Insatiable

by Acteon Carolsfeld

[Permanent Hiatus] AU. Vos: independent, isolated, and self-governed by absolute monarchy…until a miner turned gladiator caught the optics of its young Crown Prince. Not all is fair in love and war. Warning: MegaStar; sticky. Based on M:Origin & G1 while taking liberties.

27. XXVII

Disclaimer: Do not own Transformers.

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XXVII

By a strange stroke of fate, the same tutor assigned to Blitzwing was appointed as Firechaser's flight rehabilitation instructor. And, for whatever incomprehensible reason, the said tutor, a Striker Jet by the designation of Microburst, had deemed it a good idea to pair the two together for their lessons. The cream-yellow Striker had justified it by claiming that having Firechaser attend class with a fellow wary flier would encourage him to do better. Personally, I thought he was just lazy or a sadist in secret, forcing two pairs of frightened wings into maneuvers at the same time.

It was most painful to watch, but I forced myself to stay, simply because my presence meant a lot to Nightfire's family unit. I felt a little bad about neglecting Firechaser for so long. Regardless of war, Firechaser had suffered more than anyone I knew. I should have inquired more about his recovery, and it would've been easy to do so. A quick question during morning court would've sufficed.

Microburst demonstrated a series of fast rolls, and asked his students to follow his example. Blitzwing and Firechaser shared a stare.

"You're a Seeker. You should go first." Blitzwing grumbled.

"But you're built like a Striker, and I want to see the rolls demonstrated again." Firechaser argued, and the two started nudging each other forward.

"Come now, you two. If you don't try, you'll never be able to do it." Microburst never stopped smiling despite his chiding tone. "While I am glad you are so encouraging of each other—" I had to snuff a snort. "-one of you has to take the lead. Have some initiative, yes?"

I could not stop a spluttering huff from leaving my vents. If either of them had any initiative at all, their lesson wouldn't have dragged on this long. However, it was good to see Firechaser interacting with other mechs again, even if Blitzwing was only half a flier.

"I'm surprised Firechaser is willing to be in physical contact with Blitzwing." Nightfire murmured beside me as his Seeker family member got prompted forward to do the rolls. "Triple changer or not, Blitzwing is still a ground pounder, but Firechaser doesn't seem to mind."

"He's definitely taking a significant step in recovery." I replied, a small, proud smile tilting my lips when Firechaser completed the rolls perfectly. "I heard he's doing better with his nightmares."

"Affirmative, your Highness," Nightfire's optics shimmered brighter. He smiled as well. "He still needs someone he trusts to recharge with him, but he has stopped waking up in the middle of night cycle."

"I'm glad to hear that." I nodded in approval, and watched Blitzwing attempt the rolls. He was not as quick as Firechaser, but, for a grounder turned flier, he did not do half bad.

A comfortable silence settled between Nightfire and I. It was enjoyable, as moments of peace were becoming far in-between. Cybertron was succumbing to the sweeping advance of Decepticon rule. That was, if Megatron's vision of victory and grandeur was leaving our planet practically uninhabitable. The Autobots were a little more troublesome under the new Prime, but they were too late in retaliation. A considerable amount of their soldiers were civilians, ones that did not go through proper training before getting shoved to the front. There was simply not enough time. They were little more than impulsive hordes with big guns, numerous and a bother. They were not as effective as a focused army, and their only edge was their spirit, since most of them suffered losses under Decepticon hands.

They were almost as vicious as Megatron's gladiators, pushing onward even through loss of limbs.

I still wondered, sometimes, whether Bluestreak actually survived Praxus or not. It's been decas since that battle, but I found him difficult to dismiss from my mind. Unpleasant memories of his unnerving glare kept reappearing whenever I retired for the cycle. If a mech could conjure such depth of hatred, he could probably survive anything through will alone.

Shaking my processors clear of icy blue optics, I turned to Nightfire, and decided to humour in his scientific pursuits.

"How are the anti-gravitational devices coming along? Megatron has been pestering me about them." I asked the Space Shuttle, who tilted his helm to look at me. "How's ground-frame integration development going?"

"It's going very well, I think." Nightfire answered, wings perking, always eager to talk about his projects. "There are still a few minor problems I need to look into, but overall, progress has been steady. I should be able to have a prototype ready for testing within a deca, your Highness."

My scientific advisor paused a little as though in thought, brow ridges frowning slightly.

"…However," He continued, tone tentative, "I'm…still a bit hesitant about having ground pounders in the air, Sire. You see how difficult it is to train Blitzwing, and Blitzwing has an actual aerial alt-form. How are we going to teach flight to mechs who don't even have wings?"

"Ask that to Megatron." I grumbled. "His stubbornness is thicker than his helmet. He's convinced that giving his soldiers the ability to fly will benefit the cause." I heaved a loud sigh, and turned my gaze back to Blitzwing and Firechaser. "It will, naturally, if his mechs can learn to properly utilize their upgrades. If not…" I felt the onset of laughter. "Can you imagine how much of a joke his army will be if they can't control their anti-gravs?"

"Oh sweet spark of our Holy Creator," Nightfire tried to retain his professionalism, but ended up with a string of muffled chuckles. "I'm afraid this will end in a big mess of things."

"Yes," I sent my companion an amused glance. "A hilarious mess."

My science advisor and I shared a laugh, and warmth soaked through my spark. It felt good to stand on a flight deck, look over my city, and have an idle chat with a friend. Firechaser had found something funny in Blitzwing's flying, and began to tease the triple changer about it. Blitzwing, embarrassed and partially annoyed, started to chase after the giggling Seeker. They soared in the air, heedless of Microburst's half-sparked attempts at reining them in. The instructor only shook his helm, and clasped his hands around his back, keeping an optic on his students playing silly youngling games in the sky.

There was a small "pop" behind me. I turned around, recognizing the noise as Skywarp's arrival. As far as I was aware, he was on duty in Kaon this cycle. I was a little surprised that he would come back to Vos without previous announcement. However, being a slacker, it was not rare for him to wander away from patrol for a small visit. He usually found Thundercracker during such instances, though, so his sudden appearance here was unexpected.

I took one look at his faceplate, and knew right away that something was wrong. Skywarp did not frown unless an incident notably troubling had happened. Or he was confused about one of his elaborate pranks not going as planned.

"What is it?" I did not greet him, opting to cut the formalities.

"Uhh…" He answered in a manner only befitting the pinnacle elite of intellectuals.

"Well?" I asked, annoyed at his lack of a proper answer. "Are you going to tell me or stand there all joor like a gaping drone?"

"Primus, Screamer, gimme a break here. I'm still kinda in shock, y'know!" He replied, and rubbed the back of his helm, giving me a grudging stare. "It's not every cycle this happens."

"Feel free to explain the 'this' you are referring to." For all I knew, he could have meant Blitzwing and Firechaser in the same flying class together.

"Well, it's kinda…uhh…private." He glanced at Nightfire. "I don't think I should…y'know…tell you here…" He glanced at Nightfire again, and I hissed a blast of a sigh.

Could he be any more conspicuous?

"Perhaps…I should go review some of my schematics for the force-field dome, your Highness." Nightfire offered, but I shook my helm.

"No, you stay." I ordered. "Firechaser would want you here within his sight."

"Affirmative, your Majesty." The Space Shuttle bowed. I gave him a small nod as farewell, and walked toward my purple trine mate, extending one of my hands.

"Let's go to our trine quarters." I said, but, to my astonishment, Skywarp's frown actually deepened as he caught my hand with his.

"What?" I was definitely irritated now. "Didn't you want to talk about something private?"

To my knowledge, when a Seeker wanted away from the attendance of others, it meant a matter within the trine. Skywarp's behaviour was downright bizarre. He kept making odd little noises as he tried to explain, which only infuriated me further.

"Spit it out already!" I snapped, wings jerking higher.

"Okay, okay! Just—…" He held up a hand to placate my ire. "Can we—…go to your quarters?" He finally made an inkling of sense, leaning close to whisper so that Nightfire would not hear.

I frowned, giving him a lengthy study.

"…Are you planning another creation-cycle party for Thundercracker?" I blurted with the blunt force of Ramjet's nosecone. "His creation-cycle is almost a stellar away."

"Shhh! Not so loud! And no, I'm not!" Skywarp shuffled on his peds. "C'mon, seriously! I don't want TC to know about this. It'll upset him."

My optics flickered, and I stood back a little. Now that had definitely caught my attention. Giving my trine mate a suspicious glare, I nodded. Skywarp activated his teleportation sequence. In a split moment, we were inside my recharge chamber. I walked to my berth, and sat down, arms crossed as I waited for him to elaborate.

"What happened?" I asked when he failed to procure me an explanation. "Did you surpass your last stupid act of grandios proportions again?" I took a vent, and prepared myself for anything I could think of that the idiotic teleporter would do.

"No! It's not me!" Skywarp actually started to pace, fretful and fidgety. "Look, just—…Promise me you won't be mad?"

My suspicion skyrocketed through the roof. My optics narrowed.

"That's a dangerous promise to make, Skywarp." My voice hissed with an underlining snarl.

Skywarp winced, and his wings jerked on his back.

"It's really not me this time! Well, not really anyways," My purple trine mate grumbled, and slumped with a half-sparked shrug, optics bright and darting. "Y'know how you told me to keep an optic on our fliers who're stationed in Kaon? Well, I've been doin that. Y'know, Keeping track of what everybody's up to and how they're getting along. With the grounders, I mean. And the thing is," He stopped his pacing, "when I first heard about it," He grimaced, "I really didn't think much. 'Cause—…I mean c'mon. Mechs make slag up, right? I honestly thought it was just a stupid rumour, so I didn't really pay any attention to it since it's not like this is the first time—"

Skywarp started to babble, and my frown knitted deeper the more he talked. So this matter he was trying and failing to explain had something to do with the fliers I'd sent to Kaon?

To better facilitate and encourage compatibility, Megatron and I had reached an agreement, a rare feat in on itself, that more interactions between our troops were required. Not that fliers and grounders often fought alongside each other, but any rifts between faction members could result in lasting consequences. To remedy that problem, a few elite teams of Striker Jets, the sturdiest of aerial military frame types, had been relocated to the Decepticon capital. Aside from patrol duties and drills with the grounders, their mission was to mingle with Megatron's underlings. To keep a record of their progress, a small administrative staff had been dispatched as well, and so far, reports stated that things were going well. I couldn't imagine what could have possibly happened to have Skywarp of all fliers worrying over his idiot aft, and his prattling was starting to severely aggravate me.

