himself at the same time. Air Razor cast his creation a glare in warning before taking his leave. His expression was all too clear. Starscream must sell the twins on his suitability to be their mate. His sire was depending on him to seal the deal and ensure that their people were cared for. Starscream resented his creator for putting him in such a situation, and the people who were suffering. In his opinion, those of a weak nature should not be allowed to function.
Starscream gestured toward the door, and escorted the twins out of the ante chamber, through the throne room and toward the elevator. He refused to acknowledge the two following him like shadows. "Your quarters are two floors below."
For a large jet, Starscream barely made a sound on the high polished floor.
Sunstreaker admired his reflection more than once. He looked stunning. No wonder Air Razor was offering his heir to him. He was gorgeous. Even moreso than the Winglord, who had to resort to exotic metals to make himself appealing. Sunstreaker was naturally handsome and his color scheme was pleasing to the optic.
"Just so you both know, I do not approve of this arrangement," Starscream said when the trio entered the elevator. He kept his back to them, his wings held high and proud. Oh, he had his sire's arrogance all right. "I do no want a trine. I don't want to bond. And I most certainly don't want to do so with a couple of ground pounders."
"Then why entertain your sire's idea, if you believe it foolhardy?" Sunstreaker asked. He was intrigued by the mech's vehemence they not join in a trine. Without a doubt their color schemes were complimentary.
The only drawback Sunstreaker could see was he'd have competition for the most handsome of the set. Starscream's wings certainly boosted his sex appeal. Too bad his attitude took it to the bowels of the planet.
Starscream remained silent for the rest of the journey. When the doors dinged open, he lead the way down a hall lined with antique portraits, all showing the lineage of the seeker leaders.
They stopped outside a door at the far end. Starscream turned and stared at his guest, as if realizing they were with him.
"If not for your considerable wealth, this little charade would have never been proposed!" Starscream snapped. "But my sire has been foolish in his endeavors, and we are on the precipice of ruination."
"So, you only want us for our credits?" Sideswipe said. He had been previously aware of the rumors that the seekers were offered less and less work, many Cybertronian cities calling for the seeker's disbandment and even deactivation since the universal accord for peace. The seekers had always protected the cities. Since there was no hostility between nations now, they were left without purpose.
"I do not want you at all," Starscream admitted with a sneer. "But my Sire orders my compliance. So I will obey." Starscream's optics darken into something sinister. "For now."
Most mechs would have quailed upon being towered over by a large jet with murder in his optics, but not the twins. Sideswipe looked amused by the empty threat. Sunstreaker looked vicious. He didn't like threats, veiled or otherwise. He never backed down from a fight, regardless of enemy's rank.
"I suggest you charge. We leave early in the morning," Sunstreaker said with a voice of deadly calm.
Starscream's lip curled. His domination tactic didn't work. Neither of the grounders were intimidated by him, though he was a good head taller.
Sideswipe offered a parting smile before disappearing through the door into the suite provided by the Wing Lord. Sunstreaker offered one last look of superiority before he followed his brother inside.
Starscream balled his hands into fists and departed, determined to assert his place as lead in the trine. If he was forced to make this disgusting choice, he was going to do it his way. His comms chimed, signaling a message from his Sire. With heavy pedes he trudged to his creator's suite to answer the summons.
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The potential trine meet up at the early morning hour. The twins were already polished and fueled by the time Starscream arrived. Starscream looked weary, his wings sagging down his back a little. Had the twins not known how high he could hike them, they would have been in the dark about his current state of exhaustion.
"Follow me," Starscream said in a monotone.
The twins looked to one another in surprise at the jet's mild demeanor.
Where was the fire that had filled the frame the day before? Where was the contempt he had for the obviously much older mechs, and for their ground based forms? Where was the passion behind the high wings and stiff back?
Now, it was like Starscream was running on autopilot. Speaking only in monosyllabic words, showing no hatred or adoration or anything in between. If anything, he wore the look of defeat. Utter, broken, sparkless husk, but defeat nonetheless.
