First off, if you read chapter three before Nov 25th, you read an incomplete chapter. Several paragraphs were somehow deleted from the last update, and had to be replaced. If you first read after the 25th, you're fine. If not, you may want to go back and reread what happened after Starscream's flashback.
That said, I was honestly surprised that some of you expressed disapointment when I took my break. So, in appreciation, here's a nice long chapter for all of you. At 5000+ words, it's the longest chapter I've ever written, so I hope you enjoy.
The walls between
You and I
Always pushing us apart
Nothing left but scars
Fight after fight
-The Older I Get, Skillet
Starscream sat motionless in the darkness, crosslegged on Soundwave's berth. His optics, dim and narrow, were fixed on the floor where the telepath lay recharging. His own recharge had been fitful at best, haunted by memories of being trapped and helpless while a cold presence invaded his mind. He'd awakened some time ago, too scared to move, or even make any sort of noise. He was glad of that now, because it meant he hadn't woken Soundwave. Ravage had been awake already, but the felinoid had done nothing except watch him from the foot of the berth, so he mostly ignored the small bot.
That paralyzing terror had long since faded, reduced to a level he could handle. But this was a good fear, one that made him cautious without clouding his thoughts. If he had to be afraid, this was safer than the near panic that brought him to this room in the first place. He would never have come here if he'd been thinking straight, and wasn't even sure now why he had come. The moment was over, and the mindset couldn't be reclaimed.
Still, there was a coldly pragmatic part of him that felt some good had come of it. He had learned that Soundwave couldn't - or wouldn't - help him, and that the telepath had done far worse than merely follow orders. Soundwave could claim that he argued against this all he wanted, but if that was true, why was Starscream now under the influence of one of the most despicable programs ever written? It was a safe bet that Megatron didn't know one program from another, so Soundwave had to have chosen it. But if he truly hadn't wanted to do this, why would he choose this one?
Starscream wasn't going to ask. He didn't care why Soundwave had done it. All that mattered was that he had, and it clearly wasn't disturbing his rest.
The Seeker lowered his head, shifting his gaze to his own fisted hands. He could feel the anger building inside him, a familiar heat burning through his circuits. He welcomed it. But this was neither the time nor the place to release it, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold it for long if he stayed here. So he finally moved, shifting quietly to the edge of the berth. Ravage moved too, crouching low and growling softly. Starscream shot him a glare, wings rising in a threatening display of his own.
"Shut up," he hissed irritably. "All I want is to get out of here. I'm not about to attack anyone!" Not that it wasn't tempting, he added silently. He stepped around Soundwave as quietly as he could manage, then slipped passed a large monitor sitting on a table. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw were perched in front of the monitor, and he could see Rumble and Frenzy crowded together in the desk chair.
With so many bots around he was sure he would wake someone, but he finally made it to the door and looked back at Ravage. The felinoid had never once dropped his gaze from the Seeker, and they stared restlessly at each other for several seconds after optical contact was made. Then Ravage settled again, lowering his head in a way that looked remarkably like a nod, and the door slid open. Starscream narrowed his optics, confused and suspicious, but his desire to escape overrode his uneasiness. He slipped out into the hallway, and was already walking when the door shut behind him.
Starscream hadn't realized how afraid he was of being caught until relief drew the tension from his frame. His wings drooped low as previously taut cables relaxed, and it was easier to be quiet now that his joints could work more smoothly. But as glad as he was to be out, the restless fear refused to be soothed.
He had to find a way out of this mess before it drove him insane. He didn't know how much of his behavior tonight had been his usual instability, nor how much had been influenced by the program. But he did know that it would only get worse, and that his ability to fight back was limited. After all, he was technically a slave now, and all slaves shared certain characteristics: They couldn't refuse a direct order from their masters, nor harm the bot who "owned" them. If Megatron told him to do something, he would have to do it, even if it went against his very nature.
