Chap 22
Peck and Flock
With Cybertron's lifeline restored, there was nothing stopping the Seekers from enacting their full-blown assault.
The logistics hadn't changed from their initial mission; the Autobots had no Aerial units to combat three raging Decepticon fliers. No matter the looks of guilt and sorrow that were aimed in their direction, Starscream and the rest of his Trine fuelled their pain and sorrow and used it to unfurl every trick in their arsenal. The only difference was that now it was personal.
Really, had the Autobots had been thinking at all, they would have remembered that they left four Decepticons unhindered on their primary base, fully equipped and unimprisoned. Had he been thinking about anything other than the red rage that fuelled his tanks, Starscream might've laughed. It was too easy. And with Barricade fully committed to their cause, the Autobots would barely stand a chance. No matter that there was the minor factor of a difference in numbers, the Decepticons would have both the element of surprise, higher ground, more resources, and more motivation than their opponents.
The moment the Autobots returned from the Well of the Allsparks, Energon was going to be spilled.
Starscream wouldn't risk the battle before the resurgence of Cybertron without considering all the factors. He wouldn't make that mistake again. Whether or not the Seekerling was found, Cybertron would live despite the carnage that the Command Trine would wreak. The battle would ensure that all of the available tools would be at their disposal, this time on the Seeker's terms. The Decepticons were not above taking prisoners, if they proved their worth. The medic's frequent guilty glances hinted at his potential usefulness, a medic was useful no matter what side they proved their allegiance to. As for Elita-1, she would have to prove her mettle very quickly once the fighting began; he was not above shooting first before asking questions. Starscream never liked the femme anyway.
Starscream and the rest of his anger-riddled crew stood ready at the Bridge, awaiting their quarry. The rough plan was to engage the enemy once they retreated a safe distance away from the Bridge itself. Should it be damaged, they would require at least one engineer. If left undamaged in the ensuing fight, there would be less of a need for a repair crew.
Though he was renowned during the war as an excellent tactician, both of his brothers knew that this level of violence was due to the personal level of hatred he felt for the Autobots. Neither brother questioned his decision making, all brothers in agreement with the violence they were about to unleash, the rage blinding them to all other options.
They were Decepticons, for Primus' sake. They were forged in violence. It was all they'd ever known for thousands of years. The only difference was now their violence was fueled by the memory of a single sparkling, terrified as they were sucked into the Space Bridge, and left for cycles (alone, scared) while the Autobots decided there were more important things to do. A decision that none of the Seekers could fathom; how could they have known the sparkling for even a moment and make the conscious decision to abandon them? How could they stand to walk upon a living, beating Cybertron while a scared sparkling was alone somewhere in the vastness of space?
His memories served as fuel for his rage; every tear, every trembling wingtip. The Seekerling, the last Seekerling, had been left to the Universe's whim because of the Prime's decision. They had no way of knowing if they were offline, unharmed, or worse. This was an injustice that Starscream couldn't stand.
It was the Autobot's fault that the Seekerlet had been exposed to such danger. It was their fault that the youngling's whereabouts were unknown. The Seekers were ready to unleash Pits-damned justice for their little one.
Blasters poised and ready, the Bridge began to glow with activation. The Decepticons were ready to unleash justice.
You sleep like a rock the night before the trip, if you're being honest. The party really took it out of you, it seems. You vaguely remember waking up kinda groggy, despite the previous night's excitement, walking blearily to Megatron's transformed alt-mode in the front yard. He speaks to you, presumably saying something along the lines of good morning, and you climb in with a hum of his engines, then you're all off.
It is a bit cramped inside with all the Terrans and their family members. Dot takes her place in the cockpit smoothly, as if she's done it a hundred times before, and Alex joins her. That leaves you and the rest of the younger generation in the cargo space. Jawbreaker is doing his best to take up as little space as possible with his bigger size, which is a direct contrast to Hashtag who seemed to be taking up as much space as possible despite her bigger size. It's in moments like these that you are thankful that you are on the smaller side in terms of Cybertronians, though you and Twitch and Nightshade take multiple opportunities to go flying alongside Megatron during your journey, if only to get some breathing room.
Megatron isn't particularly fast, especially considering the extra passengers, but his size lends itself to the power of his thrusters, and even you have a bit of trouble catching up with him flying alongside.
You envy Twitch with her easy air with him. She clings onto Megatron as he flies, a way to 'pass the time' as Twitch was fond of explaining. Their relationship seems close, similar to your relationship with the Seekers, but in a way more freeing; her personality lends itself to her easy-going actions and Megatron never expresses that he'd prefer she do otherwise. If you were any less of a cautious individual, maybe you'd be a bit more like her.
Megatron never expressed his disdain or disagreement with your choice of Guardians, which you are incredibly relieved by. Pretty much everyone else that hails from Cybertron had vehemently opposed your favourite Seekers as a choice for Guardian, but thus far Megatron hasn't said a single word to disagree with your choice. Being an ex-Decepticon, maybe he understands more of the grey areas that the Autobots refuse to see.
Sneaking into G.H.O.S.T. headquarters is easier than anything. Megatron merely comms the HQ in advance notifying them that he's testing some 'dangerous Cybertronian weaponry' and the whole place vacates like a virus outbreak. Hashtag connects to the wifi as soon as she gets in range, and shuts down the cameras before you even have time to land. The entire procedure takes less than ten minutes and before long you're walking through the familiar hallways of G.H.O.S.T. that you remember from months prior.
