Chapter 10 : Afterburner
A/N: Due to her busy schedule, my sister won't be beta-reading as much as I like her to be, so expect more mistakes :'[ Oh! Oh! Thanks to everyone for the favs, alerts and reviews!
Note: B.F.G. big fookin' gun
…No data found…
…-…
…Password accepted. Play message?…
"Okey-dokey!"
…Reduce visual image by : 56…
To my beloved,
This may not come as a surprise to you, as you've noticed the less frequent visits to our usual rendezvous point, but now it's time to make it official between us…
There is no US. Not anymore.
"…Oh, snap…"
If you're gaping right now, I don't believe it either…you know it's bound to happen. We were using our relationship to siphon info from one another, but we've been loyal enough to our respected factions…kinda. Well, don't act surprised.
Optimus Prime might have mentioned it to you, but I'm carrying a spark belonging to a certain mono-browed Decepticon-
"…No, he hasn't…"
-And now that it's born, I'm back in service. Yes, the spark's existence was never mentioned outside the Nemesis, not even in small talk. I think your CMO would know more…he inspected my circuits when I was kept in those 'yellow bricked' prisons you Autobots have in the Ark. All golden and shiny. Ahem, anyway, none of the Decepticon troops knew about it's presence until was so obvious, so that makes…(Ratchet, is it?) The first Transformer to know of my little 'secret'. If this is big news to you, don't worry. In a cycle or so, Megatron will enlighten the rest of the Transformer population of MY pride and joy...not with too many horns a' blaring, F.Y.I. He's not one to place such extravagance on his first spark.
But now that I have a lot more things to deal with right now, I don't think I can accommodate you on my 'to-do' list anymore. I know what we had together was fun, really, but my spark belongs to someone else now. Not out of force, I can tell you, and-…well, I don't know. Call it whatever you want, give my sentimental garbage some jive label. Look. I won't waste your time anymore, and neither will you. No point lying about something, that-…Primus, I've never done this before. Let's just say, if Megatron never existed, our relationship might have lasted longer…if you wanted it to. I presume I would…? But Megatron's part of my life beyond our professional relations, doi. It's bound to happen! Do you know the troops have been taking a poll to see how far my relationship with him will go? It's not funny, but I bet you're laughing right now…
"Yes I am!"
…So, I guess this is the last message you'll ever receive from me of this nature. I still can't come out of the Nemesis until the next millennia of medical check-ups, but, if I could, I wouldn't be sending messages like this. Not because I'm a good girl, you stupid mech creature! It's called common courtesy. Well… next time I see you, you'd better be ready, or I'll shoot you first.
Good bye for now, 'angel cakes'.
…Replay message?…
"...Goodbye, angel."
…Invalid command. Replay message-?…
"Silly thing," a black hand clipped the video recorder shut, and with one healthy swing, tossed the small device into the air. Upon reaching a needed height, the mechanical contraption shattered into tiny fragments from it's original form, tossing and turning in the white sunlight to become smaller, more detailed pieces. A foreign gunshot interjected the first gun's purpose, reducing the recorder into metallic sprinkles glistening back down to earth. Pale blue visors reflected another Autobot companion, materialising from thin air within a golden-lined box guarding his frame.
"Hey 'Raj," Jazz gave a lesser smile than his usual cheeriness. "Heard it all?"
"Yeah," the Ligier cooed understandingly and tread up to the saboteur, taking a seat on the rocky outpost. "How'd you feel?"
"Down, but not out of the game, baby," Jazz's last comment placed a humble smile on his friend, and the Porsche unceremoniously dropped his rump next to the Ligier. "…'Can imagine the look on Cliffjumper's face if he found this little love note, though."
"Can you?" Mirage turned to his companion with a gentile smile. Jazz held a contemplative pause to look at the open plains.
"'Now that I've completed my list of all known traitors in alphabetical order, I can finally get my B.F.G. back from Optimus Prime! Starting from zero-!'" the saboteur waved his arms like a pair of wild flags, battering the breeze in mockery of the minibot, sending the spy into a bout of stitches. "He's not that bad, Jazz!"