Well. In theory. There were recorded cases where slaves had been able to act against their programming, but those involved extreme circumstances. In the majority of such cases, the bots in question were trying to help someone they cared about, and not all succeeded. It was almost strange, though, the things some bots could do when friends and loved ones were in danger. In a way, Starscream could understand it. He knew first hand how fear for one's friends could motivate a mech. But that would never work for him now, and the sad truth was, it was all his fault.
Looking back, he wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him to damage his own coding. From a purely factual standpoint, he knew he did it to avoid the pain of caring about others. He did it because he was hurting after Skyfire's disappearance, and the fledgling war had left him afraid to get close to anyone. He did it to avoid the trauma of killing and seeing others killed. Did it because he wanted to join the Decepticons as a warrior, not a scientist, and warriors had to be strong.
He knew that he'd been in a bad state of mind, mourning his lost friend and hating himself for abandoning the search. He remembered wanting desperately to never feel like that again. But he just couldn't recall why he'd thought reprogramming himself was the answer.
Of course, "reprogramming" wasn't the right term. That had been his first - and only - attempt at using a virus to change coding, and it had actually worked. Sort of. He'd lost some code that he had meant to keep, and a few lines survived that shouldn't have, but the end result had been good enough. He couldn't easily get close to others now, much less care about them, and it was better that way. He was a social mech at spark, he couldn't do anything about that, but he was fine as long as he could keep his distance emotionally.
There were times though, bad times like this, when he wondered if he had been suffering from temporary insanity when he did that. Sane mechs didn't go around damaging themselves, especially in such major ways. Sane mechs didn't refuse to have the damage repaired while struggling to get through a simple conversation. Surely he could have coped with things the same way other bots did. Why did he have to take such extreme measures?
Why was he thinking about this anyway? It was ancient history. Old news.
...How long had he been standing outside his quarters like an idiot?
"I'm losing my mind," he muttered, typing in the door code. "Thanks a lot, Soundwave."
All he could think to do about his current situation was carry on as normally as possible until he could figure something out. It would do him no good to panic about it like he'd been doing, and it might actually make things worse. He needed to be rational about this.
If only he was better at staying rational when his emotions got involved.
This was getting ridiculous.
Megatron lowered the datapad he held onto his desk, glaring at the images playing across the screen. He was trying to study the collection of footage Laserbeak had brought back from the Ark, having decided to steal the Autobots' matter replicator. But he couldn't concentrate, and he didn't have to look far to figure out why.
Starscream. It was always Starscream.
Giving up on his review for the time being, Megatron shut off the datapad and stood up, moving to the window of his office. There was nothing to see but black water and the reflection of the room behind him, but he didn't care about the view. He didn't even really see it, being too focused on the problem that was demanding his attention.
Megatron clearly remembered the first time Soundwave suggested reprogramming Starscream. It was while the Seeker in question was altering the Combaticons, which, ironically, may have been where the idea came from. Soundwave had voiced concern over Megatron's decision to take Starscream back, especially after his last bid for power came so close to succeeding. But while Megatron had agreed that Starscream needed to be controlled, he had also been sceptical about the proposed solution. Coding wasn't a field he knew much about, and while he would happily order Autobots or renegade soldiers reprogrammed, an officer was a different matter. If anything went wrong, Starscream wouldn't be easily replaced. His exile had proven that much.
Still, Soundwave sold the idea well. He presented it as a method of correction rather than a punishment, something they had every right to utilize after Starscream's long line of transgressions. He had been quite firm in saying that it would have few harmful effects, and those could be dealt with as they appeared. Then there were the benefits: Megatron would never again have to worry about whether or not his Second could be trusted. The endless takeover attempts would stop, giving them all more time to focus on defeating Autobots. The idea of having complete control over the Seeker did appeal to Megatron's desire for power, yet he'd found himself unsure. Even now, when it was already done, he was unsure.