"For Primus's sakes, Skywarp. Stop prattling and tell me what happened!" I snapped, a burst of a shout that startled him out of his uncharacteristic, nervous bout. Skywarp has surpassed every dumb thing I could fathom a Seeker could do without a single flick of guilt, so it was really disconcerting to see him prance around like a worried Thundercracker in creator mode suffering an anxiety glitch.

"Well…" The teleporter took an intake, "there's been this rumour going around the Decepticon base, about Swiftglide…" He finally seemed to have mustered his courage to make a resemblance of sense.

"Swiftglide?" I frowned, still confused. "The glitchy paranoiac?"

What could someone like Swiftglide do? He was too suspicious of everything to do any damage to the Decepticon army. Besides, he was an administrative officer with no strut to speak of. What could he ever accomplish?

Skywarp nodded, and averted his gaze with a sheepish look on his faceplate.

"Yeeeaaah…And uhh…" My trine mate scratched the side of his neck cables. "So there's been this rumour going around about him, right? About how he's—…Well…About how close he is with the ground pounders."

I stared at the purple idiot. For a very long time.

What in the pits was he trying to insinuate?

"Well, of course he's close to the ground pounders. That's his job." I retorted.

"No, Star. You don't get what I mean," Skywarp held his hands before his chassis, optics wide. "What I mean is that he's—…reeeeeally close. Like…Really. Really close."

I made a face.

"So he's become friends with some grounders." I was running out of patience. "What's your point?"

Skywarp dropped his arms, and gave me a flat stare.

"Are you serio—" He huffed a sigh. "Ok. Fine. I tried to be gentle with you, but if you just won't get it—" He pressed his lips, and ran a deep cycle of air through his intakes as though bracing himself.

"Rumour has it he's been fragging ground pounders!" My trine mate blurted out. "Not just one or two, but a whole lot of 'em. Apparently, as long as you show interest, he'd hop into your berth with more enthusiasm than a whorebot gettin' a raise."

Silence hung between us.

I gaped at my trine mate, vision stretched to perfect circles, lips slowly falling apart.

When the shock finally wore off, my chronometer helpfully informed me that precisely ten and three-quarters kliks had passed.

"…What?!" I shrieked, springing from my berth onto my peds.

Skywarp flinched at the pitch.

"I know." He scrunched his nose-bridge, and mumbled.

Every joint in my frame pulled rigid from the sheer outrage I felt toward the accusation pointed at my citizen.

"That's—…That's a filthy lie!" I shouted, swinging my arms. "Why would any self-respecting flier allow themselves to be treated like that?!" I spluttered, so full of indignation that for a moment I was rendered speechless, a million reasons as to why this was clearly a malicious rumour racing through my processors.

"…It's obviously disgusting, wishful thinking from the grounders." I spat out at last, faceplate pinching in revulsion and distaste. "Primus! Words cannot describe the utter insult and sheer atrocity of—"

"-Yeah. I know." Skywarp cut in. "But it's true."

I froze once again, staring at my trine mate.

I could hear circuits popping inside my processing module

"…What?!"

I didn't think I could scream any louder, but I somehow accomplished such a feat. My vocalizer almost glitched altogether, but I was too far gone in dismay to notice.

"Exactly! That's what I thought too!" Skywarp seconded my astonishment with great vigor. "There's no fraggin' way the rumour could be true! I mean, c'mon, it's Swiftglide. I knew he'd be getting lots of attention, being a new Seeker stationed in Kaon and all, but he's too much of a paranoid little slagger to frag anyone. And he's always keeping to himself, so I thought there's no way in the universe that the rumour could be true, b-but the thing is…somehow it is!"

"So—…what, he's—he's…experimenting?" I tried to wrap my processors around the idea, but all I got was a splitting helm-ache from the overwhelming wave of disgust I felt at imagining being subject to such perverse treatment. Why would any self-respecting Seeker want to frag a ground pounder? There were so many better options! Just thinking about one of my own citizens being passed around like cheap shareware made me shudder in repulsion.

Skywarp only shrugged.

I ran a cycle of air, and plopped down onto my berth once more.

Silence filled my quarters.

I could almost hear the murmur of the vents.

"Skywarp—" I grimaced, and sighed, raising a hand to rub my faceplate. "As…incomprehensibly bizarre this…this situation is, I fail to see why you're bringing it up with me other than to—…to—…" I shook my helm. "I don't even know what you're trying to do."

Oh how my processors ached.

"I can't condemn Swiftglide in his choice of berth partners." I looked up at my trine mate. "What do I charge him with? Over-interfacing?"

"Well, I'm not trying to get you to arrest him. Something happened back in Kaon, and since it involves Swiftglide, Megatron told me to get you." Skywarp gave me a wary glance. "Y'see…the rumour's been givin' mechs ideas, and some of the 'Cons aren't exactly the type you'd wanna cross in a dark alley. They started targeting Swiftglide, and, well…just a few joors ago, a grounder tried to force himself on him…"

I froze.

My spark seized.

Terrible, overpowering shock silenced me.

Slowly, my fingers curled into my palms, clenching into tight fists.

The desire to maim and murder sliced through my stupor, and my optics narrowed, lips stretching into a snarl.

A Decepticon was going to die, and it would be by my null rays.

I shoved off my berth, and strode to the data pad shelf on the far wall. It slid aside upon my entry code, revealing my personal laboratory. I retrieved my null ray cannons from their perch, and attached them to my shoulders. With a rising whirr, they activated to full charge. The shelf closed behind me. I walked up to my trine mate, and grabbed onto his right arm.

"Kaon. Now!" I bit through gritted dentae, fury burning hotter than the smelting pits inside my chassis. My wings trembled with murderous rage, and every sliver of my being was focused on one purpose, and one purpose only.

Deactivating the degenerate who'd dared to lay his filthy hand on my citizen.

Skywarp stared at me, wide-opticked and alarmed. However, he did not challenge my will. He nodded, lips snapping shut, and our surroundings morphed to darkness. When light erupted once again, we were in a corridor. There were several mechs around, many I did not recognize, but there was one I knew, and I rounded on him faster than a Seeker could flick a wing.

"Where is he?!" I shouted.

The corridor silenced. Faceplates turned toward me.

"Where is he?!" I seethed on my peds, null rays in a thin, grinding churn as I zoomed in on Megatron

Megatron looked at me, and took his Primus-damned time to shuffle so that he faced me.

"In the brig," He answered, calm demeanor infuriating to my armor-rattling rage.

My optics narrowed.

"You're lying." I hissed out. "He's here." My optics swept over the other grounders standing in the hallway, glare wide and accusatory. "There's no reason for you to still be here if he isn't." My gaze returned to my lord, and I raised an arm, pointing straight at his faceplate. "Tell me which one he is, or I'll blast them all!"

"You will not." His expression hardened. "Stand down, Starscream. I will be the one to issue punishment once the situation has been thoroughly inspected. I will not allow senseless shooting in my base." He stared me down, optics equally as bright and unyielding, and the last of my brittle control snapped inside my spark.

"You'd protect a violator of my people!" I shrieked, wings bristling, and swung both null rays toward him. "I refuse to acknowledge a leader who'd protect a despicable vermin exerting force on my citizen in such a manner!" I jerked my arms in warning, the barrels of my compact cannons glinting under the light. "Where is he, Megatron?!" I demanded, optics flaring. "Tell me or I swear to Primus I'll blast you down! I'll slag every single one of you until I find him! Every single one of you!"

"Starscream, stand down!" Megatron bellowed, vision blazing. Furious that he'd get angry at me for seeking proper retribution, I only screamed back with equal force.

"Don't test my patience, Megatron!"

"He is not for you to punish. I am the Commander of this faction!"

"And I am the slagging Second-In-Command! That gives me all the rights!"

"Stand down, Seeker. This is your last warning!" Megatron's optics narrowed to slits, snarl cutting lines of shadow into his derma. I glared in return, sneer just as fierce as his scowl.

Nothing in the universe could deter me from shooting him down should he refuse me.

He did not budge. My digits dug into my palms.

I opened my mouth to yell. However, another voice barged in, breaking us from our shouting match with a single statement:

"I'm the one."

My gaze snapped to the direction the voice had come from. I watched, lips pressed in a thin line, as the grounders behind Megatron parted. A mech lumbered through, peds thudding against the floor. He was mostly gray with dark purple streaks. One of his sockets was empty, and a gash of a scar ran across it, taking up an entire half of his face.

His other optic glowed. It cast an eerie sheen over his plating. I studied him, and was taken back, thruster sliding a wingtip, by the complete lack of guilt on his features. In fact, he did not wear any expression at all. He looked at me as though I was merely landscape, and rage once again unfurled, a surge of heat that washed across every cable in my frame like a tide.

I lowered my null rays from Megatron's helm, and turned to face the vermin.

"Any last words?" I growled through clenched jaws.

The mech's functioning optic flickered.

"I was not trying to interface with him." He replied.

The sneer on my faceplate deepened.

"Of course not." My voice snarled low. "You were trying to do much worse." I pinned him with a glare of utmost loathing.

"I did not attempt to assault him either." He argued, tone gruff but indifference, and fury exploded inside my spark.

"You still justify yourself, you disgusting scraphe—"

"I just grabbed his wings." He blurted out. "I thought they were gonna fall off from all that shaking-"

"—Wouldn't want your pretty little wings to fall off from all that shaking you're doing now, would you?"

Hitch.

Silence.

…

The world melted, washed to black, and I—

"…Always loved them with wings…"

-I couldn't breathe.

Slammed me down, and knocked all air from my ventilation.

I…

I—

…froze.

Rooted to the floor.

My optics stretched, until my derma hurt, and my lips quivered apart, a trickling wheeze hissing through my intakes.

The moment felt an eternity.

I was suspended. I could not move.

Time slowed, and the same odor wafted against my sensors, one of chemical smoke that tickled and clawed to the ceiling of unlit walls.

…C—Carrier…

"Now, stay still…"

A glyph gurgled from my throat.

It was my carrier…!

"Remember to relax, and you will like this."

Coolant stung my vision.

I could not feel my limbs.

The mech with the scar was staring at me, but all I could see…was the visor.

Always that visor.

And the smile.

The smile.

…Digits stroking the wet heat between my thighs…

I trembled.

A sharp spasm shuddered through my frame, and a scream tore from my vocalizer, the same instance my arms swung up, null rays searing with a charging blast.

A frame crashed into my own, arms keeping me pinned and skewing my aim.

The blast sailed through the air. It hit the ceiling.