Starscream had somehow withered in his arrogant vehemence. He escorted the two to the lower levels, and after a quick inspection, Sideswipe asked to see the 'real' underbelly of the city. Starscream didn't offer remark. He simply nodded, scoffed at their wheels, and took a little known staircase to the lower, inner most levels. He hesitated on the last step.
"What's wrong?" Sideswipe asked, his head in constant motion to sense a threat. He didn't know how well a ground dweller would be welcomed.
"I'm not allowed in the lower levels," Starscream said absently, as if remembering a long forgotten rule.
"I won't tell," Sideswipe grinned and placed his hands between Starscream's wings, pushing him forward and taking a step into the domain he was warned never to cross.
The white jet panicked, wings instantly standing up in alarm, expecting to be struck down for his act of defiance. But nothing happened. Sideswipe placed his hand between the jet's wings and gave a little shove, using the pressure point to steer the jet after his brother. Starscream faltered a couple of steps before regaining his senses.
Sunstreaker ambled down the street, noting the citizens were all filthy, and though they wore plating bearing the marks of city-states, nearly all of them were...thin. At least, thinner than what was normal for airframes.
Plating was scratched, dusty, discolored, patches of rust was visible on more than one frame. There were a few younglings running around, laughing, chasing each other. Their little stubby wings were flickering with joy.
It was one of the younglings that caught Sunstreaker's attention.
It was smaller than the rest, solid black, and struggling so hard to keep up with the bigger younglings. It halted mid-run, nearly toppling over in its haste to stop, and went rigid. Little wings vibrated and before anyone knew what was going on, the tiny jet was a black streak, racing across the street and latching itself onto the heir apparent.
Arms wrapped around Starscream's midsection, the black jet looked up into the shocked, handsome face and smiled.
"Third," the black jet said, identifying as a young mechling.
"Warp, get back here!" came the panicky voice of a mech a little older than the black jet, though this one was blue in coloring. He hurried to the assembled strangers in an attempt to wrest his younger brother from the obviously very prominent white jet.
As he neared, his blue wings splayed and gave an audible hum.
Sunstreaker grabbed Sideswipe's arm and pulled him back from the three, his intense optics not missing a thing. Even over the bustle of the street, the twins could hear the hum.
It was the sound of recognition. Wings vibrating in identification, like two aerials sensing another and attuning to the same frequency.
"Third?" the blue jet whispered in shocked awe.
The two older jets stared at each other. The blue one was younger than Starscream, but not by much. They had nearly identical growth seams around their wings. The smaller, black jet was still attached to Starscream's midsection, his little face turned up in adoration.
"They look half starved," Sideswipe whispered to his brother.
Sunstreaker looked around to the surrounding denizens and realized that all were in the same shape. Their wary optics was watching the two wheeled frames mingle among them. Sunstreaker picked out a large flyer, shuttle by his thruster design, and strolled up to the mech who was nearly twice as tall as himself.
"Are you a transport model?" he asked without fear or shame.
The large orange mech nodded. "I am."
Sunstreaker removed a datapad from his subspace and typed a few codes. He handed the datapad to the orange transport mech. "Take this pad to docking station fourteen on the Gamma Quadrasphere. The dock workers will fill your cargo hold with energon." He jerked his head to the collection of hungry jets. "I'm entrusting you to return with the shipment and distribute the fuel."
The orange transport mech looked hesitant, his pride not wanting to allow him to take charity from a ground frame.
A bright red youngling, much smaller than the one still hugging Starscream, came running out and latched himself to the golden plating. Usually Sunstreaker would hiss and curse at tactile contact, but he smiled and placed his hand on the little one's helm.
The shuttle watched the exchange with suspicion, but when he realized the ground frame was being legitimate in his charity, he accepted the pad.
"I will return soon," he said to Sunstreaker, his optics drifting down to the brilliant red jet that was hugging the golden thigh.
"Trying to replace me?" came a laughing voice. The shuttle's optics widened when a red wheeled mech joined them and knelt down to see the youngling attached to the golden frame. "Are you trying to claim my brother? Because, you can have him."
The little jet gave a chirp, stubby wings wiggling in delight. A purple femme hurried over and grasp the youngling, her face ashen with embarrassment.