"Yeah, I know," the Porsche settled his actions. "Just that stint with you and him some time ago got me thinking..."
"Have you told Optimus yet?" the French car enquired.
"Nope."
"Hound?"
"Why?"
"Prowl?"
"Did he ask?"
"No-"
"Okay then," Jazz turned away and continued to gaze lazily at the rocky landscape, with the wind sweeping dust into a spontaneous dance. With feet tucked to his body, the spy poked a finger into the ground, drawing circles around the sand mixed with bits of their previous shooting target. "I think Prime should know sooner or later, Jazz. The information we got from her before was useful, but its merits gets smaller as time goes by…no offence."
"None taken, 'Raj my bot. So…" Jazz looked at his sun-tanning companion. "What do you think of that soundtrack I gave you last night? Listened to it yet?"
"Oh…oh! Ah, Dean Martin sounds okay," Mirage trailed off. "…Sounds…pretty good in fact…"
"…Nice to listen to your own voice, huh?" taken aback, the Ligier flashed a befuddled expression at Jazz. "…Is that why everyone keeps calling me 'the big Dean Martin'?"
"Pro'ly so! Or 'Martinirage'," Jazz was quite unsympathetic to the enlightened Autobot, having understood his new moniker around the Ark. "…You're horrid when you're heartbroken, Jazz."
"Don't look at me, I prefer the good ol' 'Raj, any day-!" Jazz's internal alarms clicked in reminder of the saboteur's next shift. Standing up, the Porsche gave his friend a keen slap on the back.
"See ya later, 'Raj-WHOOP!" the duo quickly made an arm link when the Ligier almost fell off the vantage point, carrying a deep frown to go along with his near-miss to misfortune. "Is this supposed to be a bad week for me, or is this some kind of conspiracy?"
"Maybe everyone just wants to know the real 'Raj," Jazz pulled the rest of the spy to safe ground.
"Well, if this is how everyone's going to do it, I might as well-"
"Disappear?"
"…Hello? 'Raj? …Oh well."
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It was beautiful…whatever her child was going to be. She could already see the veins of it's basic endoskeleton branch out of the core, drawing an outline of it's frame. It's pending size was easy to cradle in her arms, sporting the deep blue wires of a sparkling. 'Megatron would be somewhat disappointed', Starscream thought. New troops were usually born as adults, vigilant, prepared for combat, and unquestioning to the moral compass of Megatron's political actions, as soon as they left their creator. Not diminutive in stature (with some exceptions), defenceless and lacking weaponry. Not with big, lustrous optics, tiny rounded fingers, and dimply cheeks with no end to their infinite questions. Starscream left herself daydreaming in front of her creation, when a violet seeker warped himself into the med bay, staring at his aerial commander hugging her own body and mumbling to herself. Again.
The femme con's lips quibbled to the thought of her pride and joy being the most wonderful, well-formed spark that has ever touched the universe, and Skywarp spotted the goofiest grin he had never seen on Starscream before, matching the glazed look she wore for the past astrosecond.
"(…And it's going to be so cute with it's big cute optics and-! It must have wings! Cute, little, seeker wings! Tiny, little seeker jets! Eeeeeee!)"
"Hey Starscream wassup-"
"HOLY PRIMUS WHO THE SLAG IN THE WHAT PIT-WAAAAAAH!" The red jet jumped half her height from Skywarp's unsuspected 'sneak attack', turning around to gnash at the face of the culprit, who was (almost) wholly innocent for the first time.
"STUPID-! MORONIC-! PTKH-! YGHTH-! GAAAAAHHH!" Starscream grabbed the sides of her helmet. "What's WRONG with you?"
'I bet her head would get stuck in the ceiling if she jumped higher,' Skywarp wished as much, wincing at the onslaught of spit flying out of her clapping jaws.