I screamed, and thrashed, shot after shot discharging from my cannons at the grinning fiend standing—

Right there.

He was right there!

The one with the scar jumped.

I startled.

Wh-What?

But he was—

Run.

Run.

Run.

Streams of tears blurred my optics.

Up the spiraling stairs.

To the flight deck.

Megatron had lunged forward. Tackled me against a wall.

"Starscream!"

His voice sounded so far.

Creator—

"Run, Crown Prince."

I shrieked, and clawed at the face, thrusters erupting in ignition that scorched the air and melted skin.

My wings scraped against the wall.

I screamed, and bucked, kicking at my captor and scratching at his chassis.

"Let go of me! Let go of me!" My vocalizer screeched to static. "I'll kill him! I'll kill him! He t-touched—"

The hand stroked up my thigh.

I screamed, the sound bouncing between walls.

"He touched—"

SMACK.

I toppled, pain scalding my cheek.

The slap was enough to stun my processors, and I fell, in a clatter of limbs, sound gutting in the hall until all I could hear was the roaring whirr of cooling fans.

It took me a long moment to realize that the whirr was coming from my vents, and that the sound battering audials had been from my vocalizer.

My throat burned.

The floor was cool.

I laid there, frame in a slump, wings shivering on my back as I stared at my arms, which had shielded my faceplate from the fall.

There were dents on my wrists, grooves that only started to throb when I noticed them.

My intakes hitched in spurts.

I swallowed. My mouth was dry.

So were my cheeks.

I thought I'd been crying.

I stared, and tried to gather my thoughts.

Where—…was I?

I frowned, and slowly lifted my helm.

A mech stood over me, a ground pounder, just one, and, for a moment, my spark almost clenched into a speck, joints tensing in alarm.

However, it was not him.

We were in a corridor, and the mech was Megatron.

The cannon on his arm had once belonged to me.

"…Starscream."

I jumped, intakes stuttering, optics flickering offline. I pulled my limbs close, and curled on the floor, wincing as pain split across my helm.

Silence droned on.

Then…

Ped-falls.

Approaching my prone form.

They stopped right before me, and I shifted, tilting in their direction as my vision onlined.

Megatron stood over me. He had bent down, and was offering me a hand.

I stared at the hand. Then up at him. I slapped the hand aside, and flinched at the impact, the sound jarring to the ache in my processors.

He did not speak. Neither did he move. He waited. I didn't know for what. And his energy field, so close to mine, started to churn my tank.

With a hiss, I turned my face away, out of his view. I gritted my dentae, and fought to still the trembling of my body, wings pulling higher on my back.

"…How—…could you…?" I bit out, fingers curling into my palms. "How could you defend a rapist…and raise your hand at me?!"

My cry was brittle. The hurt worsened as energon rushed to my cheekplates, a wave of heat that spun the world.

I cursed, and offlined my optics, counting my breaths until the floor stopped moving beneath my frame.

"…You…don't care about me, do you…?" I whispered, breaking the silence that had settled after my outburst. "You don't care about me at all, or my fliers…" My wings quivered, and I burst out a laugh, trying to snuff the terror shaking my core that I was confronting him about this now, however vague, about our sickness, our depravity, tying us in a game I was destined to lose.

"We're just—…" I shook my helm, gritting my dentae to bite back the shiver in my voice, "We're all just…pieces – conveniences, in your war for you to control…" My intakes heaved. I was desperate to latch and insist on any small speckle of fading anger.

"You don't care at all…" I refused to acknowledge the coolant now dangling from my optics, "You don't care what sacrifices we make for you…what sacrifices I make for you, as long as they are to your advantage and your gains!" I shouted, and lowered my helm.

Megatron has not uttered a word.

He remained silent. He was listening.

It was terrible, because it gave me time to think. It gave me nothing to respond to other than my own thoughts, which had plagued me since our first encounter, the first time he'd embraced me and claimed me his.

My fists shook.

I bit my jaws so hard that they hurt.

"…Am I dispensable to you…?"

I almost did not recognize that tiny whimper of a voice as my own, raspy from my previous screaming.

"If we…are dispensable," I dragged my faceplate toward him, and peered at his optics, "At least tell me." My whisper hissed. "So that I know where I stand…!"

My brow ridges furrowed, and the sneer dropped to a grimace, the blur in my vision worsening.

He watched me.

I could not read his expression.

He did not give me anything back, and when the moment thinned, I jerked away, helm drooping to hide from his gaze.

"…If I am dispensable, why would what happens to us matter to you at all?"

The anger returned, little by little, pulling tighter the cables in my joints.

"…You'd harbour the worst offenders in your base…" My frame began to tremble anew. "…and punish those trying to set things right."

Again, silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

He did not speak even once throughout my confession, not a single wire moving in reaction.

I didn't know what he could've said, only that he should have said something. He should have told me I was wrong. He should have told me I was behaving like a spurned sparkling. He could have at least scoffed, and snarled a scathing remark. He could've told me how stupid and pitiful I was, but he said nothing.

Nothing.

And that spoke more than anything I could have imagined.

…

…Of course.

What did I expect?

It has always been this way, whatever it was that we shared, yet time after time, I tripped over the same mistake, despite telling myself that I was done. Finished.

I wanted to laugh, but all I managed was huffs of air. I've been doing everything he has asked me without question, and all I ended with was an embarrassment to myself.

Very well.

If this was how he wanted to play, then so be it.

This time, I would end this.

I would be the one to end this. Not him.

I looked up.

He parted his lips to speak.

"-But you know…" I cut him off, "Through all this, you have failed to realize one thing."

He paused, and closed his lips.

The malicious, cruel part of my spark seeped through my being, tone warm and snide.

I laughed, even as my cheek plate stung.

"…You…"

I turned toward him, glare vicious, optics wide.

"…are also dispensable…leader…"

I spat out that word, and my vision narrowed.

"…You should remember that well."

I stared up at him, icy, calculating loathing stoking the burn inside my chassis. I pushed back the hurt I felt, and hid it under the once again the brewing simmer of anger.

This time, I swore, was the last time.

Megatron did not retort with a scathing comment as he usually did when I challenged his leadership. He merely looked down at me, and his expression was unreadable, optics dimmed. There was a strange air about him, an intangible potency in his energy field that I had only previously sensed when I'd laughed after servicing his spike. I couldn't understand it, so I brushed it aside.

It was probably unimportant.

His lips parted.

He finally spoke, though his words did not carry the haughtiness or irritation as I'd expected.

"…You are a fool, Starscream."

His voice was heavy, a low rumble. It held a tinge that almost tasted weary, and I was so taken back that I could not come up with even a comeback to his insult toward me.

"You are a greater fool than what I've imagined if that is truly what you think." He murmured, brow-ridges furrowing a degree as though he was reluctant to utter such admittance. His lips curled into a mild grimace, and he almost looked pained, or disappointed, as always an enigma I could not comprehend.

He never specified which part of my monologue he was referring to.

My grin dropped. I gazed up at him, all of a sudden confused. The moment was fleeting, however. It was gone before I could study it further.

"If you truly hold such treachery in your spark, I will respond in accordance to your actions." The Megatron I knew returned – the strong, guarded tyrant who loomed and did not forgive. "I will not punish you without reason, but I will watch my back." He paused, and his optics brightened in a flash of threat.

"Let me make one thing clear to you, Starscream," He growled, tone coarse and syllables edged, "Be careful of how far you go." He warned, vision narrowing and bearing down.

"If you become a liability to me and my cause," He snarled:

"I will kill you."

Tension swept across my backstrut.

My wing joints tightened, and my jaws clenched, spark weighing as the air pressed around me.

I kept his gaze steady, staring him down even as I stayed kneeling on the floor. I was surprised that I haven't flinched even once. We had exchanged countless threats before, but this was different. He meant it. I could tell he did. That was what I was counting on.

I needed him to anchor my decision to an end.

In all honesty, I had no interest in uprooting Megatron. I was Crown to my Vos. I had my people, who followed me without question, and Fleets that would willingly lay down their sparks to preserve mine. There was no benefit to gain from exerting leadership over a horde of unruly ground pounders. What would I do with them? I certainly had no desire to treat them as equals.

However, despite the uncertainty shrouding my spark, my expression remained unwavering. A familiar sneer formed on my faceplate, hurriedly plastered over my hesitance, and a small, arrogant smirk followed its arrival, the same moment a sweet lilt purred from my vocalizer alongside a coy quirk of helm:

"Not if I kill you first, my most illustrious lord."

The scowl he shot down at me, furious, crackling his optics, was absolutely glorious. My spark shivered in thrill and heat. My thighs trembled, and arousal slammed so abruptly into my system that I gasped, lips falling apart a breath as my optics widened. The sensation was overwhelming. The floor felt liquid under my hands. I tried to glare back at my tormenter, tried to focus on the violence and hatred toward him. This was wrong. This felt wrong. I could not speak, and when the moment dragged, Megatron became fed up with my silence, reaching down with a bellow on his lips.

"Get up!" He ground through gritted dentae, optics bright with disgust. "I sicken of the sight of you kneeling in disgrace." He grabbed me by a wing, and yanked me to my peds.

I stumbled, a hitch in my intakes, and fell against him.

He did not move me. His plating was hot, the mere contact enough to stun me with a shudder of blistering charge.

I pushed away, tore my wing from his grasp.

My engine growled as my optics narrowed, but he spoke on, uncaring of my hostility.

"I have matters to tend to," He said, "and you have yours."

"Matters?" I spat a huff. "What matters, mighty Megatron?" I tilted a hip, and flicked a wrist to shake off the lingering tension. "Attending to your resident rapist?" I picked at him, lips curled.

"I am here to win a war, not to judge deviant interface habits." He replied with terse words. "However, as such incident has upset the relations between aerial and ground forces, appropriate punishment must be done."

No slag. I sent out a spluttering scoff.

"If the nature of this incident is indeed malicious," He ignored my interjection, "The perpetrator will face public deactivation by my hands as an example to the troops."

That, I did not expect. I stiffened, and gaped at him. From how he'd acted, I thought he'd just—

"A decision will be made after the victim and all witness testimonies have been heard." He met my optics. "Would that satisfy you, Crown Prince?" He asked, and might've even been sarcastic, but I was too preoccupied with what he'd said to care about such triviality.

"…What the frag, Megatron?!" I blurted out. "If you'd planned on deactivating him in the first place, why didn't you just say so?" That would've saved me a lot of grief and pain.

"I will not deactivate him until he is proven guilty." He answered, "There's something strange about this case that I will get to the bottom of."

