Salvation
Chapter 2
"Hey, Perceptor!"
The microscope paused where he was, poking his head around the armful of generator parts he was carrying to see who was hailing him.
"Oh! Oh, Ratchet! One moment, let me put this down somewhere..."
"Mm, you can put it in here. Hold on, I've got it -"
Starting forward, Ratchet was just in time to catch the topmost turbine as it slid from Perceptor's control and began to fall towards the floor, nodding his head towards his surgery in indication that the other scientist should deposit his load in there.
After neatly placing his burden up against the wall where it hopefully wouldn't be too much in the way, Perceptor straightened his back and winced as the gears locked back into place.
"Ahh, my gratitude." He breathed in an antiphon of tense relief. "Oh, just put that one on top, thanks." Waving his hand towards the pile to show Ratchet where to place the rogue turbine, he smiled softly. "So, what can I do for you?"
"Actually, it's what I can do for you." The doctor breezed fluidly over to his computer and called up the medical and maintenance records of the soldiers aboard the Ark. "I'd quite like to check over your circuits."
"Again?" Perceptor couldn't keep the exasperation from his voice. "Ratchet, you gave me my last overhaul just over a deca-cycle ago, and I haven't been damaged since. In fact, I haven't left the Ark!" It sickened him to lie to his friends, but he knew they wouldn't understand. They'd think that Starscream was forcing him into it in some way, that he was being blackmailed or pressured or just abused somehow. If only they weren't so eager to see the evil in the seeker! But then, they did have good reason to despise him...
And the ambulance shrugged, twiddling a surgical laser between his red fingers. "Well, it's more that Red Alert was suggesting it to me, really. You know what he's like, it would be easier if you let me check you over rather than tell him I have and have him find out I haven't. He'll only fritz another motherboard."
"Red?" The microscope's optics widened in mild surprise. "Why does he want me looked over?"
"He's a bit suspicious -"
"Well, yes, but he's always suspicious."
"- and he seems to think that you're up to something."
"He always thinks someone is up to something." Shaking his head, the mild-mannered microscope tried to protest his innocence, perhaps being a little more open to assassinating Red Alert's character than he usually would – because he wasn't innocent, and the thought that Red might have discovered his meetings with Starscream chilled him to the core.
But Ratchet was laughing it off with his usual gruff chuckle.
"Haha, yes, that's just the way he is. I know he's usually wrong, but I'll just give you a quick check over. It's probably best if I do, I'd like to check that you haven't got any lingering circuit corrosion or malignant impurity left over from the Decepticons. There were a lot of open wounds festering, and I might have missed anything that was benign at the time."
Nodding his acquiescence, Perceptor had to admit it was a good idea; Ratchet had promoted, and he himself had fully agreed with, the idea of frequent check-ups for a period of time after his imprisonment. He had been mere inches from death at the time of his rescue, and there had been too much time for potentially harmful alien particles to enter his systems – not only from the unsanitary, contaminated floor of the cell, but as he had lain semi-conscious in the desert sand also.
"And I'd quite like to have a closer look at that custom control of yours, if you don't mind?"
"Oh!" He almost panicked. Ratchet seemed to think that the unrecognised component had been helping Perceptor overcome the post-trauma stress of his terrible ordeal. If the doctor were to discover its true purpose rather than its pretended guise of a device to numb pain... Perceptor dreaded to think, the accusations... "Um! N-no, no, I'd really rather you didn't, um..."
Ratchet held up his red hands disarmingly, a kind smile on his face as he conveyed his understanding to his shy, introverted, withdrawn friend. "Don't worry about it, I'll leave it well alone."
"Thanks," he tried to hide his relief, but it was hard; he was not good at concealing his true emotions, they displayed so openly on his face. Thankfully, however, Ratchet was already busy examining the wires in his stomach.
Perceptor decided to stay silent and let the medical officer get on with what he did best.
O
"I don't like it, Soundwave." Megatron paced irritably back and forth, watched by his quiet, impassive communications officer. "He's up to something."