"What's wrong with you?" he retorted. "I was just checking to see how our little guy's doin', that's all, and well, you, (you look fine)."
"Well, I am fine, and I'm going to be even better when I get my null rays back-" she paused, absorbing her wingmate's last comment. "Who said it was male?"
"I dunno. Maybe…(I dunno). Oh yeah, TC's out on patrol so he told me to go check on you when you wake up and I'd do that myself but you know…" a cheeky grin spread itself across the air commander's face.
"Awww, he's just sick of taking care of your stupid aft!" said Starscream, catching the purple seeker off-guard.
"Yeah, well-! Congraaaatulations Starscream, you can make sparks, just like all the other females!" Purple hands trapped the femme con in their grasp, and Starscream excused his overfriendliness for this moment.
"…We didn't think you'd wake up (you were out for days…!)" Skywarp's voice betrayed a sad cry to his firm embrace around the red seeker, who patted her purple comrade's dark helmet in consolidation. "There, there, Skywarp, big ol' Megs and my metal-melting spark's not gonna get rid of me that easily!"
Skywarp's opinion was muffled into her shoulder, but she knew they both had carried the same sentiment to the subject. Raising his head from his superior, Skywarp's visage gave away to a more light-hearted expression.
"You know, you're like the hot little sister I've never had…"
"…Uuuuuh-huh."
"…And now she's awl gwown up!" Starscream failed to comprehend Skywarp's words, but she did stop him from hugging her again to compliment his preceding thoughts. "…So, what did I miss?"
"Well…" he tapped his chin with his finger, if it helped him think. "Mega-Cannon-Up-Our-Caboose wants to know whether you're able to make a quick raid on an oil derrick with us, so you can refresh your battle leetness back into shape (if you can't then it's okay-)"
"I can." Starscream reaffirmed her active participation in the future.
"…Great! You go girl! Whoo-hoo! (Grrl power, whoo-) Anyway, also, there's a BIG pile of work on file for you, just go geddit from Megatron after the raid, and then hand in your evaluation of your performance with ours including the results of the energon collection and collect the other-" Skywarp stopped running his vocal processor when she started hers.
"You're just making it sound bad so I don't have to stress so much later, hmm?"
Skywarp nodded gaily before continuing.
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"Congratulations commander Starscream, it's a Megababy! Does it have his eyebrow?" Starscream narrowed her optics at both twins sitting in the command room of their mobile base. 'Those two need to be raked upside the head with some military professionalism,' Starscream concurred her thoughts.
"Shut up, Rev. And nothing out of your sister either; when one acts stupid, the other confirms it," a sharp blue finger wagged itself in the automobiles' direction, and the sisters frowned in unison. "From this day forth, you are now all official troops of the Decepticon army, as conferred by Megatron himself, and my personal entourage."
"Thank you, commander," four voices chimed to the promotion, save for one.
"Haven't we been playing bodyguard for the past…I dunno, since we've worked here?" Celerate asked with a defiant pout.
"Once again sisters, if you have nothing productive to contribute, shut, the pit, up. Consider yourselves very lucky that you're under my direct command, and not our less tolerant leader. Let me remind you all that if any of you decide to play 'Miss-Know-It-All', or forgets when play-times over during our military assemblies, I will personally see to your 'general reformation'. Am I understood?"
"Yes, commander," all females chanted together, leaving Rev to trail off meekly at the end.
"Now!" said Starscream. "Where were we. There is a dual raid to be made at point 376. Lightburst, scout. Tank Girl and the 'Wonder Twins', rock and roll (and load the damned cubes). Midnight, back up."
"Boss lady, question. Why is Midnight always 'back up'?" Rev pointed an accusing finger the darker seeker, who jerked back at the former automobile's forceful question. "I never see her do anything since that time we transformed into Hestia-you know what, I've never seen her transform into anything other than a leg! Isn't she a seeker, just like you? Seeker's fly in their jet mode, right? And-AAAIEEEE!"