The sneer returned to my faceplate.

"You just wanted to press me against a wall." I snapped, and tossed him a grudging glare.

He ignored my comment.

"Swiftglide is currently inside his recharge chamber." Megatron sent me a data-burst of the map of the base with the Seeker's location marked. "You will question him the details of this incident, and report to me as soon as you find out."

"Yes, leader," I drawled. "Your humble servant is most eager to please you at every command."

Megatron narrowed his optics at me. My spark shriveled, but I stuck out my canopy and huffed, swirling on my thruster heels before sauntering in the direction of my destination.

"I'm going. I'm going." I waved his glare away, and strode down the hall. I could feel his optics on my back until I turned the corner, and only then, out of his sight, did I allow myself a moment to breathe, a hand grasping for the wall. Other palm propped against a knee, I regulated my venting, and offlined my optics. Gathering my nerve took far longer than I would have liked. My wings still flicked in shivers when I resumed my walk, but my spark had settled. The trembling would go away within a few breems.

I navigated through the Decepticon base. Surprisingly, the many ground pounders I passed all stood aside and greeted me as "Commander Starscream". There seemed to be some hope left for this degenerate bunch yet. Good news for me and Vos, as there was nothing worse than being aligned with idiots.

I entered the recreational section of the base. There were a few Striker Jets traveling the halls. They snapped to attention and bowed when they spotted me rounding the corner. I took a moment to inquire about their stay in Kaon, to which they responded positively, despite missing Vosian skies. After a brief chat, I dismissed them, and ventured further down the corridor, coming to a stop before the door leading into Swiftglide's quarters.

There was no need to knock. I entered the override code I had as second-in-command, and the door slid open with a small beep. Crossing the threshold, I gave the small room a sweep. Swiftglide was scrambling down from his berth. The Seeker looked a mess, wings twitchy, and his limbs floundered before he got onto his peds, to make a swift bow.

"All hail Prince Starscream." He whispered, gaze downturned.

"Rise." I walked into the room.

The door closed behind me.

Swiftglide's recharge chamber was just big enough to spare a Seeker from claustrophobic hysteria. It was uncomfortable at best. There was a simple berth on my right, one Swiftglide stood stiffly in front of, and a table with a chair on the left. Two shelves sat against the back wall, one holding data pads and another various trinkets. An image display screen was hung up on the wall over the recharge berth, cycling through pictures of Vos every ten kliks.

With a look of displeasure at the low ceiling, I strolled to the table, and took my seat in the chair. Swiftglide had yet moved from his spot. He kept his helm lowered, hands fidgeting with each other. By the way his wings trembled, I knew he was nervous. He has always been a nervous flier, though, so I dispelled my worries over his wellbeing, and motioned at him to stand in front of the table, across from me.

He complied, shuffling forward without a single glance at my faceplate. I frowned, a little annoyed at his lack of manners. However, this was the first time Swiftglide had private audience with me, so his behaviour could be excused. Any flier would be downright terrified to sit in a room with me, even without a humiliating topic in discussion.

"Do you not have another chair?" I broke the tense silence, trying to ease us into a conversation.

Swiftglide shook his helm in a hurry, and did not speak.

Heaving a sigh through my vents, I drummed my fingers on the table, a grimace on my lips.

"Since you already know why I'm here, I'll cut the flattery." I decided to be blunt to save myself the trouble of appeasing Swiftglide's perpetual anxious fretting. "Is the rumour regarding your interface habits true?"

Swiftglide flinched.

For a long moment, he did not move or speak.

I waited with as much patience as I could allow, and watched him with an expectant stare. Thankfully, my efforts were not in vain. He eventually responded, a nod so small that it was almost imperceptible.

My spark clenched a little, and my fingers stopped their drumming.

"Why?" I asked.

Swiftglide startled, faceplate jerking up, and gave me a gape of surprise. I was surprised myself at having made such an inquiry, since it was not exactly important to the main objective of the questioning. However, it was too late to take it back, so I plastered on an expression of apathy, and waited for his reply.

Swiftglide looked like he wanted to bolt, or melt into a puddle to escape through the cracks on the floor. He nibbled on his downer lip component, and his optics darted around, vents in quiet stutters. He clutched his hands, and, for several kliks, did not make a sound. When he finally spoke, it was a tentative, frightened peep:

"Wh—Why…what, y-your Highness?"

My wing joints tensed, and I fought to keep my expression impassive.

"Why did you…" I could not stop a wince, "…put yourself through such humiliation?"

Swiftglide grew rigid immediately after my question. He bit his lips with such force that I worried he was going to draw energon. His gaze had gone flat, into a blank stare. To my great alarm, coolant started to surface from his optics.

"…I—…I just—…" He whimpered, frame shaking so hard that I thought he was going to rattle something loose.

"Yes?" I prompted before he could start bawling and render all chances of me finding out what happened to nil.

"I-I just—…never really—" He paused, so ashamed that his wing tips were pointing all the way down, "…n-never really…had so many mechs paying attention to me before…" He finished, the whole time wearing a painstaking expression on his faceplate.

I could not blame him. I would like to avoid this situation as well, and I was not the one having to admit to wayward perversions.

"Explain." I ordered, keeping my voice even and cool. He seemed to be thankful for that, lifting a hand to rub the gathering tears away.

"Sire—…Y-You know that I'm not…exactly the most popular Seeker in Vos…" He whispered, looking down to avoid my gaze. "I'm dull and…uninteresting…and no one wants me in their trine." He stopped for a little while, as though waiting for me to tell him otherwise. However, I kept silent, because every one of his observations was true.

Swiftglide had one of the most boring paintjobs I have ever seen on a Seeker, soft browns and faded cream. His wing span was far from impressive, and he was more skittish than quick. He was ordinary in all aspects I could imagine. I'd once been told that he held the lowest academic percentage out of every flier who worked in my tower. His speed was nothing to be bragged about either, and his familial background was nothing spectacular. The only reason he had not blended into the walls back in Vos altogether was thanks to his exaggerated paranoia, though no one was sure what had caused him to develop such a trait.

When it became clear that I was not about to comment, Swiftglide continued, helm drooping lower.

"…Even Skydrift ignores me most of the time unless he wants to make fun of someone…" He whispered, looking drenched in misery, and I felt a flare of irritation in my spark, lips fighting to curl.

With that attitude, of course no Seeker would want him in their trine. I took a vent, and tried to hold back my annoyance toward his pitiful behaviour. After all, I was supposed to be sympathetic.

"Finding suitable trine mates takes time, Swiftglide." I sighed, and attempted to seem more approachable by shifting in my seat. "I fail to see how this would lead you to jumping into ground pounders' berths."

He flinched again, this time even more noticeably so.

Primus-slag-it, this was Thundercracker's specialty, not mine.

"B-But, your Highness—" The Seeker immediately began to justify himself, terribly flustered and agitated, "I've been without trine mates for fifty vorns now! And no one's—no one's ever shown interest and-and—I just—…I don't know what else I can do!" He started to prattle. "I tried my damned hardest, you know, getting fliers to notice me. Th-The only reason I act so paranoid all the time is so that they would, but still! No Seeker's ever offered to be my trine mate! What am I supposed to do?" His voice became a strangled squeak, and he gestured frantically, vents spluttering and optics once again shining with coolant. He babbled on, reciting instances where he'd tried to initiate an invitation to another Seeker only to be laughed at and rejected, and I was too stunned to respond or stop him, staring at him with rounded vision.

This.

Entire.

Time.

Dealing with his inane conspiracy theories causing unrest in Vos.

And the damned glitchball.

Was not actually a glitchball?

I felt like hurling one of the trinkets on the shelf at his faceplate. Did he have any idea how much pointless slag I had to deal with just because of his stupid attempts at garnering attention from other Seekers?!

"You still have not answered my question, Swiftglide." I interrupted before I could succumb to the urge of bodily harm, and pinned him with a glare. "Why have you been interfacing with so many ground pounders?"

To be fair, I had no control over who my Seekers wanted to frag. However, based on what Skywarp had told me, Swiftglide had fragged enough grounders to be practically designated the resident whore. That did not sit well with me at all.

Swiftglide dropped silent in an instance, and lowered his helm until I could no longer see his faceplate.

"…I…I just—…" He grumbled, sounding every bit as shameful as he should. "I…I like…how they…notice me…"

I almost shot his aft right there.

Of course the slaggers would notice you! I wanted to yell. They want to pound you into their berths!

Before I could, he spoke on.

"A-And they're…they're really not that bad…" Swiftglide shuffled on his peds. "They never do anything I don't like, and they are always gentle and careful with me, unless…y'know…" He glanced at my faceplate. "…I want it rough…"

My cheek plates scalded with gathering energon. I fumbled to cross my arms over my chassis, and hoped that Swiftglide had not seen the curious flick my wings. I was not interested in his insinuated interface tendencies. I was here to scold, not to sympathize. Fortunately, he did not seem to have noticed, and continued to explain his situation.

"They've been helping me settle in at the base," He said as he squirmed, "and they always ask me to sit with them in the recreation hall." His voice dropped to a mumble. "They always make sure I have everything I need here in Kaon. And we're all good friends…" His last sentence faded so quiet that I almost missed it, and I almost wished I did.

"They are your 'good friends' because they want you in their berths." I cut in, tone harsh and pointed. Surprisingly, Swiftglide did not startle. He only shrugged, and murmured in reply:

"At least they actually listen to me when I talk about something."

My digits tightened around my arms.

"That's hardly enough reason to justify them spreading degrading hearsay about you, Swiftglide."

"I didn't even know there was a rumour until what happened this cycle." He grumbled, and I could feel a processor-ache begin to set in. Huffing a sigh of sheer frustration, I rubbed my faceplate, and decided that now was a good time as ever to figure out just what the frag had happened in that Primus-damned corridor.

"Speaking of, care to recount that event for me, Swiftglide?" I asked through a sneer, and gave him a hurrying wave. "I would love to hear you elaborate on the matter."

At that, Swiftglide gave me a few hesitant, but oddly hopeful glances.

"W-Will you…actually listen to me?" He whispered, as though speaking too loud would change my mind.

"Why else would I be sitting here for?" I leveled him with a flat stare.

"Oh thank Primus!"

To my utter shock, he actually sagged in relief, and blasted a sigh through his vents.

"I thought you were going to deactivate him without even asking me!" He exclaimed, and put his faceplate in his palms.

I chose not to mention how I almost did, and he took my silence the wrong way.

Swiftglide froze, a look of horror stretching his optics as his helm shot up in dismay.

