My Madness, My Saving Sanity

Chapter Two: In Enemy Hands

By: Nightelfcrawler

Author's note: While this is G1 based, I've made Starscream a blend of his G1 and Armada personalities just because I find the dichotomy of it fascinating. It takes place in no particular timeline, following no particular events. Also, please review politely. If you haven't something nice to say, keep it to yourself please.

The look on their faceplates had been absolutely priceless. I knew I would be laughing about it for mega-cycles.

No one had been up and about above the base when Thundercracker had done a fly-by and deposited me rather gracelessly on the hard dusty desert ground. But the transmission, and subsequent Decepticon signature appearing on their radars, had brought them to full attention. In no less than a breem, Autobots were flooding out of the entrance to their base, weapons at the ready and aimed suspiciously at myself.

I had known the Autobots were lacking in the intelligence department before I decided on this suicidal course of action… but I was a bit insulted that they were this DENSE.

"Is it a bomb?"

"Looks just like a pile of scrap…"

"I don't get it, who sent the signal?"

"Uh, bro?" I did my best to glare hatefully at the mech for whom I had little joy in seeing, despite the fact he was peering curiously into my staring optic. "I think it's alive."

"What?" I heard reverberating footsteps echo before the second hated face entered my line of vision. "Oh scrap. Better call Ratchet…"

Imagine… THOSE TWO showing SYMPATHY for me…

I must be worse off than I thought…

"Primus. I've never seen damage like this before." The Autobot's medic was clearly impressed and repulsed by the violence visited on the visage before him, once I had been dragged into his med-bay. "Even the twins never got fragged up this badly. You say someone just dumped him here?"

"That's what they say. Found him in a pile out front, no one's sure who dropped him off, only that it was a Decepticon signature that showed up and vanished before we had time to get out there."

"So I heard." Ratchet mused, already peering into my shattered optics. "Conscious, alive and torn to the Pit. Communications down, and I'm at a loss on how to make sense of this pile of junk… Can barely tell it was a mech, let alone identify him. Any clues, Prowl?"

The tactician studied me with intense optics, as I mentally uttered a curse and tried not to flinch from his gaze. Of all those I expected to make the connection, it would have been three people. Him, the medic, and their leader. The rest were as dumb as posts, in my opinion. ESPECIALLY those two frag-heads who had ungraciously brought me in here. Had they known who they were carefully carrying, I might not be here to think insulting thoughts at them. Nonetheless, they were not what I was worried about.

There were several ways to identify a mech. Each Cybertronian had encoding that was uniquely imprinted on our CPU if you knew where to look. Mine was 'accidentally' irreparably damaged. The other way was to download memories and data. If they tried that method they would come up with a blank corrupted file that had been uploaded and invented by myself, foreseen for any situation where I might find myself captured. Obviously physical identification was impossible with me, and my communications channels were completely thrashed. Still, there was always a chance… They knew me well, after all… They had fought me more times than I could count. They weren't ALL incompetent morons, just most of them. However my concerns were wiped when the Autobot shook his head solemnly. "There's no identifiable markings. Probably Decepticon, given his optical color, but there's so much damage. Can you at least tell me what his function was?"

"Hm." I could feel the medics' fingers prodding around my chassis. It was an unnerving feeling, but I had little choice but to bear it. I had been on the repair table more times than my comrades, and had built up a higher tolerance to being examined. Didn't mean I liked it. "He's so badly torn up I can't even recognize what kind of mech he was. His armor is so shredded that it's useless, I'm going to have to tear him down to basic protoform model to even begin to repair him." However, when he released my shoulder, I caught sight of his optics staring critically down at me. Did he suspect, I wondered? Medics were well known for being observant, I would have thought he'd know wing joints when he saw them. A suspicious thought entered my mind. If he was suspicious, or if he had figured it out, why was he not saying anything to Prowl? Would he say something to Optimus Prime?

"Have you tried removing ID codes manually to determine his identity?"

"Tried, but they're missing. Physically ripped out I'm afraid. Whoever did this obviously doesn't want us know who this poor slag-head is."

