Chapter Text
Chaar was not the worst planet in the universe, but that was only because the other contestants had things like vegetation with a taste for sparks or populations bent on murdering anyone who dared to land. Being barren and lifeless (save for energon-leeches and the chaarantula), Chaar just couldn’t compete. But the cold and gloom got to everyone who spent enough time there. Eventually, it got hard to remember how living somewhere with a sun felt like.
It had also been where Galvatron landed the Revenge after his escape and from where he insisted he’d build a Decepticon empire. That had not worked out as intended, what with Galvatron ending up captured in his last raid. The Sweeps were among those who’d escaped, and had returned to Chaar not out of any fondness for the dreary, cold world, but simply because they didn’t have a better place in mind.
They needed some place to regroup and figure out their next steps.
“We could just run,” Sweep Five said.
“And then what?” Sweep Two asked.
Sweep Five shrugged. He didn’t have more of a plan.
“Galvatron will be furious with us, if we don’t break him out,” Sweep Three said. “He might kill us for it.”
“And if we break him out, he will eventually get angry with us because we’re too quiet, or too loud, or the wrong shade of blue,” Scourge said testily. “Also, breaking him out will be dangerous. He’s on Cybertron. Do you think Cyclonus and Ultra Magnus will just let us do it?”
“No…” Sweep Three said. “But Galvatron might eventually break out on his own…”
The Sweeps looked at each other in silence. It was a long awkward moment as they mulled over their problem. It seemed like there was no solution that didn’t end up with them facing Galvatron’s wrath at some point.
“How about we try to break him out and fail?” Sweep Two said eventually. “Then he can’t get angry with us for not breaking him out, and if we give up quickly enough, they might just lock us up in a cell.”
“A nice, safe cell,” Sweep Five added.
Scourge sighed. It was a terrible plan. But he didn’t have a better one. And it did sound like one they could succeed at.
“All right,” he said. “We’ll go to Cybertron and do what we do best. Fail.”
“Not to insult your leadership,” Sweep Three said, “but you’re not very motivating, you know?”
“You can take over any time,” Scourge said, giving Three a pointed look.
“No, no,” Sweep Three replied hastily. He raised his hands up defensively for a good matter, as if he could ward off the possibility of leadership looming over him with a gesture. “You’re doing an excellent job! It was just a little bit of constructive criticism.”
Scourge sighed heavily. “Fine. We’ll go to Cybertron and flawlessly execute our plan, because we’re competent and intelligent. There. Motivating enough for you?”
Knock Out was not impressed, which was an achievement on Breakdown’s part, since on his own Breakdown was fairly impressive. Although not at the moment. At the moment, he was still stuck in car-mode inside a door frame and his car seats were smoldering. The door frame had been carefully removed, so that Dead End, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker and Flamewar could half-carry, half-drag Breakdown all the way to Knock Out’s workshop for repairs.
“Congratulations,” Knock Out said. “Was there a point to this?”
“Well,” Breakdown said, sounding very sheepish.
“Told you it’s not going to work,” Dead End added gloomily.
“What is not going to work?” Knock Out asked. Had this been planned? Why would anyone plan to set themselves on fire?
“Nothing,” Dead End said and pretended to stare at the nearest wall.
Knock Out was not going to let that stop him. There was a weak link in the group, and they would tell him what this was about. Not Sideswipe and Sunstreaker–though how they’d gotten involved was probably a story in itself.
“Flamewar, I thought stunts like this are your thing,” Knock Out said. It worked like a charm.
“Hey! I do cool stunts!” Flamewar protested. “This was meant to be pathetic! So you’d have to take care of Breakdown and then you wouldn’t be able to resist his patheticness-”
“What.” Knock Out said.
Sideswipe sighed. “Well, Breakdown said you flirt with him and he’s been flirting back, but you always have things to do when he asks you on dates.”
“And that you spent all that time hovering over him after he got drained by that energy vampire thing from the tunnels, so clearly you like when he’s pathetic,” Sunstreaker added.
“And it’s not like Megatron’s around to forbid fraternizing,” Dead End said.
“It’d only be fraternizing if I were asking out Motormaster.” Breakdown said and made a disgusted noise. A perfectly reasonable reaction to the idea, really: Knock Out had to shudder at the very idea of a date with Motormaster. He’d probably ask him out to do a demolition derby. “And he’s about as attractive as Megatron. I mean, really, who’d go out with someone whose paint job looks like a corpse?”
“Wait. Hold on,” Knock Out said. “You mean to tell me you drove into a building and set yourself on fire so you could spend time with me?”
Breakdown nodded. Knock Out stared. His first instinct had been to point out this was stupid, except now that he thought about it, Breakdown had tried the reasonable options and they hadn’t worked. And it wasn’t because Knock Out wasn’t interested, he was . It was just… a sort of habit to never move past anything meaningless, because you never knew when Megatron would get angry at someone. And there had been war. And then later, Breakdown almost got killed by that evil cyborg-slug and Knock Out didn’t know if he could take that.
But none of this applied anymore. It wasn’t as if Shockwave cared. At most he’d grumble about others being illogical. The evil cyborg-slug was stuck in another dimension, and that meant things that could kill Breakdown were mostly limited to other Cybertronians, and the war was over, so that was unlikely, too.
“Well, I suppose I can fit you into my schedule,” Knock Out said eventually. He was going to maintain his dignity, and absolutely not admit he’d been an idiot. At least not in front of everyone. “But only you. The rest of you can go cause trouble elsewhere. And if another one of you sets themselves on fire, I’m getting the new medbot to practice on you.”
The body didn’t look like him in the least. It was smaller than his old one and had been constructed to be as featureless as possible and easily modified–which he would eventually do, but for now it served as his disguise. It had been some time since his original body had been vaporized and the situation had changed quite drastically.
Some changes looked promising, to be sure. Peace certainly sounded like a decent idea–which was of course why he’d been the first one to think of it. The fact that it was Shockwave who ended up in charge of the Decepticons was a lot less pleasing. Not just because he was being credited with the peace treaty, but also because it was Shockwave.
Really, who’d want to listen to Shockwave? He was about as charismatic as a flattened, desiccated amphibian. In fact a flattened desiccated amphibian was probably too interesting compared to Shockwave. An atom of hydrogen perhaps?
Someone really ought to do something about it. And by someone he meant himself, but he would have to be careful about. To start with he needed to find out what his powerbase looked like now. Would the Seekers still follow him? That required some more observation and more information.
There were also the bots that had been part of something called Unicron. He needed to learn more about this, if he was to pose as one successfully. For now, he managed to ward off any questions by acting confused and disoriented. But this would not hold forever.
Still, for now it was a decent enough cover. Nevertheless, he had to gather information and find out what exactly had happened, while he’d been… indisposed. Some of it he could learn by accessing the Decepticon databases - even if his access codes had been revoked, Shockwave didn’t manage to find all of the backdoors he’d installed.
There was not much he didn’t expect: Shockwave, being completely inadequate, had agreed to various reparation programs against “victims of Decepticon imperialism”, which was pathetic. If he’d remained Decepticon leader none of this would have happened. If he had been in charge, the military would be firmly under Decepticon control. Autobots had no business running it, really. But since one of the points in the treaty stated that the Decepticon part of the military was to be led by a neutral, and the neutral that everyone had agreed on, had refused the position quite firmly, it was Ultra Magnus who was solely in charge of all of Cybertron’s forces.
Slipstream was still in charge of the Seekers, which would hopefully make things easier. She was probably by now extremely frustrated by having to deal with constant bickering and jockeying for better positions, and would no doubt welcome the opportunity to give up power. Definitely. He was certain of it, and there was no glimmer of doubt that Slipstream might have in fact managed to do a better job than him.
He’d been built to lead.
He hesitated before running the last check. But there was no one there, and really, what was the harm in indulging some harmless curiosity? And so, for the first time since Skyfire had betrayed him and joined the Autobots, Starscream checked on his former partner.
Notes:
Title is taken from Rod Stewart I am sailing
Chapter Text
Scourge hadn’t planned. Plans had a crucial flaw, after all–they tended to fall apart in the most inconvenient moment because of some completely unpredictable thing. Instead, he’d intended to do things one step at a time. Really, how hard could it be to fail at rescuing someone? Besides, if they didn’t prepare, they wouldn’t get tripped by the unexpected. Or so he’d assumed.
Naturally, with the universe being a cruel place with a nasty sense of humour, the Sweeps ran into Armada before they even reached Cybertron. Well, they did plan to get caught and so, they had only made the barest effort of scanning for enemy signatures. Which Armada had avoided, because there were a number of ways to fool a conventional scan.
Scourge didn’t exactly have the time to ask her how she did though, because “run in” meant really that Armada was suddenly between them, breaking their formation with a volley of shots. She transformed while they were scattering, and grabbed onto Sweep Two, which meant they’d have a hard time shooting her.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d clearly alarmed someone. A small group of ships was on fast approach. Scourge recognized Cyclonus and Astrotrain. They were accompanied by one more star fighter of the same configuration as Cyclonus, only gold, blue and red; and another that was smaller and orange and yellow.
Astrotrain circled around them while Cyclonus and the other two joined Armada. With only three other Sweeps, Scourge couldn’t fight off Cyclonus and the others effectively, since they couldn’t swarm. What happened instead was the yellow and orange starfighter rammed Sweep Five and transformed so that they could start pummeling him. The other one shot a volley at Sweep Three, forcing him further away from Scourge.
Not that Scourge didn’t have his own problems - or really just one Cyclonus-shaped problem, right on top of him. Literally, since Cyclonus had transformed and landed on Scourge.
“Spare yourself more embarrassment, Scourge. We both know you’re going to come to Cybertron like a good little coward and tell us everything,” Cyclonus said.
Scourge could have tried arguing, but Cyclonus was right. He was going to come to Cybertron and tell Cyclonus what he wanted to hear. Or at least something that’d end up with him and the Sweeps safely imprisoned and away from Galvatron’s wrath.
“We were going to break out Galvatron.”
Cyclonus gave him a long look. “Really. Why would you do that? He’s safely locked up and awaiting trial. You could just come back to Cybertron and join us.”
“No, thank you,” Sweep Two said. “Galvatron will eventually break out and we’d rather he didn’t kill us because we didn’t try to break him out.”
Cyclonus opened his mouth and then closed it, shaking his head. There was a very awkward moment of silence, and then he said, “Fine. As you wish. Then you will be imprisoned too.”
Well. Apparently, Scourge and the Sweeps could successfully execute a plan after all.