"Apologies. Wingnut tends to gravitate toward those of yellow coloring," she muttered, trying to wrest her offspring from the stranger's plating.
Sideswipe held out his arms and the youngling launched himself into them, short arms going around the red mech's neck. Sideswipe stood, holding the happy little jet as his frame vibrated with soft chirrs. He looked to his brother, his grin broad and loaded.
"Figures."
Sunstreaker rolled his optics. Sideswipe handed the youngling to his carrier, who offered a weak smile and walked off, berating her young. The little red jet waved happily over the broad expanse of purple wings.
When the twins turned, it was to find Starscream and the blue jet looking bashfully to the ground. The twins approached, ready to leave. Sunstreaker trusted the shuttle to make good on the deliveries.
"We should go," Sideswipe said, motioning toward the direction in which they came. He saw the blue jet look crestfallen and added, "They need to come to. You are trinemates."
Starscream's expression lit up, his face splitting into a beaming smile that shone brighter than the stars. "Yes! They must return to the palace!"
A momentary flash of terror crossed the blue jet's face. "Palace?"
"You are to live with me until our bonding ceremony," Starscream informed his trine members. When he spoke of bonding, his elation became palpable. He was like a star, ready to go supernova.
"Lucky you,' Sideswipe said with a cheeky grin toward the blue jet. "Your future trinemate is also the future Wing Lord."
The blue jet looked ready to faint. The black one was still hugging Starscream tight, as if afraid he'd disappear.
"We should go," Sunstreaker said.
Together they made their way back to the upper levels. The blue jet was able to wrest his brother free from his anchor and now both fell into perfect step behind their future trinemate. Equal distance was maintained and when one turned, they all did without verbal direction. The twins exchanged looks, knowing the three were already acting as a trine.
When they reached the upper floors, the guards frowned at the filthy shadows now following in their future Wing Lord's wake. The two scruffy waifs faltered, staring at the grandeur surrounding them. The twins could understand their hesitation. The palace was pretty intimidating. Now, they were to call it home.
"Sire! Sire, it happened! I have accepted my trine!" Starscream shouted upon seeing the golden expanse of his sire's wings.
Air Razor spun upon hearing such news, his face jubilant. His expression fell when he found to two half starved waifs cowering behind his creation. The twins were standing several paces away, hoping to be as unobtrusive as possible while Starscream shared his wonderful news with his Sire.
"What is the meaning of this?" Air Razor thundered. The two waifs cringed, the smaller one folding against his elder brother's side.
"They were in the lower sector..." Starscream started but his explanation was cut off by his sire.
"That explains the state of their frames!" Air Razor snarled, taking in the filthy, unkempt plating and noticeable signs of hunger.
It was obvious that Starscream had not tried to make a connection with the prosperous twins. Instead, set his sights upon urchins that were beneath the Wing Lord's notice. Was his creation purposely trying to sabotage all he tried to accomplish?
"We've already aligned," Starscream said, face beaming in happiness.
He'd never been so full of joy and excitement. All this time, he despised the idea of finding trinemates and enacting the normal procedures to make their merging official. He always thought it was a hassle with no real benefit. But now that his spark recognized the two intended to become his trinemates, he couldn't explain the unending happiness bubbling from some eternal well.
"What?" Air Razor gasped, optics going wide. He knew that once trine mates aligned, meaning they recognized each other for what they were, there was no denying their connection.
They were linked through destiny, and no amount of protesting on Air Razor's part would break the bond that was destined to form. His hopes had come true, yet been dashed all together. His creation had found his trinemates, and yet, they were obviously not of good standing. There would be no wealth, or power to bolster the Winglord's reputation, nor his people.
Starscream had found his trine and in doing so, destroyed the hopeful future Air Razor had conceived.
Air Razor's fists clenched at his sides. His jaw tightened. His optics narrowed. He was furious. The twins recognized the signs. Both stepped forward immediately, Sunstreaker taking lead.
"We are greatly honored to have been offered such a prestigious placement in your house, but I'm afraid with the current situation, we can not go forth with an arrangement."