"Invariably." Was the cool response as Soundwave stood to stiff attention, watching his master with his usual inscrutable expression.
"He's becoming a serious liability. Something has to be done."
"Deactivation?" Was the monotone suggestion. Megatron shook his head, a sharp snap to the side which was as much an irate twitch as it was a voluntary movement.
"Too messy. I've let him get away with too much to just blast him. I need a reason." The gun-transformer wheeled about on his subordinate, who did not so much as flinch. "Where has he been going when he leaves the Nemesis without authorisation?"
The tapedeck shook his head. "Starscream's destinations remain unknown, Megatron."
"You fool, you didn't think to send one of the Casseticons after him!?" Megatron's fearsome red optics flashed retribution as he berated his loyal officer.
"He does not leave if he suspects he is being followed." Was the toneless response. Megatron seethed but lowered his hand from where it had risen to strike his subordinate.
"Rarrgh!" The tyrant expostulated in frustration, wringing his black hands together, longing instead to be wringing his air commander's neck. "That makes it even more obvious. He's engaging in some private enterprise and I want to know what it is! He's an idiot if he thinks I haven't noticed he's trying to cover it up!"
And the silver robot resumed his ired pacing, his feet hitting the purple metal of the floor with resounding clangs. Soundwave watched him silently as he tried to think of a way to deal with the problem that Starscream's insubordination presented.
"He's got his guard up too high. I'll have to get him to lower it somehow. Suggestions?" Growled the gravelly-voiced gun after several kliks of agitated circles.
"Starscream loses rationality when he is upset." Pointed out the deep blue robot calmly, not at all shaken by his angry master, though fully aware of how dangerous it was to be in the same room as the powerful and genocidal commander while he was in a dark mood such as this.
Megatron's cruel optics glimmered, a slight smirk crossing his silver face as a scheme formulated in his mind. "Hnnn... Firstly, go and inform Starscream that I want a word with him. Tell him to come here. Then dispatch Ratbat. I want him to wait outside and tail Starscream as soon as he leaves. Make it very clear to him that he is not to be seen, I want him to bring me back video surveillance of what he's up to. Oh, and go and tell Skywarp to stay out of the way for the next couple of cycles, I don't want that idiot overhearing anything and thinking I've promoted him."
"At once, Megatron." Soundwave nodded, impassive as ever, and disappeared swiftly to carry out his leader's bidding.
O
Starscream swept in to Megatron's control room as though he owned it, his gait and stride portraying his seemingly limitless volumes of arrogance and self-adulation. Without even bothering to salute his master, he leaned at ease against the supercomputer terminal, another cheeky insubordination. When Megatron did not turn to acknowledge him immediately, he folded his arms in ill-tempered impatience.
"Soundwave said you wanted to speak with me," he announced loudly, speaking slower than usual as though Megatron would have trouble understanding him, "so hurry it up, I'm busy."
In a sudden and unanticipated movement, Megatron whirled on his disobedient lieutenant, towering over the smaller robot. An expression of disgust marred his regal face, highlighting the paint chips of old battle-damage.
"You're a liability." He said with a sneer. "A traitor." The white face moved closer. "A despicable blemish on Decepticon brilliance. You," one black finger jabbed the still blades of one of Starscream's pectoral vents painfully, "are expendable."
"You just don't know when to accept you're outclassed." Retorted the air commander with a matching leer of his own, fearless while Megatron was not physically threatening him. "You're scared to admit that I would make a better leader!"
Megatron continued as though he had not been interrupted. "You have skill, but your ambition is overpowering you, and that makes you weak."
He stopped to glare for a moment down at the grey-faced jet, who bared his teeth and snarled up at him in hatred.
"Did you call me here just to bitch at me, or is there some other purpose for wasting my time?"
Carelessly, almost automatically, the gun-transformer backhanded his subordinate across the face for the insult, forceful enough to knock him off-balance and send him stumbling slightly to the side, before gripping him by the chin to force their optics to meet.