"Can we be certain he is a Decepticon?"

"It's a fair guess, though I have known neutrals and maybe one or two Autobots who used red prisms… but most who were reconfigured with red had a reason for it, and that reason typically was joining Megatron's forces. They always were the ones to favor the benefits of those specific crystal facets. If I were you, I would try looking for any missing Decepticons and see what we come up with. It's curious though that this one would seek OUR help rather than use his own forces. There must be a good reason for it."

"I will attempt to run a search on those who have left, gone missing or gone rogue. Unfortunately we haven't been able to trace their movements as of late, so it may take some time. I will keep you informed on my progress. If anything changes…"

"Don't worry, you've got cameras if he decides to pull anything. But I guarantee you, he won't be twitching more than a rotor for some time. He's got no weapons, and no armor, he won't be causing a fuss in his condition. I'm going to do what I can to restore him, but I'll need some specialized parts. I'm going to keep him here until I'm satisfied and have spoken with Optimus to see what he thinks."

"Understood." And with that, the medic was left alone with me, to my chagrin. I had no idea what to expect, frankly. His reputation preceded him. He was the top medic in the universe, as I was told, but his temper was also renown. His nickname came to mind quicker than his genuine designation. The Hatchet was well known and almost feared among Decepticons. A well-trained medic knew just what to disassemble to make you helpless if you found yourself injured and taken prisoner. However, I also knew he had outstanding Autobot morals that would keep him from harming his patient. I was counting on this. Unlike with Hook, I probably did not have to fear going into recharge.

"All right, lets' see what we have here. I know you can hear me, but you'll have to make do with just listening until I have time to work on your vocalizer. Vital functions first, then secondary systems." He said no-nonsense. I had expected this. It gave me time to think through just what kind of interrogation I could look forward to, as well as further explore what my cover was going to be.

Ratchet was good at what he did. He earned his reputation with flying colors. I was only vaguely aware of what he was doing. Most of it, I'm sure I didn't WANT to know. I could hear and feel harsh grating vibrations as he cut off the shredded armor, felt sharp yanking sensations as he tweaked various parts, removing what was damaged. I could see a steadily growing pile of scrap in the corner, and I began to feel a nervous flutter enter my spark. That was all from ME? Primus, was there going to be anything LEFT? I felt naked and vulnerable as he worked, and had to fight the urge to move or do anything rash, even had I the capability of doing so. His work was far more efficient and fast than my wing mate ever could have managed. Somewhere in there, I recalled him placing me into stasis, for the next moment I was suddenly coming online to a list of functions that were now online. Diagnostics, fuel lines and energon supplies were all repaired and full at last, finally. Most of my systems were still offline, but at least my readings looked somewhat more stable than they had been a short time ago. My chronometer was finally repaired, to my great relief. Apparently it had just been minor damage rather than a damaged part. I read that I had been offline for the better part of a cycle, which showed also in the medic's face. He was looking worn and drained. Had I actually had any sympathy for him, I might have thought it was NICE he'd spent all night working on stabilizing me.

"Whoever patched you up obviously didn't know what the slag they were doing." Ratchet muttered, glancing down at me as he reached forward and began to tweak at some of the wires in my dead left optical socket. It didn't hurt, but it was entirely disconcerting to see his white and red armor that close to me. Had he come this close before my injuries, I would have proclaimed a victory and mounted his head on a pike to boot…

Perhaps it's good that I'd never gotten the chance.

"You even realize how bad off you were?" He was muttering, squinting down at me as he worked at repairing the wiring in my optical socket. "Your diagnostics were online, but damaged… so I'm not sure you had a full reading. Let's just say you're one lucky mech right now." He muttered shaking his head. "I've saved my share over the years, some in critical condition… but I've NEVER seen anyone functioning on such little energon with so much damage before. I'm guessing you ended up on someone's bad side." His optics narrowed once more as he paused his work to study me. I forced myself simply to return the stare, not wishing to look away to give him any kind of idea as to what I was thinking. Fortunately he didn't pause in his work long, and was back tinkering in no time. When he finally slid something solid against my cheek, I felt a surge of relief to know at least I would have my vision back soon. It didn't take him long, and soon my missing optic had been replaced and he turned to replace the cracked facet on my remaining optic. Once he was finished, I began recalibrating them, relieved as my vision snapped back in place, crisp and clear.