Air Razor's glare was smoldering. How Starscream didn't ignite was anyone's guess.
"If you would allow, Lord Air Razor, We would be honored to attend the bonding ceremony," Sunstreaker said, looking to the smallest jet that looked to be only half grown. His black wings were trembling and he hid his face against his brother's side. "When all parties are of age, of course. I would be honored to design some pieces to celebrate the bonding of your creation, and the formation of the official ruling trine."
Air Razor gave a small jerk of his head. He knew that Sunstreaker was politely offering financial support, regardless of what had just transpired. Though he would not be part of the official trine, he was willing to sponsor the event in the hopes of showing the world a new perspective for Vos.
Previously, no ground frame had ever been invited to such a glorious event, and none would have been generous enough to supply not only entertainment, but the high paying clientele as well. Mechs and femmes of standing, who could see the impoverished state of the people.
If Air Razor's people were to survive, they would have to suffer such humiliation. Well, better to be humiliated, than terminated from empty tanks. His gaze drifted to the two intended mates to his creation, his focus going to the smallest of the two.
Air Razor looked ready to spout any number of things. His mouth opened several times, but no words could come from his vocalizer.
"What do you say, we get you two fueled up and bathed? See if we can find some plating under all that dirt?" Sideswipe said, touching the oldest jet on the arm. He quailed with a hauntingly stricken expression. He gave a small nod of acceptance, his servo pressed against his younger brother's back between his stubby wings and steered him to the elevator.
"We'll just take them to our quarters and see if we can get them cleaned up," Sideswipe called as Air Razor continued to stare in hostility at his heir. Sunstreaker was the last to enter the elevator and his body blocked the visual of Air Razor launching himself at Starscream. The sounds of clanging metal echoed in the small confines as the doors closed, the young jets looking terrified at the sound.
"What are your designations?" Sideswipe asked, hoping to distract them from the sounds of violence fading away into the distance. From the sounds of it, Air Razor was taking his aggression out on his creation.
"Thundercracker, Skywarp," the oldest said in a voice deeper than his young years.
"Let's have a little bit of fuel first, then we'll see to getting your plating scrubbed and polished, hmm?" Sideswipe said, escorting the two jets into the main area of the apartment .
Both jets stayed huddled together, glancing nervously around the room. Only when Sunstreaker returned with small rations of seeker grade, did the two break apart.
"Drink slowly,' Sunstreaker chastised the two as they started to gulp the fuel. "Too much, too fast will make you sick. Drink small and evenly spaced to prevent overcharging and purging."
The two obeyed, though it was costing them great effort. The twins exchanged a look. Not long ago they were in similar state.
"See to their frames," Sunstreaker said, before slipping out of the room into the berth room where he had charged the evening before.
When Sunstreaker returned almost an hour later, it was to find Sideswipe and Thundercracker chasing a giggling Skywarp around the apartment, the black jet leaving a trail of suds in his wake. Sideswipe noticed his brother's neutral expression. It was belayed by the happiness trickling over their bond.
"Have any luck?" Sideswipe had an inkling what his brother was up to, but didn't voice his thoughts. No need in getting anyone's hopes up.
"Fifty have confirmed their assistance and the gallery is already preparing a charity event to benefit the Vosian younglings."
"And yourself?" Sideswipe asked, hearing Thundercracker catch his brother and rub a brush vigorously behind his helm fins, earning a round of laughter until Skywarp wriggled free and escaped yet again.
"I promised to prepare half a dozen pieces to be auctioned off. The credits raised will go to the future wing lord as a present for his trining."
"Sneaky" Sideswipe grinned.
The door opened and Starscream staggered in. The twins were at his side in an instant, steadying him as he wove drunkenly. They knew he wasn't inebriated. Multiple dings and dents covered his body, and there was the unmistakable pede imprint on Starscream's left thigh.
Apparently, Air Razor had kicked the poor jet while he was down.
Skywarp immediately stopped running from his brother's brush and made a beeline to Starscream. He latched onto the larger jet's midsection, his wide purple optics staring up into the face of his future wing lord and trine mate.
