XXIII - Valor

"Gah!" I spat, jumping away from the console's purple screens that glared at me. "Don't sneak up on me like that, Knock Out!"

But it was not the medic that answered, as I had expected. "Starscream. What need have you to document our energon stores? Seeking to take some for yourself, perhaps?"

I whirled around at the sound of Megatron's voice, wings flaring in alarm. "I-ah, my liege. I was, ah, merely logging the locations that have been prone to Autobot attacks." I reached out a long black talon and pointed to four locations where energon mines were situated. "These I have found to be the most vulnerable, I suggest that we place troops at their locations." I lowered my servo tentatively, waiting.

Megatron dismissed my suggestion, "No. Spreading the Decepticon forces thin over this rock of a planet would only weaken us."

"Yes, my Lord." I murmured, my optics drifting over to his red arm.

"Come, Starscream. I have something I wish to show you." He ordered brusquely, and promptly strode off down the corridor without waiting for a reply.

I scampered after him, "What might that be, Lord Megatron?"

"You shall see."

We turned into a laboratory a minute later, where the first thing I saw was Breakdown's scarred chassis.

I gasped, "But he… he–"

Megatron guessed at what I was trying to say, "Breakdown is no more alive than the dirt that coats this planet. No, this fine specimen, this abomination goes by the name of CYLAS."

"Silas!" I exclaimed.

The blue mech chuckled darkly, making no move to try and free himself from the manacles pinning him to the berth. "Indeed, Starscream. Or is it Seven?" He said knowingly, his voice as slick and disgusting as oil while his optics slid over my banded wings.

"Get. Fragged." I spat through gritted denta. Here, here was the person—no, the abomination responsible for Starscream's death. His murder. A red veil seemed to descend upon my vision.

CYLAS only seemed mildly amused in some sick way, like he had just watched someone get hurt and wanted to see it again. "I would imagine that virus has taken its course, Seven, so how is your dear twin holding up? Not too well, I should think."

It took every scrap of willpower I possessed to remain where I stood and not leap onto this blue abomination and gouge his optics from his helm and his spark from its chamber. But I still stood there, trembling with rage as my servos balled into fists, itching to wrap around his throat.

My optics didn't waver from CYLAS' shackled chassis as I spoke, "Lord Megatron, your prisoner has no notion of sanity. Allow me to end his miserable, wretched existence!" I spat, lunging forward. But Megatron grabbed me by my right wing and wrenched my scrabbling talons away from what-used-to-be-Breakdown's mangled frame. I felt joints pop as he spun me around and growled right into my faceplates, "Ignore him," he snarled, "he shall have due punishment at Knock Out's dissection table." The warlord shifted his iron grip to pin my arms to my sides.

I screamed in fury and ground my denta in frustration, struggling fervently against the larger mech's unwavering hold for what felt like hours, until I fell limp in his grasp from exhaustion.

"Control yourself, Starscream." The warlord chastised, releasing me. "Unless, that is, you wish to end up beside CYLAS."

"Yes, Seven. I wouldn't—" CYLAS' mocking jeer was abruptly cut off as Megatron backhanded him across the helm.

"Silence!"

The blue mech scowled, "As you wish."

Satisfied, Megatron hefted a mysterious black container of some sort and brought it over to me, letting it fall to the ground with a heavy thud at our pedes. He pried it open and pulled out a tiny glass vial with a clear liquid inside it.

He swirled it, "Recognize this?"

My jaw dropped and he kicked the container open, displaying rows upon rows of the clear, innocent-looking vials. "The cure." I breathed. He closed the case again but didn't bother to latch it shut and tossed it to me.

I reached too far and lost my balance as it slipped through the tips of my fingers and crashed to the floor, leaking copious amounts of a clear fluid from a crack in its plastic side. Megatron still held the vial tantalizingly just out of my reach. I would've burst into tears but was too stunned to feel much of anything. Every time I thought of my late twin, it was like picking off a scab so it never healed—a human concept, but an applicable one nonetheless.

