[The Cyberverse continuity is the primary inspiration, with references made to the 2019 comic reboot and other sources of events, lore and characterisation.]

Possible trigger warning: references to actually depressive existential dread (not the tank disease) and feelings of hopelessness warring against personal accountability within a highly peer-pressured environment.

Megatron's inspection of the Seeker airbase and the Seekers themselves is thorough and carried out with grim stoicism that never comes across as outright hostile. Occasionally, he shows a charismatic depth to his personality, such as when patiently indulging Thundercracker and Nova Storm's many questions about those gory gladiatorial experiences in the arena, Starscream growing increasingly irritated with being less than the centre of Megatron's attention.

"Oh, oh! And what does it feel like, to crush a brain module in your fist?"

"Ah, it is warm, wet, and surprisingly soft. It just sort of… gives way. I had expected greater density, the first time."

"That is so cool!"

"Indeed, perhaps you shall experience it for yourself someday, young warriors."

Nova flushes when Megatron winks at her, the mighty mech offering a paternal squeeze to Thundercracker's pauldron that has him glowing.

"How many brain modules have you crushed, Megatron?"

"Now, now, do not distract!" Starscream all but shoos the two subordinate Seekers away. "Forgive them, my dear. Their Sparks are in the right place, albeit they may not be the brightest among us."

"I do not mind. They are in need of discipline and direction, but the potential is within them."

"Well, I do hope you intend to… direct and discipline me, too, of course."

"Most soundly, when we are alone together."

"Mmm. I look forward to it."

"At this rate," Slipstream murmurs discretely to Acid Storm whilst they lug a heavy storage crate between them, "Megatron will have seen our whole airbase and he'll know everything about us. All our operational secrets, our weaponry…"

"Wow. He just grabbed his aft, real quick. Did you see that?"

"Nice. Ugh! Acid, focus! This is serious!"

"Sorry. You were saying?"

"We have to do something."

"We are doing something."

The two Seekers set the crate down, before loping together to collect another.

"We're doing what Captain Starscream tells us to. And he told us to organise and review our inventory, preferably without getting in the way."

"We haven't been a military force for millions of years, Acid. We're the cool guys who fly over parades! And now all of a sudden we're told to mobilise for possible combat in the near future? It's all so… deeply concerning!"

"Perhaps it's just precautionary. Megatron always did preach for peace as his ultimate goal. Wouldn't a war contradict that?"

"We're already at peace! It's far from perfect, but does changing the order of things really call for… us?"

"I was oversimplifying his argument. Though I do grasp your concern."

"Thank Primus. The others don't. They're all so excited to be actually doing something."

"They don't know any better."

"Exactly. I think this warrants a group discussion… without Captain Starscream."

A warning glare from over the sharpened corners and hard edges of the heavy crate. "That is dangerous talk, Slip."

"Acid, he's acting worse. We've all noticed." A wounded scowl answers that glare. "You know I'm loyal."

"I don't doubt it."

"Normally, I would never speak against him, especially not with a fellow Seeker, but… I need someone to listen to me!"

"I am listening. And I hear you. You don't think this is right," Acid Storm intones quietly, a little tersely from their end of the crate. "And neither do I. But what we think, doesn't matter."

"Acid!"

"Am I wrong? Somehow, Megatron got Captain Starscream that exquisite, technical marvel of a new body. Was it a bribe? I don't know. But I imagine nothing will be withheld in exchange. Including us. This is our place as his Seekers. And his place seems to be with Megatron. Where our Captain goes, we Seekers go, too. And if Captain Starscream goes to Megatron's war…"

Slipstream shakes her helm. "It's not fair."

"This discussion is pointless."

The two Seekers set the crate down with a dull thud.

"You won't get anywhere trying to convince them, and I don't require convincing."

"Why are you mad at me?" Slipstream leans on the crate, in turn drawing closer to Acid Storm. "I'm only looking out for us."

"I'm not mad at you. I know you mean well. I'm frustrated by my inability to help you. To help them. To help myself."

"Acid…"

"We were forged as Seekers. We all share a common frame. Well, we used to. Captain Starscream is now exceptional. But the rest of us Seekers… We have no authority, here. Resisting the inevitable is just more stress. Don't do this to yourself, Slip." Acid Storm strides away. "Besides, we were forged for war. We've just grown so disused to our intended function."