Dot walks alongside you in the dim hallways, her gait matching your smaller legs with ease. Her knowing gaze says more than her words ever could, she definitely knows what you're feeling. She sees that familiar uneasiness from the last time you were in these halls, an excitement to return to your Seekers, and a distant sadness that you'll be leaving her family which has carved a permanent mark into your spark. She holds your hand with a warm squeeze and a gentle smile, and she doesn't need to say anything to get her point across. Are all mothers this good at communicating? You squeeze her hand right back and return her smile. You'll be fine. You'll miss them, but you'll be back.
The conversation around you varies, you're not super paying attention. Hashtag is talking with Twitch, something about 'the last time they were here', whatever that means.
Megatron walks ahead, his stride the largest, thus he walks the slowest in order to stay with the group. Each one of his heavy steps shakes the floor a little, and you're only slightly impressed that the floor doesn't give way. You suppose that this facility was made with aliens of his size in mind.
Alex looks like he has his hands busy wrangling the more rambunctious of his children, with the aid of Thrash and Jawbreaker. It's his human children that are the most unruly; climbing on tall structures and messing with papers on nearby desks. There's a vindictiveness to it, and you hazard a guess that they have some deep-seated feelings about G.H.O.S.T. that you don't know about. You're not the biggest fan of G.H.O.S.T. either, but you've got bigger things on your mind.
Megatron leads you all to a familiar looking room, one with a console you remember seeing Ratchet clicking away on. He towers over the console, taller than Ratchet but no less dexterous, his large digits accustomed to the smaller controls. He's muttering something to Dot, who's left your side in order to receive some sort of instructions. Once again their relationship seems deeper than mere comrades, and the way they instinctively know what the other needs is impressive.
You're underground, and there are security monitors that showcase the empty-looking runway where you all landed moments ago. A memory from more than a month ago surges to the front of your processor; a vision of two Seekers hunched over their immobile brother. You know now that it had all been a ruse, but the sight at the time was devastating. You're in a much better place now mentally, with all three brothers living, and you can't wait to see them. Not much longer now.
"-and once we pass through, you'll need to press this button to deactivate the portal. We don't want to keep it open too long and waste unnecessary Energon. The little one informed me that there is a working Space Bridge on the Ark II, and I will use that to return once we have the appropriate fuel and once I can determine that they are in safe servos." His brogue is calming, informative. Dot nods, her dark eyes clear and serious. They trust each other, and they're the antithesis of the energy you feel thrumming underneath your plating. You want to go already.
Megatron turns to you, and motions with a crook of his helm. "We will depart as soon as you are ready. I suggest now is a good time to say your goodbyes."
The energy in your plating buzzes, excitement and sadness swirling inside you like a tornado. You turn to Alex and rush into a hug before your pedes know where they're going.
"Don't be a stranger, ok?" His cheek presses against the top of your helm, you can feel a warm spot there. "And come back for a visit anytime. We'd love to meet your Guardians." He releases you with a gentle pat. You know he means every word, and you smile at him, your optics feeling wet.
"Your recipes are incredible, and I'm looking forward to the ones I'll try next time I visit. Cybertronian-Filipino cuisine, you've basically invented a new style of cooking!" His returning smile is just as warm, his moustache crinkling a bit on the sides.
The next moment you're grabbed by the waist and thrown in the air, Hashtag's laughter reverberating underneath you. You float down gently, thrusters barely online, and land on Jawbreaker's shoulder.
"Come back soon, eh tiny?" Hashtag puts her servos on her hips with an easy swagger. "And keep in touch. As soon as you can figure out Wifi on Cybertron, I'm going to send you so many memes." Her laugh is easy and boisterous and contagious. You have no choice but to laugh right alongside her. You lean against Jawbreaker's helm as your laughter peters off. He speaks more gently, his gentle eyes a little misty.
"Be safe out there, ok? You can always go to Elita if you're in trouble, I know she'll help you." His voice is quiet, and a little wet sounding. "Not that I think you'll be trouble-just in case, you know?" You bonk your helm against his affectionately.
"I got what you meant. And I know she will. I'll say hi for you and try to convince her to visit next time I see you." His optics light up at that, and he lowers you to the ground.
Robbie and Mo each grab one of your servos, Twitch and Thrash at their backs.
"It's a shame we didn't get to hear your name before you left. I heard from Mom that you might have one in mind though." Robbie's curiosity is incessant, and you suppose you can leave them with this one gift before you leave.
"I do, actually." You grin at him. One of the reasons you were tentative about the name once your processor had even considered the possibility was because once you told one of the Maltos, they'd all know within seconds. Partially because of the mental connection the siblings share, and partially because they're all incorrigible snoops. The part of you that reminds you of Starscream (the dramatic part) knows that this would be the best opportunity to tell them.
"It's not official yet, but this is the one I have in mind." Leaning into Mo, rather than Robbie, you whisper the name in her ear. Robbie at first looks indignant, then you see recognition flash across his features, a clear realisation that the Malto connection had transferred the information to the other siblings. The same realisation appears on Twitch and Thrash's faceplates, and Robbie grins back at you.
"Honestly, that sounds rad. Next time I see you, I'll be sure to call you by that name."