It was one of those days - the type when everything seemed to be happening at once, with no time for anyone to take stock. No sooner than Armada sent out an alert (a video of the identical bots that had been part of Galvatron’s warband on approach to Cybertron), an unidentified space ship entered Cybertronian space. It didn’t respond to any hails from Blaster, who then notified Ultra Magnus.
Magnus, in turn, looked like he saw a ghost for about three seconds - the horror movie, stringy-haired, crawl-out-of-the-tv-and-murder-you kind of ghost, to be specific - but he collected himself really quickly. Hot Rod only noticed because he’d been looking at Magnus. He didn’t have time to think about it much, since moments later Magnus told Skyfire to take a strike team to the ship. The strike team consisted of Hot Rod, Kup, Chromia, Springer, Shadow Striker and Breakdown.
The approach itself had gone quite smoothly, something Kup and Breakdown hadn’t liked at all. Well, Shadow Striker hadn’t liked it either, but Shadow Striker didn’t like anything, so she was biased. Skyfire managed to even shoot a nice, big hole into the hull of the ship, through which they could all get in.
Which was when things stopped being easy.
The space ship was apparently crewed by robots that looked like someone had seen an Earth piranha once from a distance and heard of sharks, and tried to come up with a way to cross the two. The main impression Hot Rod got was “lots of very sharp teeth”.
“That reminds me of the time we boarded a ship from Arkus,” Kup said. Chromia sighed.
“Everything reminds you of something,” Springer grumbled. Hot Rod had to admit it was true: Kup seemed to have a never ending supply of stories for every single situation. It was a fact of life, a constant of the universe, just like gravity.
“So, anyone get eaten then?” Shadow Striker asked, sounding far too cheerful.
“I knew you wanted me dead,” Breakdown said, eyeing her balefully. Which was probably true, since Shadow Striker kind of wanted everyone dead. It was also not helping the situation, which involved a bunch of weird shark-piranha bots.
“Hey! Hey! We still have a bunch of angry fish here!” Hot Rod yelled. “Focus people!”
Right on time too, because that was when the piranha-sharks decided to attack. They rushed forward and given the confined quarters that meant they’d have to fight them in close combat. On the bright side, the piranha-sharks weren’t very tactical about it. They just headed towards them, and tried to bite the nearest thing that stuck out.
There was still some confusion, and Breakdown managed to hit Shadow Striker at one point. Hot Rod was having suspicions it wasn’t exactly an accident. Eventually, there was a bunch of dead piranha-sharks and they managed to reach the door leading into the cockpit, which seemed to be locked from the other side.
“A little help Skyfire?” Hot Rod asked.
Skyfire nodded and took a look at the door, and then kicked it hard.
A few more kicks later, the door was bent enough that Skyfire could wrench his fingers between the two wings of the door and push it open.
“I thought you were a scientist,” Breakdown said, sounding very disappointed. Clearly, he’d expected something more flashy.
“That was a highly scientific method,” Skyfire replied. “I’ve applied kinetic energy to an immobile object.”
“You kicked it and it broke,” Breakdown grumbled.
“It worked, didn’t it?” Skyfire answered, unperturbed.
While they were arguing, Springer peeked around Skyfire, and then said, “I don’t think those are Quintessons. I’m not an expert, but Magnus said they have tentacles. Do you see any tentacles on either of them?”
Skyfire stepped aside then, allowing Hot Rod and the others to have a look into the cockpit, too. There were two bots inside. One was orange and grey, and about the same size as Eject and Rewind. Hot Rod saw no indication of an altmode on the first glance on him, and no inbuilt weapon systems. What he did have however was an Autobot brand - was he maybe from one of those lost colonies that Kup sometimes talked about?
The other bot was clearly a flier, though not a Seeker. Their altmode was advertised only by their wings, with large turbines that to Hot Rod’s eye looked too short to actually generate enough power for an aircraft to fly. They were about the same size as Hot Rod, and about as flashy: primarily red and black with a few blue flourishes and some sort of a gold decoration to their helmet that reminded Hot Rod of a Japanese hair comb. A quick scan picked up some odd signature from her - Hot Rod figured it was probably a weapon hidden in a compartment, but couldn’t tell what type. And that was not all. Hot Rod’s sensors also picked up some exotic energy readings from the flier, concentrated in those weird turbines and her head.
“We’re not Quintessons,” the red-and-black bot said. “I’m Windblade. This is Wheelie.” They tried to peek behind Hot Rod and the others–a task made difficult by the fact that Skyfire’s bulk was in the way. “What did you do with the Sharkticons?”
“Break ‘em,” Breakdown said, as he cracked his knuckles.
“And slash them,” Shadow Striker added with a nasty grin. “Which we-”
Hot Rod waved his hand in front of her mouth quickly, before the threats started. “What Shadow Striker wants to say is that we’d like to know what exactly happened here and why you’re on a Quintesson ship.”
“Wheelie say, we ran away,” Wheelie replied. His voice was high, like that of a child with a sing-song cadence. Hot Rod thought it would not endear him to some people. “The ship was occupied, but we weren’t terrified.”
Chromia and Shadow Striker made the same disgusted noise at the same time, and then groaned together.
“Bad poetry,” Shadow Striker grumbled. Wheelie looked hurt, so Hot Rod gave Shadow Striker a chiding look. Yeah, sure it wasn’t great poetry, but there was no reason to be mean to someone you just met. Some people got weird when they were nervous.
“I think it's best if we continue questioning them on Cybertron,” Chromia said. “Let’s land this thing.”
Windblade felt quite shocked at how quickly everything went from chaos to relative peace. As soon as they landed, she and Wheelie got brought out of the ship, while another group of bots rushed inside it. Hot Rod waved at them and shouted a cheerful “Hi Wheeljack, bye Wheeljack!”. A white and grey bot with green and red accents waved back.
At the same time, a purple Cybertronian with only an eye for a face stopped Breakdown who was trying to surreptitiously drag out a dead Sharkticon. Breakdown immediately started arguing that he was just trying to make it easier by carrying the Sharkticon to someone named Knock Out for studying and absolutely had no intentions of doing this to impress this Knock Out.
Outside, it was somewhat less chaotic. They were in what seemed to be a space-dock in the middle of renovations. Beyond, Windblade could see more buildings, many of them damaged. They were in a city, one that had been through a lot, it seemed. Windblade would have liked to transform and explore some, but it wasn’t the time. A pink Cybertronian with sharp antennae was approaching, looking stern.
Then she noticed Windblade and Wheelie and her expression changed to a surprised one.
“Chromia? What happened?” she asked one of Windblade and Wheelie’s rescuers.
“That’s a very good question to which we don’t have a good answer yet, Elita,” Chromia said, sounding rueful. “Those two were in the cockpit, claiming to be running away from Quintessa.”
“We did,” Windblade said. She wasn't sure why their explanation was presented like something to be doubted.
Elita looked at Windblade again then. She didn’t look doubtful or suspicious–her expression was calm and encouraging. “I would like you to come with me and tell me more about it. Kup, Shadow Striker, take your teams to debrief with Ultra Magnus.”
“Yeah, it’s not like we’ll be able to pry Shockwave away from the ship for the foreseeable future,” Shadow Striker said with a shrug. “All right Breakdown, come on. Let’s get this done with.”
Scourge and the Sweeps had followed Cyclonus and his team to Cybertron. They circled for a while - there was something involving a Quintesson ship going on. Scourge didn’t like the sound of it, but it was too late to make a retreat.
Eventually, they were given the signal to land near something that looked like a small fortress. It likely had been built by Decepticons–the design was threatening and foreboding, and quite unescapable, as far as Scourge was a judge of that. Which he wasn’t–he’d actually never had to escape from any prison. Thundercracker had seen it a few times from the outside and felt a sort of vague pity for anyone inside - not enough to try and think about freeing anyone in there though.
To enter they had to pass through a force field and only then a door, and then another force field. Sweep Two thought he could disable them–the cables supplying the fields with energy were visible with the right application of thermal-vision. What was also visible in several other spectra were a number of sensors and auto-defenses.
Scourge thought they would probably still be able to disable them, but by the time they were done someone would be there to check why some system or other was not responding. Sweep Three thought this was the true method of preventing escape: bogging everyone down in engineering.
“You’ll not be mistreated,” Cyclonus said as the second force-field closed behind them, somehow managing to make it sound like a threat. He looked at Armada again and added, “What?! I am calm!”
“-ish,” Armada said. She had a deep voice too–a gravely alto. Her lips were quirked in the slightest of smiles, and the tone she used was fond and warm. This was a very strange way of insulting someone.
“They can stop being ridiculous and acting like I’m going to fly into an uncontrollable rage and murder them all,” Cyclonus replied, sounding really offended. “It’s insulting.”
Sweeps Two and Five both thought it was a strange thing for him to be insulted over. Those in power used it as they wanted to over those without it. Cyclonus clearly wanted to be violent–it’d only make sense for him to hurt the Sweeps, who were in his power now.
“It’d be less nerve-wrecking if you did,” Scourge said, before he thought better about it. Still, it really would have been better if the dread moment when Cyclonus would lose his cool would finally come. He had power over the Sweeps now and the fact that he was not doing anything to exert it was deeply unsettling. “Er. It’s just a suggestion. You don’t really have to do it.”
“How about you keep your suggestions to yourself?” Cyclonus snapped, somehow sounding even more offended. “Get in.”
The rest of the way to the cells they spent in silence.
The pink Cybertronian’s full name was Elita One. She brought Wheelie and Windblade into one of the buildings just outside of the space port. They all looked both strange and familiar to Windblade: there was something about their massive forms that made her feel at home surrounded by them.
The inside of the building felt similar. Though Windblade had never been in a building like this, something about the way the doors and corridors were placed made it seem so very familiar.
After passing a few of them, Elita One opened a door and led them into an empty room.The walls looked like brass and there was one large window overlooking the city outside. Once they entered, parts of the floor transformed into a table and chairs. Elita One retrieved a few energon cubes from a dispenser in the wall and passed one to Wheelie and one to Windblade.
Once they were done, she looked at them solemnly. “I realize this might be hard for you, but I am going to ask you to explain where you’re from and how you got on that ship.”
“I don’t know very much,” Windblade said, trying hard not to sound as intimidated as she felt. Elita One was so confident and collected it was hard not to be though. “I think I’ve been built very recently. And the moment I woke up, Wheelie told me we had to run. So we did–we went to the shipyard and snuck into the cockpit, and then, we flew away.”
Elita One nodded and turned to look at Wheelie, who fidgeted nervously for a moment. When he started speaking though, he’d mostly managed not to rhyme: a sign that he’d calmed down some since they had landed.