Slipstream follows with a huff. "That's awfully fatalistic, especially coming from you."

"I'm a realist, actually."

"Well, scrap me. I love you."

"I love you, too. And that is why I won't report you for insubordinate talk."

"I want what's best for you! You've got hopes and dreams and you're so good, you're so smart and charming and stuff! If any one of us is worthy of more than this, then you deserve the world, not a war!"

"Slip."

"You always wanted to go out there and invent exciting new tech, how can you ever get to do that if we do go to war? What will you invent – weapons?"

"I will never be an inventor of any renown. I fiddle with my projects for the simple satisfaction of it. I am smart. Smart enough to distract myself from how pointless our lives are by tinkering with my little projects, and that keeps me happy enough."

Slipstream stops following with a flinch.

Acid Storm draws to a stop a few paces ahead, sighing. "I'm sorry. Forgive me. That was unkind."

"…We're not pointless."

"We're just his Seekers. We're nothing without our Captain, and the cohesion of our group defines us. We get VIP treatment at every Cube game, and he hates Cube. We contribute nothing of value to Cybertron, except for flying over those parades, and he relishes in our fame. Our lives are so easy."

"Acid…"

"I share your concerns, Slip. But I also realise that you and I can't stop it."

"So, what, then? I'm supposed to just roll over and let this happen to us?"

"I'm afraid so." Acid Storm resumes marching on. "Even if we could get the others to agree that something is very amiss, none of us has a chance against a personality like Megatron, and whatever he's done to claim Captain Starscream. Just let this go."

"…What about Orion?" Slipstream follows again, with a little jog to catch up.

"Oh, no way."

"Bee's met him. He only has the highest praise."

"Your little yellow friend? Our Captain dislikes him immensely and is very outspoken about that fact. You know, you're gonna get in trouble if you keep hanging around him."

"I don't care!"

Acid Storm shoots a backwards look at Slipstream, optics wide.

"Starscream controls almost every aspect of our lives. Let me have my friends."

"…Captain Starscream, you mean."

"Whatever!" Slipstream moodily grabs one half of the next crate.

Acid Storm obligingly takes the other. "I am both proud of you and concerned for your well-being."

"Well, that's how I feel about you, too!"

They heft it together.

"Slip, you'd just isolate yourself from the rest of us by going to Orion. Captain Starscream stands with Megatron, and after all that's happened lately, there seems to be a schism. It'd be like picking a side – the other side from ours."

"But if a war does come to pass…" Slipstream grimaces at Acid Storm.

"Some of us might be terminated in action. I know that."

"Acid, we can't do this."

"We've no choice. Let's just do our best to keep an optic on each other, whatever happens. Alright."

"I cannot believe you, right now."

"Irrelevant. You'll do what you have to. And so shall the rest of us. You know I'm right."

Slipstream refuses to answer that.

"I'm trying not to let this all get to me," Acid Storm intones more kindly, after they have shifted three more boxes in silence. "I advise you do the same, Slip."

"I just worry."

"I know you do, sweet Spark."

"I'm the responsible one. Not that it matters, if I can't protect anyone I'm responsible for."

"It does matter. We appreciate you."

"And that amounts to what? More anxiety for me. I can't act on anything I think or feel. I hate it."

"You just need to keep your concerns to yourself. I would hate for you to say something well-meaning that only gets you – or the rest of us – punished."

"Okay."

Thus they lay between themselves another heavy crate that needs to be torn into and its contents reviewed for sorting, at some point.

"I wish Jetfire never left."

"Oh. I miss him, too."

"We were happier when he led us."

Acid Storm stops Slipstream from going for another crate with a sudden grip to her wrist.

"What?"

The Seeker easily pulls the femme back into a hug that meets with no resistance.

"Mmmph," Slipstream manages with their intakes pressed together.

Acid Storm smiles ruefully into it, before breaking the kiss with a murmured, "Join me in my quarters, later? We can cuddle."

"…I could do with a cuddle."

Windblade somehow succeeds in appearing both vaguely bored and fondly amused as Bumblebee, Shadow Striker and Hot Rod yell altogether at the holoscreen projecting the latest Cube game overhelm. Sure, Windblade likes Cube well enough, but she is not nearly as into it as some of her friends are.