It's the first time you've said the name out loud, and it feels weirdly right on your glossa. You can't wait to share the name with the Seekers, and you hope they agree with your choice. It's still so new, but the longer you sit with it the more it feels like the right one.
Robbie and Mo both give you a big hug, surrounded by the longer arms of Twitch and Thrash. You're closer to Mo's size than Twitch's, but your wings make you seem bigger. They fold under you beneath the many layers of arms, and you feel a bubble form in your throat.
"Thanks, you guys." You whisper, wetter than you anticipated. Mo squeezes you a little tighter, her smile making a warm imprint on your shoulder pauldron. Thrash releases first, being on the outside of the cuddle pile.
"Come back for the Holidays. We have a bunch of traditions we'd love to share with you. You're one of us now."
"And don't forget about us being pen-pals!" Twitch practically shouts, her pedes leaving the ground. "Or I'll go right through that portal after you and fix things myself!"
Nightshade chuckles in the background. "She'd need my help with that. But maybe we can organise some type of field trip." They look imploringly at Dot, who looks a bit sheepish.
"That's a conversation for another time." Nightshade relents without a fuss, shooting you a quick wave and a smile. They've never seemed as touchy-feely as the rest of the Maltos, and you know that this is their way of saying goodbye. Waving back, you turn to Megatron.
He presents a large servo onto the ground before you, a silent offer. You climb aboard, turning to face the Maltos as you're lifted higher above them.
"I'll come back when I can!" You smile down at them brightly. "I'll bring souvenirs!'
Below you, you can hear a growing conversation as to what they might want to receive as a souvenir. Megatron nods at Dot once more, and then turns and walks out of the room.
"They'll be watching from the monitor." His voice rumbles through his palm, his steps leading upward. A wide entryway at the end spills sunlight through the dim corridor. Your optics take a brief moment to adjust, and then you're outside again.
The flight path lies empty before you once again, the G.H.O.S.T. agents having yet to return. You have a brief thought as to how the Maltos will be able to leave without getting discovered, but you can imagine that Megatron and Dot probably discussed options on the flight over. You know he'd never leave them vulnerable.
Nor you. It had been a surprise when he'd offered to escort you back to Cybertron. Now, standing on his palm, mere moments before returning, you're thankful that he's here.
It's a funny feeling, the fact that you'd spent so long trying to get back to Earth, only to pull a complete 180 and change your mind. The entire time you've been here you've wanted-no, needed, to get back to the brothers; to let them know that you're ok.
"Ready, little one?" You nod, feeling emotional but prepared. He nods at one of the nearby security cameras, and suddenly the flight path is awash with green light.
The portal bursts to life starting from the size of a coin, and swiftly growing. It casts a reddish shadow behind Megatron, and when it stabilises he takes a massive step forward. Your spark is hammering in your chest, these portals usually heralding some kind of disaster for you. But this time you're entering of your own volition. This time you know exactly where you're going.
You'll see the Seekers soon, and you can't fight back a smile.
The portal surrounds your vision, green light erasing the last images of Earth's landscape around you, and the brightness forces you to briefly shut your optics. The bright green swirling tunnel turns to sickly orange before you, and the calm winds of Earth are replaced with smoke and the smell of burning metal.
The smile falls from your faceplate. Megatron tenses underneath you. In one swift motion, he tucks you closer to his chassis protectively, and you catch a stern expression on his faceplate.
Burning wreckages filter through your vision, some still freshly smoking with red-hot edges. Dark scuffs line the flight deck of the Ark II, and the air has the taste of burning metal.
The portal closes behind you, and suddenly sounds consume your audials. Sharp clangs and heavy pede steps are coming from a small distance away, and Megatron is already making his way in that direction. Distant shouts are angry and somewhat familiar, though you can't tell who's yelling from this distance.
Megatron is running towards the sound, and he doesn't seem at all worried at the fact that he's bringing you closer to what sounds like extreme levels of violence. You trust that he knows what he's doing, and that he can keep you safe despite whatever you're approaching, and if worst comes to worst you can easily fly out of here and maybe get some help. But the sounds are getting louder now and they're muffled by the screams of jet engines up above.
Craning your helm upwards, the sky is full of noxious orange clouds mixed with dark plumes of smoke. You only catch a brief glimpse of a shape above the clouds, a sharp triangular familiar shape, but Megatron's voice stops you before you can take off after it.
"Not yet, not until we know what's happening." Spark torn, you know he's right. There's no point in blasting off before you know what's going on. The residual nervous energy sits like an itch behind your plating.
Megatron's steps slow as colourful shapes begin to form in the middle distance. Bumblebee stands out clearly, his yellow armour bright amidst the charred landscape. He's moving erratically, running behind smoking and burning structures as if in hiding. A ripping sound shrieks through the air, littering the ground around him with disturbed dust, a weapon clearly fired in his direction. You can't see his expression, but you can imagine he's angry. He fires back blindly into the sky.
From behind him, dual pink forms are speaking heatedly inside a larger alcove. Elita seems to be yelling at Arcee about something, her posture tense and threatening. Arcee looks just as angry, and neither seem to pay much attention to the skittering gunfire that rains down from above.
Loudest is Wheeljack, who's green form is lobbing explosives any which way. His explosions are the cause of most (if not all) of the dark grey smoke, obscuring important details that would allow you to see more clearly what the frag is going on.