“The Quintessons made our creator into a forge,” Wheelie explained. “She never told me more than that–just that she was trapped and that she was from Cybertron. She thought she’d never see it again, but recently she heard that there was no more war on Cybertron and built me, so I could scout out a way out. Then she built another body, and tried to transfer herself into it. But something went wrong - Windblade isn’t her. She’s someone else.”
Elita One didn’t answer right away. She looked at Wheelie and Windblade with the same calm, thoughtful expression as before.
“Did she have a name?” Elita One asked.
“She said her name didn’t mean anything anymore,” Wheelie replied.
Windblade wondered then if something really had gone wrong when her previous self and creator was transferring herself into a new body. Maybe she’d always intended to start fresh…
“I think you should talk with Cyclonus,” Astrotrain said. Hot Rod gave him a surprised look.
They were all being debriefed by Ultra Magnus one by one. Hot Rod was done and had been waiting for Chromia and Springer in the hallway outside of Magnus’s office, while Astrotrain had just arrived.
It was still a bit strange, being debriefed like this rather than just sitting in whatever camp they managed to scrounge up and simply discussing what happened. Sure, Hot Rod had a few years after they arrived on Earth to get used to it, but that was really very little compared to the thousands of years of different experiences.
“Sure, I can do that, but why?” he asked.
“Because he’s angry about feeling responsible for idiots and you don’t get angry when you’re responsible for an adolescent human, and those are idiots,” Astrotrain explained.
“I’ve known Danny since he was a baby and he’s not yet a teen,” Hot Rod replied, somewhat bemused. “He’s also not an idiot, and if I got angry with people for getting in trouble, I’d be constantly angry with myself.” He paused. “Also, neither Armada nor Metalhawk, or Starburst are idiots, so so…”
“Cyclonus is angry with Scourge and said he hates feeling responsible for idiots, so I think it’s probably Scourge and the Sweeps,” Astrotrain replied, as he settled down on a chair. “I don’t think Scourge is an idiot. He’s not really a warrior. I mean, he was built to be one and everything, but he doesn't like fighting. I don’t know why he’s staying on Galvatron’s side, really. Huh, I guess this is why Cyclonus thinks he’s an idiot?”
Hot Rod thought that probably wasn’t exactly what Cyclonus really was upset about. Maybe a part of it, but definitely not the whole thing. Just like Magnus, Cyclonus seemed to have an overdeveloped sense of his own duties and care very strongly about people he felt responsible for. Scourge and the Sweeps had been under Cyclonus’s command for some time too, so it made sense he’d feel somewhat responsible for them, even if he didn’t form a strong bond with them like he had with Armada, Metalhawk or Starburst.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll talk with him,” Hot Rod said. “Or I can ask Magnus.”
Astrotrain looked dubious.
“They like each other,” Hot Rod added, as explanation.
“Really?” Astrotrain asked, shocked. “Ultra Magnus likes people?”
Hot Rod gave him his best, most unimpressed look. “You’re the one to talk. How many people does an average Decepticon like, anyway? Three and a half, statistically?”
That had been the number he’d come up with before he’d decided the Decepticons suffered from a serious case of being the worst.
Astrotrain huffed. “It’s Autobots who are weird. They just look at-at some organic blob and decide it’s a friend. And I like more than three people! Although, I only like Flamewar sometimes, so I guess it’s five and a half.” He paused for a moment and then added, “So once you remove Shadow Striker from the statistic, how many people does the average Decepticon like?”
Chapter Text
Ultra Magnus was currently the sole Great General on Cybertron. The treaty had stipulated that the command of the Cybertronian army should be a shared position between two Great Generals. (The title had been Shockwave’s idea. Ultra Magnus also didn’t understand the need for a grand title. Commander was a perfectly good descriptor for his function.)
At first, Decepticons had hoped that the second one would be a Decepticon, but that ran into certain issues. Firstly, picking one candidate had been much more complicated than Shockwave had expected.
The Seekers demanded that Slipstream be given the rank. Their arguments had been that she was already the leader of the Seekers, a position that had been also held by Megatron’s second in command through the majority of the Great War. And also, Seekers were clearly the superior elite force of the Decepticons.
Shockwave had tried to push Shadow Striker through, but that ran into the problem that Shadow Striker hated every single Decepticon, and every single Decepticon hated her right back.
Strika had been another candidate with a decent following, and probably should have been the best bet, but Decepticons being Decepticons that only meant a loud argument broke out the moment she was suggested. Knock Out said that since she’d been constructed an Autobot, she’d be too soft. At which point, Strika threatened to rip off Knock Out’s head and use it as a chalice. Then Breakdown threw a chair at her.
And then Flamewar had decided to take part in the discussion and yelled that it should be Soundwave. At which point the whole thing devolved into a brawl.
Secondly, Knock Out - as the negotiator for the Decepticons - had agreed that the Decepticon spot would instead go to a neutral party. Which meant that they had to find a neutral party who’d be willing to be a general and could actually handle commanding Decepticons without suffering an acute case of self-inflicted forehead injury.
Ratbat had eventually suggested Cyclonus and miraculously, that had led only to minor grumbling. Possibly because it was basically making things formal - Cyclonus, being himself, was already treating Decepticons as if they were under his command. Unfortunately, they were still at an impasse, since Cyclonus had refused on the grounds that the Decepticons were incompetent and incapable of cooperating with each other on matters as simple as changing a light bulb, and that he had no interest in being a member of a faction that was comprised of morons, malcontents and maladjusted descendants of black and black TV sets.
All of which might have actually been terribly funny (not that Ultra Magnus had ever let it show), but it meant that he was dealing with all military affairs on his own, which admittedly was leaving him with much more free time than he had in millions of years, but that was a bit like comparing a lightbulb to a star.
And then the Quintesson ship appeared, just a few days after they’d found Quintessons meddling on Tlalakan. Ultra Magnus could really use the second person to share command with about then.
So when he heard Cyclonus was upset, he wasn’t surprised. It would have been surprising to find anyone built by the Quintessons, who wasn’t upset. Not to mention there had been Sharkticons aboard the ship, and Cyclonus had already admitted that he reacted badly to just seeing a long dead one. There was no telling how much worse it’d be with live ones or even recently dead ones.
Which meant the ship was off limits, until they gotten rid of those - though Ultra Magnus didn’t think that was the reason why Cyclonus was upset.
“See, this is another reason why I’m a bad choice for the Decepticons,” Cyclonus said, shaking his head. “They’re all so used to someone taking their anger out of them that the moment I get mildly irritated and complain, they run to you or to Hot Rod, or Armada to make sure I’m not going to explode into a fury.”
Magnus nodded. He had an idea what the problem was. Unfortunately, it was one of those situations where wanting a perfectly reasonable thing was unreasonable. “You want them to stand up to you or give you space.”
“That’s reasonable, right?” Cyclonus said, exasperated.
“No,” Magnus said bluntly. “You said it yourself–the Decepticon model of an angry person in power is Megatron. Not you. They react according to their experience. It isn’t fair to you, no, but you’re not going to get them to stop by getting angry about it and yelling at them not to.”
Cyclonus considered what Magnus said. “No, I suppose not. Otherwise it’d have worked already.” His expression softened. “You know, sometimes I think working with you is actually worth having to deal with Decepticons.”
“Shadow Striker is competent,” Magnus replied, though he was quite appreciative of the compliment.
“Competence can be acquired,” Cyclonus said. “It’s the fact that they lack cohesion beyond the level of small units. I can expect the Seekers to work with each other, but if they’re meant to work with anyone else, they’ll fight. I can’t expect anyone to work with Shadow Striker at all. Sixshot will spread malicious gossip when he gets bored and I know it sounds petty, but he’s the reason for about a quarter of fights that break out! Nacelle has grudges against thirty seven other Decepticons, and he’s the one with the least of them!”
“I noticed,” Ultra Magnus observed. Though he was sure Nacelle only had thirty six grudges. “I have been dealing with that for the past six months.”
Cyclonus gave him a surprised look, which slowly melted into embarrassment.
“And I also know this isn’t really why you’re refusing,” Magnus added. His goal wasn’t to embarrass or chide Cyclonus, but rather reach a solution. Preferably one which did involve Cyclonus as his co-commander. “Since all of those are issues that can be overcome with time and patience. So what is it?”
Cyclonus looked at Magnus’s desk for a while. He seemed to be considering his answer.
“I’m not a leader,” Cyclonus finally said. “I can order people around, sure, but I’m not someone who can just walk into a room and get others to follow them on the strength of their convictions. I-”
“You’re not Prime material,” Ultra Magnus said. “Neither am I.”
“You’ve millions of years of experience,” Cyclonus replied. “I’ve a few days as Galvatron’s second in command and not much else.”
“And in the few days you managed to do better than Starscream,” Ultra Magnus pointed out. “I doubt he’d end up being the candidate on whom the majority of Decepticons could agree.” Magnus looked at Cyclonus again. “I don’t think you really plan to say no, do you?”
“No,” Cyclonus said, looking away. “I’m not. I just- I don’t know. Hoped someone will take it out of my hands, I guess.”
“And now something did?” Magnus asked, thinking about the Quintesson ship and the two bots that came in it.
“No,” Cyclonus replied. “I could still say no. Just because I know what the right choice in a given situation is doesn’t mean I have to take it. It’s always going to be my choice.” He frowned. “But if anyone thinks I’m going to join the Decepticons and follow Shockwave, they’re going to be disappointed. Or that I’m going to do this for free.”
After asking them some more questions, Elita One let Wheelie and Windblade ask her about Cybertron. Not that Windblade knew where to start, but between the two of them they’d managed to come up with some things. Then, she brought them to a room where they could recharge. A bit later, a yellow bot named Bumblebee and purple and teal one named Slipstream came in.
“I’ve never seen a helmet like yours,” Bumblebee said, eyeing the decorative crest on the top of Windblade’s head. “It looks a bit like a human hairstyle, actually.”
“Ugh, humans.” Slipstream made a disgusted noise and shuddered. “This one juvenile once told me I had rancid vibes.”
Bumblebee snorted.
“That sounds unpleasant,” Windblade said, bemused.
“I’m not organic, I cannot have anything rancid,” Slipstream protested, clearly outraged at the very concept.
“Actually, your lubricants very much can go rancid,” Bumblebee countered.
Slipstream gave him an irritated look and said, “I’m not a mechanic, I don’t know about that. Going back to our actual subject though - Bumblebee’s right. You look very ornamental.” Suddenly, she grinned. “Starscream would be so jealous. He wouldn’t be the flashiest flier on Cybertron anymore.”
“Who’s Starscream?” Windblade asked.