"They certainly are rambunctious," Grimlock remarks with an easygoing smile.

"Yeah, you could call it that," Windblade drawls with a chuckle, chin at rest on her folded servos, her brain module preoccupied with thinking about Slipstream. It is becoming a bit of a problem, especially with those Captain duties keeping them apart more often.

"This lot's going to get us thrown out." Arcee shakes her helm in feigned disapproval. "Absolutely zero decorum." She gets the reaction she was hoping for as Grimlock rumbles with laughter and Windblade grins prettily back.

"Ah, and you're always so demure, my friend!"

"Absolutely. I'm just that charming!"

"You truly are." A huge servo ruffles a rounded helm.

Windblade is about to tease Arcee further when another voice interjects close by.

"Room for one more?"

"Chromia!" Windblade almost pounces on the other femme in an effort to embrace her. "You're here!"

"Surprise." Chromia may be a two-wheeler, but despite their reputation as being slight of build and designed for swift agility as opposed to durability or power, she is actually incredibly sturdy and strong and a little on the taller side. She catches the jet with ease, smiling handsomely into the hug. "I wanted to touch sides with you. Actually touch sides. Not just over comms or video. It wasn't enough, any more."

"Oh, my Spark is finally complete."

"As is mine."

"I missed you so much."

Chromia is flushed, now, stroking Windblade's back strut. "We'll catch up when we're alone together," is murmured into a kiss to her slender neck. "Hello, everyone."

"Greetings, friend!" booms Grimlock. "Good to have you back."

"Hi!" Arcee winks, already snapping a quick pic of Windblade embracing Chromia. It is just so adorable. "Ooh, I totaly ship it."

Bumblebee and Hot Rod lift their cups with combined elation.

Shadow Striker offers a curt nod, then goes back to arguing with the mechs about Cube.

Windblade eases back, only to eagerly pull Chromia into the booth after herself. "How is Caminus?"

"All is well. A lot less tense than things are on Cybertron. The police presence…"

"You can thank Megatron for that," Grimlock intones with a sigh. "He has quite riled his supporters. Not to be a prophet, but I foresee an uprising, soon."

"Forgive my ignorance, as I am still something of an outsider, here…"

"Not at all!"

"He stands against systematic oppression, does he not?" Chromia looks to Windblade, frowning. "Is an uprising not what Cybertron needs?"

"You'd think so."

"He said some scary stuff, though," Arcee interjects, scratching her cheek. "Like, actually concerning."

"Oh. I see. He is… extreme?"

"He is, now. Worst part is how many still agree with him. He didn't lose much support, at all."

Chromia's frown deepens. She looks to Windblade again, evidently considering convincing her to return to Caminus.

"It'll be alright," the jet murmurs, nuzzling the concerned bike. "We've still got Orion. I've only met him a few times, but he's really nice. Gets on great with Bee."

"And he speaks sense," intones Grimlock. "As in Orion Pax. Not so much our dear yellow friend."

"Oh, hush, Grim. He's got me to make sense for him. It works!"

"And we've got each other." Arcee prepares to take a selfie, leaning on Grimlock's impressive pauldron.

"I'll drink to that!" He poses alongside her.

"Weren't Orion and Megatron on the same side?" asks Chromia after some silence, with a quirked optic ridge.

Windblade rubs her neck. "Well… that was before Megatron sort of went off."

"I see. There is much political intrigue upon Cybertron."

Listening in, Shadow Striker has suddenly lost any interest in Cube. Her angular mandible churns with thought.

Bumblebee still has his servo on her thigh, hidden beneath the counter. He does not sense anything amiss, distracted as he is with Hot Rod and all things Cube.

Acid Storm maintains a sense of order, in their chaos. They are not untidy in the typical notion, as their various gadgets and tools are assigned specified places, always to be returned after use. However, there is so much to take in, the spread of it it can be distracting upon entry.

Slipstream is the neatest of the Seekers, but she also keeps the fewest personal effects.

"You'll recharge with me, won't you?"

She looks over at her fellow Seeker.

Acid Storm is already splayed over their berth, visibly tired after lugging so many heavy crates.

Slipstream is dreading the thought of all the inventory left to sort through. She really should have pushed that part of her tenure as Captain. It would save them some grief, now. "Sure."

The Seeker grunts softly when the femme lays a servo on their cheek.