Before you can ask a question to Megatron, a red shape rushes forward towards you and your escort, blaster poised and ready. Megatron is just as swift in his retaliation, his cannon aimed at the intruder before he even clocks who it is.
At first you think it's Ratchet, once again coming to your rescue from the capture of another Decepticon. But your surging spark is snuffed with fear once you get the first glimpse of blue and Optimus Prime locks his cerulean optics with Megatron's ruby gaze.
Relief shoots through the Prime's posture as recognition filters across his features. And like an icicle dripping down your backstruts, spots you in Megatron's servo and beams.
"Megatron! Your timing couldn't be better. And you've found the sparkling! With your aid, this battle will be concluded."
Megatron's brows furrow and he speaks before you can retort anything. "Optimus, what is happening?"
Optimus puts a large servo on Megatron's grey pauldron, helm lowered as if to make his larger body less of a target. "We must get you both somewhere safer, we're too much of a target out here in the open." He ushers Megatron, who you notice is still perplexed, back the way he came through the smoke.
The grey mech takes a step forward, following after Optimus. You squeeze his palms and try to get his attention with your gaze. He glances down at you briefly, and you stare back at him, optics wide and afraid. You shake your helm, not trusting your voice when Optimus is so nearby. 'Don't trust him' you try to convey with your optics. Megatron's steps slow slightly.
"Optimus." Megatron repeats. "What is going on?"
"The Seekers launched a full-scale assault." Comes Optimus' clipped reply. He doesn't even turn his helm. "Barricade is assisting them. We returned from the Well and they were waiting for us. Turned their blasters on us as soon as the Bridge closed behind us." He shuffles behind a large structure as an engine screams overhead. You want nothing more than to be up there, but Megatron's hunched over you, making it difficult to take off safely without getting too close to Optimus' grip.
"The Seekers wouldn't engage in battle without having a reason." Megatron's voice is low, even as he follows after Optimus. "I battled with them for four millennia, I know them. They have to have a reason to risk themselves like this." His optics flicker down to you knowingly. "They're some of the last of their culture, they wouldn't do this unless it was absolutely necessary."
Optimus' stride pauses before he whips around, his optics both angry and terrifyingly sad. He doesn't say anything.
Megatron stops a step away from him. "Optimus…What did you do?"
The Prime grits his denta, the look of desperation is his optics blazing like blue fire. His servos clench at his sides, his blaster still out and warm with use. You fight the instinctive urge to tuck yourself in closer to Megatron's chassis where it's safer and the urge to fly up up and out of reach.
"Our species is dying, Megatron. We are on the brink of collapse. I'm doing everything I can to prevent that." His words are sharp enough to cut glass, his expression fiery even amidst the smoke.
Megatron only looks sad in response. Optimus continues.
"The Seekers should know better than anyone that our predicament is precarious. We needed options, Megatron, and I found them. With the Emberstone and the Allspark combined, all we need are suitable frames and Cybertron can be reborn as it once was."
His optics are a frenzy of crazed blue, but you can't look away despite the horror you're hearing.
"All we need is one good example, and then the choice is in their hands. Humans are already overpopulating their own planet. Think of how many would jump at the chance for a longer life, a fresh start on a new planet."
He's sick. You feel sick hearing this. He's talking about changing the human race into whatever you are. And you're the only one without a choice.
"I'm doing what is necessary, I'm focusing on what must be done. Don't think for a nanoklik that you wouldn't have done the same thing."
"Optimus…" Megatron starts, his deep brogue thick with emotion. "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings. You were the one to preach that the hardest. Why is this one different?"
"One, just one exception, for the betterment of two entire species. Isn't that enough of a good reason? And if it wasn't for the Seekers–" He stops himself, bitterness flashing across his features. He takes a breath as if to steady himself. "But you brought them. We need them. Not just Autobots–all Cybertronians. They just need to listen, them and the Seekers both."
It's like you don't even exist as a sentient being to him. He knows you're here, but he's barely acknowledging you, never once asking for your opinion. He's pushed your wants and needs to the back of his processor so many times that he barely recognizes you as a person let alone something other than the thing he needs.
Megatron at least seems to treat you like a sentient creature. He looks at your fearful and enraged expression and then back to Optimus.
"I didn't come here to bring them to you."
Optimus' desperate gaze turns from shocked to frantic, but he doesn't raise his blaster.
"They asked to be returned to their Guardians. I'm here to escort them as well as ensure their safety according to their wishes."
Megatron's intake is downturn in a firm frown. "I understand your desperation, Optimus, but what you're doing isn't right. Surely some part of you knows that."
Your green optics flicker up to your hulking grey protector. He straightens, and in that motion a spark-achingly familiar screech of jets approaches overhead. A comm notification flits across your HUD.
:You go, I'll ensure he doesn't interfere.: Megatron's brogue calm in the comm. :I'll handle things on this end, and I'll cover you. Stop those fools before they do something stupid.:
You shoot back an almost imperceptible nod, and take note of your surroundings with excruciating detail. A strong thrust upward would be your best bet, and you distantly hope that you don't scuff Megatron's palm too badly. His armour is thicker than anyone you've met thus far, and he's making a clear path right above you. As far as you're aware, Optimus doesn't know you can fly proficiently yet, having never seen you do it himself. One sharp blast upward and you'll be out of his range.