He lowered his head slightly and shut off his optics, feeling the strut-deep heaviness that came from doing too much without sufficient rest. He took what he could, but he never seemed to have time. There were always plans to be made, Autobots to fight, uprisings to stop. Even when he wasn't actively working, there were resources and the state of his army to worry about. He didn't need one Seeker's endless drama on top of everything else he had to deal with. He had hoped that last one would be less of a problem with Starscream reprogrammed, but so far it only seemed to have grown worse.
Maybe he shouldn't have allowed it. But in the end, what choice did he have? Just days ago, Soundwave had come to report that Starscream was plotting again, and that he had something unforgivable in mind this time: Convince the Autobots to help him get rid of Megatron, negotiate a "truce" while he established his leadership among the Decepticons, then turn around and resume the war.
It was exactly the sort of simplistic, deceitful scheme Megatron would expect of Starscream, and of course it was doomed to failure. The Autobots might be willing to "help" if it meant leaving their enemies with a weaker leader, but Megatron would never let it get that far. Nor would Starscream be able to talk his way out of it, because he would be guilty of conspiring with the enemy. It wasn't harmless trickery like the Constructicons helping the Autobot builders with a solar tower that they intended to steal. Megatron wouldn't be able to offer Starscream a way out like he had when the latter teamed up with Red Alert. This time he would have no choice but to kill the treacherous Seeker, if only because he would seem weak if he dismissed something of such magnitude.
Well, maybe he was weak. He could tell himself, and others, that he only kept Starscream around for his usefulness, but that was only part of it. He just didn't want to kill the Seeker. He never had, though he didn't know why. He only knew that if any other mech had tried to form an alliance with Autobots in an attempted takeover, he would have killed them without hesitation. Why was it so hard to treat Starscream the same way?
At the time he merely ordered Soundwave to watch Starscream and report back if he decided to act on his new idea. But he didn't know what he would have done if that disastrous raid hadn't occurred the very next day.
At first the battle had been fairly normal, aside from the number of combatants involved. Megatron had brought a large force in an effort to gather as much energon as they could in the shortest time possible. The Autobots had responded with a sizable force of their own, which included the Dinobots and Aerialbots. With Superion keeping Menasor busy, Megatron, Soundwave, and the Insecticons had been outnumbered on the ground. That hadn't mattered so much when the Seekers were providing air support, but at some point they had stopped. Megatron wasn't sure when, as he'd been busy fighting both Optimus Prime and Grimlock at the time, but he'd eventually noticed that the sky was empty.
He made a mistake then. He'd spotted Starscream and Ramjet fighting together on the ground, placing themselves in more danger at the cost of effectiveness, and had been furious. His only concern was to get the Seekers back where they would do the most good, without the luxury of time to wonder why they weren't still there.
Well, he'd certainly found out.
If he was honest with himself, he knew Starscream had only been trying to keep his unit alive without pulling out entirely. But Megatron had blamed the failed raid on him anyway, because the Seekers hadn't been where they were needed. It was wrong, but it was easier to get angry at someone else than to admit his own mistake.
Still, maybe the raid wasn't a complete failure. Astrotrain escaped with enough energon to fuel the Earthbound troops for a few days, and the battle had also proven to Megatron that he couldn't just kill Starscream. For all his faults, the Seeker knew what he was doing in the air, and training a replacement would take too long. But there was no need to kill him for something he hadn't even done yet, and if reprogramming him was the only way to keep him from doing it... so be it. He didn't like it, and he didn't really believe that it wouldn't damage Starscream in some way, but he had no choice. Nothing else he could do would deter the stubborn flier for long.
So why did it still feel like another mistake?
The warlord gave a low growl of frustration, optics flashing online as he turned from the window. He knew the answer to that question. How could he not after seeing the look on Starscream's face when he accused the Seeker of being the one at fault? The fear, the shocked disbelief, the hurt, were all burned into his memory banks. He'd said those things to distract Starscream from the question of why he'd given the order, as well as to convince himself that the troublesome mech deserved reprogramming. It had worked a bit too well on the first point, and not nearly well enough on the second, but what else could he do? Admit that he'd done it so he wouldn't have to kill the Seeker?