Once he'd brushed his hands off, Ratchet turned back to me and hoisted me into an upright position, as my rotors were still not connected so I could not move on my own. He let me lean against the wall and then took a step back to study me. "Optimus will be stopping by shortly to check in on your progress, however I want to have a word with you first." I eyed him warily, uncertain where he was going with this. Did he know after all, or was he merely suspicious of my identity? Ratchet's gaze met mine evenly, seeming to sense my thoughts. "It's not my place to figure out who you are, if that's what you're worried about. That's Optimus and Prowl's job. My job is fixing up any patient that comes my way. Now this might seem an odd question, but it's necessary. Have you been experiencing any pain in your spark, any unusual disorientation? Granted, your damaged state might make it difficult to distinguish the pain from your injuries, but have you noticed anything specific?"

I squinted at him curiously. How was I to know? I hadn't felt any sharp unnatural pains that warned me of my impending death, if that's what he meant. Normally spark injuries did that. If he was hinting that my chamber was damaged, which I didn't doubt given what had happened, I wasn't in any pain from it at least. I had suffered spark chamber damage before, I knew what it felt like. I had none of that now. I shook my head negatively, relieved that the grating in my neck joints seemed to be repaired.

"Very well then." Ratchet said frowning back to the screen. I couldn't see what he was so concerned about from where I was sitting, but at that moment our eyes shifted when the door opened, and the puzzle of his words flew out of my processor in favor of more concerning situations.

My spark fluttered nervously as my CPU was flooded with dread, looking onto the face of the Autobot Commander. If there was another person I respected in this world, other than myself, it wouldn't be my own commander, it would be Optimus Prime. It was not because of firepower or ferocity, as he possessed nothing special in his arsenal. It was not because of his strategies and techniques, as it seemed the Autobots never anticipated our moves, or took precautions towards attacks. No, it was his presence and reputation that commanded far more attention, even though I knew if it was to come down to a fight between us, I would have had the advantage, were I at full capacity. Still, my spark fluttered as my optics met with his. He WAS after all, a Prime. If anyone could identify me, it might be the Matrix-bearer. Should they discover the truth, I was not going to remain in this plush repair bay for long.

For not the first time, I began to wonder if I truly HAD lost my sanity. What in Primus' name was I thinking, coming here asking for help?

"I see you've made progress."

"Yes." Ratchet replied simply, staring down at me thoughtfully. "While he won't be going far anytime soon, he's out of immediate danger, and I feel I can leave him to recharge normally. I still must finish connecting his internal communications system so he can at least communicate back with us, but I still have a long way to go until he's fully repaired, clearly."

"Do we have any information on who he is yet?"

"Nothing new." However, Ratchet's eyes slid over to me with what I took to be suspicion again. Did he actually know? The question was driving me nuts. At first I had figured it impossible, given my current state. However, medics were known for being meticulously attuned to their surroundings, and very observant. I was certain he had never worked on a Seeker before, as we had exclusively been in the Decepticon ranks. Still, he was an observant prick. In a way, I was glad he had not yet connected a new vocal processor. The moment it was calibrated to my speech protocols, it would give my identity away. I also didn't trust myself with my sarcasm. I was walking on a very thin line. "I can establish his internal communications system so you can at least talk to him directly. If he'll share anything." I shot him a narrow glare. How dare he assume! And here I was prepared to betray all the secrets that would get Megatron's aft handed to him on a platter. The NERVE!

"I'll look forward to your report. I will wish to speak with him the moment he's capable of transmitting." Optimus said with one final glance my way, obviously trying to possibly identify me himself. But as I watched, no recognition lit his optics. It appeared for the moment I was safe… which meant only one thing: I had to start working on a plan for when they DID hook up a communications system for me. I was going to have to explain myself, and telling the truth was the LAST thing on my mind at the moment, obviously.