Optimus scowls at Megatron, but doesn't say anything to retort. You know your opening is closing, and you activate your pede thrusters on full power as fast as you're able.
The look on the Prime's faceplate shoots to you in an instant, optics blazing and servos moving. His palm is open as if to catch a bug; ready to swipe you out of the air as soon as you enter his field.
But you're quicker than he is, and you transform around him with a rapid whirr of moving parts. Wings jut out and veer around his servo in almost slow-motion, deftly dodging his digits and surging forward into the orange sky. You catch one last look at both of their faceplates; Megatron's being a flash of relief, then of grim determination, and Optimus' of frantic desperation and sudden anger. A clang of metal meeting metal resounds beneath you, but you're in the clouds out of view before you can determine what it is.
Fire blazing trails behind you, the clouds part with your arrival, rocketing up and up into the Cybertronian sky. You follow the pulse in your spark and the scream of nearby jets; they're up here somewhere.
You try to comm them, but can't get through. They're either restricting themselves to a separate channel or they're too distracted to accept the connection. You have no choice but to find them somewhere in these dense clouds, and try not to get shot down by any of the Autobot's projectiles in the meantime.
This is more dangerous than you thought it would be. Distantly you hope that Megatron succeeds in getting the Autobots to stop fighting sooner rather than later; you're not exactly an experienced fighter or flyer up here. Your one benefit is that you're a miniscule target, but accidents can happen.
But the clouds are too dense up here, you can barely see in front of the Scorpion's nose. Maybe if you can get higher, you'll have a better chance of spotting them.
Continuing your thrusters upward, you fight against Cybertron's gravity to pierce through the canopy of clouds. Below you the sight looks like an oddly peaceful orange wasteland, above you Cybertron's sun sits oblivious of the chaos happening down below.
It's weirdly quiet up here. The emptiness makes you feel briefly uncomfortable until you remember the only beings that ever make it up this high are Seekers like you. This place was made for you, and the thought makes the buzz in your systems calm a fraction.
Your optics scour the orange landscape for any sign of your Seekers. The clouds are so thick that you can almost believe you can walk on them like desert sand, but you won't be distracted. The noise is dampened by your distance, and perhaps the density of the clouds as well. You can't see anything of the battle up here, and you're safe from any ground projectiles at this distance. Your pulse hammering in your fuel lines begins to slow with the passing of time, lending you a moment of clarity during this pressing violent debacle.
There's no sign of them. Cybertron's sun blinks behind you, warming the tops of your wings, and for a brief moment everything is silent.
The next noise is close to deafening; an engine screams so loud it leaves buzzing audials in its wake, and you can see in the distance three familiar shapes flying in perfect formation. Red at the point, flanked by blue and purple. They spin with precision, lords of the skies, flying higher above the clouds, higher still than where you dare to fly. They soar in a rhythmic, chaotic pattern; somehow perfectly choreographed and yet still imperceptibly fast. It's easy to see now how they're called the Command Trine, with how they command the skies. Orange clouds follow their wake like a stream of water, sharp like a knife. How anyone can think they'd be able to land a hit on these masters of the air, you have no idea, but your thrusters are red-hot, bolstering you in their direction in an attempt to catch them.
The sun is at your back as you watch them spin. It's like a dangerous dance, they give the impression of knives thrown with deadly precision. The trio flies higher still, giving you no impression that they've seen you. You've never seen them fly together, nor seen them in battle positions. Even from this distance, you can tell that they're flying angry, and you get the impression that it might have something to do with you.
They're so high that they're above you now. You can't even see them; they're barely bigger than specks in the distance above you. But you can still hear their angry engine wail, somehow deep and guttural as well as high-pitched and shrieking.
You can't see them, but they're up there. Banking a sharp turn, you try to angle yourself to get a better look; to get their attention, flag them, anything.
But they're gone. Out of your sight, with nowhere to hide, they seem to have completely vanished, only the lingering sound of their engine remaining like an echo.
Your engine idles, sputtering a little to keep you in place. Where could they have gone? It's like they ceased to exist. Spinning on the spot, you can't get a lock on them, leaving you flying continuous circles in the air to try and get a glimpse of them again.
The echo lingers, even somehow growing louder. But there's no sign of them.
Until a glint catches your vision, barely a sparkle of light high above you. It turns into three glints, then three jets. Using a combination of downward thrust and Cybertron's gravity they rocket straight down to you in the span of a blink.
They're so fast you're almost scared that if they hit you you'll be vaporised. Staying as still as possible, they fly down past you leaving you briefly perplexed before they surge back upwards and barrel roll on the underside of their loop, using the residual lift energy to circle around, above, below you, surrounding your vision with their colours.
If you were anyone else this would be a threat display, but in the brief moments where your EM fields connect as they fly past you, you can feel deep-seated relief.
They move in unison flying below you and pressing upwards in a spiral formation, flying past and into a loop around you like a flower unfurling its petals. You laugh aloud, though it's muffled slightly by the roar of your respective engines, and you surge upwards with a thrust of your own engines and spin with happiness in the centre of their display.
This is joy, this is happiness, this is relief. This is a language that you're relying on instinct to speak, each twirl communicating how you're feeling to the trio flying around you.
It's like a game combined with a conversation combined with a dance all in one. And while you're clumsy, you're doing your best to communicate back.