Megatron scowled and returned to his desk, picking up the surveillance datapad. For several seconds he stood motionless, glaring at the device in his hand as though it was the cause of all his problems. Then he subspaced it for future study and left the room, silently cursing Starscream's idiotic ideas. He absolutely hated feeling weak, and his reluctance to just get rid of the flying nuisance made him feel exactly that. He also hated to doubt himself, which he was thanks to Soundwave's equally idiotic idea, but it would be far more satisfying to vent his frustration on Starscream.
Besides, he wanted to know how much control he now had over Starscream, and how well the Seeker could resist. He'd come up with a good test, an order Starscream was sure to fight, which he'd meant to give the day before. He had decided to wait after seeing how poorly the flier was handling things, but he was definitely in a more malicious mood today. Starscream wasn't getting off so easily this time.
The training room was one of the largest rooms in the base. It had everything necessary for simulations and target practice, with plenty of extra space for sparring. It was also close to the med bay, and for good reason: The only rule was that no one was allowed to kill anyone else. For most Decepticons it was a favored place to spend their free time, as well as a place to settle disputes.
For some, however, this last made it hard to get things done.
"Stop, stop, stop!" Starscream burst out furiously. He shoved himself off of Thrust, whom he'd been pinning, and marched over to where Skywarp and Dirge were flailing around on the floor. He stomped hard on one of Dirge's wings, earning a pained yelp, and caught Skywarp around the middle, dragging him off the blue Seeker. He twisted sharply and dropped Skywarp next to Dirge, leveling a weapon at the former when Skywarp looked ready to continue the fight.
"I said stop," Starscream snarled. "What the frag are you two doing? You," he glared at Skywarp, "You know better than that! When your opponent yields, the fight is over. You do not keep pounding them into scrap!"
"He deserved it!" Skywarp protested, but Starscream cut him off.
"I don't care about your stupid personal squabbles! I organized this training session, and you're going to follow the rules I laid down! If you want to slag each other afterward, fine. See if I care. But you can wait till then!"
"What does it matter anyway?" Skywarp demanded, sitting up in spite of the weapon aimed at him. "Thundercracker's the only one of us who gives a frag about honor, so why not fight dirty? That's how we'd fight Autobots!"
"It matters because, as Hook loves to remind me, our resources are limited. If we fight each other the same way we fight Autobots, without rules or restrictions, we're going to need repairs after every session. It's a waste of resources, and it costs us time we could spend training. Believe it or not, I don't just make these rules for fun!"
"Coulda fooled me," Skywarp scoffed. "We all know you love to be in charge."
Starscream was tempted to shoot his insolent Trinemate, but instead he stepped back and lowered his weapon, giving Skywarp silent permission to get up. Then he turned to the other Seekers, who had been watching the confrontation. He cast a cursory glance at Dirge, who seemed more bitter than hurt, then snapped, "As for the rest of you, your performances today have been pathetic! Are you even trying to take this seriously?"
"What's the point?" Thrust asked sullenly. "We're Seekers. We attack from the sky. Let the grounders do the hand-to-hand fighting, that's what they're there for."
"If that's how you feel, I can schedule some private lessons with Onslaught," Starscream said coldly. "I'm sure he'd be happy to teach you some respect for antiaircraft weapons." Thrust started to reply, but the Air Commander interrupted, indicating two of their number. "Thundercracker and Ramjet have the strongest armor of all of us, and they weren't hit directly. But a single shot each was enough to take them down. Any one of the rest of us would be torn apart if we were hit, even indirectly. But if you want to risk that, Thrust, go ahead. You'll be a good lesson for the others."
The assembled Seekers glanced at one another, and especially at the pair who'd been shot down two days previously. They had only been released from the med bay that morning, and weren't technically supposed to be straining their welds so soon. But Starscream had made no allowance for that beyond letting them fight each other instead of healthier opponents. That was just how the Decepticons worked; unless Hook ordered otherwise, injuries were no excuse to skip training or duty shifts.