"Shift over a bit."

Acid Storm obliges. "Put those wings away." A lopsided smile, always placid. "You know you don't need to impress me."

"Hush." Slipstream obliges, retracting her impressive wingspan and, in turn, appearing noticeably smaller. She slumps onto the berth, nuzzling against a frame that is almost identical to her own. "Ugh." Her arms embrace that rugged strength. "We should've taken an oil bath." She feels burly arms embrace her, in turn. "We reek."

"It can wait after a recharge." The Seeker kisses their twin atop her helm. "Rest, now." It does not erase the anxiety, but it does offer some support.

With a resigned sigh, Slipstream's optics obediently flutter offline, cheek atop Acid Storm's chassis.

Caminus. A colony moon. It conceived that almost mythical Cityspeaker discipline. It is the home-world of Windblade and Chromia. Yet when Windblade came to Cybertron on a whim and ended up falling in love with it, opting to stay for an indeterminate period, Chromia returned alone, for she felt no such attachment to the place or the people. This has been a little disappointing, mutually. It is thankful that space bridges tie together the sheer distance that would otherwise be traversed more slowly by spacefaring vessels.

The psychological and physical trials of becoming a Cityspeaker had at once strained and strengthened their bond, granting Windblade the ability to see into Chromia, normally a very reserved femme, as if she were a Titan. It restores them now, in their intimacy, reunited.

"You're so beautiful."

The voice is in Chromia's mind – Windblade's voice.

"I've missed you. I'm so happy you're here. My dear friend."

Outside the echoes of her mind, Chromia feels Windblade's servos on her frame, caressing the glossy panels and groping for sensory hotspots.

"Are you ready?"

Chromia utters a truly guttural sound in reply and her mind echoes with Windblade's tender giggling.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to tease you."

The femmes brush their helms together, nuzzling and purring, their entangled frames slickly grinding.

"Open up," that ethereal voice echoes warmly as a dainty servo descends the unyielding torso plating, dips between parted thighs, and cups sheer wetness that draws out a gasp. "Wow, okay!"

"Windblade…"

"You've been saving this for me, Chromia? It's a lot, even for you."

"Need you… inside me."

"I'm already inside you. Sort of."

"Windblade…!"

"Alright, alright! So I was teasing you a little bit. I'll stop that, now."

"Give me…"

"I'm giving it to you."

"More!"

"I'm going to drown in you."

"Everything okay?"

Shadow Striker pauses at Bumblebee's neck, his cables pinched lightly between her bared dentas. "Huh?"

"You seem… tense." It is sweet of him to notice that, sweeping his servos over her large, powerful frame, crushing him below. "And you haven't really looked at me." He sighs. "I like making optic-contact with you. We don't have to do this if you're not feeling–"

"It's fine. I'll get you there."

"C'mon." He gently pushes her off of himself, sitting up to regard her with a sigh. "What's up?"

"Don't want to talk about it. Want to frag."

"If I let you take me, will you tell me after?"

"There's nothing to say."

"I don't believe you."

She lets out recycled air, slow and steady, as if to remind herself to be patient with him.

"I may be a hot little slag," he offers with a handsome grin, "but I do care. We're friends now."

She jerks back her helm with a low groan, glowering down at him.

It makes him giggle. "What, you too cool for friends?"

"Usually."

"Look, I won't make you talk, okay?"

"Good. Now lay back."

"You can tell me anything, and I'll listen. I'll be here for you, yeah? But only if you want to." He obliges her, lowering himself with a gentler smile and a twinkle in his optics.

She squints down at his face plate, her staring scope angled lower, regarding him more indecently. "Stop being so fragging nice to me and open your legs wider so's I can fit."

He obeys. "Hey, do you ever get disoriented, looking in two different directions at once?"

Despite her moody preoccupation with her own troubled thoughts, she does chuckle at that, then thrusts.

He whines like any of the femmes she has had before.

Thank you to those who have stuck by me thus far. I've planned to get to the war itself by Chapter 13 latest. Do prepare yourself for gay/bi robot polyamory, romantic friendships, saucy rivalries and just, like, moody introspective segments with sprinkles of political intrigue thrown in as these sentient beings struggle with their own conception and I do freaky shit with the canon. Until next time, take care and keep safe. Constructive feedback welcomed.