"Starscream, prove your loyalty to me and I will give you this," he shook it again, "fail to do so, and I shall destroy it, along with the Autobots, and then you." He lifted the case up off me and hurled it away as I sprang to my pedes. "Am I clear?"

"Any more and you would be invisible, Master." I gave him a deep bow and shuddered with self-loathing.

"Now, I presume you are wondering as to why I made the Star Saber's equal?"

"Indeed my liege, but not in that sense."

"Oh?"

"I would like a sword as well." I said hopefully.

Megatron growled, "If you think that I shall forge you such a blade, you are sorely mistaken."

"I disagree," I replied in a placating tone as I raised my servos, "If you grant me a few short minutes, I shall retrieve the raw material of which you shall forge it."

He seemed to mull it over, "And what do you suppose the Decepticons would gain from this?"

"I am merely wishing to the scales into our favor once again, my Lord. You and the Prime are equals in battle, who's to say another set of servos wouldn't offset the balance?" I offered, holding my intakes in anticipation.

"Granted that those servos would not be opposite me, yes." He acknowledged. "I shall give this to you as an opportunity to prove yourself worthy of becoming my second once more, and should you fail–"

"Yes, the smelting pool." I grimaced.

He nodded, smiling darkly. "Now, go fetch said 'raw material' and be outside the bridge within ten minutes. There, Soundwave shall collect you and bring you to me." Knowing I had been dismissed, I gave him a deep bow and once again hated myself for it, then departed the room.

One minute and a trip through a ground bridge later, I stood inside the Harbinger. I transformed and shot down its halls, dodging debris from when it crashed thousands of years ago, and entered the lab. Disturbingly, I saw the place on the wall where I and the other, less fortunate clones had hung as protoforms, so the humans said. It probably had been for several millennia before Starscream cloned me. I looked away, trying to fight the surge of memories swelling from this place and turned to what happened to be our last misadventure: the red energon. An extra hunk of it sat next to the processing machine, ready for later use just in case. We hadn't needed it, but I was glad now that we thought we did. I snatched it up and transformed again, making sure it ended up in my cockpit.

"I admit, Starscream, using red energon… not even I would have thought of something as drastic as this." Megatron congratulated.

"As long as the weapon doesn't explode in my grasp," I added, glowing with pride.

The warlord set it onto the sturdy table where he too had pounded his sword into being, and raised the golden Forge of Solus Prime above his helm. He brought the hammer down with enough force that each strut and joint in my chassis jarred with the impact and a deep BOOM reverberated through the room. But I ignored it and watched as my blade took shape. Once the warlord had thinned it considerably, he began elongating and molding it. I noted that the blade would not reach half as long as Megatron's, but that was fine by me. I didn't have as much reach as the warlord nor was as strong, thus, so far the blade looked more than suited for my lithe frame.

Megatron finished less than an hour later. It seemed to me that every time he swung that hammer, it was equal to ten strikes instead of one. He finally stepped back, allowing me to come forward and slung the golden tool over his spiked shoulder plates.

And come forward I did, remaining silent in awe as I ran the fingers of my right servo over the blade's bloodred surface. I felt Megatron's optics watching my every move and lifted it by its black hilt. The sword felt lighter than air and resembled a falchion as far as its make went, but was double-edged, and its slightly translucent blade curved slightly to a wicked point. The jet-black crossguard jutted out of the hilt down towards the pommel, then angled in towards the blade on both ends, giving it a wicked appearance that I instantly liked. A gem of red energon adorned the center of the pommel, glowing with a faint crimson light. I twirled it in a few circles before lowering the crimson blade. It seemed to hum with an alien energy, not quite like the warlord's blade or the Prime's, something… different. I didn't feel like I could say it was better than the massive pair of swords, but it was indubitably unique.

"Thank you, my liege." I dipped my helm.

"Thank me by extinguishing Autobots with it, Starscream." He replied cooly. "Are you going to name the blade?"

