15. Punishment
The Decepticons busied themselves with relocating to the surface. Since most of the city had been destroyed, there were few structures to move back into. Besides, we had more important matters to take care of, such as caring for our wounded. There was a shortage in both medics and supplies, leaving us to improvise as well as we could. Thundercracker played medic for me, doing a temporary patch-job on my wing. It wasn't much, but it would protect the damaged area until my self-repair systems healed the wound on their own.
Hurricane, as it turned out, was not in a better mood when he awoke. I was summoned to the Tower the moment I was off of medbay duty – without a doubt the worst assignment I had ever received. The "medbay" was in a constant state of chaos, since nobody seemed exactly sure what to do for the wounded. I was glad to get out of there, even though I knew that I was heading for punishment.
Starscream was there, looking harried and stressed. I could hear the agitation in his voice when he snapped, "Designation and function, soldier."
As if you didn't know. "Nova, Rainmaker second, Decepticon warrior."
Hurricane snorted from where he stood, glaring at me with his arms crossed over his chest. "You're undeserving of either title."
"Enough," Starscream snapped. "What's so important that it could possibly merit my attention? I have far more urgent issues to attend to."
"This walking malfunction attacked me," Hurricane accused.
"Only to keep you from getting both of us killed," I answered, bristling. "At least I'm not cowardly enough to run away from a fight through suicide…"
"We are already discussing your punishment without you making it worse," my wingmate hissed. He turned back to Starscream. "He attacked a commanding officer, which constitutes treason – as well you know – and he should be dealt with accordingly."
"I saved your life, you—"
"Be silent!" Starscream commanded. "His actions were intended to save you from yourself, Trineleader, and in this he was successful. Therefore the only offense I see is disobeying orders."
"Only? Only?!" Hurricane spat. "While it may not matter to you, sir, to everyone else in this army insubordination is a serious offense. We can't all get off as easily as some."
"Mind your words," Starscream snarled, narrowing his optics. "But you're right. Insubordination is a virus that must be crushed before it spreads. A shift of the usual, then."
Hurricane, who had looked ready to erupt, visibly balked. "A… an entire shift, Commander? Isn't that a bit much, sir?"
"You said it yourself, Trineleader. He can't get off easily, can he?"
He took off and vanished from sight beyond the Tower's rim. Hurricane, his ire turned to bewilderment, faced me. For a moment he seemed lost for words, but he gestured for me to follow. I trailed him nervously. Many of the mechs we passed greeted me or congratulated me on my performance in battle. I knew many of them by designation and even more by sight.
Hurricane finally stopped at the training grounds – specifically, at one side of the training grounds, near one of the entrances.
"Stand with your back to the wall," he ordered. I obeyed, growing more anxious by the klik. "Spread out your arms."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
I hesitated, but complied. I had expected consequences. Starscream wouldn't have allowed this if it were life-threatening, so I shouldn't fear for my Spark.
I began to have second thoughts about this conclusion when Hurricane used the ominous, paint-streaked chains hanging from the wall to bind each of my wrists. "You're lucky we don't get acid rain anymore," he muttered. "They used to do this outside… almost lost some mechs to it then. As far as I know no one's ever been terminated like this."
"As far as you know?"
He dug about in a wall compartment for a vocal inhibitor. This he fastened over my face. "I'll be back in five megacycles. Good luck."
And then he was gone, leaving me to stand at the wall. I leaned against it, taking some strain off of my landing struts. They didn't hurt yet, but after five megacycles, they would ache from being locked into place for so long.
It seemed this punishment was to be more psychological than physical. Just being in this position made me burn in humiliation, and then there were the mechs who looked at me as they passed into and out of the training grounds, one of the most crowded areas of the entire base. Some were sympathetic, but others snickered and nudged their friends to make sure they noticed me.
Thirty cycles ticked slowly past on my chronometer. Then a pair of mechs approached, grinning.
"I know you," one of them chortled. "You're that Autobrat who gets to stay in Megatron's quarters."
Megatron's quarters?
"Looks like Starscream's little favorite isn't so favored anymore," the other added.
If that had been Starscream's intention, well, it looked like it was working. My sneer lost some of its force because my mouth was hidden, but I glared at them as though I could melt them with my optics alone.
"Looks like you've learned your place," the first mech said, lifting a hand and scraping his claws down my wing. I jerked in the chains, but I could barely move. It hurt like the Pit.
It seemed that this psychological punishment could very quickly turn physical as well.
The second mech gripped the very tip of my other wing. I flinched and tried to twitch the sensitive appendage away, but he held fast, grinning.
"What's wrong?" he asked, pinching maliciously. "Don't you like that?"
"I don't think he does," his companion answered with a leer. "Poor little Seeker. How will you learn your lesson if we don't help it stick?"