"You—You didn't deactivate him, did you?!" His voice reached a high squeak. "Oh Primus—Please tell me you didn't, Sire!"

"No, I didn't." I answered just to stop him from scrambling into panic, frown deepening when he, once again, sighed in relief.

"…I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you did…" He mumbled to himself, and anger swelled from my spark, bristling the arch of my wings

What the slag was he going on about?!

"Swiftglide, explain!" I snapped.

The Seeker jumped, cinching in attention.

"I-It was just a misunderstanding, your Highness!" He reported, vision wide. "I've never met the mech prior to this cycle. It just happened that he was in the corridor that I was passing through."

My optics narrowed.

"…Go on." I instructed.

"I was carrying some data pads," The Seeker replied, "so I didn't see the dent in the floor, and I tripped. He caught me before I could fall, and I became flustered, so I started babbling…" His gaze started to lower. His posture began to shrivel.

"…My wings must've been moving a whole lot…'cause he suddenly grabbed them! Without warning! And I panicked!" Swiftglide's wings jerked in unison "You-You see…grounders don't understand. They don't know that grabbing wings like that would give a Seeker the wrong ideas. And of course I was…too shocked to remember that and…especially since he had me cornered against a wall in a quiet corridor, I—…I just…assumed the worst and—…and…

"…well…"

Swiftglide's entire faceplate was flushed with the glow of energon. He shifted on his thrusters.

"…He grabbed them awfully hard too," The Seeker mumbled, "but ground pounders always grab things hard, so I don't think he actually meant to hurt me. But still…"

Swiftglide fidgeted.

"…He's really big, and he has this huge scar on his faceplate, so he looked kind of evil. During the moment, it was really scary, so I started screaming, and one of the Striker Jets came running down the hall and saw us. With all the data pads on the floor and the grounder pushing me against a wall…it just—…well…" He nibbled on his lips. "…you know the rest…"

His voice trickled off.

Silence saturated the air.

For a long moment, I could only stare, jaws slack.

When the shock finally receded, I wanted to hit something. More than anything I've ever wanted to hit in my entire function.

My lips pursed closed.

My jaw-joints hardened.

Swiftglide's faceplate looked an enticing target.

I took a loud, slow intake.

"…You do realize, Swiftglide," I began, voice calm and controlled, "That I just dropped all of my princely duties to come to Kaon to resolve your little misunderstanding."

My optics narrowed.

Swiftglide whimpered in fear.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" I hissed, dental plates gritted, wide optics promising painful ends.

Swiftglide seemed to shrink into himself, shaking on his peds.

"I…I'm so sorry, Sire. Please forgive me…!" He was squeaking again, and my processor-ache started getting worse.

After a long silence of glaring at the wiggling Seeker, I ex-vented, and propped my elbows against the table. I rubbed my optics with the heels of my palms, and wondered just how I was going to report such inanity to Megatron without receiving any prickly words in return.

Not to mention, about how I'd reacted…

I gave my helm a shake, and lowered my hands.

First things first.

"You are being reassigned back to Vos." I sent Swiftglide a glare, and pushed up onto my peds. "I will not allow you to shame our city further. You are to pack your belongings immediately, and return to Vos by the end of this cycle."

Swiftglide froze. He gaped at me with shock. I frowned, and studied his expression in great incomprehension. Did he honestly think I was going to let him stay here so he can continue being the Decepticon plaything? If I were him, I'd think anything would be better than being cooped in this tiny pit-hole of a berth room and—

"No…!" He whimpered, helm in a slow shake. "No please, your Highness! Please let me stay!" He begged, optics filling with desperation as his hands reached toward me in plea. "I'm so sorry. I really am! I swear I'll never do anything like this again! I promise!" He peered imploringly at me, bottom lip component quivering.

"I—…I'm happy here, Sire." His ventilation sniffled. "There are mechs who actually enjoy my company here, and I'm useful at this base." Coolant brimmed, dangling at the edges of his wide vision. "For the first time in my entire existence, I have friends who genuinely want to be around me. Please, don't make me leave!" His voice pinched into a high wail, and the tears fell, spilling down his cheeks. He fretted and cried, so upset, as though I'd sentenced him to the Vosian brig. I was speechless, staring at him with brow ridges knitted.

At that moment, I finally understood why a simple misunderstanding managed to blow up into the mess it was now. For Primus's sakes, Swiftglide panicked faster than I could transform into jet-mode. Even for lacking a trine, this was ridiculous.

Swiftglide took my silence as a chance to plead his case. He looked at me with his round, wet optics, and wore the most miserable expression I had ever seen on a flier. His voice was a shuddering mess when he continued to speak. It trembled worse than his entire frame combined together.

"Please, your Majesty, don't make me leave!" He repeated. "I know what I'm doing is considered shameful in Vos, mingling with the ground pounders like I'm one of them…But I—…I enjoy their company. They're not as stupid or horrible as we've all been told."

The Seeker started to blabber.

"They all have their own hobbies, and-and…preferences. They even play silly games like we do when they have nothing to do! You'd be surprised by how similar we are to them, your Highness!"

Swiftglide shuffled closer, reaching as though he wanted to hold onto my hands.

"You can't possibly believe what everyone says, right?" His optics glowed, voice hushed. "You, of all fliers, should know that our rigid stereotypes aren't true."

His fingers spread as though to latch onto my wrists.

"I mean…you interact with Lord Megatron all the time," He wavered a grimace of a smile, "and he's not stupid or horrible, right? He can't be stupid or horrible if you'd enter an allegiance with him!"

My vision flickered.

My wing joints seized.

I could give Swiftglide countless ways of which Megatron was stupid and horrible, but I was unable to utter them, rendered mute by this citizen of mine, who, by all logic and reason, should elicit nothing but disgust and contempt from my spark. However, instead, his words only stripped me, left me bare, scrambling for footing on unfamiliar platform. There was something in his optics, a small, bright glint. It alarmed me – struck a shiver from my centermost core, because it told me he knew.

He understood.

…this perverse, hideous desire plaguing my own thoughts and actions.

He took a step forward.

I scraped one back.

"…I've seen the way you look at him, Sire." His fingers grasped onto my hands, and he whispered, beseeching expression morphing dark, twisted, vile.

Terrifying.

"I can't possibly be the only Seeker who has unconventional tendencies." He said, and I could only tremble, wings stretching higher and higher until my joints ached.

With a sharp, shrill cry, I shoved him off, and backed away until my wings slammed into the wall. My arms shook, but I swung them up regardless, and aimed my charging null rays at my citizen, who startled just as fearful as I was.

I knew Swiftglide was cowering, as far away from me as he could, as bitten-back sobs spluttered form his vocalizer. His faceplate glistened with steams of coolant, and his intakes stuttered with fright, but that was not what I saw. That was not what my mind dictated me to see.

All I could perceive was a visage of utmost malice smirking at me with knowing glee.

All I could feel was spark-wrenching horror that another flier, another Seeker, knew my secret, and that he shared my perversion.

My guilt.

My wrong.

Shrill, piercing noise ripped through the tension between us.

I jumped, wings battering against the wall, and reset my optics, a tremor quaking through my frame.

It took me several kliks to recognize the sound as a siren, but even then, I could not figure out its purpose. Swiftglide was momentarily distracted from my null rays. He looked just as confused. Before I could think to find out what was going on, a ping lit up my comm., and jolted me out of my crazed stupor.

I shook my helm, annoyed with myself for the way I'd behaved, toward one of my own no less. With a sigh and a brush of hand over my faceplate, I tapped into the frequency insisting on contact.

:What is it?: I asked, tone weary, spark swirling still inside its chamber.

:Starscream.:

It was Megatron.

:Report to the command deck immediately. I require your presence.:

He sounded snappish, but he was rarely not snappish. A memory file flitted through for a split moment, one of a smile, and I frowned, before giving my helm a shake.

The high-pitched ringing was starting to drill into my processors.

:What's happening?: I asked, features pulling into a grimace. :And what is that Primus-forsaken sound?:

:That sound is an alarm for immediate preparations for battle.: He replied, snarling with anger not directed at me for once. :I will explain the situation upon your arrival. Hurry up.:

Without another word, he cut our connection. I sneered, and muttered about his rude aft. Accessing the map of the base, I worked out the fastest route to the command deck, the throne chamber. Swiftglide was watching me. He did not seem as afraid, since I'd lowered my null rays. However, he still flinched when I looked at him, but I had much more important things to worry about than scaring the lubricant out of my citizen.

"You will remain here until I personally issue your release." I addressed him, giving him no room for argument. "You are only allowed contact when in need of energon, and your contact will not set even one ped into your quarters when delivering your sustenance, understood?"

Swiftglide nodded in haste, and scrambled out of the way when I strode toward the door. Without another word or glance, I left him where he was, and made my way to the command center.

The hallways were bustling with grounders barging out of their quarters to get ready for an upcoming battle. They shouted to each other over the siren, looking very pleased with the anticipation of violence. Most of them had the foresight to move out of my way as I travelled through the corridors. Those who did not either got screeched at or a warning shot on their afts. I managed to make my way to the throne chamber within a few breems, an impressive feat considering how hectic the Decepticon base had become.

"What's going on?" I yelled over the noise as soon as I walked through the doors to the command deck. Megatron had his hands clasped behind his back. He was standing over Soundwave's shoulder, watching the screens with avid interest. He only turned when I approached him, and his optics flickered as though jolting out of thoughts.

"An unexpected attack from the Autobots at the mining outpost," He explained, tone much calmer than over comm.. "Our stationed forces have begun to retaliate, but they are struggling." He glanced away when a small "pop" cut in just as his words ebbed.

Turning in the same direction, I saw my purple trine mate, who appeared much more alert and focused than usual.

"Skywarp will teleport us to the command center at the mine." Megatron turned his attention back to me. "The rest of the troops will reach it by hovercrafts, accompanied by the Striker Jets." His gaze held mine, and the red specs glimmered, as though daring a challenge. "I need a summary of the situation from above." He said, "Are you capable of giving me one?"

What kind of a question was that? I scowled up at him, wings perking higher.

"Of course I am." I spat out, crossing my arms with a huff. "You're speaking to the best flier on the planet here!"

"A lone Seeker is a Seeker in danger." He argued.

"What would you know about that?" I countered, lips curling.

He ignored my quip.

"To lessen the chance of being spotted, you will not be accompanied by your trine mates." He was awfully discouraging for someone trying to convince me to take a task. "However, you will have to fly low, within firing range of the Autobots. Smoke rises constantly from the mines. You won't be able to get a clear view unless you travel below it."