At length, Thrust gave a quiet huff and looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. But as he backed down, Thundercracker spoke up. "What about Megatron? It doesn't matter how well we can fight on the ground, he's still going to want us in the air."
Starscream snarled and spun toward the other Seeker, wings high and swept back in preparation for a fight. "Who's the Air Commander, me or him? I don't care what that- that-" But he couldn't go on. Something in him was resisting, unwilling to voice the familiar insults, and he had a good idea what. Some of his anger bled away, replaced by anxiety, but he shoved it aside and grudgingly rethought his word choice.
"If Megatron has a problem with it, he can say so. But until then, I want us out of the air whenever the Autobots bring their new toys with them. And yes, that means we're going to spend more time on our hand-to-hand training. Which we need to do anyway, judging by the way you lot have been fighting. So stop arguing with me, follow the fragging rules, and-"
He fell abruptly silent when the others looked to one side, all of their wings twitching down and back. Limited though his nonverbal vocabulary was, that was a movement he had no trouble reading. It was a sign of both fear and respect, and usually indicated submission to a more dominant bot. But there was only one bot who could get this reaction from all five Seekers, and it wasn't Starscream.
Suddenly very nervous, he turned his head, staring at the doorway that was just visible beyond his wingtip. His own wings lowered when he saw Megatron approaching, but he barely noticed. The warlord appeared to be in a dark mood, and that could only mean bad things. Probably very bad judging by the way those crimson optics were fixed on him. But why? He hadn't done anything the slightest bit treasonous since they last spoke, unless training the troops was now a crime.
Actually, it probably was a crime if he was now expected to get permission before he did anything. But that was stupid, and he irritably crushed the idea. He was an officer, for Primus' sake! He didn't need permission to do his job, no matter what some bundle of code wanted him to think.
He was too busy arguing with himself to notice immediately when Megatron dismissed the other Seekers. He did notice when they hurried from the room, however, and only Ramjet spared him a backward glance before leaving.
Unwilling to look at his leader, he quickly scanned the room for other signs of life. Unfortunately, bots had a tendency to vacate the training room whenever an entire team showed up, so he and Megatron were quite alone. He slowly dropped his gaze to the floor and waited, strangely reluctant to break the silence. Or maybe not so strange, if the fragging program was at work.
"Why do you keep doing that?" Megatron spoke before he could resume his internal argument, and he looked up in surprise.
"Doing what?" he asked, honestly confused. Megatron made an impatient noise.
"You know what I mean. One minute you're fine, the next you just stop. You were doing it all day yesterday, and I want to know why."
It took a moment for Starscream to figure out what he meant. Then he grimaced, cursing himself for not realizing someone might notice his lapses. He had no clue what to say, and his lips moved silently for a few seconds before he managed, "I guess I didn't notice. I just start thinking and then..."
He trailed off, gesturing meaninglessly with his hands while he tried to repress the guilt creeping into his spark. He was not going to feel guilty for lying to Megatron. Besides, it wasn't really a lie. He had no evidence that he was doing anything more than thinking too deeply.
"Does it have anything to do with you being reprogrammed?" Megatron asked bluntly. Starscream folded his arms and stared at the floor.
"Most likely. Bots generally have trouble adapting when they're programmed in ways that conflict with their natures." Even as he said it, he was cringing inwardly at the passive-aggressive reply. He could usually get away with sarcasm, and perhaps some mockery if Megatron was in a reasonable mood, but outright hostility almost always resulted in pain.
So he was thrown off when, instead of hitting him, Megatron calmly asked, "How much do you know about programming?"
The Seeker lifted his head warily, wings flicking as he met his leader's thoughtful gaze. "A lot..." he admitted slowly.
Megatron gave a short nod. "Then tell me something. Will your new programming make you follow any order I give?"
Starscream shuddered and looked away again, this time offlining his optics. He had known, of course, that Megatron would want to experiment with this new level of control. But it was still hard to accept that he couldn't refuse whatever came next.