A horrible no good jerk-
Pain in the ass I wish I could see his face now that there’s someone more flashy than him-
She hadn’t exactly heard either–it was more like she felt the words in her own head, but not in her own voice. Then it was all gone.
“He died sometime ago,” Bumblebee said. “We can explain it today while we show you around.”
“There was a civil war that only ended a short time ago. One faction was the Autobots and the other the Decepticons. The Decepticons were led by Megatron, and Starscream was his second in command,” Bumblebee continued.
“Did he get killed in the war?” Windblade asked.
“No,” Slipstream said. “He was murdered by Megatron’s successor.”
“I thought Galvatron is Megatron, just upgraded,” Bumblebee protested.
“Megatron was… competent,” Slipstream replied. The significant pause before “competent” made Windblade wonder if he really had been that. “Galvatron is a failure. And we know Unicron had a bunch of sparks stored in him - I think he just overwrote the memories of the original Galvatron with Megatron’s mind pattern, so he thinks he’s Megatron, but he’s actually some ancient moron.”
“This is very confusing,” Wheelie said.
“So, it’s like this,” Bumblebee explained, “long ago the Quintessons uh… took a bunch of sparks and merged them together. Eventually, the merged sparks developed their own consciousness and named themselves Unicron, and they decided they wanted to destroy the Quintessons. And they thought they needed to eat planets to become strong enough to do that?
And eventually, they found Megatron and some dead Decepticons. Megatron made a deal with Unicron–he’d bring Unicron the Matrix in return for a new body and new followers.”
Slipstream snorted. “Yeah, that worked out great for Megatron–if Galvatron is Megatron,” she said. “Anyway, Unicron then tried to eat Cybertron, but the Prime figured out how to split the sparks. Galvatron simply ran away to a distant planet, bumbled around with the least competent of Decepticon dregs and got himself caught like a complete loser.”
Windblade was still quite confused, but she figured she’d just ask again when there was just one person to ask. Having Bumblebee and Slipstream interrupt each other and interject things really wasn’t helping. In any case, they reached one of the destinations and Bumblebee started explaining the Spires.
They were one of the few features of Iacon that had been left mostly untouched by war–there were some scorch marks on them here and there, but compared with some other buildings they were pristine. They were decorated with geometric shapes that joined together into various figures: a smith, a warrior, an alchemist and so on. On the central one there were no figures - just a planet. All of the images were very stylised–all angles and no curves, save for the planet.
But the planet wasn’t really something that Windblade paid much attention to. She focused on the Smith instead: she seemed… familiar somehow.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“That’s Solus,” Bumblebee explained. “She’s supposed to be one of the first Cybertronians, according to myth.”
“Yes, she was a great smith,” Slipstream said. “She built many wondrous machines and terrible weapons.”
“Yes, she’s said to have built a prison for Megatronous, so that he’d stop causing trouble,” Bumblebee said
“No, she built him weapons of great destructive power!” Slipstream shot back.
“No, a prison that could shrink so she could carry it around and keep Megatronous locked up forever, because otherwise he’d run off and start a war,” Bumblebee replied.
Windblade and Wheelie looked at each other, baffled. None of this sounded at all familiar. Windblade looked back to the figure on the spire. For a moment, she thought…
But the idea was gone before it formed.
Shockwave looked pleased. Cyclonus was not terribly happy about that - he didn’t like Shockwave. He didn’t trust Shockwave. But sometimes doing the right thing meant dealing with people one did not like. Besides, as much as he disliked him, Shockwave was currently the best choice for a Decepticon leader - he was pragmatic and logical, and therefore unlikely to restart the civil war or try to pillage some organics on the side.
“You were the only logical choice,” Shockwave said.
“I’m thrilled,” Cyclonus replied dryly. “What about my conditions?”
Shockwave looked at Cyclonus. Cyclonus looked back. He was not about to back down on most of them - some, because if he wanted to make sure there would be no civil war in the future, the Decepticons had to start learning to cooperate not just with each other, but also with Autobots. They needed to unlearn everything that Megatron and their previous leaders had made them. And that meant Cyclonus wanted Shockwave to accept whatever decisions Cyclonus made about training them. Others, because Decepticons were materialistic, and so they would not respect him, if he didn’t demand suitable compensation.
He had no clue what he was going to do with the compensation, admittedly, but he’d figure out something sensible eventually.
“They are… acceptable,” Shockwave said, in the tone of someone who knew he couldn’t argue. What he really meant was that Cyclonus was his only choice for the Decepticon Great General, and he couldn’t risk that he’d say no. “I hope you will be as thorough in your duties as you are in driving a bargain.”
Cyclonus grinned at him. “Oh, you can expect that,” he said. “Cybertron will have a disciplined and effective army.”
“I notice you said Cybertron and not the Decepticons,” Shockwave said. Cyclonus continued grinning.
“Is that a problem?” he asked.
“My primary objective has not changed since I set my mission parameters nine million years ago: to watch over Cybertron,” Shockwave said eventually. “In recent months I had to reevaluate my secondary objective: to leave it as Megatron had entrusted it to me. It was in conflict with my primary objective.” He cocked his head to the side, as he looked at Cyclonus. “I do not know if your approach will conflict with my primary objective. This is a discussion we will have again, once I have acquired adequate data.”
The prison block was empty, save for the cells in which the Sweeps had been locked up. They didn’t have that much experience with prisons, but Scourge thought that usually they were more full. But then, the Sweeps probably required a specialized cells, so maybe they were in a block for people with special skills?
It was a strange thought - the idea that they warranted special treatment.
The cells themselves weren’t bad either. There was enough space to move inside them. There were recharge berths inside too–secured quite thoroughly so Scourge and the Sweeps had no chance to mess with them. The climate was nice and dry, rather than cool and damp even though Scourge was quite sure prisons were supposed to be damp, and there was an artificial light that was neither too bright nor too dim. Honestly, they were a lot more comfortable than the cold stone ruins on Chaar.
“Do you think Cyclonus will come back? We should apologize to him,” Sweep Two said, as he sat down on the floor.
“What for?” Sweep Three asked. “He was angry. If he doesn’t want people to be scared of him, he shouldn’t get angry that much.”
Sweep Two sighed. “Oh come on now, it’s kind of obvious why he was upset. He’s big on being an honourable warrior–we insulted his honour by assuming he’d hit us just because he’s upset.”
“Sweep Three has a point, though,” Scourge said. “He might not hurt us just because he’s angry, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to. And eventually, he will. Everyone in power does.”
None of them mentioned the possibility that they might break out before anyone would come to check up on them. In fact, none of them made any mentions of breaking out at all. Not because they didn’t want to, that definitely wasn’t it. But they were almost definitely under surveillance, so of course they couldn’t discuss any such things.
Yes, true, they were a hivemind and they could discuss things telepathically, but there could be a mind reading machine around! Yes, that was definitely why they didn’t talk about escaping and not because the cells were nice and safe. Absolutely.
And besides, Galvatron hadn’t broken out, so it was definitely too early to plan an escape anyway. They also had no idea what defenses were there to stop them, or who guarded the prison.
But they’d escape. Eventually.
Chapter Text
It was true that the one who’d placed Scourge and the Sweeps under Cyclonus’s command was Galvatron. Unicron had not intended that. Neither the Sweeps, nor Cyclonus had chosen this. And it was also true that Galvatron was a useless leader, who didn’t care for his troops or what they were good at.
But in the end, none of that had mattered. The Sweps had been Cyclonus’s responsibility, and he had not done right by them so far. Yes, they’d ran off, and yes, he’d been trying to find his own feet on Cybertron. But he could have tried to contact them.
He hadn’t.
And now they were there, scared and pathetic, like a bunch of wet bats (Ultra Magnus had managed to find some time a few weeks ago to show Cyclonus some humans taking care of bats. They had been washing them. The creatures had looked very pathetic and their wings looked a bit like those of the Sweeps). Cyclonus really had no excuse for not making sure they rejoined Cybertronian society.
There was the pragmatic angle too. Prone to panic as they were, the Sweeps were still built to be excellent trackers. And now Cyclonus was partially responsible for the Cybertronian military. It would be a failure on his part not to try to secure a potential asset. Even if they never managed to live up to the “hunter” part of “hunter-seeker swarm” they would still be extremely useful–and Cyclonus was fairly sure they could eventually get the “hunter” part too. Especially since there had been many more Sweeps trapped in Unicron’s spark. If they convinced the others…
Perhaps it could work the other way around? Maybe they could rebuild one of the Sweeps, and convince them , and they in turn could convince the others?
Cyclonus was going to have to talk with Wheeljack and First Aid.
Scourge hadn’t really expected Cyclonus to come back, since the latter clearly didn’t like the Sweeps. And really, it wasn’t like they resented it–the Sweeps were annoying, so disliking them was to be expected. The only ones who liked the Sweeps were the Sweeps and that was partially out of necessity. They were stuck with the hivemind and it’d be really horrible if they’d hated each other on top of it.
And yet, Cyclonus was clearly there. He’d sat down on the floor in front of their cells and watched them. Scourge couldn’t really say if he was annoyed or not–if he was, it wasn’t showing on his face or in his posture. He seemed to be completely neutral. Scourge hadn’t known he could be this calm.
Scourge, being the leader, sat down opposite to Cyclonus and watched back. The other Sweeps had taken safer positions away from the containment field in their cells. Scourge congratulated himself on managing not to act ridiculous - really what kind of a warrior was unnerved because another mechanism wasn’t angry?
“Ask him what he wants,” Sweep Two said. Scourge groaned. And there went the one time they’d managed not to be ridiculous.
“You ask him, if you’re curious,” Scourge replied.
“No, no, I’m shy,” Sweep Two said, retreating further into his cell. “You ask him.”
“Tell Airachnid, tell Galvatron, ask Cyclonus,” Scourge grumbled. “Why is it me that has to talk with scary people? Why can’t you do it for a change?”
“You’re the leader,” Sweep Two said.
The other Sweeps nodded.
“Do you want some pointers on delegating?” Cyclonus asked. He sounded amused, which was actually kind of weird. And a bit creepy. Amused people in power were bad news, in the Sweeps experience. It usually meant the Quintessons found another, unpleasant test for their hivemind.
But Cyclonus was not a Quintesson, Scourge reminded himself and the hive. He was like them. Sweep Two pointed out that Cyclonus was not at all like them–he was actually a proper warrior.
“Well, since you’re listening in, you could tell us what you want,” Sweep Five said.
Cyclonus looked at them for a moment. “Nothing. You’ve nothing to offer that I’d want.” He paused. “I’m here because I’m going to do something for you. There were a lot more of you, trapped in Unicron, weren’t there?”