In other words, I was the only flier quick and agile enough for this job.

"I can do it." I answered without a moment's pause. There was no time for second-guessing one's abilities in the middle of battle.

Megatron nodded, and motioned Skywarp to come closer. My purple trine mate followed his command, though he kept peeking at me, brows furrowed in worry.

"Soundwave," Megatron addressed the blue mech sitting at the console, "You will travel with the hovercrafts and coordinate our troops. Report to me every ten breems on your status and location. I will give you further instructions once you arrive at the outpost."

"As you command, Lord Megatron." The toneless grounder replied without missing a beat, and I grimaced in distaste.

Still an eager aft-kisser, he was.

Megatron gave him a curt nod, and turned to Skywarp. He grabbed onto the purple Seeker's closest arm, and I held on to the other. Skywarp activated his warping sequence. We left Kaon with a shroud of purple smoke. As soon as we reappeared at the command center of the mines, the thick, heavy fume of burning metal and smelting heat blasted against my faceplate and into my intakes.

I coughed, vents in short, spastic bursts of air, and took a quick sweep around.

By Primus was this place a mess.

The floor shook every few kliks from explosions ravaging the compounds, and steams of dust spat out between the cracks above us, accompanying each armor-rattling boom. The ceiling groaned. I watched it with brightened optics, wary of it collapsing right on top of us. Megatron left Skywarp's side to check on the situation, bellowing to be heard by the mechs huddled by the consoles. I was left simmering in the battering noise and hot air, wishing more than anything to be out of this obviously unstable building.

"Star."

Skywarp broke me out of my glancing about. He had concern plastered all over his faceplate. It did not suit him.

"Are you sure you wanna go alone, to scout the area, I mean?" He asked, scooting closer. "You're gonna be flying through enemy lines at a low altitude. It's kinda, well…very dangerous."

"How eloquently put, Skywarp. I am aquiver with amazement." I drawled through gritted dentae, and tried to hide my nervousness behind sarcasm.

"Stop bein' a slagger! You know what I mean." He nudged me on the arm, though it was more of a punch. I rubbed my sore plating, and sent him a glare.

"Our leader has spoken. Do you doubt his command?" I refused to acknowledge how reckless Megatron was demanding me to be. Besides, I wouldn't back down from a challenge, especially one where I could prove myself.

"No, but I'm still getting TC." My trine mate retorted, and before I could get another word out, he disappeared, in his customary puff of smoke.

"Where's Skywarp?" Megatron walked back toward me, having learned of the situation. Before I could answer, however, he spoke on. He didn't seem to care all that much about where my purple trine mate had popped off to.

"You are to take off immediately." He seized me by the arm, and pulled me toward the doors on a side wall. I struggled a little just to show my displeasure at his rough handling, but I did not protest.

The doors slid open, and revealed a flight of stairs. The stairs led to a platform. Upon reaching it, an even stronger wave of heat blasted against my faceplate.

No wonder Megatron was sending his best out to fly. I was the only Seeker who could maneuver in this weather. I scrunched my nose, and looked out at the scene through a window with my wings stretched wide. My processors were functioning at top capacity just to keep watch on all the air currents my flight sensors were catching a whiff of. To make matters worse, if my calculation was correct, a storm was forming, breems from unleashing a hurricane of acid onto Cybertron's surface.

Not only was it dangerous to fly, I had to be fast. I was in no desire to taste corrosion on my plating.

Not again.

"Complete a scan of the outpost, and report enemy locations." Megatron shouted over the roar of battle as he slapped a keypad. The front wall slid apart, and only then did I realize that it was a pair of gates.

A column of smoke slammed against us.

"Do not stray from the objective. Do not take any longer than necessary." His voice was a mere murmur under the shrieking howl of the wind.

I winced as bits of debris beat against my armor. They nicked my polish.

"I expect to see you back on this platform in three breems." He instructed me, fighting to be heard through the noise. He grabbed me by an elbow when I lifted a hand to bat at the smoke, and tugged me close, optics flickering from the dry scald of mist billowing around us.

"Three breems." He insisted, dentae gritted in a snarl.

I gaped up at him, incredulous.

Had he glitched?

Three breems were too few for even me under the current flight condition. I'd be lucky to scout even a quarter of the place.

My expression must've expressed all that needed to be said, for he replied before I could voice my thoughts.

"Regardless of how much you complete," He yelled over the shrill descent of missiles, "return to the command center in precisely that time." He wore an aggravated scowl, and I felt odd that it was not responding to anything I said or did. "By calculation, the downpour will start in just over five breems." He looked away for a moment just to glance at the scenery around us, at the scattering towers of smoke and the bursts of fire lighting up the gray.

"I want you here, not stranded."

Megatron turned back to face me.

He had something else to say. I knew he did.

I could tell from the slight tightening of his digits around my arm.

I nodded.

"Keep the Striker Jets at base. They cannot fly in this weather." I shouted over the screaming currents that only surged with greater force. "They lack the maneuverability to endure this."

Megatron snapped his helm aside in what appeared to be a hissed curse. He must've been annoyed at the thought of having no aerial advantage, but he nodded without remark.

Glad we did not have to argue over this deafening noise, I turned to take off, arm slipping from his grip.

"Make sure my trine mates do not attempt to follow me." I yelled with one last look tossed over my wing.

Megatron was watching me, hand lingering where he had clutched my limb.

My fuel pump hitched, and I almost paused.

I swallowed the urge.

"Despite what they might assume," I yanked my gaze away before I could lose my nerve. "They do not possess the skill to fly this wind." I sprung forward in a run, and leapt into a transformation.

My thrusters ignited.

I speared for the sky.

"Starscream!" I could hear Megatron bellowing after me. "I expect you to return!"

His voice faded as smoke engulfed me.

My joints tensed. I growled expletives, though he could not hear it.

The fragger still suspected that I would defy his orders at a time like this? I would very much prefer not flying at all than endangering my own life by plunging straight into a brewing storm.

Before I could dwell on my indignation, a spiral of currents slammed into my nosecone. I cursed, a yelp blurting past my vocalizer as I temporarily lost control. My wings got caught, and my light frame was thrown off its axis, flung aside by the wind. Warnings blared in my processors. Instead of fighting against the tide, however, I eased my thrusters, and let the air carry me until I could fly around its surges.

I managed to find a smoother flight path, and allowed myself a moment of relief. The only reason I was able to avoid plunging to the ground was my light weight. Worst case scenario, I could at least ride the currents and find a place to land. Any heavier frame types would have crashed, and I was glad the Striker Jets were no longer coming to this pit-hole.

I could not rise too high. I had no desire to get lost in the fume, or worse – the gathering storm clouds. It was hard to tell the two apart, and I did not want steam of acid engulfing me. I tilted my nosecone at a slight angle up, and reached a good altitude. I began to circle the perimeter, sending data-bursts to Megatron every fifteen kliks.

There was an extraordinarily large amount of Autobots below me, but they were too focused on blasting through Decepticon defenses to notice a lone Seeker sailing over their helms. I noted their strategies, and attached my observations alongside the data-bursts. I was making remarkable progress, given that the weather was worse than the smelting pits and I kept stumbling in the air. The wailing wind muffled the screech of my engine, and the smoke camouflaged my frame. My caution started to slip, prompting me to venture a little lower to get a more precise look at Autobot formations. I was well on my way of completing the first sector, and I was determined to finish my scouting mission by the time three breems was up.

Paying more attention to the Autobots than the weather proved to be a bad idea. A front of cold air washed toward me. It ghosted over my plating, and shivered my wings, but I did not give it much thought, simply veering off to avoid the prickling sensations against my flight sensors. However, just as I started to shift, a surge of heated wind punched me straight in the belly of my alt-mode. I hollered in alarm, and tried to right my frame. It was too late.

The wind sent me spinning off to the side. Snarling curses, I flipped in the air, and tried to cut under the current before it flung me to the ground. I was low enough to make crashing a serious threat, without time to cushion my fall. I completed the flip with a tug of my wings, and attempted to dive under the wind and swerve around it.

A flicker of light caught my visual sensors.

It was the only warning I got before pain stabbed straight through my left wing, and battered me off course. It was a laser shot, and it pierced my limb. It seared through sensitive neural clusters, tearing a cry from my vocalizer, engine shrieking in spurts as I hurtled toward the ground.

I could not figure out the exact location of the sniper, but his precision chilled me to the spark chamber. I needed the cover of smoke. In great haste. My speed and maneuverability were already compromised. I did not want to take any chances.

However, before I could recover, more shots flashed toward me. I did not even have the time to utter a gasp before they caught me right on my wings, and snuffed what little control I had left in the rising storm. Shouting in fright, I battled the currents, trying to rip myself from their whims. My efforts were futile. The wind tossed me in its grip, and the heat, the scorching agony, swept a haze of panic over my processors.

I had three debilitating injuries so far, two on my left wing and one on my right. This shouldn't have caused me much grief had the winds not been so strong and cruel. Bits of debris beat over my frame. A piece of shrapnel flew right toward my nosecone. I tugged my frame in a daring veer, and the slice of metal clanged into the leading edge of my left wing, lodging a burst of energon from my plating.

Rivulets of glowing purple bounced across my striped appendage. I hissed, a strangled shriek of pain lost in the roaring noise. I needed a place to land before more Autobots started shooting at me. I had to find somewhere to hide from the pouring acid rain that was counting down to fall from the dark, rumbling sky.

It's become apparent that there was no plausible way for me to return to the platform at the command center. The storm was building its rage, soon to be unleashed to the inhabitants stationed at the mining outpost. The currents were even more erratic and ferocious, screaming as they tossed me between them, urging me to crash to the ground.

Through my frantic efforts at retaining flight and finding a sanctuary, I spotted numerous units of Autobots beneath my path. To my surprise, despite noticing my presence, none of them shot at me, only scrambling to duck under hanging roofs. They were all throwing on protective gear, with only wary glances up toward me as I speared past them overhead. This was worrying. It knotted my spark.

If ground pounders were concerned about getting burned, the acidity of the upcoming rain was going to be distressing to a Seeker, to say the least.

I was flying so low now that I was able to pick out faceplates, despite the industrial fume still clinging to the air. I did not recognize any of them, but the hatred they bore as they noted my Decepticon insignia was enough chill my spark. I was obviously not in Decepticon territory, and, from the current looks of things, I was going to be grounded right in the middle of cluster of Autobots. How lovely. Such a fortunate turn of events. Cursing my luck, I ignored the inkling of dread starting to blossom, and resumed to my search for a place to land.