And they seem to be responding. Each aerial stunt is more dazzling than the other, the brothers weaving in and around you with instinctual precision, flowing like ripples in water with your every movement. There's no need for words, this dance is communication enough.
The dance breaks after an indeterminate amount of time with Skywarp appearing with a vwop right next to you, transforming in midair but somehow keeping his position stationary with a roar of his pede thrusters. You fly above him and transform with a series of clicks, dropping with the aid of gravity right into his open palms.
He brings you to his faceplate in the span of a sparkbeat and you can feel immediately that his face is wet. Tears pour down his faceplate as he sobs, words choked behind his swelling emotion. Your faceplate is wet just as quickly, whether by your own tears or his spilling over your helm, you're unsure. Pressing into him with all your weight, you hear the sounds of transformation behind you and more touches are caressing your helm, your wings, your backstrut, everything at once.
"Where did you go?" Thundercracker sounds just as wet as you feel, behind you his dark, dull servos rub the area between your backstrut and the base of your neck cables. "We thought you were..." He doesn't let himself finish the sentence.
Starscream's rasp sounds choked, his talons caressing the side of your cheek while he hovers just a bit higher than the rest of you. He mutters under his breath as if he's chanting a mantra, they're back, they're back. He chants it like he's trying to convince himself.
Skywarp just continues to wail against you, his sobs shaking his plating as well as your own as he squeezes you tighter.
The four of you hover here above the orange, cloud-strewn landscape, alone in your own world. You muster the ability to answer their questions, relieve their worries, promise them you'll be with them forever.
Tears, your own tears, stream down your face, your neck cables tight. But you get the words out that need to be said, and it doesn't matter how clear they come out.
"I wanna stay with you!" You cry. "As long as you'll have me. As long as you'll let me. It doesn't matter where we are, I wanna be with you all." A big heaving gulp interrupts your monologue.
"The portal brought me to Earth, it brought me back. But from the moment I arrived, all I could think of was how to get back to you. It hurts when you're not here. I don't care where we are, so long as we're together."
You wrench your optics open, knowing you look watery and pathetic. But you don't stop.
"I don't wanna leave you again! I know you won't send me away, but I don't care where we are so long as we're all together." You bury your faceplate in your servos, wiping at your leaking optics. The combined EM field of the three of them is heavy around you, and the Guardian protocol surges in your processor.
In times previous it had pinged your attention, activating Guardianship codes that you felt intrinsically were important. You'd heard passing conversation about the Guardianship protocol affecting the other 'Bots, making them act all crazy (how much of that being their actual personality vs the protocol you're unclear), but you got the impression that it was a one-time deal or something like that. Now, with it blooming to life within you, you finally feel like you understand.
Whatever remains of your human brain equates it to signing adoption papers, but you can feel it's more than that. It's akin to creating a literal blood or DNA connection to your adopters, a physical and metaphorical link that binds you together for the rest of your lives. Initiating the sequence on your end, without being absolutely sure it's what you want, feels like what bile in your mouth tastes like. It can't be forced, and it would feel utterly wrong to anyone other than the right person.
Or the right people.
A pop-up notification blinds your vision, already blurred by tears. Send Guardianship acceptance request?, It reads brightly.
You've never been so sure of anything in your life. Either of your lives.
You've travelled the galaxy for them. You've fought for them. They've fought for you. It hurts when they're not near, you never want to be away from them.
You feel safe around them.
You've made your decision.
Duplicating the notification into three, you make sure to press send at the exact same time for all three.
You feel in their EM field the moment they receive the notification. On the outside they still look the same, but their respective fields stutter and throb. Then Starscream's optics go glassy and unfocused for a moment, Thundercracker tensing his pauldrons, and Skywarp looks like he's in the middle of a reboot.
In that instant, merely a breath in the expanse of time, the message prompts return. Accepted. As if you had a single doubt.
They'd been ready and willing since the beginning. You took a bit longer to come to terms.
Areas of your processor that had previously been locked under administrative firewalls come down like heavy curtains, replaced by mental digits prodding and caressing, exploring every inch of your computer-like body.
It doesn't feel bad, it kind of tickles. But you can feel them in there, rifling around your systems, checking areas for optimisation, anomalies, and intricate details. A permanent connection is made in the form of a Guardianship comm channel, connecting the four of you in ways as deep as a Trine bond.
It should be invasive, the thought fluttering through your helm. But it isn't. It weirdly makes sense if you can think about it. Creators (like parents) observe their young from the first moments of their existence. The Guardianship protocol merely covers those gaps of knowledge, making a bridge of knowledge to optimise care between the sparkling and their chosen Guardian(s).
But you can feel both the flittering pulses of their mental meandering and their EM fields that they're elated. Skywarp looks like he's two seconds away from plummeting downward, his pede thrusters sputtering.
In a weird alien way, you've just asked them to be your dads, and they've accepted. Your own joy creeps up inside you, like you almost forgot to acknowledge how you're feeling, focusing on how they've been reacting moreso than yourself.
Mental digits that you can feel are Starscream's flutter around your settings panel, lingering around the empty name panel, and you can sense his tension wrapped in his elation at the concept that this area is open to him. He doesn't touch it, but you can feel he wants to.