I huffed in surprise at that, "I don't have anything as noble as the 'Star Saber,' but… hm…" I mulled it over for a couple minutes, and Megatron was content to wait patiently as I did so.

"Valor." I finally said.

Megatron chuckled darkly at that, "An apt name for a fine blade such as that. Hopefully it shall grant you some." My wings stood on end and I scowled.

The warlord looked to me and drew the Dark Star Saber off his back so slowly, I almost wanted to screech at him to hurry up. Almost. Instead, I tapped the tip of the crimson blade against the side of my right pede and waited. He lunged slowly, toying with me, and missed. So this is a test as well, I thought, my tank twisting in anger. He tried to strike at me again—a fraction faster this time but still miserably slow—and I parried his thrust and danced around him, giving him a small paint scratch on his new arm. His optics widened and he swung around, making to jump at me. I tried to dodge left but he anticipated it, and with a hard flick of his sword, he tore the scarlet blade from my grasp. I lost my balance and fell to my knees, nearly slicing my leg open on its keen edge. When I looked up, the Dark Star Saber's tip was inches away from my exposed neck cables.

"Did I pass?" I asked in wry amusement, taking solace in the knowledge that he wasn't about to harm me.

He swung the sword up over me and grazed the tip of my helm spike in the process, reattaching it to his back. I grabbed the hilt of Valor and got to my pedes, staring him in the optics. He blinked slowly at me and I frowned. Then I dropped the sword, and the world sped back up again.

"No," I breathed. Megatron seemed to have come to the same conclusion, as he bent down and grasped Valor by its hilt. He swept it in a dearly red arc around me, almost faster than the optic could follow, moving at unnatural speeds. It wasn't half the speed of what Starscream had looked like when he used the red energon, but there was a drastic change nonetheless. I remained stock still, not wishing to be maimed by the blurry red arc swinging around me.

A second later I found the hilt of it back in my servo and the warlord stood opposite me. "That is quite the sword," he remarked, a note of something that almost sounded like admiration in his voice. My chest plate swelled, "treat it well and I would hope to think it shall reward you someday in battle."

"Yes, Master."

"Quit groveling!"

"Yes, Master." I simpered sarcastically.

Two months later…

With our new swords, I had asked Megatron if we could spar every day to help me gain practice, and he obliged. I hadn't started from nothing, fortunately. As standard protocol insisted, Starscream had received training along with every other recruit at the Cybertron War Academy. And through him, me. Though it had been a long, long time since he had the hilt of any sword in his grasp.

Megatron, on the other hand, was a stellar gladiator back on Cybertron, a legend who later turned to politics before founding the Decepticons. Starscream had been a scientist, and I remembered how much he loved being in the lab. But he later joined the war, his intelligence and cunning allowing him to slide up in the ranks until he took his place as Megatron's second-in-command. The warlord kept his gladiatorial sword, and I had seen him use it countless times in battle. Now, as his right arm was replaced by the maroon one taken from the grave of a Prime, he didn't have his fusion cannon or his built-in sword. A blade that we actually had to hold was new for both of us, so the practice got us accustomed. I had been improving steadily, sometimes using both servos, more often using just my right.

"Shall we begin?" Megatron asked, striding out of the shadows of the store room. He always entered from a different direction to keep me on edge, and keep me from falling into a rhythm, which would lead to complacency. At least, that's what I suspected.

"We shall," I said, drawing my blade. Time skipped and seemed to slow in that familiar fashion it always did when I picked Valor up by its hilt.

I adopted a guarded stance as we began to circle each other, looking for weaknesses, as we always did. It had become something of a ritual. Yesterday, I had suffered a crippling defeat—we didn't try to hurt each other, but then again, neither of us showed much restraint. I was sloppy then, and wanted to best him all the more now because of it. But even though we've been having these sparring sessions for weeks, he had been able to beat me with what could nearly be described as ease. And that was with the speed boost Valor bestowed upon me.