"I am no longer prepared to feed your treachery. You are being stripped of your rank and command. As of now you will take your orders from Skywarp as my new aerospace commander and you will obey them."
For a long moment, Starscream was speechless, even mouthing wordlessly at his leader, too stunned to even wrench his chin from the tight grip. Then, suddenly, something snapped.
"Me!" He screeched at a pitch and volume that grated the silver robot's audio receptors. "You demote me! Me, Starscream! You want me to take orders from Skywarp!? He's an idiot, I won't allow it, how dare you – how dare you!"
"You are dismissed. Report directly to Skywarp." Remarked the tyrant coldly, his fingers falling away from their grasp on Starscream's jaw as he turned his back on his subordinate. "Get out."
Starscream stood still, shaking in all his limbs, his fury showing on his face through bared teeth and narrowed, flaming optics. His circuits burned in humiliation at the thought of taking orders from Skywarp, at the thought of being a lower rank than all his grunts, of being bossed around by the same warriors he had spent so much time victimising -
He refused to allow it. With a primeval scream of rage, he lunged at Megatron.
The Decepticon leader, having anticipated such a reaction, whirled round and was quick to raise up his fusion cannon, pointing it directly at Starscream's dark face and effectively stopping the seeker dead in his tracks.
"Out." He repeated, dismissive and apathetic just to add more salt to the sting of Starscream's wounded ego. In a fleeting moment of rationality, Starscream recognised that he was physically outmatched; in his haste and blind anger, he had not even thought to ready his twin null-ray cannons. Faced with Megatron's fusion cannon, he made the decision to withdraw, though it was made in ill-grace and only because he was not prepared to either be killed or beg for his life before the very mech who continued to belittle him like this.
Someone needed to die for this insult to his character!
Frag taking orders from Skywarp, he was getting out of this Primus-forsaken starship!
He slammed out of the control hub with such force that the metal door crumpled at the impact with its frame. Megatron heard his rampage of destruction all the way up the hall as erratic clanging indicated the walls of the corridor being struck by powerful punching blows of anger and frustration, and he smiled to himself as phase one of his strategy slotted nicely into place, completed exactly to plan.
O
A chill mist lingered about the copse in the coniferous forest where the lone Transformer waited. Prior to his arrival, there had not even been a clearing – now the ground was littered with broken branches, charred earth, smoking tree stumps and smouldering corpses of small woodland wildlife as he tried to alleviate his anger before Perceptor arrived by destroying anything around him. Some part of him still understood that in such a dire mood he would only upset his partner.
He didn't notice the purple metallic bat alight on a branch in one of the few trees in the vicinity still standing as he lowered himself to sit on one of the fallen trunks. Nor did he notice the two tiny pinpoints of red in the darkness, flaring brightly before dimming to a barely-there maroon as Soundwave's spy maliciously anticipated Starscream's downfall.
The jet slumped onto the stricken wood, his head falling into his hands.
He'd burned out. No more energy left, he'd wasted it all on thoughtless destruction waiting for his bondmate to come and negate what had just happened. How dare Megatron demote him! And in favour of Skywarp! The Decepticons would surely lose the war now. They had a moron for an officer now instead of the tactical genius that Starscream knew he himself was. Megatron was blind to his brilliance.
Any real leader should be able to cope with a scheming lieutenant. It was a sign of weakness that Megatron had had to demote him.
Still his circuits ached in humiliation and even shame at the knowledge that he was now ranked lower than all of the other soldiers in his faction. The thought made his energon run cold. He would no doubt be revenged upon for all his bullying, all his bragging, all his lashing out at his subordinates and arrogant posing, and that was a sickening thought indeed.
... why had his first reaction been to come out here and meet with Perceptor?
In the past, if Megatron had pulled a stunt like this, he was sure he would have blasted a hole in the fragger's head and claimed supreme leadership for himself. Now, though, he had come straight out to meet with an Autobot – an enemy –
That wasn't like him at all.