Scourge didn’t like the sound of it. That sounded like a trap. And Cyclonus might have been honorable and so on, but he was also clever.
“We can scan you and rebuild one of you,” Cyclonus said. “They will be outside, and can see for themselves what you can expect from us. How does that sound?”
“You’re getting something out of this Cyclonus,” Scourge said. “Don’t pretend you aren’t.”
“Ideally, I’d have you on my side,” Cyclonus said. “You are skilled trackers and you have the potential to be dangerous warriors. But if you decide you want to do something else, I won’t stop you.” He paused. “You were under my command and I didn’t fulfill my duty to you. I’d like to amend my failing.”
Scourge found his reasoning utterly baffling and foreign.
+No you don’t,+ Sweep Two said. +You think like that about us, too. That you have an obligation to us.+
That… was a point. Cyclonus was like them, after all. Built by Quintessons as slave. It made sense he wouldn’t think like Galvatron or a Quintesson. Maybe they could trust him. That didn’t mean they could trust anyone else, but Cyclonus was strong. If people went against him, he could fight back.
“All right,” Scourge said. “We can’t really stop you from scanning us and doing what you want, but it’s nice of you to ask.”
Cyclonus looked at him for a moment. He didn’t look disdainful or angry, which was a relief.
“I knew you had it in you,” he said.
And there went Scourge’s relief. Apparently, Cyclonus had expectations of them. Which means they would eventually fail him.
Sweep Nine woke up on high alert. The last thing she remembered was being disabled with the rest of the hive - being activated again obviously meant that their creator wanted to conduct another one of his tests. Sweep Nine didn’t want that.
She sat up quickly. A consumer good looked at her from a repair station, startled. She paid them no mind - they were not a threat. Instead she focused on the military hardware - a purple bot with horns - and lunged at them. The other bot dodged her easily - they were fast. They also positioned themself between her and the consumer good.
+Nine! Stop!+ Scourge shouted in her head. Which meant Sweep Nine had acted without thinking again. She backed away from the other military hardware - his name was Cyclonus, she realized. Scourge and Sweep Two liked him, in a sort of very cautious way, where you wanted to trust someone but didn’t know if you could. Sweep Five and Three thought he was scary.
Oh, she’d missed out on a lot, it seemed. Sweep Nine wasn’t feeling exactly less scared than before, now that she’d consciously caught up on the memories of the rest of the hive, but she was also definitely now feeling very confused.
Cyclonus was watching her, like he was expecting her to attack again, so Sweep Nine forced herself to stand in a neutral position.
“Um,” she said. It’d have been very nice if Scourge had been around to do the talking, like he was supposed to. She wasn’t very good at it. “Sorry? I panicked.”
Cyclonus shrugged. “Do you already know why we’re talking or is Scourge leaving it to me to explain?”
“You want me to see Cybertron, so the others can see it through me, so we can decide if we really want to stay locked up in a cell forever or if we want to take some treaty um… because there was a CIVIL WAR?!” Sweep Nine said. “WE’RE FREE?! AND SCOURGE AND THE OTHERS WANT TO SIT IN A CELL?! ARE YOU IDIOTS STUPID?!”
+Yes,+ Sweep Two thought.
+The cell is safe,+ Sweep Five added.
Scourge thought about how annoying it was that he had claws, because he couldn’t facepalm without scratching his face and optics.
“Uh, what I mean is, I know what you want,” Sweep Nine said. “And I can manage that. I think. How hard can it be?” She chuckled nervously, because she was fairly sure she was going to mess it up somehow.
“All right, then First Aid will do some tests to see if your body is performing as it should, and then I’ll introduce you to Skyfire and Metalhawk,” Cyclonus said.
“Or you can take a moment before you do that, in case it’s overwhelming,” First Aid said, as he walked past Cyclonus. “Isn’t that right, Cyclonus?”
Skyfire turned out to be a big white bot - the biggest military hardware model Sweep Nine had seen to date. He was also apparently a scientist. Not an assistant bot or anything like that, but an actual scientist. That was strange and slightly alarming - in Sweep Nine’s experience scientists were bad news.
Metalhawk was clearly from the same production line as Cyclonus, except painted in gold, dark blue and red. He was not yet a scientist, but he wanted to be. Sweep Nine didn’t know what to think about that either.
“Metalhawk was in your situation recently,” Cyclonus said, once he finished the introductions. “So he can help you adjust.”
“You can count on me,” Metalhawk added, earnestly and loudly. Sweep Nine wondered if this was some sort of a production flaw with their line, and if all of the bots that came from it had very intense personalities.
“How about you take her to watch the exercises planned for today?” Cyclonus said. “It’s supposed to be team-building for the Decepticons.”
“We’ll be there for a whole year then?” Skyfire asked with a chuckle.
“Six months,” Cyclonus replied, also chuckling.
“I think you’re being too pessimistic,” Metalhawk countered, slinging his arm over Cyclonus’s shoulders. Cyclonus, in turn, first glared at him, and then picked his arm up and took it off his shoulders with the air of offended royalty. “Once they realize the true power of the bonds of friendship and camaraderie, I’m sure they’ll be quick to catch up on working together, too!” Then he paused, “Uh, sorry about the arm, I got carried away.”
“Ask first,” Cyclonus said, and Metalhawk nodded, looking very contrite.
“You can always ask them to write essays,” Skyfire said. “Optimus Prime says it’s a very effective method when it comes to getting people to self-reflect.”
Cyclonus nodded solemnly.
Sweep Nine wondered what on Cybertron an essay was.
Chapter Text
Starscream watched the unfolding scene in complete and utter confusion. OK, he also might have had a tiny bit of appreciation, because the idea would probably have Megatron spontaneously combust in fury and outrage.
The old Iacon arena had been restored. Numerous banners advertised who’d contributed to this: Starscream recognized several Earth corporations, a religious community from the Deneb system and Octane. The entertainment today–military training–brought Starscream back to the days before the war: a large group of Decepticons were gathered in the center, along with Ultra Magnus, Kup and several neutrals. Out of the neutrals, Starscream recognized only one: the purple warrior who’d brought Galvatron to Starscream’s coronation–Cyclonus.
Now that Starscream was not in mortal peril, he could observe him closer: a striking specimen to be sure, with archaic elements to his design. About as tall as Ultra Magnus, but significantly slimmer–and thus likely a lot less heavily armoured. And he looked about as serious and boring as Ultra Magnus, his face set in a frown as he consulted a datapad.
The other neutrals looked to have been constructed from the same template as Cyclonus: one was black with some sort of mythological Earth creature painted over their wings (who did that? Starscream had to shudder at the very thought of painting an organic magical serpent on himself), and the other one - orange and yellow, their expression set into a scowl - was clearly some sort of misconstruction: they were smaller and stockier than Cyclonus.
Starscream was obviously not the only one who decided military exercise was the entertainment to watch. There was Bumblebee with another Autobot and a neutral Starscream didn’t recognize. Andromeda was also in attendance and her recording drones were positioned around the arena to get all the best angles. Elita One, Chromia and the little teal one were there too - a clear indication the Prime was interested in the outcome. Skyfire was sitting with another neutral built from the same template as Cyclonus, but gold, blue and red, and a blue mechanism with bat wings, beard and mustache. Even Paragon made an appearance.
There were also plenty of Decepticons. Knock Out was discussing something with Flatline. Starscream wondered why they were in the audience–surely, it’d be better if they were in the arena, ready if someone was injured? Or was one of the Autobots going to be on medical duty? Swindle and Trickdiamond were sidling through the crowd, both collecting bets.
And there was someone of whom Starscream was not sure if they were a Cybertronian or not: a mechanism with curved horns, one of them broken off at the base. They seemed to be particularly interested in the neutrals.
“But why do we need to practice teamwork?” Slipstream asked. The other Seekers nodded along. “Seekers have excellent teamwork.”
The nodding grew more enthusiastic. There was some preening. Space Case made a thumbs down at the other Decepticons, who were, after all, known also for their abysmal teamwork.
“With each other,” Cyclonus said, sounding quite unimpressed. “You can’t work worth slag with anyone who isn’t a Seeker.” Then he grinned. Starscream suppressed a shudder–that was a mechanism with a very predatory smile. “And since you’re going to argue, we’ll start with a demonstration. Pick someone who isn’t a Seeker.”
Slipstream gave him a suspicious look, but complied and called out Blitzwing, who in turn was looking like he was expecting the world to end.
“If you beat me and Ultra Magnus at cube, you’re exempt from future exercise,” Cyclonus said. “If you lose, you’ll do them and won’t complain.”
“Fine,” Slipstream said. Starscream had decided at this point that Cyclonus was massively overconfident. Yes, sure, his frame was very quick, but the same applied to Slipstream. And while Ultra Magnus was very strong, his heavy armour meant he was less nimble and slower than other bots of similar size. Blitzwing and Slipstream definitely had an advantage there.
Except, it turned out that none of that mattered. Fifteen minutes in, Blitzwing fudged a grab and dropped the cube. Slipstream, reasonably, got irritated and told him so. Blitzwing, not being reasonable at all and not understanding he was dealing with someone superior in intellect, argued back. All the while Ultra Magnus walked over to the cube, took it and sat down with it. Cyclonus leaned against him and pulled out a datapad from subspace, which he started reading. Slipstream and Blitzwing kept arguing until the cube’s AI announced “Absorption!” and so spelled their defeat.
It had been utterly and completely humiliating–obviously, a sign that things had deteriorated since Starscream died. Surely, none of his Seekers would behaved this ridiculously when Starscream had been around.
Slipstream stomped back to the other Seekers, who formed a huddle, right under Starscream’s seat.
“Hey, look on the bright side,” Wingstun said, patting Slipstream’s shoulder. “At least Starscream’s not around. Can you imagine how that’d go if it was him in your place?”
Doom Siren and Night Witch sniggered. Who let them back, anyway? They were horrible traitorous Autobots, just like Skyfire, who at least had the decency not to be involved in all of this.
“He’d showboat and hog the cube, and then Ultra Magnus would just pin him and the other player would let Cyclonus win out of spite,” Nacelle added.
This was how he was remembered? This? That was just so unfair! Surely, he’d never showboated? And even if he did, he was skilled, and smart, and the best looking of the lot, so he naturally drew the most attention.
Well, he didn’t need them, anyway.
“You know, he wasn’t always like that,” Bitstream said wistfully. That was much better. Clearly, someone remembered Starscream properly. “I mean, before he was Megatron’s second in command, he was only a bit stuck up and you could have fun with him.”