I snarled and lunged at him. He saw this and sidestepped, trying to get under my guard with a twist of the Dark Star Saber. His blade was much longer than mine, however, and it was easy to dodge, looking almost awkward in his servos thanks to my enhanced speed. I spun around behind the warlord and thrust Valor's tip at his unprotected back plating. Sensing this or perhaps hearing the blade whistling through the air, he fell flat against the floor and managed to dodge it by inches. I strode closer, ready to deliver the "final" blow. But he rolled out of my way and sprang to his pedes. Of course it won't be that easy, idiot, I chastised myself.

He swept the Dark Star Saber at me, which was futile, as I stood far out of its range. But the tip of the blade seemed to draw an arc of purple energy in the air in a fraction of a second. It shot towards me and caught my chest plate before I could react, carrying me off my pedes and slammed my chassis against the far wall.

I fell to the floor, momentarily stunned as my systems underwent a partial reboot. Now that hurt. I got to my pedes, seeing Megatron rushing at me, and raised Valor with one servo, barely managing to deflect his blade on the flat of mine. I gripped the hilt with both servos, time skipped and slowed again. He moved through the air slowly, almost as if it were syrup. This time, I was more cautious. He had been able to better me nine times out of ten, and I now realized that it was my fault. I was getting arrogant with the enhanced speed Valor gave me, leaving my guard open. I wasn't going to make the same mistake this time.

I suddenly remembered what Knock Out said about Megatron's burgundy arm. "That arm is ancient, you know, and I think I forgot to oil some of the joints." Now that I thought about it, his "new" arm did seem a bit jerky and slower than his left. I slowly edged around to his right and he brought the Dark Star Saber whistling up to my neck cables. I blocked it on the scarlet edge of Valor, straining to keep the purple blade away from my throat. I had already learned the hard way that he wouldn't show mercy except to the brink of termination. One of the first times we sparred, he opened a deep gash on my back and I almost passed out from energon loss. I've learned from that experience, I thought wryly.

I twisted my sword and our blades unlocked, managing to disengage the warlord. His blade lowered in slow motion as mine pulled away, and I stepped forwards, raising my blade as if I was scared and didn't know what to do. Valor's black crossguard caught the edge if the Dark Star Saber, and I slid my blade forwards down the purple sword's much longer edge until it caught on a spike. Then, I gripped the hilt with my other servo so my sword pointed behind me, and pulled down with all the force I could muster. Megatron's sword slipped out of his servos like it was greased, and an instant later, I had Valor's point at his exposed neck cables, my large wings fanned in triumph.

Dreadwing and Soundwave strode into the room as I lowered my blade and leaned on its crossguard, panting from the exertion. Megatron eyed me with a new sense of caution and retrieved his sword as Dreadwing and Soundwave strode into the room. The blue Seeker awarded me a slow, sarcastic clap, "Well done, Starscream. I imagine our liege will not go easy on you again."

I snarled, and was about to retort but Megatron spoke up first. "Do you have anything to report, or may we continue our practice in peace?" the warlord asked in a soft growl, clasping his servos behind his back. Soundwave stepped forward and promptly displayed a location somewhere in Egypt on his visor, near Cairo by the look of it. "Excellent, Soundwave. Triangulate coordinates and open a ground bridge, we shall depart shortly to collect the relic." The communications officer nodded. Megatron looked to me, "Starscream, are you willing to prove your loyalty?"

I gripped the hilt of Valor more tightly, "Indeed, my liege."

Soundwave opened the ground bridge and I sprinted through it. Perhaps, if luck was on my side, I could retrieve the relic first and there wouldn't be any energon spilled. But then Megatron followed me through and the bridge closed behind us, effectively extinguishing my hope.

The Autobots spilled through another vortex seconds later, led by Optimus. They all transformed, and the only ones missing were Smokescreen and Ratchet. I took a deep intake and readied myself for the performance I had been mentally been planning in whatever meager spare time I had for the duration of my stay aboard the Nemesis. Which meant this was the stage.