All optics drew to the trail of smoke folding from the null ray, and the aggravated female armed with them. Celerate did her best to prop her sister back onto the chair, and the red jet continued.
"…I hired you all for a purpose, and that purpose is to SERVE your bloody purpose. Oh, don't worry Celerate, your silent sister's still mentally functioning…a much better improvement since the last few seconds." Starscream waved her arm whimsically at the twins, and started pacing the room with a clear echo to her feet. Stopping at the other seeker occupying the room, Starscream leaned over her like a black umbrella, in an intimidating, yet slightly protective fashion.
"Don't let her outer shell fool you all, because my little friend here can't transform into a jet."
The air commander waited for everyone's reaction to die down. "Ooh, oh no, really? GASP! Well, no surprise to me. You see, Midnight was part of a project to create another gestalt team, and her alternate combiner mode was already preset to merge and accompany her soon-to-be-made team mates. Being impossible for her creator to complete due to, ahem, difficult circumstances (being his incompetence overweighing his intelligence), the project was abandoned, and Midnight (poor thing), was abandoned with it." Starscream patted Midnight's shoulder in false consolidation, sounding a practical rap across the conference room.
"My dear, if you're wondering why you can't transform it's because, your creator was supposed to set your alternate mode before your gestalt form. Alas, he didn't, and the programme has already been written into your spark." Starscream let go of the chair the ultramarine seeker was sitting in, to make another revolution around the females again; Midnight's hands rested obediently on her lap, as she sniffled to the warm fluid running down her face. Lightburst privately admired her modest show of vulnerability to the rest of the Decepticon females.
"…A Transformer who can't transform." Tank Girl finally spoke. "A tragedy, but-"
"-But a miracle!" Starscream confirmed. "See, for her 'handicap', Midnight has learnt a lot of things to compensate for her shortcomings, compared to you two."
Celerate refrained from making a face when her sister was reclining on her shoulder.
"Everyone who's done their share of fighting should know by now that Midnight's an excellent medic in field injuries. Those who don't obviously haven't been contributing enough to our cause to be under her extensive care; and she's a good cook…even better than our domesticated sisters, I should say. (Too bad for the big boys fighting without us). Oh, oh! And as much as I love to hear myself talk, here's an important lesson for you all!"
The table shook as an aggressive blue fist punched it's now dented surface. "How many females are there in the army, girls? How many? One, two, three-four and five-FIVE! FIVE OFFICIAL females in the army amidst THOUSANDS of knuckle-dragging MECHS! That's only the Decepticons ladies! Megatron never gave us a chance, and the thought of a femme con team would have never crossed his bucketed cerebral circuit board! Why? Who knows. Maybe we're only good at crying and looking pink."
All females waited for each other to make or cause a reaction, cave for Midnight who hastily cleaned her face. Starscream started first.
"Well, I'm not bloody PINK! Elita-One can be pink, Arcee can be pink-Lightburst is pink but if you cross her she can and will BLOW YOUR SLAGGING HAND INTO CYBER FLEA-SIZED PIECES! I formed this group to extend your talents and abilities, and as a minority we have to work together! Our group will grow bigger in due time, but if you want results, you'll have to be patient. If you want to have more female comrades to watch your back, you'll have to work hard. If you want more rights, you'll have to prove to everyone else that you're worth these rights. And if you don't want me wetting your faces with my spit as I scream this message across to you all you'll have to work TOGETHER! UNDERSTAND-?"
"YES COMMANDER STARSCREAM! FOR THE GLORY OF THE FEMALE DECEPTICON ARMY!"
All legs stood to salute to their commander and her arresting diction. Starscream's screeching died down to a breathy word.
"…Good. Now, at point 367-"
"376, mum."