That was met with a round of mournful nodding, while Starscream resumed fuming. He had always been fun! And it wasn’t arrogance, if one really was that good!
And then Cyclonus called the Decepticons back, and started dividing them up into new teams. Starscream had considered approaching him–the reports Starscream read had mentioned he was refusing to take the position of the Decepticon Great General, and Starscream would have been perfectly happy to relieve him of that burden--but it seemed he missed that opportunity. Or perhaps Cyclonus was not completely deprived of ambition and had been merely playing coy to wrangle something out of Shockwave in return for accepting.
In any case, there was nothing to be gained from approaching him. Starscream, being a scientist, made a perfectly rational decision, which had nothing to do with the shiver that went down his struts whenever he looked at Cyclonus. And he most definitely wasn’t remembering Galvatron destroying his body, while Cyclonus watched unimpressed.
There was simply nothing to be gained that was all. He needed to find a different approach. Find new allies.
And he most certainly was not considering Skyfire as one of those. For one, Skyfire had been utterly unreasonable and blew a tiny innocent lie completely out of proportion, and joined the other side for ridiculous reasons. Really, being opposed to killing humans was not a reason to end an old friendship! They were just sparkless meat-automata. Killing them was no different than killing a mindless drone.
Having reviewed his perfectly rational reasons to stay away from Skyfire, Starscream considered where he could find allies. Maybe one of the new bots would be useful?
Windblade had thought that military training involved more shooting or fighting. That said, she had to admit that she had no idea about the military, so she could be wrong.
“It’s actually really clever,” one of the other Transformers observing the exercise said. They looked very nondescript with an unpainted body, but the voice made up for it. In a bad way–it was high and scratchy. “They have to work together to find things and can’t compete with the other teams directly. I wonder how Ultra Magnus and this Cyclonus came up with it.”
Bumblebee grinned. “Oh, it’s probably Ultra Magnus’s idea. It’s a human game for children. They call it ‘scavenger hunt’, although normally they don’t like scavengers.” He then looked at the other Transformer. “You’re one of the new-old bots, right?”
“Yes, yes,” the other Transformer said. “Uh… Static. That’s my name.”
“You might want to check if someone can do something about your voice,” Bumblebee said. “Not your fault, but you sound like Starscream and people might be jerks to you since you remind them of him.”
“Was… he really that… bad?” Static asked, sounding a bit strained. Windblade supposed it would be unpleasant to have people be mean to you for something you couldn’t control.
“Real jerk,” Bumblebee replied. He sounded very disapproving. Windblade guessed he really didn’t like this Starscream. “He was the Decepticon second in command during the Great War and a real piece of work.
I mean, take what he did to Skyfire. He lied to him about the Decepticons and then acted like he was the one betrayed when Skyfire found out. And if that’s not enough, Starscream then tried to kill Skyfire! He never apologized or anything, just started fighting him like he’d do with any other Autobot. Makes you wonder if he ever cared for Skyfire at all. Or anyone else, really.”
“Oh wow,” Windblade said. “That sounds awful. Poor Skyfire.”
“I mean, he was also the leader of the Seekers, right? That means he should have encouraged them to grow into better versions of themselves, like Optimus does,” Bumblebee continued. “But he’d make fun of them whenever they did something wrong instead. Nacelle is still afraid to try learning anything new in case someone picks on him because he’s not perfect on the first try.”
Static looked rather shocked. “Maybe he… uh… was trying to encourage them to do better, and er…”
Bumblebee sighed. “That’s the sad thing. I think he was. But he had to see it never worked, and never changed tactics. I guess he just liked being a bully.”
Static looked outraged.
“That’s not all though,” Bumblebee added. “See, I’m a scout. That means my job was to spy on the Decepticons and report back what they did. And I’ve seen several times that when he messed up on patrol, he’d blame it on the other Seekers so that they gotten beaten up by Megatron.” Then he brightened, “Well, he’s not around anymore. Slipstream is trying to get Nacelle to sing. Mostly because she saw some competition shows and wants the Seekers to win one, but she did find something Nacelle is good at and he’s getting encouragement. And Skyfire’s been teaching one of the other new-old bots about astrophysics.”
Static twitched.
“Everything OK?” Bumblebee asked. “You might want to get yourself calibrated again - that looked like a misfiring connection, and those can really mess up your day.”
Sweep Nine was really surprised anyone could be this bad at teamwork. Teamwork was easy - the Sweeps managed it perfectly fine! Yes, sure they had the hivemind thing going, which made it significantly easier, but surely it couldn’t be this hard without it?
“Can we take part?” she asked Skyfire, who she’d decided was in charge. He was the actual scientist and had been around longer.
“If Cyclonus and Ultra Magnus have free spots on one of the teams, then I don’t see why not,” Skyfire said. He turned to Metalhawk. “Do you-”
But Metalhawk had already jumped into the arena and was asking Cyclonus if they could participate.
“He’s very… uh… a lot,” Sweep Nine said.
“He’s enthusiastic, yes,” Skyfire replied, sounding amused and fond. Sweep Nine was wondering if he actually ever got angry with anyone.
And then Cyclonus waved them over, and placed them on two teams. Skyfire and Sweep Nine were in the same group as a bot called Nacelle, who looked like he was both happy and worried about seeing Skyfire up close, and Divebomb who just looked happy.
“Not as fun as shooting down targets, eh?” he asked, “but looks like fun.”
“Hey, did you notice that all of the sore losers are on the same teams as one of Cyclonus’s friends?” Nacelle asked. “What’s that about?”
“It’s to make sure that the sore losers don’t try to force anyone to forfeit,” Skyfire said. He sounded like he was trying to be nice, but was also disappointed.
“Huh,” Nacelle said. “Why’s he worried about that though? It’s not like Cyclonus likes us, or anything.”
Sweep Nine frowned, as she pondered the question. Was there some sort of trick answer to this? She didn’t know, but she decided she was going to try her guess anyway. Skyfire was big so if Nacelle got upset with her answer she could hide behind him. Besides, Scourge and Sweep Two thought her guess sounded good.
“This is a team building exercise,” she said. “It’s not building any teams if you’re forced to just accommodate a few people, because they’ll beat you up if they lose.” And then she couldn’t help it - she grinned wide. “Which is good, because we’re going to find everything first.”
“Yeah!” Divebomb said. “Let’s go! Go! Go!”
“How can you be so sure?” Nacelle asked.
“I’m a tracker,” Sweep Nine said. “I can find anything .” She didn’t add that this was about the only thing the Sweeps were really good at.
+It’s a team building exercise,+ Scourge commented. +I think it’s not very much of a team effort, if you do it all by yourself, Nine.+
“First we’ll have to figure out what it is that we need to find,” Skyfire said. “Look at the list - it’s riddles.”
Sweep Nine felt rather less enthusiastic. She had no idea about riddles.
+Oh, I know the solution to the third one,+ Sweep Five said. +It’s a cog.+
“Hey, the fifth one is easy,” Nacelle said. “It’s going to be hidden in the Hall of Records, in the section about the first civil war - this is about the Fifth Battle of Iacon.”
Not all of them were as easy - for several they all had to contribute to solve them, but eventually they had all the answers and a list of items and locations.
+Cyclonus and Ultra Magnus had to make those specifically so that each team had to work together,+ Scourge observed. +When exactly did they have time to do it?+
+Over-achievers,+ was Sweep Two’s opinion.
Nine ignored them. She wanted to get to the part where the actual searching happened, and she could finally do something she was good at. Especially, since there didn’t seem to be any punishment for underperforming. She wasn’t sure why - how exactly anyone would be encouraged to do better, if they weren’t punished?
+You get a prize for doing really well,+ Scourge said. +I think Cyclonus expects that the Decepticons will want to win it, so they will have to do well.+
Nine supposed it was possible but didn’t have time to think about it much longer, because Skyfire said they could get started.
The cog was easiest: there were plenty of those everywhere, including people’s subspace pockets. In fact, both Divebomb and Skyfire had cogs in their subspaces, so they could get started on the next object.
According to Skyfire, their next target was Termagax’s screwdriver, which was in the lab of someone named Perceptor. Nine was a bit confused why it wasn’t in Termagax’s lab, and even more confused as to who all of those people were.
+Perceptor, according to the memories I got from Thundercracker, is an Autobot scientist,+ Scourge informed her. +And that’s about the only useful thought Thundercracker had on him, the rest is whining about snipers and memories of Starscream whining about Perceptor thinking he’s sooooo smart. Which I think means Perceptor was smarter than Starscream.+
“Perceptor is smarter than Starscream,” Skyfire said. It didn’t sound like he wanted to talk about this Starscream person, so Nine asked about Termagax instead.
They all could fly, so they transformed and headed towards the lab like that. Nine took a moment to gather her bearings, but with the memories of how transforming worked from the other Sweeps, she found the process to be quite easy to master.
“Um, let me see,” Nacelle said. “Termagax was a philosopher from before the first civil war. She wrote all sorts of things about colonization and self-realization. She was also an engineer, hence the screwdriver. I think she eventually went to one of the lost colonies, back before they were lost?”
“Sounds about right,” Skyfire said.
“Hey, Nacelle, I didn’t know you know all those things,” Divebomb said, once they landed and transformed back.
“Yeah, I like reading about history,” Nacelle said. “Even if it’s kinda useless. I mean, Starscream said it was useless and not a proper science, because all records are biased.”
“Starscream used to say a lot of things,” Skyfire said. “It doesn’t mean they were worth listening to, Nacelle. Think about how much knowing about the Quintessons changes for us - isn’t this evidence that history is important?”
They’d arrived at Perceptor’s lab – it was part of one of the recently repaired buildings. Nine could tell because the readings on the materials were indicating different periods and so on. The lab was on ground level, and it seemed Skyfire had commed Perceptor, because he was waiting for them outside.
“You can come in and take the screwdriver,” he said. “Except for Divebomb.”
“Awww, that’s not fair!” Divebomb protested. “I only broke things in your lab… uh… seventeen times? And I don’t know if the first ten times count, because it was actually Alpha Trion’s back then-“
“They count,” Perceptor said.
“I’ll wait with you,” Nine said. “I don’t like labs anyway. No offense?”
It didn’t take long anyway, and they could head towards the Hall of Records, which Nacelle had a lot to say about. Skyfire had asked Nine to start looking for their last object on the way: a silver wall. It wasn’t supposed to be actually made of silver necessarily – just silver in colour. So it could be made of one metal and covered with a layer of silver.
Nine went through several of her sensors, before she finally had a result – around the same time, as they got to the section on the first civil war. By then, Nine – and the rest of the hive – had more of an idea about the first civil war, because Nacelle hadn’t stopped talking about history.