"The only limits are the ones you set," he said, voice little more than a whisper. "I can't obey an order that goes against the directives."
"So even if I ordered you to attack me, you wouldn't be able to," the warlord mused. "What if I wanted you to do something potentially suicidal? When does self-preservation step in?"
"It doesn't," Starscream said dully. There was nothing more to say on that matter, but Megatron apparently thought otherwise.
"I find that hard to believe," he said. "If an order puts a mech's life was in danger, wouldn't he resist that order?"
"He could try, but... These programs..." The Seeker shook his head. "They take over completely. Adapting takes time, but once it's done, most bots couldn't resist if they wanted to. And usually they don't want to anymore."
"And if the mech was newly reprogrammmed?"
Starscream hesitated, not liking where this was going. "What do you mean?"
Megatron's tone was too casual for the words that came next. "If I gave you a dangerous order right now, would you try to fight it?"
"I- I don't-" Starscream glanced around quickly, searching for some way to avoid whatever his leader had in mind. Then a large hand came down on his shoulder, gripping just tightly enough to hurt, and he looked up with a wince.
"I think you would," Megatron said, answering his own question. "It's never been your way to make things easy when you can fight instead. I would honestly be disappointed if you didn't fight." The pressure on Starscream's shoulder increased, forcing a small cry from the Seeker as he hunched over and clawed at the warlord's hand. Megatron smiled coldly, but his voice was hard when he added, "It would take the satisfaction out of finally breaking you."
He threw the smaller mech to the floor, earning another pained cry when Starscream landed on his still-aching wing. The Seeker rolled off it without thinking, then knelt on the floor and stared fearfully up at Megatron. A small part of him noticed that he was reacting more strongly than usual, but the rest of him only cared about not making his leader any angrier.
Megatron knelt in front of him, face now a hard mask, and rapped a finger against his cockpit. "Open your spark chamber."
"W-what?" Starscream shrank back, optics wide with shock. He had expected something bad after that line of questioning, but this?
"You heard me," Megatron said. "Open it and stay still."
He didn't want to. Exposing ones spark to a gladiator, even a former gladiator, was like standing on a hill in a thunderstorm and expecting not to be hit by lighting. It was stupid, crazy, and had a very high fatality rate. But the program, that unwelcome, self-defeating addition to his mind, didn't care about that. It had heard an order, and its only concern now was obeying.
He tried to resist, of course, even knowing how useless it was. It didn't hurt, which surprised him. It was more like being restrained than beaten into submission. But it was effective, and as hard as he fought, it wasn't enough. When his chestplates finally parted, he gave in and just huddled there, head lowered and hands flat on the floor, hoping he would survive this.
He held himself as still as possible when Megatron raised a hand toward him, sucking in a sharp ventilation as a single finger brushed over his spark crystal, barely touching. The action repeated a moment later, more firmly than before, but still undeniably careful.
"So it's true," Megatron muttered, seeming to speak to himself more than Starscream. "I could crush your spark easily, and you know it. But you truly can't do anything to stop me, can you?"
His fingers slid around the fragile crystal as he spoke, and Starscream's vents stalled in expectation of pain. But the contact remained light, silently acknowledging the need to be careful, and Starscream realized in confused amazement that Megatron was trying not to hurt him. He glanced up, sure that he was misreading things, and his disbelief must have showed on his face because Megatron spoke again.
"No, Starscream. I'm not going to hurt you this time. Do you know why?" He paused until the Seeker cautiously shook his head, then continued. "Because believe it or not, I'm not completely sparkless. I'm not going to take advantage of your programming to hurt you, because for all practical purposes, I own you now. That means I'm responsible for what happens to you, and I take my responsibilities seriously. Remember that."
He drew back, removing his hand from the flier's chest and standing up. Then he walked away without a backward glance, leaving Starscream to close his chestplates and wonder what that was about. He would swear Megatron had been even more bothered by just happened than Starscream himself had been, but that was impossible.
Wasn't it?