This time he dragged his claws across my cockpit, dragging out an audio-splitting screech from the glass. My helm clacked loudly against the wall as I struggled. Wasn't anyone watching? Didn't anyone care?!
There was a yelp from one of the Decepticons. The pain subsided and I onlined my optics in time to see the first mech hit the floor hard. Ramrod flipped the second over his hip and the stranger landed on top of his companion.
"What's the matter?" the red mech asked cheerfully. "Don't like picking on someone who can fight back?" Ramrod placed a foot on the top mech's chest, resting his arms – and his weight – on his knee. The two flailed uselessly. "No? Then why don't you run along and play somewhere else?"
The two mechs fled the moment he released them. He turned to me with a mischievous grin. "Hey there, Nova."
I hoped I could express gratitude through optics alone.
"Looks like he wasn't happy. Ah, well, it happens to all of us." He offered up his comm signal and I opened a link.
/Thank you./
"Don't mention it. So, how long are you here for?"
/About 4.743 more megacycles./
"That long?" Ramrod's expression darkened. Then he was cheerful again. "Well, it just so happens that I have this shift off. I'll be your knight in shining armor. You won't have to worry about glitches like those anymore." He grinned wickedly. "After all, we wouldn't want anyone taking advantage of that cute little helpless pose and doing impure things to you… unless that's how you like it, of course."
/Shut up, slagger!/ Safely hidden under the inhibitor, my faceplates burned.
"Mm, you didn't strike me as the type anyway."
I refrained from asking what type I did strike him as.
"So what did you do to annoy the Screaming One?" he asked.
/Nothing. He's hardly spoken to me in the past few orbits, with all that's been going on./
I missed that. I knew Starscream was busy, but I missed the way we had been in Iacon, when we had all the time in the world and we could actually talk. But I had neither fully appreciated the opportunity to speak with him until it was gone.
Ramrod nodded slowly, then glanced around and switched to internal comm.
/This is completely unfair, do you realize that?/
/What do you mean?/
/This. Normally a mech gets on the wall for a megacycle, maybe two, three for the worst offenses. Never this long. So, why do you think you're being punished like this?/
/Because… I… disobeyed orders./
/Wrong. It's because Starscream is afraid of you./
I goggled at him. /What?/
/You make him nervous, Nova. The Decepticons like you. You're more popular than you realize./
/So? What has that got to do with anything?/
/Starscream is already in a precarious position. Mechs don't like him… they don't trust him. Not everyone accepts him as their leader./
/Why not? It's his role by right. He was Megatron's second./
/I don't know. It's something that goes back to before I was here… before Axis. I don't know what it's all about, but the fact remains that there's a lot of mechs who'd like to serve someone else./
/And he knows all this. But why take it out on me? You're popular. Skywarp's popular. There are plenty of mechs who are well-liked. Why isn't he worried about them?/
/Because there's something more about you./
/What is it?/
/I don't know. But you're a threat to him, Nova, understand? And if you were to challenge him—/
/What?!/
/—there's a lot of mechs who would support you./
/Why? I'm nothing special. So I won a few fights, but…/
/Megatron started out as a gladiator, too./
Echoes of an overheard conversation in Prime's office rang out from my memory.
I won't let you turn him into another Megatron.
He was Sparked that way.
/But I'm not Megatron!/
/I don't know, Nova. You look like every other Seeker to me. But to the others, there's something about you that makes them stare at you. That's what Starscream is afraid of./
I collected my wildly reeling thoughts. /Starscream is the leader. He's kept us together for this long, and he's more capable than most mechs could ever hope to be./
/I just thought you should know./ He spoke aloud. "Okay. I spy with my little optic… something beginning with 'g'…"
It turned out that five megacycles of standing gagged and chained to a wall were far more interesting than five megacycles of monitor duty. By the time Hurricane came to release me, I'd accumulated a gaggle of protectors, members of the Stealth Units or mechs I'd faced in the arena, friends of mine and Ramrod's who chattered away as though I weren't pinned in such an awkward position. They turned the whole thing into a glorious joke rather than a punishment.
I'd had ample opportunity to think on what Ramrod had told me. I searched mechs' faces and words for signs of discontent with Starscream's leadership. Now that I knew what I was looking for, I was amazed at how much I found. For some reason my discovery upset me, so I resolved to come to my own conclusions. As soon as I was free, I extricated myself from the crowd and stole away to the cool darkness of the Archives.
The Archivist glided up silently, his optics glowing like twin red moons. "Nova, isn't it?" he said softly. "I thought I might be seeing you."
He raised a companionable arm as I fell into step beside him, but did not touch me. "You're searching for something," he said, already guiding me towards the Hall of Memory even before I had told him where I wanted to go.