+I think I’m glad we missed out on all of those wars,+ Sweep Five said. +All of those warbands sound like they were mostly unpleasant people. They would probably have wanted us to fight for them.+
And then Nine’s spectrometer returned a successful result. The silver wall did exist. It was underneath Iacon. Nine sent the coordinates to the others, since she had no idea about how to actually get underground. They probably wouldn’t have to dig, right?
“It’s in one of the old tunnels,” Divebomb said with a wince. “Ugh, yeah, send a team of fliers under ground. That sounds like a job exactly for us, huh?”
“Do you know an access?” Skyfire asked.
Divebomb nodded. “Yeah, it’s an old plaza built in Prime Nova’s time. It got built over later, but we should be able to get to it if we enter through the maglev station near the docks.” He was sounded more cheerful as he spoke, and by the end, he grinned. “Follow me. I think I know a shortcut. I found one this one time when I was chasing Scrounge - he’s dead - and he went in there, and I followed him.”
+Shoot me the next time I hear the words ‘I think I know a shortcut’,+ Nine grumbled. +We were last.+
Which might have been believable if she weren’t part of the hivemind, and so Scourge and the other Sweeps hadn’t been along for the scavenger hunt in her head, and felt her enjoyment. Even at the point where they found out that Divebomb’s shortcut didn’t exist anymore on account of having been thoroughly blown up. Or at the point where Nacelle’s attempt at leading them into a tunnel that would lead to the old plaza had lead them out into some Autobot hiding place from the war where someone called Tracks and his organic companion had amused themselves with decorating the walls with various insulting pictures of Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave and Shockwave.
+And you tell me after you’ve asked Cyclonus if he’s planning another one of those and signed yourself up for the other team building exercises?+ Sweep Two asked. +See, we should have asked them to get Sweep Eleven out instead. They are not nearly as excitable as Nine.+
+What you mean is they’re perpetually gloomy and hate fun,+ Scourge said. Nine, despite being rash and excitable, was observant and clever. And, most importantly, unlike Eleven for example, she was not actually that easy to sway. Eleven would have hated everything on principle – if Nine disliked something or someone, she had a reason other than its existence.
+Aww,+ Nine thought, pleased with Scourge’s reasoning. +So? Are you ready to take this treaty thingy and come out?+
+Er, there’s still Galvatron, and the fact that he’ll probably eventually break out,+ Sweep Two pointed out. +I think we should wait until after he does that. Maybe someone will shoot him?+
+We could shoot him,+ Nine thought. +No, hear me out! We can do it, probably. There’s one of him and a lot of us, and we’re also smarter than him—I mean we’re supposed to get smarter when there’s more of us and there’s definitely more of us than him, and from what you lot remember he’s mostly just “RARGH! SHOOT! SHOOT!”.+
That was admittedly a point. Galvatron was not what one might call a planner. But did it mean that the Sweeps could take him?
+Not in a fair fight,+ Sweep Five commented. +Maybe if we could ambush him?+
+Do we want to bet on maybe?+ Scourge thought, though he was starting to feel rather less opposed to the idea as they discussed it. +Starscream kept ambushing him and it never worked.+
+Yeah, that’s because this Starscream guy had too much ego and didn’t trust the other Seekers to actually plot with him,+ Sweep Two thought. +But actually, can’t we just convince Cyclonus to kill him for us? He almost managed once already.+
Scourge liked that idea even better, since it’d keep them all out of danger. Also, Cyclonus would probably like the challenge or something like that. Yeah. That was probably-
+Don’t you think Optimus Prime would be an even better bet?+ Sweep Five thought. Which yes, now that he mentioned it…
+We need to think about it,+ Scourge decided to a wave of affirmation from all the other Sweeps.
Scourge had been informed by his creator that military hardware was programmed to crave conflict. Which had been an obvious way to say Scourge and the Sweeps were glitchy, and sure, maybe they were, but at least they weren’t a Quintesson who thought programming war machines to enjoy fighting was a good idea.
It had seemed a little bit suicidal. A tiny bit.
Cyclonus certainly had been programmed like that, though. And apparently ‘enjoying conflict’ incorporated sports and that meant the next visit had the Sweeps listen in bewildered silence while Cyclonus explained cube to them.
“Is it a ball game?” Sweep Two asked. “I thought balls were supposed to be round.”
“Hush,” Sweep Three hissed. “I was thinking.”
“I know what you were thinking and it wouldn’t work,” Scourge said.
“You were trying to figure out how to cheat?” Cyclonus asked. “You know, you could agree to the terms of the treaty and see if you could on your own.”
So that had been the point.
“We’re fine,” Scourge said. It was a lie. After Cyclonus had called the cell a cage, it had felt confining and they did want to get out. But at the same time, admitting to Cyclonus that he’d been right, seemed even worse.
It looked like Cyclonus was about to argue for a moment, but then he seemed to reconsider.
“Well, think about it?” Cyclonus said.
This was getting unsettling. Cyclonus didn’t need to act nice. He could just tell Scourge he’d let them go if they told him whatever secrets he and the Sweeps had found out about Galvatron. And that would have been it.
Sweep Two wondered if maybe Cyclonus was practicing being patient on them, so he could do it later with more important people. Scourge thought they shouldn’t share the idea with Cyclonus–it sounded like something he’d get angry about.
“We’re fine,” Sweep Three repeated at Cyclonus’s back. It didn’t seem like he heard them–or more likely he just ignored it.
Once he was away, Sweep Two asked, “Do you think we should tell him about Galvatron and the d-net?”
“We’re not talking about it,” Scourge said.
But the thought stayed.
Chapter Text
It was a well-known fact that Swindle, if left alone to his devices, would come up with ten schemes in five seconds, steal someone’s parts and trade them on the black market, and then end up getting at least seven bystanders in trouble. Therefore, keeping Swindle occupied with something reasonably safe that would satisfy his criminal instincts was crucial to the running of Cybertronian society. As such, the fact that Swindle was put in charge of rebuilding the suborbital amusement park, which while not vital to Cybertron’s functioning was certainly a project that’d keep a bot occupied, was no surprise.
Naturally, the first thing Swindle did was rebuild the casino, which proved to everyone he needed an assistant. Someone with common sense, poise and impeccable business skills. Trickdiamond was just the bot for the job.
Sure, there had been some very minor details in her past that might seem to someone small-minded and unforgiving like she wasn’t the right candidate. There was the whole thing with working for Megaempress and the time she’d defrauded a whole planet, but Trickdiamond had grown as a person since then. She’d reflected on her past, forgiven herself and moved on.
And also, next time she wouldn’t get caught.
Right now though, Trickdiamond had her hands full. Three new bots should have been easy to manage, but they didn’t come unattended. They came with Bumblebee and Flamewar. The roundish innocent face could fool many, but Trickdiamond knew better - Bumblebee was a devious little monster. He’d show up, talk with the employees for a bit and all of a sudden there’d be a union forming, and there’d be demands for raises and Bumblebee would be right there, deploying the saddest littlest face of disappointment, and one couldn’t argue with that rationally.
Trickdiamond had authorized a round of wage raises and a benefit package preemptively.
Flamewar was not as devious, but what she lacked in a horrible combination of Autobot morality and the sneakiness of a master scout, she made up by the sheer amount of chaos she could generate by simply standing somewhere.
“Hey, that game is boring,” Flamewar said. “Windblade keeps winning.”
Which was a mystery, because as far as Trickdiamond could tell–and she had experience with that sort of thing–Windblade wasn’t cheating. She’d caught Static counting cards already and had to explain this was unacceptable.
“I don’t see why I can’t adjust the odds in my favour,” Static complained at Bumblebee. “Otherwise it’s in the favour of the casino. I think it’s only fair that I’m allowed to count cards. I shouldn’t be punished for being smart.”
Bumblebee nodded absent-mindedly as he looked at Windblade. Trickdiamond looked at her too and then something struck her.
“Hey, the paint around your eyes is glowing,” Trickdiamond said.
Windblade looked up at her, confused. The glow faded a moment later.
“Well, in any case, let’s try something else?” Trickdiamond said. There was a possibility that this Windblade had been equipped with similar systems to Perceptor. Now that was a bot no one wanted in a casino–the last time he’d been allowed into one, it went out of business on the same day.
+Trickdiamond, my beloved friend, can you send this Static to me?+ Swindle sent via internal comms.
Trickdiamond’s first instinct was to protest, but then a thought occurred to her. Counting cards wasn’t exactly forbidden. It just depended if you were working for the casino or not.
+Of course,+ she replied.
+And do find a way to discourage the lovely Windblade from playing anything else,+ Swindle added. +I want to stay in business.+
Flamewar was actually not fond of the casino at all. It had rules , the decor was all plush and rich, and it made her itch to break something, or paint something rude and funny on the walls, and Trickdiamond was all poised and polished, and Swindle was annoyingly over-frinedly, like he thought no one would notice he was a sneaky slime. And Bumblebee was an Autobot, which meant he thought fun was doing puzzles and holding hands with organics. Static had a chip on his shoulder the size of a planet. Windblade was another boring goody-good, and Wheelie was just plain weird.
So Flamewar had resolved to cause as many problems as possible–maybe some vandalism and property damage, when she heard them . The singer sounded like he was vomiting into the microphone. The drummer was trying to murder her set, clearly and one of the guitar players was playing with his teeth.
It was beautiful.
“Humans are awesome,” Flamewar said, awed.
Well, not all of them, of course. Most of them were boring little flesh-bags obsessed with rules and death, but clearly some of them got it . What It was, Flamewar had no idea, but well. That didn’t matter. She was experiencing It.
But unfortunately the band had to take a break, so Flamewar had to find something else to do in the excruciatingly mind-numbingly boring minutes between the last and the next number. She looked around, and then spotted Bumblebee and Windblade. They looked like they were looking for something–and there was Trickdiamond rushing around. Static and Wheelie were nowhere in sight.
Flamewar wondered if they maybe got into something interesting and worth investigating, but she didn’t think so. Well, maybe, if the band wasn’t there, she’d have investigated. But they were, and no one could expect her to look for some botling that rhymed when he got nervous, while there was-
And then Flamewar realized there was something much more important that she should find out. The band’s name! It would have been a disaster if she didn’t and then she wouldn’t be able to listen to them ever again, and she’d probably join Galvatron and his losers and paint herself completely grey because life would have been senseless.
“Hey, hey!” she yelled at the nearest human. “What was that band?”
“That’s Murder Art,” the human explained. “But if you want the real classic of deathcore, you should listen to the good stuff, like Antagony.”