I gripped the hilt of Valor tightly, ready to put on a memorable show.

Ratchet pounded a servo against the console in frustration, causing the screens to flicker. "Megatron! Please respond!"

"Why are we still doing this?" Smokescreen asked, crossing his arms behind the white medic. "It's been, like, ten minutes. He's not going to answer."

The medic shushed him, "Hold on… what is this?" Ratchet's tone took on a skeptical edge as something new popped up on the screen.

"What?" Arcee prodded, coming over to better view the screens.

"Another Iacon locator beacon!" Bulkhead exclaimed.

"The first Omega Key." Optimus announced. Turning to his counterparts, "Autobots, we cannot delay. Smokescreen, Ratchet, remain here if the Decepticons manage to locate another."

"Aw c'mon Optimus, I got this!" Smokescreen protested as the red mech plucked the Star Saber off its stand and hooked it onto his back, where Ratchet had installed, as he put, "a more practical means of carrying such a blade."

"Remain here," the Prime repeated.

"Hey, I hate to interrupt," Arcee said, "but what does it matter if the 'Cons get the Keys?"

Ratchet faced her, "If they do, they will no doubt label themselves as the saviors of our race, at the dawn of a new age for Cybertron. Megatron's twisted, tyrannical ways will poison the sparks and processors of future generations for eons to come!"

Optimus looked at the medic, "I could not have put it better, old friend." With that said, he, Bulkhead, Arcee, and Bumblebee transformed and drove through the ground bridge portal.

The four Autobots shot out of it and onto a sand dune. The three pyramids of Giza pointed to the stars in the night sky and the moon's white eye glared down, bleaching the landscape and giving everything a silvery sheen. What they saw on the crest of the dune opposite them was disturbing. Seven stood next to Megatron, a silent snarl etched into his faceplates. Where Megatron's silver right arm should have been was one that was burgundy in color, with bits of gold-painted plating studding the outside of it. Judging by its proportions, the arm had clearly belonged to a less fortunate mech of similar stature to Megatron.

Optimus transformed and the others followed suit behind him. "By the Allspark Megatron, what have you done?!" His blue optics widened in horror.

The large silver mech held out his new arm in mock surprise, "This? I find it affords me certain advantages, such as the use of the Forge of Solus Prime." He sneered at the Prime's glare, and his gaze slid to the Star Saber on the red mech's back, "Ah, merely what is necessary, Optimus." He reached up behind him and drew a long, purple sword out of its partial scabbard mounted on his back, not unlike Optimus'. The warlord drank in the blade's violet glow, "My first creation, fashioned from the very blood of Unicron the Destroyer: the Dark Star Saber!"

The Prime's optics narrowed at that, and then they fell on the Seeker standing slightly behind the warlord as if trying to sneak away. Optimus wouldn't put it past him. "Seven, abandon Megatron and whatever his twisted plans may be and join us once again to end this war!"

The Seeker said nothing, optics burning with rage. "One does not so easily change their stripes," The warlord's lip curled into a snarl and Seven's banded wings flicked for emphasis. "Dear Starscream has allowed his colors to show once more, and is proving himself worthy of our cause. So I extend an invitation, give him the opportunity to prove himself further." The sneer deepened into his faceplates.

And then the Seeker too drew his own sword, to their disbelief. The blade was smooth and keen, and a crimson that matched the color of his optics down to their very cores. Not to mention the stripes on the ends of his wings. The hilt in the silver mech's grasp was painted a pure inky black, and the sword itself seemed to hum with energy. It most closely resembled a falchion, but also a spatha, a short, double-edged blade whose tip widened to over twice its width at the hilt then tapered in a cruel arc. Seven cackled, a new touch of insanity coloring his high voice that chilled the Autobots to their cores.

A/N: Call me crazy, but I built what I think Valor would look like in real life, unfortunately, there isn't a good way to post pictures to this site. And yes, it hurts to be hit with, and doesn't make me run faster. I wish.