"I'm looking for someone's memory. Someone who has seen Megatron and Starscream together."
"Ah, I thought so. Soundwave, then."
"Soundwave?" I asked as he pushed me gently down before a console. "But he's still online. I thought you said—"
"Soundwave is the exception. His impressive control over his own mind dictates which memories others are permitted to view." With deft hands he linked me into the console. His voice now sounded distant, although I felt his presence more intensely through our shared connection to the database. "I will assist you. You're searching for Starscream and Megatron… like your own memory, if you concentrate on those two you will find them. From there it should be easy. Soundwave's memories are so very organized."
The sensation was like floating, leaving myself behind and drifting into someone else's memory files. It was unsettling, but the Archivist acted as my anchor and my guide, keeping me connected to my own body as I grew used to the feeling. I concentrated, drawing on my own memories of Starscream and the secondhand memories of Megatron that I had accumulated. Soon enough Soundwave's memory bank registered what I was looking for and brought up a flood of memories to peruse at my leisure.
They shared a twisted camaraderie and a strange enmity. At times the two of them could be civil, even friendly towards each other, but these moments were rare and confusing. The rest of the time they were explosive in their conflicts. Whenever they met, they quarreled; when they quarreled, they fought physically more often than not. It was inevitable that Megatron won, being larger and stronger. Sometimes Starscream was right; others, Megatron. They rarely agreed on anything, down to the most insignificant detail.
There were times when Megatron, without warning or simply at the slightest provocation, would turn on his second-in-command and flay him half into stasis lock. But for each of these attacks was an assassination attempt by Starscream: poisoned energon, explosives, even a casual shot to the back – there was no method to kill a mech that Starscream did not attempt.
Soundwave looked on without judgment, leaving me to form my conclusions freely. Each mech was vicious, cunning, power-hungry, arrogant, and unstable. Yet somehow, through all of their fighting and apparent hatred of each other, they made the Decepticons great… one without the other could not.
And now only Starscream remained, having finally achieved his goal of leading the Decepticons… but he was only half of the equation. For better or for worse?
When I disconnected from the console, a rush of dizziness struck me. The Archivist's hands steadied me and offered an energon cube.
"It can be disorienting the first time," he said. I drank the energon gratefully. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
"The Decepticons don't trust Starscream because he hated Megatron," I said. Ramrod hadn't known because he hadn't even been Sparked until after Axis.
The Archivist nodded. "Quite so. Starscream is as capable a leader as Megatron ever was, but he is not Megatron. Hold out your hands, Nova. I have a gift for you."
The abrupt change in subject caught me by surprise. I held out my hands obediently and the Archivist laid twin long, silver swords in my palms. They were beautiful, but I looked up at him oddly.
"I already have weapons. Swords are outdated, archaic. I don't need these."
"Look closer."
I did, and felt a stab of recognition. I had just seen Megatron wield these. "Why?"
"Because they will help you. When you're too close for guns and too far for claws, then what do you use? When these 'archaic' and 'outdated' weapons save your chassis, then you'll appreciate them."
He took one of the swords and circled around me. "Hmm, let's see. Starscream hid them… here."
He pressed the blade lengthwise along the base of my wing. Automatically, my plating and wiring shifted to accommodate it, disguising the weapon as part of my wing. I put the other one to my other wing. The swords were hidden in plain sight, perfectly matching my plating.
Just in time. The door slid open and Starscream entered – I didn't know why, but I was glad that Megatron's weapons were concealed.
"Nova," he said. "I've been looking for you. It's late."
I checked my chronometer to find that I'd been in here for megacycles. I'd completely lost track of the time.
I bade the Archivist farewell and followed Starscream from the Archives. I walked behind him, pondering what I'd seen, but I didn't want to mention it to him.
"Why did you put me in Megatron's quarters?" I asked, suddenly remembering..
"For convenience. I wanted you near me. Besides, it's not like the previous occupant will be returning." He hesitated. "Nova… tomorrow, I'd like for you to accompany me to the command center. We'll be planning our next move, and it would be valuable for you to know what we're doing."
I remembered the conversation I'd overheard between Starscream and his wingmates. It seemed that Starscream had decided that he could afford to give me the opportunity. The knowledge that he trusted me made me flutter my wings happily.
"Are you injured?" Starscream asked suddenly.
"No. Why?"
"No reason."
He didn't look at me, just continued to walk. As I watched him, the realization came to me: he'd been worried about me. He must have known that mechs would take advantage of my punishment.
What Ramrod had said may be true. Perhaps Starscream was nervous that I would undermine him. But he was still my creator, and I was still his sparkling. Starscream's affection was hidden, but it was there.
Rather than follow in Starscream's footsteps, I drew up to walk alongside him. He glanced at me, then away, accepting; I smiled to myself.