Thundercracker lingers around your weapons panel, learning and filtering details back to his own processor, committing them to memory. As the one with the most complicated weaponry out of your three Guardian Seekers, it makes sense for him to pour his attention there. It's a disorganised mess considering you're not supposed to have weapons, and you know he'll have a lot to say about it afterwards. He commits himself to his task, gentle mental touches tickling your insides.
Skywarp flits around your comm system, testing the newly formed bond between you like plucking the strings of a guitar. It's weird to feel something echoing off each end; a pulse of your joy shooting through the bond and feeling it reverberate through the brothers' systems. It's like hearing a recording of yourself through a phone, it sounds weird, but you can instantly recognize yourself on the other end. He filters through the contacts and his leeching joy sputters to a stop.
Instantly, the mental fingers stop their exploration and the Seekers come back to their senses in blink.
"Why do you have…Megatron in your contact's list?"
Skywarp's voice is quieter than you're used to. Even somewhat fearful.
Starscream's silence is even more pressing. Thundercracker lays a heavy thumb at the base of your helm. You turn slightly to look at him.
"He's my escort. That's how I was able to get to you safely."
Before Thundercracker can respond, Starscream's silence breaks with a screech.
"You mean he's here?!"
Starscream's mental prodding looks for any sign of deceit in your words, finding none. In return you feel his panic; bright and alarming. To an outside observer, his emotions turning on a dime might seem funny, but you know him well enough by now. Small drips of concern trickle through your processor and release through your EM field.
"Did I…Is that a bad thing?"
Thundercracker snatches you with a giant servo from Skywarp's hold, quick to reassure. His field presses against yours, heavy like a quilted blanket, smothering the negative feelings.
"No no, it just changes things. Megatron has allied himself with the Autobots, so it's difficult to determine what will happen next with his involvement."
Starscream mutters to himself, lost to some internal conflict. His talons click together around his faceplate and intake, similar to the motion of chewing on fingernails. His optics are flitting in every direction, distracted, unseeing.
"If it helps," Your voice begins as quiet as you can despite the roar of three massive engines keeping you all afloat above the clouds, "He said he was here to give Optimus a talking to." Using your digits, you accentuate talking to with air quotations before you realise they might not understand the gesture.
Skywarp sniffles loudly and rubs at his optics, clearing some of the wetness away. He brings your attention back to him with his incredulous tone.
"You mean he's here on our side?"
Giving him a sheepish smile, you turn back to Starscream, who has gone unnaturally still. The only indication he's online at all is the constant roar of his rear thrusters keeping him in the air, which to his credit don't even stutter despite his tumultuous emotions.
His expression is covered by his claws, but they slowly lower and reveal a slowly forming grin on his faceplate. Pointed denta are revealed with a sharp laugh as he bolsters his thrusters with more fire.
"Then I have to see this."
Megatron had a clear view of Optimus' expression as the sparkling shot off into the sky beyond his reach. His long-time nemesis and friend had a look of devastation on his faceplate, of desperation and hope lighting a frenzied flame inside his optics.
He could feel it in his friend's EM field. Optimus had always been an old-fashioned sort; preferring to communicate his sincerity with his field to carry the weight of his words rather than his words alone. Megatron had always admired him for his honesty, his good spark. The way that he always put the well-being of humans and Cybertronians first, even to his own detriment. It took a long time before Megatron was able to reconcile his own beliefs that directly opposed Optimus' glowing credo. No small part was attributed to Dorothy, for without the aid of a human, Megatron and Optimus would have never seen optic to optic.
So to see that all-consuming rage flickering inside his friend's optics was a shock to Megatron's systems. He knew better than most what a feverish goal could do to a well-intentioned mech, and he thought that Optimus being the best of them would never experience such a frenzy.
How wrong he was. For beneath the frenzy was a flicker of rage that if left unchecked would flourish into an inferno of anger. A flicker of anger that the object of his goals had slipped beyond his reach, and Megatron had assisted in its escape.
Optimus was many things; a good fighter, a great leader, an excellent spokesperson as well as an awkward conversationalist. Fighting against Megatron for millennia they had exchanged blows, harsh words, successes and losses; but there was one facet that remained the same.
Optimus was a poor loser.
From Megatron's perspective, he had always admired that Optimus would take his losses and come back more ferocious, more creative in the next battle. The Megatron of the past would have loved nothing more than to see Optimus reduced to the state he was currently in. But the Megatron of the present was only sad at what he saw.
The Optimus he admired would never show such a rageful expression, much less one aimed at a youngling. Megatron was never going to let his friend go down the same path he did.
"Optimus…" Megatron began softly, helm still raised to allow the Seekerlet better trajectory to take off. "I know that you realise this is not right."
Optimus' bright optics fell upon Megatron. "But it is necessary for the survival of our species." He watched as Optimus clenched his raised servo into a fist and lowered it to his side.
"I will not have us bound to another world like a parasite! We are here, Cybertron lives! We sit at the cusp of a new Era of our kind and you would see it fail?" A sharp, incredulous laugh broke from Optimus. "My decision is right. For the continuation of our world; for all Cybertronian kind. I am the one of the sole remaining factors that has resulted in our kind being forced into an existence on the precipice of extinction."
Megatron could hear the panels in Optimus' clenched servo creak with pressure. His blue optics never wavered.
"Sometimes to do what is right, one has to do what is necessary." The Prime's voice didn't tremble for an instant. He was certain in his statement. "I will not deny that this decision is one that was made in desperation. But I have weighed the cons, and cannot deny the positives that will come out of this. You of all mechs should understand that everything I do is to right the wrongs I have committed. Allow me one more tough decision, so I can right so many more."