And what was he supposed to say to his mate? Was he supposed to just say 'Megatron demoted me'? That made him sound like a coward for failing to stand up for himself. 'I've been demoted' made him sound inept. 'Megatron fragged me over' just sounded like he was making excuses. He didn't like to admit weakness, even to his bondmate. Especially to his bondmate. He was aware that Perceptor held him in a certain amount of fear still. He quite liked that. It would all be jeopardised if the microscope lost respect for him.
Primus, Perceptor might even refuse to meet with him if he thought Starscream was an incompetent coward. The jet found himself growling at the thought.
He seriously considered flying out now, without waiting for Perceptor to arrive. To just leave before the scientist got here and started asking if he was all right. At least then he wouldn't have to deal with another mech seeing him like this, because this was not at all like him.
Although there were a surprising number of things that Starscream hated about himself, such as his stupid name and his stupid voice and stupid mass-production, he hated it most of all when he was depressed like this – because it wasn't like him. It didn't happen often. He usually stayed out of the way when it did, because there was little that was more exploitable than a moping, upset warrior.
Yes, Perceptor had seen him in one of those moods before, once or twice. Somehow, he'd never minded the Autobot being with him at a time like that, perhaps because he understood that Perceptor was not one to exploit, or perhaps it was because he had seen (and caused) Perceptor's own depression and could always exact his revenge if the scientist turned against him. Either way, being with Perceptor didn't really bother him.
But the thought of explaining a demotion sickened him, and he did not want to seem so useless. Regretting calling Perceptor out for this meeting, Starscream decided to leave while he had the chance, redirecting energy to his thrusters to start them up -
"Starscream?"
Slag it.
"There you are!" Perceptor waved his hand in greeting as Starscream, who powered down his afterburners irritably, came into his line of sight. The scientist smiled briefly before stopping dead still as he noticed the still-smoking dead wood around the seeker. "Vector Sigma, what happened here?"
Starscream said nothing. He didn't want to be here any more. That he had come straight out here instead of trying to melt Megatron for slag had proved to him beyond any doubt that Perceptor was affecting him somehow, and he didn't want to change for anyone. No one had the right to change him, least of all a compassionate, sentimental Autobot weakling!
And then he felt the Autobot's concern through his chest, and he grit his teeth. Slag it, slag it, slag it!
It stilled his tensed limbs, wound down his turbines, diverted energy from his engines, somehow compelled him to stay, somehow almost forced him to stay.
"Starscream..." The red-bodied microscope brought his hands round slowly and deliberately towards the dark face, making his intentions clear in case the jet wished to pull away. Starscream caught himself mid-flinch as the fingers caught his cheeks and jawline in a gentle caress, brushing the seams that ran down from the corners of his optics. "What's happened?"
He had no energy left to try and construct a defence, he couldn't even be bothered to try and talk his way out of it. That never worked with Perceptor anyway; he always found himself skipping straight to the point. It was just another way that the microscope had been changing him without his realising it – though that realisation did not make him angry, as he thought it would. It was, instead, somehow relaxing...
What the frag, what else was there left to lose now he'd lost his power and his control and his dignity?
"Megatron demoted me." He growled, optics flaring dangerously as though daring Perceptor to mock him, just waiting for the jibes and the insults to flow. But he was thinking like a Decepticon again, forgetting that here was one being who, for whatever unfathomable reason, did not hate him – though he was certainly one with good reason to.
No insults came, no jibes, no harsh retort or disgusted sneer.
Whatever Starscream was expecting, the sad smile he saw on his lover's face was the last on the list. The slight shake of the head, the downcast azure optics, the firming of pressure in those dark fingertips against the smooth metal of his cheeks – was Perceptor feeling sorry for him!?