What I would not give to be with Nightfire right now, watching Blitzwing and Firechaser fly little routines. Anything was better than being amidst enemy grounders without flight as an option. My best plan was to locate a safe hiding spot and wait the storm out. If not, I could find a lone Autobot, deactivate him, and steal his cloak so I could attempt flying back to the command center through the storm. The calculated chance of success for the latter was less than five percent, but it was more likely than being rescued. I had to concentrate on that thought as to not lose my processors.

During my bout of desperate optimism, I'd ventured closer to the mines. There were several entrances on an outcrop leading into the ground, and while I would much rather not hide in a hole, a hole was the only available escape I had left from the storm. Without another thought, I changed my flight path, and shot toward one of the entrances.

A familiar flicker of light flashed from the corner of my vision. Suddenly, an outpour of laser shots lit up the air around me, chasing my retreating form. It was probably the sniper from before. He had the same precision and type of laser discharge. No longer keeping a low profile, I cursed aloud, and partook in flips and turns that would have definitely killed me had I not been so frantic to avoid the shots. My spark froze into a tight, cold clench of terror. My fuel pump raced. I was so close to the entrance of the mine that I could almost taste the clammy ink of darkness, invisible talons outstretched and clawed waiting to gorge me into its depths.

One last surge of speed.

I would surely reach safety if I could just—

"-Aaargh!"

A shot struck me, right in the thruster. It gave out with a loud splutter, and I tumbled in the air, screeching in rage as I abruptly transformed. Keeping in jet-mode was no longer an option. With only one functioning thruster, my speed was compromised, but I could still carry on long enough to get to the mine entrance. So engrossed I was in reaching the hole I completely missed the small unit of Autobots I blasted overtop of. All I heard was a chorus of shouts before a wave of gunfire erupted around me.

The air was aflame with laser and cannon discharges.

"Decepticon!" A voice cried out.

By a stroke of luck alone, I managed to avoid most of them, only getting grazed. Ugly scorch marks aside, I was alive, and that was all I focused on at the moment. The same sniper, once again, started shooting at me. A blast gouged a nasty gash on my thigh, urging a yelp from my lips, but I kept flying, kept going. With a rolling stumble, I landed inside the mine entrance, temporarily sheltered from enemy fire. I barely had enough time to run a full cycle of hot, humid air before the sky cracked open with a loud, echoing boom, and the rain pelted down like a curtain of bullets.

I could hear the Autobots barking curses. They seemed to be deterred for now, and I heaved a shaky sigh through my vents, limping further into the mine.

Great.

I was stranded, just as I'd feared.

I allowed myself a moment to rest, crumbling into a heap against the wall. My cooling fans were a constant whirr, a stark dichotomy to my intakes, which hitched in tiny spurts. I ran a quick diagnostic on my frame. I was losing quite a bit of energon, but my tank was full, so I was not in immediate danger of bleeding out to deactivation. My systems should start cutting off access to certain minor fuel lines soon, to counter the loss of fuel through my injuries. All I would be left with was just a whole lot of agony, which was minor comfort, one that curled my lips and furrowed my brow ridges.

Wonderful.

I looked over my body, and grimaced. Black scorch marks cracked my impeccable paintjob, and energon that still glowed caked over expanses of my plating. However, all things considered, I was still functional. I've definitely had worse. At least I still had my wings on my back. Heaving another sigh, I decided to contact Megatron, who was undoubtedly furious that I'd failed to obey his order once again.

Not that I did not want to. I sulked against the bumpy wall of the mine. I would much rather be with him right now than this hole leading deep into even more holes. It was dark, and dank, and it had a gross, wet tinge in its heated air that felt disgusting against my sensors. Trying to not think about how creepy the place was, especially with the lights offlined, I activated my comm.-system, and sent him a ping.

At first, he did not respond. Irritated, I sent ten successive pings, and tapped a digit against a knee while I waited. Thankfully, he reciprocated soon after, and our frequencies aligned.

:I'm stuck.: I blurted out, skipping the formalities.

There was no reply.

I squirmed.

:Is it really that surprising, Megatron?: I drawled, nose bridge scrunching in distaste.

Nothing.

Not even a blip of sound.

:…Hello?: I called, frowning in confusion when, yet again, the only thing I could hear was silence.

Too silent.

:Megatron?: I sent him another ping.:Do you receive?:

A burst of static, and the line went dead.

What the frag?

I sent him another comm., which he answered right away. This time, there was a small, muffled murmur from his end, and I vaguely recognized his voice, but I could not make out what he was saying.

Had my comm.-system been damaged? I did not think so. I did not receive any injuries in the helm. I ran another diagnostic, which informed me that my comm.-system was fine. This could only mean either he was having problems, or something was damping our contact.

:Your signal is weak. I can only receive limited responses from you.: I had no clue if he could hear me at all, but I had to try. :One ping for "yes", two for "no". Can you hear me?:

One ping came through.

:Good, because I can't hear you. There's either an Autobot scrambling device or this Primus-damned rain is causing disruptions. Regardless, I am currently hiding at a mine entrance within an Autobot front. I have limited flight capabilities, and no protective cloak. The Autobots have yet made any pursue attempts, so I think, for now, I am safe. Do you receive the above?:

Megatron sent me a ping, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

:I will attempt escape once my self-repair system stops the bleeding.: I continued, :I'll give you—:

Two pings cut me off.

:What in the pits do you mean "no"? Do you want them to capture me?:

Two pings, and I imagined he was probably frustrated, unable to speak to me.

:I highly doubt the Autobots are going to leave me be,: I explained, assuming he'd want me to, :so I will decide on an appropriate course of action when opportunities arise.:

Two more pings came through, insistent, and I growled in annoyance.

:Frankly, I don't know why you keep negating me, and I don't care. I have no desire whatsoever of sitting like a target while the Autobots surround me! Despite what you might think, Megatron, I can look after myself, and I don't need—:

Another signal popped up on my comm., this time from my trine link.

:Hold on.: I told Megatron, and answered after a self-deliberation of reluctance. Apparently, my trine mates were here, and I was certain Megatron had badgered one of them into contacting me. I expected to hear Skywarp, but, upon closer inspection, the signal actually came from Thundercracker.

:Yes?: I accessed the frequency with a dry, flat voice, but my tone has never deterred my blue Seeker from hurrying to chide.

:For Primus's sakes, Star!: He snapped in greeting. :Why did you agree to go on such a mission? You must be utterly mad to—:

:-Seeing as I am already stuck in deep slag, I think your scolding can wait, Thundercracker.: I leaned against the wall, and winced when it jostled my wings. :What does our brilliant leader want?:

There was a stretch of silence, during which I was sure my diplomatic advisor was trying his best to bite back his tirade.

:…He says it's too dangerous to attempt escape by yourself, and he thinks it's better for you to wait and keep a low profile for now.:

:Keep a low profile?: I bristled, faceplate a scowl. :The Autobots already saw me!:

:But you said they haven't done anything yet, so maybe they plan on leaving you alone…?:

I sneered.

:That's about the stupidest excuse I've ever heard.: I spat out with a huff. :Did Megatron tell you to say that?:

:Well…No, but—:

:Then what did he say aside from telling me to hide like a coward?: I interrupted, patience wearing thin.

:Give me a klik, Star.:

I blasted a sigh with a toss of my helm.

:What's your current location?: Thundercracker asked, the leap in topic stalling me for a split instance.

:In one of the Southern sectors…: I thought back, and tracked my flight path. :E-five, I believe. Why?:

:There are six mine entrances in sector E-five,: He replied,:and we have general coordinates for all of them. Skywarp can teleport in and—:

:Have you glitched?!: I shouted, wings jerking upward.

Primus-damnit that hurt.

:You're going to ask an idiot to teleport to generalcoordinates?: I kept going through my hiss of pain,:Who knows where he might end up?:

Were these frag heads even listening to me?

:In case I haven't stressed this enough,: I gritted, :I am surrounded by Autobots! Sending Skywarp is suicide! The current weather condition is too dangerous for even I to fly through, at optimal functionality. There is absolutely no way that—:

The air rippled.

My voice pinched to silence. My left wing flicked.

The current flitting through the entrance had disrupted. Immediately on guard, I activated my null rays, and stood onto my peds, optics keen and audials sharp for any sign of enemy approach.

:…Star?: Thundercracker's voice startled me. I almost jumped out of my armor. Cursing, I cut our line without a reply, and deactivated my comm.-system. I could not afford any distractions when there was an Autobot so close to my location, most likely uninjured and weapons charged to kill. I backed away from the entrance, and kept my null rays aimed, ready to shoot the klik the slagger came into view.

I blocked out all background noise. I ignored the suffocating humidity of the air. The deeper I skulked into the mines, the more anxious I felt. I was as good as cornered, stuck in a passageway that did not allow me much room for agility to be an advantage. However, I was not about to give up without a fight. I darted into a crossing corridor, and lowered to hide around the corner. The Autobot was very close to the entrance now. He was clearly as cautious as I was. I dimmed my optics to a fainter glow, as to not give the enemy an obvious target, and waited.

Any effort I made at being conspicuous was pointless when the Autobot finally appeared. Recognition flashed across my processors, followed by an abrupt brightening of my widened gaze. I knew the bot. I knew him enough for shock to wind my ventilation.

Bluestreak.

It was Bluestreak, holding a sniper rifle, standing at the mine entrance.

He looked different. His frame was thicker, plating bulked by military-grade armor. He's had several upgrades, so much so that I almost could not comprehend him as the meek little Praxian I'd met. His naive, expressive faceplate was now hard and guarded, and his optics, once sparkling with innocence, no longer shone, but peered, gaze steeled into a blade of blue.

Right away, I knew he was the one who'd shot me when I was in the sky. He was undoubtedly looking for me, determined to exact vengeance. He was a gifted sniper. Not many could catch a Seeker of my caliber with a rifle, not at such a distance. However, he was still young. Fueled by vengeful rage or not, could he kill in close quarters? Shooting down an enemy from a vantage point was much more removed than ripping mechs apart at am arm's range. And that moment of hesitation, should the situation befell it, was what I counted on to give him a shot with my null rays.

Bluestreak snuck forward, slow and methodical, attentive for movement. I remained completely still, and waited for an opportune moment to attack. He was approaching my optimal shooting range, and an anticipatory smirk began to tilt up my lips. Any klik now, he would unknowingly step into target, and I would gladly give him a blast in the faceplate.

His peds breathed thuds on the ground.