"-At point 376…"
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"I see the female gestalt's performance has improved greatly since their previous battle," Megatron turned to the piquant seeker, who let a purple wave unfold with a sharp whip of her arms. When he ordered her to prepare his regal cloak for attire, Starscream did so, but with wordless protest. Plastered with a grimace blacker than Megatron's hands, Starscream clamped the shoulder guards into place with a solid click and brushed the material to smoothen the folds, which in turn ironed away the creases she wore on her face. Gazing at his reflection, Megatron's scrutiny stopped at a pair of wings hovering behind his back, as slender hands made long, careful strokes to ripple the purple cape. Watching his three-pronged crown float clumsily above his helmet, the Decepticon ruler turned around to focus on the seeker holding said item at arms length. Dark hands plucked the crown from her slim fingers to drop it on the seeker's unsuspecting head, and Megatron observed his aerial commander adjusting it's placement unsuccessfully, as the crown jestingly leaned to one side of her head.
"It's a little big," she stated flatly.
"Too bad," said Megatron, and the crown returned to it's owner, having the honour of sitting higher than this distinguished being. The femme con pretended to discount the tyrant's crass words, concentrating more on his cloak circling her front, and Starscream let her leader pull her closer to his chest.
"This thing is too old…I should get a replacement," Megatron hinted, devaluing his attire with a whimsical flick of the wrist. "Wouldn't it look nice on you instead?"
Starscream shrugged with a breathy huff and a crooked grin. "Don't be so mean, or I might be wearing my OWN royal colours. Permanently."
"Oh, I'm terrified," Megatron roughly pinned the seeker to rest on his body, until her wings bent against his frame in slight discomfort. "Duplication of my royal cloak and crown is not advisable."
"Tell me about it. Instant death sentence, anyone?" Her leader took her comment as a joke and let out a grated chuckle, but Starscream was not laughing at the underlying rule. In fact, her face took a questioning frown, her lip half-pursed and half-pulled by an invisible hook, which warped her mouth to a slanted pucker. Going against his accustomed behaviour, Megatron's hands playfully circled her body, coiling his now unfastened cloak around her shoulders and her wings in an outlandish act. An unwillingly participant in Megatron's boyish depiction of modern art, Starscream shimmied her mouth out of the cloth to look a little worryingly at the tyrant and his mental health.
"…This-! Pfft…(mmph)…is not-…(can't get out)…" Starscream closed her mouth, when a strong hand rotated her cheek guard to face the mirror.
"Knowing the rules, can we say that this is the only Decepticon regal cloak that exists?" Megatron asked, and Starscream nodded enthusiastically.
"As far as we know my lord, there can only be one…" Starscream's cranial circuits started working faster. "Are you saying that there can be more-?"
"More, without subverting to treason," the couple looked at their reflections, cast upon the uninterested mirror. Megatron's double started moving his mouth. "…Maybe two."
"But-! That's-!" Starscream stopped when the cloak cheekily scaled her helmet, polishing the metal at the same time. The Decepticon aerial commander thought she was confused at first, but now she was totally perplexed.
"Maybe, the duplicate would look a little different…" Megatron found small difficulty in loosening the cloth around her head, wrestling with the knot he made when he snaked the cloak around the hapless female. "Maybe-…(got it), to escape technical legalities, it would be a little shorter (like this), and with a little hood (like this)…what do you think?"
Starscream gaped at her reflection, and if it was alive, the visual echo would be in the process of laughing itself to death, ravelled in it's own tangled mess.
"'What do I think?' Well my lord, if you're asking me what I look like, the word rhymes with boron…" Starscream's expression grew heavier, and that was excluding the creases in-between her optics.
"Is it legal?" he asked again, and she amused him further with her own brand of misery and self-pity.
"As a fashion victim, no."
"Dear female, you're so short-sighted," the tyrant adjusted the make-shift hood with uncommon gentleness. "Putting aside everyone else's doubts, there is a way for two to exist without lawful prosecution."
"Stop playing your stupid games and tell me-…" Starscream swallowed her words, upon revelation of her thoughts finding reason within his words. Megatron continued to knot the cloth at his leisure, until it formed a veil modestly covering her dark helmet.
"To have a queen to call my own…" he trailed off. "…What do you think of that now…?"