"I don't need your pity!" He snapped, snatching his face away from the careful touch that held it. Used to his abrupt and anti-social actions after the period of time they had spent together, Perceptor merely followed him through, catching one of Starscream's ultramarine hands in his own pewter-grey. Though he snarled at the microscope's courage, Starscream closed his fingers around the dark metal.
"Who replaced you?" Murmured the smaller robot quietly, meeting Starscream's angry red eyes with his own soothing blue.
"That moron Skywarp, who couldn't find his aft with both hands and a radar unless someone sat next to him and gave him directions." Spat the jet in disgust, speaking so venomously at the same time as sliding his hand within his mate's so that their fingers were interlocked. "That's it, war's over, you've won now. Ktchah!"
"Don't worry," Perceptor mumbled, so quietly that Starscream was not sure whether or not he was supposed to hear, "I'll be sure to make you my personal slave instead of killing you."
There was stony, awkward silence that carried on for several astroseconds outside the comfort zone, and Perceptor's hand was beginning to twitch in his as the microscope fidgeted uncomfortably before Starscream smirked in response to the soft teasing and swept his pet into a kiss. Not fierce, not dominating, not demanding – just a kiss, a thankful expression that spoke more than stuttered words with jumbled meanings ever could.
Perversely, he felt much better. Perceptor had hardly said anything uplifting, but the mere presence of his mate had even been enough to make the jet's mood lighter. And even the innocent, naïve, corruptible little scientist had a sense of humour that sometimes proved itself quite similar to the sarcastic wit of Starscream himself – that was refreshing and certainly interesting.
Megatron would see sense, he knew, and demand him back as Air Commander for the Decepticons. Skywarp was too brainless to command the battalion of seekers. He had no imagination, he was just a drone so loyal that it was boring. Megatron would be begging for Starscream to liven things up again. Megatron needed someone like Starscream to continuously point out the flaws in his planning and remind him to watch his back.
There was a faint smile lingering about the white lips as Starscream drew his head back again, and Perceptor dimmed his optics from shining azure to glimmering prussian, and they glinted in some indeterminable emotion as he took the initiative and recaptured the Decepticon's mouth with his own for another quick kiss.
"Feeling any better?" He muttered against the heated metal of the jet's dark face, and Starscream smirked in response, bringing the hand that was not entwined in Perceptor's to hook around the red waist, just above the pelvic join. While his only vocal reply was a grunt, it was accentuated by the scientist's surprised inhalation through his vents as the jet brought their chassis together with a crunch.
Not without his usual roughness, Starscream tugged Perceptor down to sit on the trunk he had used earlier, positioning the Autobot next to him. Then, as his mate's hand fell away from his limply, he brought the black-helmed head to rest against his crimson shoulder vent before picking up the dropped hand and placing it around his back to hold his waist on the other side.
His vents sped up, churning out more heated waste air in satisfaction as he finished arranging the Autobot around him and he ran his glossa over his grey lips, meeting Perceptor's uncertain eyes with his own unreadable.
As the seeker's blue hand fell down to cover the grey one that rested on his light waist, he felt his partner relax into the embrace further.
... Starscream had no intention to bond tonight, not while he was still so upset about being stripped of his rank. He knew that if he were to initiate a coupling, it would only end up as an outlet for his frustrations – it would be violent and harsh and unfulfilling, for, though he might drive himself to an overload, it would only be in pain. And Perceptor would be left... as he had been before, after their first bond.
The seeker knew he was good at taking without consent, and he enjoyed when his victims begged for mercy, but that didn't mean he always wanted to inflict such a thing – and he didn't want to hurt his microscope that badly, not like he had done once before. So there would be no bond tonight. He was just, now that he had settled to be at ease with it, thankful for the company.
And so Starscream allowed his optics to drift off and dim to nothing, resting his head against his shoulder vent and wishing, not for the first time, that the blasted thing wasn't there, so that he could lay his head on his lover's instead.
Far above, unnoticed by the silent couple, Ratbat quietly launched away from his branch, his optics gleaming a malevolent and vindictive sangria. He'd seen all he needed to see.