They barely stirred dust, but I could feel the air, wings hiked perpendicular on my back.

He was watching the corridor, optics narrowed.

I crouched lower.

Vision dimmed once more, I settled onto one knee, and lifted my arms in preparation to shoot…

Suddenly, voices echoed from behind me. I did not even have the time to startle before Bluestreak swirled in my direction, and met my gaze. We stared at each other, as though shocked, despite having expected it to happen. I snapped out of the moment first, and raised my null rays. He lifted his rifle with a cry. I fired, the same moment a laser blast surged toward my canopy.

He was fast. Much faster than I thought him capable of. My aim had skewed as I dodged his shot. It scorched the wall just left of his helm. With a burst of curses, I backed further into the corridor, and glanced around for another way out. The voices behind me were getting closer, and I did not need to see who they belonged to to know that they were Autobots. This was temporary Autobot territory, and I was one Seeker caught right in the middle it. I did not have time to waste. I needed an escape plan.

I ran, as well as I could with a sparking thruster, deeper into the mine. There were no exists, only hallways that split. I had no choice but to keep going with Bluestreak hot on my trail. I could not spare even a single klik to dwell on where I was. I had to move. It was my only option.

Bluestreak's pedfalls thudded behind me. The sound echoed down the passageway of rock, hurtling into the darkness, accompanied by the rising whirr of his rifle. Blasts sailed over my wings. I ducked, and veered into a side corridor. I was sure by now that he was actively defying orders to chase me. After all, snipers did not hunt after rogues. He no longer cared about military protocols. He was here to kill, and had I not been as quick as I was, I would have gotten a fatal injury breems ago.

The mine was a maze, in which I was helplessly trapped. The air grew heavier. Vapour fogged my intakes, giving hint that I was heading further underground. The heat here smoldered with dampness that laboured my ventilation. The halls were getting narrower, the ceiling low. My fuel pump sped. My spark shuddered. My sensors seared with the need for moving air, until I could hear the surging of energon inside my fuel lines, optics beaming in a wide stretch as I sought for a way out.

The crazed Autobot was after my wings. He'd stopped shooting. I did not know why. The generators powering the lighting system must've been destroyed. I was bolting in liquid shadow, every second step shooting pain up my injured thruster. My breaths were shallow, struggling to cool down my internals. The heat was thickening, until my processors throbbed, knees weakening from my frantic pattering.

For a ground pounder, Bluestreak moved fast. I've made numerous attempts to throw him off, but he always managed to find me, optics keen despite the flickering shadows cast by the light on his frame. He shot his rifle again, the laser blast scalding past my shoulder vent. I startled with a yelp, and fell into a crossing hall.

Scrambling up onto my peds, I kept running. However, a few corridors down, I bumped into a dead end, one enforced by a pair of rusting gates. I tapped at the console, and entered my override code. It did not light up. I spat out a curse, and banged against the door.

It did not budge. Dust flaked and fell. I gave it a kick, the same moment a shot hit the door right next to my hand. I cried out, snapping in a turn. My arms rose. My null rays charged. Bluestreak was standing right at the opening of the hall, blocking my only exit, rifle aimed at my spark chamber.

My compact cannons hummed. I aimed for his helm. Our chase had reached a standstill, neither of us taking the first shot.

The silence was grating. The lack of currents and the threat of being removed from access to the sky clenched my spark in a vice grip. There should've at least been a whiff of breeze from the ventilation system. However, everything was dead now, leaving the air completely still and stagnant, which did not bode well with Seeker flight sensors.

Any movement, no matter how miniscule, sent a scrambled mess of codes to my processors. The pain still plaguing my wings did not help. It only worsened the confusion. What was Bluestreak waiting for? Why was he simply standing there? The utter stillness ground on my last, fraying shred of self-control, and fear spread, oozing into every crevice of my being, a constant in my spark that I would soon succumb to, urged by the in-born phobia of every Seeker in a tight space.

A distant boom broke the silence.

It swept through the mine, and the ground beneath us quaked, rumbling debris from the ceiling.

I jumped, scream shrill and cutting. Everything shook around us. I could feel the vibrations right under my thruster heels, and fear spiked into terror when the sound of hallways collapsing reached my audials.

Walls cracked,

Struts buckled.

Explosions erupted above us, and the ceiling began to cave, raining pebbles and clouds of dust.

"The mine!" My optics stretched wide with horror. "It's falling on us!" I was so overcome by terror that I'd completely forgotten about the weapon he was holding, armed at my canopy.

"Don't move, Decepticon!" Bluestreak shouted, hefting his rifle higher.

I did not care.

All I knew was that I had to get out before the ground buried me whole without any hope of rescue.

I rushed forward, hurrying as fast as my peds could carry. Bluestreak was yelling at me, but all I could hear was the crumbling of walls, the crackling of the ceiling starting to give under the weight above us. Laser fire flew toward me, but I managed to avoid them. Bluestreak was not aiming to kill, only to subdue. I did not know why. He hit me on the right wing, and the pain tore a strangled cry from my lips. However, it was the least of my worries, compared to getting out of the mines.

I shoved past him, strength backed by sheer desperation. I ran, flinging in all direction as I sought for a way out. There was no light around me, no sign that any corridor I faced led to freedom. My spark trembled in fear, as did my wings, and the first inkling of utter powerlessness began to weigh against me, pressing from all direction, until a tangible pressure could be felt on my canopy.

Where was the exit?

I swirled around, optic light scattered, intakes hitching in loud, hissed gasps.

Where was it?

I bolted through the dark, blind, only to find myself as hopelessly lost as before, cooling fans working overtime in attempts to bring down my rising internal temperature.

Where?!

The air was so hot, but also frighteningly still. I rubbed my faceplate, and tried to calm myself down to no avail. My optics stung, and my whole frame rattled, making worse the excruciating burn of my injuries.

Where?!

I ran, tripping over my peds and falling to the ground only to push up and run again, just to clench on to that last thin strand of hope that I could get out of here.

Where?!

That hope was dwindling. Coolant streamed down my cheeks. I started to scream, calling out above the noise for anyone to hear me.

Anyone…?

Was anyone there?

An explosive boom slammed from above, and I shrieked in terror, hands shooting up to cradle around my helm.

M-Megatron…

I offlined my optics, and fell to the ground on my knees.

Where was he?

Where was Megatron?

Another explosion, and debris washed down with a wave of dust, battering against my wounded wings.

I gritted my dentae, and curled into a ball, strained cries whimpering past my quivering lips.

At that moment—

How I wished for him to be here with me, keeping me safe from this nightmare.

…Voices.

I heard voices.

My intakes gasped. My optics flashed online. My helm shot up, and I snapped around so fast that I almost lost my balance, landing on a hip with my hands slapping against the ground.

There were voices.

They were close. I could hear the inflection of words.

I shoved up onto my thrusters, and sped toward their direction. I called back, vocalizer aching from the volume of my screams. I no longer knew what I was shouting, only that my voice seemed to bring the voices closer to me. I ran even faster, careless even as the ground beneath me began to break and shatter. All I could think about was latching on to the voices until I made it out of this pit-like mine alive.

More explosions, booming above.

The quakes toppled my balance, but that was not enough to deter me.

I started to crawl, and kept calling at the voices.

Suddenly, forms came into my view. I froze to stillness, unable to believe my optics.

Several wing spans from my location, there were a small group of Autobots, blue optics peering back at me in equal surprise.

None of us moved, even as the ground under us started to give.

One of the Autobots lifted a hand, and pointed at me before a string of words bellowed out of his lips. I did not make out what it was. I did not have time to.

At that exact moment, the ground under me collapsed.

I shrieked in terror, and cried even louder as the ceiling started to break apart right on top of my frame. Rooted to the spot by spark-clenching fear, my thoughts scrambled, and logic dispersed into smoke. I no longer knew what to do. I was overwhelmed by hysteria, processors failing to function on reason.

I was going to die.

I knew I was going to die.

Suddenly, another Autobot, a red and blue grounder, reached toward me. His optics caught mine, firm, calm. It held my desperate gaze with a strength and bravery I did not have.

I reacted.

Impulse drove my actions.

My only thruster sputtered into activation, and I shot forward, arms outstretched towards the mech who offered me protection.

I flew with an abrupt surge of speed, and dove for the embrace of the ground pounder.

My canopy hit the hard plating of his chassis, and I threw my arms around his shoulders, burying my helm against his neck cables.

He wrapped his arms around my waist, and turned to shield me from falling rocks.

Screamed words and loud cries of alarm.

The Autobot that held me was moving, dashing forward to where I could not see.

He leapt, and suddenly, we were falling.

I could not tell if I was screaming, only that I clutched the Autobot so tight that my joints hurt under the strain.

We fell, the noise around us thunderous and terrifying.

We plunged down, all the way to the bottom. I screeched in pain as something landed on my right wing.

I did not have time to see what it was. The back of my helm tossed backward by the momentum of our fall. It hit something hard, and my vision misted with static, processors stalling upon impact. Throbbing enveloped my consciousness. I could not understand what had happened.

My thoughts slowed, and dissipated.

They fleeted into the hazy shroud of darkness, and disappeared, engulfed by the yawning chasm into which my awareness fell.

I sank into its inky depths. All sensations left me.

The last thing I saw before my optics offlined was a pair of bright, blue optics, shining with blatant worry, peering down at me.

And I wondered, lips falling apart…

…as to why they were not red.

---

Notes: At last, this chapter is here! Hopefully, the length has made the wait worthwhile.

The biggest of thanks to my reviewers, especially those who've stuck with this story despite the slow updates. To Ashcola17, starscream fan, estella-clamatis, Cannonade, Zelach, Guest 1, Rosedrop13, Eiswolf-Zero, The-writing-Mew, Guest 2, silverflame, Khysani Myrical, Devlinn Reiko, Confuzzled-Neko, ladyredvelvet, prismadecepticons, Sulktora Storm Dragoness, Guest 3, Guest 4, lol-mech, Dark-Kumineko, LightBlueSpartin343, Spark, Jeanette, Voltax, DreamMaster08X, and Anonymous Anon, thank you so much! I say this all the time, but I honestly can't express how much your support means to me, and how greatly I appreciate it.

I'm sorry I haven't had time to reply. Please know that I have read every single review, and am thankful for every word you've left me.

Updates should be more regular now that my auditions are done. Next chapter is another lengthy one, though, so it might take some time to get here, especially since I'm out of the country at the moment.

I promise I'll try my best, and hope that you've enjoyed reading this chapter. :)

As always, I would love reviews. I enjoy reading your comments.

Much love!