"Optimus," Megatron felt his voice was like a broken record, repeating his comrade's name in the same sad tone. "We aren't speaking about a hardened war veteran or a soldier. This is the future of a sparkling we are discussing."
"A future that could be so much more, a future of both one being and millions more. Why can you not see that this is the right choice?"
"A choice you would take away, Optimus. A sparkling's choice of Guardianship is not yours to make." Red optics refused to look away from the Prime's posture. "This isn't the way. You have to let them be."
Cerulean fire refused to quench under the ruby gaze. "And what of our kind, Megatron? You would doom us to an existence of slow extinction?
Megatron shook his heavy helm. "No, Optimus. I would only ask that we consider other alternatives. Look at what you've already accomplished: the Well of the Allspark lives! I can feel it pulsing underneath my pedes. You have already succeeded, we will find other alternatives than this." He put a grey servo on his comrade's pauldron, feeling the suppressed flinch under his palm. "We have waited this long, Optimus. We have time."
The sounds of battle had begun to slow after the Seekerlet had rocketed to the clouds. For a while, Megatron could only concentrate on his conversation with Optimus, as hated as it was, but he could no longer ignore the sudden silence pressing around them.
He only noticed it once the silence was broken, snapped with a sharp engine noise screeching above them.
The familiar formation reminded Megatron of moments during the war when the Seekers would provide a perfect manoeuvre that would allow him to both provide an example of the strength of his forces as well as their unparalleled peerage. The memories were so similar to this moment, face to face with Optimus with three Seekers at his back.
But it was different this time. The Seekers descended slowly, in Cybertronian form, the small figure of the Seekerling obvious in Starscream's palm.
So they were reunited then.
Megatron felt relief at the same time he felt desperation filter through Optimus' field. The closer the Seekers got, the more Megatron could feel the change between them. Not just from the last time they'd been on the same side, but different on a deep level.
As the sparkling grew closer in proximity, the reason was clear:
The Guardianship protocol was active between them.
Optimus trembled beneath his palm, clearly feeling the same thing. As long as the protocol was inactive, Optimus still had a chance. Now, with the coding thrumming strongly between the four of them, there was no chance. The Prime would have to offline all three Seekers to even get a chance to try again. And even in that situation, the sparkling would never choose him.
Megatron felt the last vestiges of Optimus' hope of his mission flicker and snuff out within him. There would be no succeeding in this mission now.
The sparkling's fiery green optics were trained on Optimus, unflinching even though ribbons of unease scattered through their EM field. It was evident they felt secure in this setting; having three Seekers at your back was a comfort to have in a battle, as Megatron knew from experience. Their gaze flickered to Megatron's for a klik, and he fought the urge to smile back at them.
Instead, he craned his grey helm at the Seekers, his palm still resting on Optimus' pauldron, partly to keep him there.
"Starscream." He addressed the Trine leader, his former second in command.
Starscream squinted his red optics back at him. "Megatron." He drawled. "It appears we have you to thank for returning our prize to us. At least one Autobot has some sense." Megatron didn't miss how he spat the word Autobot like it was a curse. He let it slide.
"I could argue I got my sense from being a Decepticon for so long, but mostly, I'm relieved they've reached you unharmed. You three have quite the little spitfire." Megatron didn't miss how Starscream and his brothers preened a little at the compliment, even if the sparkling in question seemed a little embarrassed by it. If there was one thing he learned about Seekers from his years working with them, it was that they were weak to compliments. It could be a cultural difference between them, but he supposed it was only a matter of time before the sparkling was showing the same traits.
"We found it hard to believe you were here on our behalf." Thundercracker, always the level headed of the three, spoke up. "I'm happy to report we're glad our beliefs were found incorrect." The blue mech lowered his helm in a facsimile of a grateful nod.
"Do us a favour and keep that Prime away from our Seekerlet, will ya? He's done enough harm." Skywarp hissed, his rage evidently still simmering.
Megatron met Skywarp's optics calmly. "Optimus and I will be having a further chat concerning certain boundaries between you four and certain members of the Autobots. I may need to confirm some of said boundaries once they become more clear in the near future, if that is amenable to you all." He made a point to rest his gaze on the Seekerlet last, as if asking their permission above all others. He was relieved when they nodded firmly in response.
Skywarp seemed placated by the response, his posture softening slightly though still poised and ready for teleportation if things went sour. Megatron knew from experience that all it would take getting the four of them out of there would be physical contact shared between them. He didn't want the conversation to end on a negative note.
Feeling Optimus stiffen underneath his servo, whether ready to strike or flee he was unsure, Megatron took this moment to excuse them. "I will escort Optimus and the rest of the Autobots to the Ark II. It's clear you three sustained no injuries, though I'll ask that you relay any damages of your forces to me via comm should anything change."
Eyeing Starscream in particular, Megatron continued, "We will reconvene later to discuss terms. Take this time to regroup with you and yours." Turning away from the Seekers, he cast one last wink at the Seekerling before concluding the conversation. "Take all the time you need."
Hearing a little joyful trill from the Seekerlet as he turned, Megatron marched back to the Autobot ship, leader in hand, the more difficult aspects of peace just beginning.