After Optimus left, Ratchet eased me back down onto the repair table and sighed with a keen look in my direction. "If no one's said this yet, I'm going to say it now. If you have any idea in your processor of taking advantage of this situation, you're going to find we're not as hospitable as we're being at the moment. You asked for amnesty, and that's what you're going to get, but it doesn't mean we're going to trust you, got it?" If I could have smirked, I would have. Moron…

He put me into recharge then, thankfully sparing me from any further lectures. I'd rather have been facing Megatron again than listen to that junk…

The following cycle, I was greeted with an audience as I on-lined. Ratchet carefully lifted me into a sitting position and propped me against the wall adjacent the medical table, giving me time to glance about. Optimus Prime stood patiently waiting as Ratchet did his final adjustments to the back of my head. Prowl stood rigidly to his left, and that paranoid security officer…. Red Alert wasn't it, stood to his right. While Ratchet had worked, I was finishing up the final details to what I was going to say to them. I had carefully laid out an outline as to what I was going to say, and how I was going to say it. The last thing I wanted was to slip up and have this once chance ruined. If I played it well, I could abuse their noble honor to get my aft repaired, then high-tail it out of here the moment their guard was down. Ratchet finished his final connections to my internal communications system, and then I felt the wireless network spring to my control. I almost shuddered at the sudden flow of information buzzing around me. I hadn't realized just how blind I had been without the constant need for data interaction, the stream of information under my mental fingertips. To have it back was suddenly like waking up after a recharge.

Unfortunately I didn't get much time to relish in the feeling, as Optimus quickly began his interrogation. He faced me with a solemn critical gaze in his optics. "You were brought here with a claim for amnesty. Is this true?"

Yes. I sent the text communication on the broad wavelength channel, as I had no idea what their leader's encryption was. Therefore, all present could receive my transmission. A bit sloppy, but effective at least to communicate. It also conveniently avoided any way of identifying me through my voice.

"Why do you wish amnesty?"

Megatron wishes me dead. I have nowhere to go. That much was true at least. I had no reason to mislead them. Decepticon or not, anyone who ran afoul of Megatron was as good as dead anyway. And what I told them WAS true. Megatron had exiled me and left me for scrap, I did have nowhere to reliably recharge.

"I see." Optimus frowned, and I knew what was coming next. "Why does he wish you dead?"

I got in his way.

"How so?"

How to answer that without giving away my identity? Be vague. He does not take well to being disobeyed. I suffered the consequence. Generic enough.

"Then you are a Decepticon?" Prowl asked, as if it REALLY needed confirmation. I shrugged in reply, not denying it. There was no point, I hadn't been a neutral since I'd been a youngling, I wasn't sure I could play the part well enough anyway. Besides, they never would have bought it. No neutral knew where the hidden Autobot base on some remote unknown planet with biological life was. Only Decepticons already here knew that.

"You have every intention of honoring the code, by asking for amnesty? I am aware that some of your ranks do not honor such rules as they see fit."

I will honor it. I sent. For now, anyway. I needed their help. Why turn down good help when it was so easy to milk it out of them? Besides, what choice have I? I cannot escape, nor attack or defend myself, in my condition. It was true, unfortunately. I was not happy with the situation, but it was a sacrifice that unfortunately I had to make. They had disabled all weaponry, and a single laser blast would do massive damage to me without my armor. I was helpless before them. I did not plan to remain so long. I was nothing if resourceful. I had, after all, invented my own null rays out of a failed discarded experiment no one had thought twice of.

"True." Optimus admitted, agreeing with my statement. "But there will come a point where your repairs are sufficient enough that you could become a threat. I will trust you will honor the code. If you do not, or decide to break your word, you will be dealt with. Understood?"

Gee, they had brains after all… how amusing. Like I was afraid of what they could do. Hah. Yes, I understand.