Though Starscream was probably in a lot of pain and weak from the obvious beating he endured, he scooped the small black jet into his arms and crossed the room to the couch, where he sat gingerly, Skywarp held against his chassis as if to protect him from a monster.
In a way, Starscream was.
Thundercracker crawled onto the couch beside his brother and future trinemate, his helm resting against the white jet's shoulder vent. Skywarp buzzed loudly, bumping his helm under Starscream's chin in a very infantile gesture. Neither of the older jets admonished him. They sat in silence, feeling the calming pulse of their sparks syncing to a universal beat.
"Starscream?" Sunstreaker said, taking a seat on the table in front of the couch.
Starscream opened bleary optics, one cracked and dim, to his audience. "Hmmm?"
"In five cycles I am hosting a charity event to raise awareness of what is going on here." Sunstreaker scooted over and allowed his brother to sit beside of him. "My contacts are reaching out, finding supporters, creating a venue, and come gala time, half the population will be attendance. We will have energon delivered to your people."
"No more stealing energon?" Thundercracker asked, one optic opened to a slit to regard the golden mech.
"No, there will be energon deliveries starting next cycle," Sunstreaker said.
Sunstreaker paused a moment, taking in the damage that was on the white plating. Starscream looked to be in a lot of pain, but he was wrapped contently within the sparks of those intending to be his trinemates. They were already inseparable. As it should be.
"I am gong to host another gala event, though this time, all proceedings from auctions will to go the Vosian trust."
"For what purpose?" Starscream asked, taking the energy to look suspicious.
"If you sire asks, tell him it will be a bonding celebration gift from us to commensurate your union," Sunstreaker said nodding to the cuddled jets on the couch.
"You are under no obligation…" Starscream started but Sideswipe interrupted.
"We may not form a trine, but we understand the connection we feel to another."
"Call it a bonding day gift," Sunstreaker gave a half shrug. "Now, if you don't mind, we need to return home. I have a lot of work to do."
Starscream offered a nod, though it looked painful. After a moment he looked to the door as the chime sounded. "I have arranged transport."
"Thank you," Sideswipe said, dipping his head in formal salutations before disappearing.
Sunstreaker smiled at Skywarp, who was now soundly asleep, one wing twitching. "They both need to refuel again soon, and it wouldn't hurt to have the medics give them a complete check up."
"They will be here in six cycles for a full diagnostic." Starscream informed his never-to-be trinemate.
"Good luck." Sunstreaker offered the customary nod of respect and took his leave, hearing Starscream's own systems shut down into charge with his two growing trinemates.
The same pilot greeted the two at the sleek transport. Much to Sideswipe's disgust the cute little femme jet wasn't going to accompany them on the ride back. The pilot sealed himself inside the cockpit and informed his guests that they had clearance for take off as soon as all the young cadets landed.
Sunstreaker watched as at least a dozen small jets circled, then lowered to the long runway. They bounced on the tarmac, their wheels wobbling as they struggled to handle the shift in balance. A happy thrum made him turn from the window and regard his brother, who had been watching him with that devilish smirk on his handsome faceplates.
"What?" Sunstreaker grunted, already annoyed with his twin. Primus, he couldn't imagine being bonded to someone else. Sideswipe was enough!
"You," Sideswipe said simply.
"What about me?" Sunstreaker asked, going to the bar and pouring a measure of high grade. His twin joined him and drank his own measure, both giving appreciative noises at the flavor.
"Moody artist who acts all big and bad," Sideswipe grinned at his brother. "A mech so violent, he was barred from non-death matches in the arena, and has more extinguished sparks to his tally than the entire Seeker Elite squad."
Sunstreaker didn't deny any of those points. "Your point being?"
"Big bad ex-gladiator... has a soft spark," Sideswipe cooed.
As quick as lightning, Sunstreaker's servo darted out and clasp the sensitive junction at the base of his brother's neck. Sideswipe howled, twisting sideways as the wires in his neck were pinched, numbing half his body and sending sharp, stabbing pains throughout his frame. He fell to his knees, grumbling vile things to his brother, who merely smiled at his brother's colorful vocabulary as the transport shuttle took them home.
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