"Who are you?" Prowl was the one to speak now, no-nonsense and wishing to cease the dance of words. He obviously had wanted to ask this since the start of the interrogation, but had to defer to his commander.

I had thought carefully about who I was to masquerade as. Obviously, I could not go as myself or any chance at being treated 'nicely' flew out the window. Alternatively, I could think of no other of my comrade's names who would not arouse suspicion, and there was also the reality that I knew the Autobots would research any name I gave them to find out if I spoke the truth. So my options were limited, and I had grudgingly decided that rather than make up a name they couldn't find in any database, it might be safer to use a genuine name that they might still be able to find something on, but one they wouldn't find much information about.

It was still a name that made me mentally flinch. Nonetheless, I steeled myself.

Skyfire. My name is Skyfire.

Had he known I was exploiting his name to make my getaway, no doubt he would have lectured me for hours on end, to much optic-rolling. However, it was a good lie for me to use. If they knew the truth of my identity, this would end here and now. By using my old deceased friend's name I could at least play the part well. This also ensured I could continue to remain undetected for the present. Anytime my aft was covered was a good thing.

"And your position?"

Scientist. True enough. At least I could play the part flawlessly. I could, however, sense the wariness of the others. They didn't believe or trust me, smart mechs.

Optimus glanced at his Security Officer, who already seemed to be running a check on the name. "Nothing comes up, sir." He finally reported. "No Decepticon labeled Skyfire anywhere in my database."

No… there wouldn't be, would there…

"Thank you, Red Alert." Optimus Prime replied thoughtfully, glancing to Ratchet.

"No insignia anywhere." The medic replied. "If he had it, it was either removed or ripped off on his missing extremities."

Of course they were, you idiot. I wore my insignia proudly on my wings.

"Can you provide us with information to verify your words?" Prime continued. "You say that Megatron has turned you away, therefore can I assume you can provide us with information you would no longer need to protect?"

I wished I could have smiled. That however, would have given me away, so I kept my emotions tightly reigned in. I had been called a traitor before, it was ironic that the first time I actually was going to WILLINGLY betray my own faction, they had betrayed me first. I will provide you with anything you require. Oh yes… I was being honest about that. I wanted Megatron to pay, and if providing them with codes, intel, and information only I was privy to, so be it. There were things only I knew, things that Megatron had not even realized I knew. I cared little if the others got caught in the fray resulting from my betrayal. The only ones I was even slightly concerned for would be my wing mates, but I also knew they could take care of themselves. They were no doubt expecting something like this anyway, knowing me well as they did. They would be prepared for any repercussions of dumping me with the enemy.

"Really?" Prowl spoke up, obviously not believing my intentions. "And what kind of intel could a scientist be privy to?"

Oops. Smart move. Luckily I could think quickly. I was intricately involved with some of the top commanders. True enough. I know much of what they know.

"How do we know you're not lying."

You don't, fool. I almost was insulted. What was with them, the moment I tell the truth they don't believe me, but yet I get accused of lying when I'm not… Primus, I was sick of these games. What can I provide to prove my intentions?

"How about their base location?" One optic ridge lifted with curiosity.

This time, I permitted a small smile, taking care not to let much attitude show. The last thing I wanted was my sarcasm showing. It would be a dead giveaway, missing helmet or not. I was not stupid. I knew they already knew our Base location, or something close to it. If they didn't, they truly would have been fools. But they were testing to see if I was going to be truthful or not. I would play their game…Without hesitation, I broadcasted the co-ordinates to them. I saw optic ridges raise across the board.

"Are these genuine, Prowl?" Optimus murmured, clearly impressed by my forthcoming.

"It matches the data we have." He admitted grudgingly, studying me warily. "We knew the area, but not the precise location. We can quickly find out if he's telling the truth or not."

"Do it." Optimus studied me carefully. "In the meantime I will leave you in Ratchets' care and up to him to determine when you are fit to exit the medical facility. When that time comes, I will speak with you privately. You are not to have free reign of the base until then, understood?"

Oh yes, Prime. I got you. Loud and clear, you slagging goody-two-shoes.