So that was a whole style of human music like that. Honestly, Flamewar was really starting to understand why Autobots liked them so much, if they came up with music like this.
And she was going to share it with everyone .
Wheelie had very little experience with being bored, and he was finding he didn’t like it at all. Not one bit. The games in the casino were all stupid and everyone was treating them too seriously anyway. So he followed Flamewar, when she broke away from the group and went to listen to the entertainment.
Except that was no fun either. What was the point of songs where you didn’t understand the lyrics? So Wheelie left Flamewar to enjoy her weird terrible music, and went to look for something that was actually fun . He passed several tables with various organics and non-Transformer mechanicals, who were all very busy losing their money, until he reached the door.
Briefly, he thought about telling Bumblebee he was leaving to check out the amusement park, but he reconsidered. Windblade was enjoying herself and Static seemed to be having fun complaining too, but Bumblebee might decide they all needed to leave if Wheelie told him he wanted to go, so really the only right thing to do was to sneak out.
Once outside, he considered his choices. According to Trickdiamond, the amusement park had been much bigger before the war, but most of it had either been blasted into oblivion, fallen into disrepair or had been cannibalized into spare parts and since the repairs started only recently and were being funded entirely by Swindle, it was all going slowly.
The area around the casino had been cleared for use though, and it boasted a Holographic Hall of Horrors, rows upon rows of claw machines with various trinkets, concession stands with energon and organic treats and a race track that seemed to consist mostly of loops and serpentines.
“Aww, what do you mean the shooting range is closed, Hardtop?” a small teal Transformer grumbled at a purple and teal bigger Transformer.
“You’re the reason it’s closed, Moonracer,” Hardtop replied. “Well, it’s actually the time you cleared out all the prizes, and the time Arcee did it, and then Prime and Elita One did it too, so we kind of came to the conclusion that it might be a miiiiight easy for… well, basically everyone, and why don’t you try the race track?” He paused, and when it didn’t get the desired reaction, he continued. “Well, what about the roller coaster? We just finished repairing one of them, and it’s got Heatwave’s official stamp of approval. Not that any rumors of sub-optimal materials being used for repairs were ever true.”
Moonracer gave Hardtop a suspicious look, but let herself be directed towards the roller coaster. Wheelie followed–he had no idea what a roller coaster was, but it sounded like fun. And otherwise, he could maybe get into the race track.
Of course, if Starscream magnanimously agreed to work for Swindle it would only be a temporary arrangement. Starscream had bigger plans, but they would require time and planning. And getting rebuilt in secret. He wasn’t about to reveal himself by going to the med center with a picture of his old body and asking to be rebuilt into it, after all. And that meant, he’d have to bribe someone into keeping it secret, and that, in turn required a dedicated bribe fund.
Still, he couldn’t help but feel like all of this was beneath him. He was a scientist and Megatron’s second in command. Having to cheat organics out of their money for Swindle was really an insult of fate. But he had no other options.
Certainly, he wasn’t going to ask the other Seekers for help, when they apparently decided he was some sort of a narcissistic showboat. He’d remind them just exactly how amazing he was and then they’d come back crawling to him . And he certainly wasn’t going to ask Skyfire for help. That was utterly out of question. Skyfire had betrayed Starscream- Skyfire had betrayed- Skyfire and Starscream had had a terrible misunderstanding, which was no one’s fault and certainly not Starscream’s but Skyfire should apologize first.
But maybe he could get into his old hab unit and get his insurance recordings. Those would definitely be useful to have now, just in case he needed to remind someone they owed Starscream a few favours.
It was only after Static returned that Windblade and Bumblebee noticed that Wheelie was missing. It didn’t seem like anyone had noticed him leaving–Flamewar had been too busy with the concert and Static was certain he’d been there when he left to talk with Swindle.
And then, it happened again. Windblade had been thinking about Wheelie and suddenly she heard him in her head.
This is scary! And fun! I didn’t know things could be both oh wow we’re upside down-
Not that it helped her much–maybe if she could see what Wheelie was seeing- And all of a sudden she could.
Wheelie was in fact hanging upside down in a small wagon, along with a very noisy organic being. Below them, there was the amusement park–he could see how much of it was still closed now and under repair.
“I know where Wheelie is,” she said.
“How?” Static asked.
“Well, it’s kinda weird, but I think I can hear people’s thoughts,” Windblade replied.
“What? Can you hear mine? I don’t want you listening to my thoughts!” Static said quickly. It seemed like the idea upset him a lot.
“Not always, just when people are really excited or upset,” Windblade said. “I guess if I focused I could maybe hear them when they’re calm, but I never tried.”
“We can experiment with this later,” Bumblebee said. “I think it’s OK, if you pick something up on accident, but unless it’s an emergency you probably shouldn’t listen in without permission.” He gave Windblade a warm smile and patted Static’s shoulder. “So, where is Wheelie?”
Chapter Text
Nine liked the new Cybertron a lot more than the old. Yes, it was a mess, but it was their mess, which was a significant improvement over the Quintesson-imposed order. Scourge and the others claimed to disagree, but Nine didn’t believe them.
Predictable terribleness was still terribleness. And the new Cybertron came with the potential for things to be better, and with people who wanted things to be better.
+Look where it got them,+ Scourge thought. +Three civil wars.+
That was a point. The first war, according to Nacelle, broke out because Decepticons wanted to strike first before Cybertron could be attacked. Cyclonus had told Nine that Nacelle was glossing over and making the Decepticons sound better than they had been, but Nine thought there was something true to Nacelle’s explanation.
She knew that the other Sweeps would be in favour of anyone who’d tell them there was a reliable way of staying safe, even if it meant conquering other planets.
The second war broke out in full when the Autobots figured out how to successfully fight back. That was straightforward, too. But the reasons for the third one eluded her.
+It’s not just me, right? The final war broke out because this Megatron wanted a war,+ she thought.
+So? He wanted to rule an empire,+ Sweep Two thought. +That’s really, really common. You get plenty of war, because someone wants to rule an empire and convinces a bunch of people they want them to rule an empire.+
+Yes, but… he was stupid about it,+ Nine persisted. +I mean, he killed the previous Prime, but didn’t keep the Matrix. He appealed primarily to military hardware, and neglected consumer goods.+
+Decepticons and Autobots,+ Scourge corrected her.
+It’s not like there’s much difference,+ Nine replied.
+It makes sense though – Decepticons were already wanting to conquer,+ Sweep Five pointed out. And yet.
+He has a disruptor net,+ Sweep Two thought. +Did they build anyone else on Cybertron with a disruptor net?+
+He went along with a Quintesson plot just recently,+ Sweep Three added. +And he hardly ever goes along with anyone’s ideas.+
Scourge really didn’t like where they were going with this, but he also seemed to be more resigned.
+All right. Fine, I’ll talk with Cyclonus about this,+ he said.
Starscream had hoped for a distraction that would allow him to sneak into his apartment unnoticed, but eventually he had to admit to himself that waiting for one was not going to work. He had to chance entering it during a time when most bots would be busy and hope for the best. It’d have been easier if he hadn’t accepted Swindle’s offer to work in his casino, but that was not the main problem. The main problem was ditching Bumblebee, Windblade and Wheelie, when he was not working for Swindle. It seemed that Bumblebee decided he was his charge and Starscream had never known he was this persistent if he thought someone needed help. Which Starscream didn’t.
But eventually an opportunity presented itself to him. All he had to do was wait for another public military exercise, and then leave them at the arena.
And so, he slipped away unnoticed and found one of his hidden passages to his old hab suite. However, it turned out that it had been blocked, which told Starscream that his hab suite was now occupied. Still, he doubted whoever had moved in had managed to find all the hidden passages.
So he went to the next secret passage. It was less convenient, since the entrance was placed in a nearby crack in Cybertron’s surface. Had he still been able to fly, it’d be a trifle to get to the entrance. But he couldn’t, and so he had to climb down. And then, he had to climb back up through the tunnel, since his body also lacked anti-gravs. He really should have thought about the possibility that he couldn’t fly.
Idly, he wondered who it could be, as he climbed. There weren’t many who’d want to live in a dead bot’s hab suite. Shadow Striker, maybe? While she wasn’t a scientist, she was almost as rational as Starscream and didn’t believe in ghosts and apparitions.
Or perhaps it was Sixshot?
His musings came to an end at the secret door. And this one was not blocked off.
Cybertronians, as a rule, didn’t have the same needs when it came to private spaces as a lot of organic species did when they built their nests or dens. Some, in fact, were perfectly happy not having a hab suite at all. Others were fine with some form of a shared space.
But needs were one thing. Reasonable beings with a sense of their own worth were also aware of the importance of appearances and wants. So, when Starscream had designed his living space as the Decepticon Second in Command he’d made sure it both underscored his importance and was comfortable to the most important person in his life–himself.
And now someone had moved into it and ruined it all.
Yes, Starscream had been aware that it had happened on an intellectual level, but seeing it was a completely different thing. It was emptier, for one. Someone had gotten rid of all of Starscream’s belongings–they hadn’t kept even one of them. Starscream really couldn’t understand why.
Then, they had gone and had painted the walls and ceiling black. It was, according to Skyfire, something that people with space-worthy altmodes found soothing. Starscream didn’t. He found it absolutely hideous and depressing to boot.
There was hardly anything in the apartment. A few knives, which looked like they have been made with positively barbaric techniques. The first was only a knife in name and more of a sharp lump of metal. The others improved to looking useable. If one wanted to cut soft fruits. Then, there was a shelf with two objects.
“A skull?” Starscream said, incredulous as he stopped in front of the shelf.. “Really? You threw all the artwork I’ve collected–all perfectly tasteful and more importantly rare and you replaced it all with a skull ? Who does that?”
Then he took a better look at the second object. He knew what it was - kind of - some sort of golden Earth figurine vaguely shaped like a human woman that he remembered Skywarp had stolen from some collector or other.
“Oh come on!” he groaned. “You kept Skywarp’s scrap but got rid of everything that belonged to me?! How did you even get it?!”
The other point of interest was… a meditation space? Yes, that was that. They weren’t too common on Cybertron, but Starscream recognized it, because he’d seen one like that a long time ago, when they’d tried to catch Ultra Magnus at the start of the war.
It was fairly simple: a stand covered with a piece of fabric. On top, there was a light-globe. It all stood for something–some sort of ancient religion, but Starscream hadn’t bothered to find out more. He only knew Blitzwing had been very insistent they shouldn’t pull away the fabric, because it’d be bad luck.
“Superstitious balderdash,” Starscream said, pulling away the cover. Underneath, the stand’s surface was inscribed with neat rows of names, only two of which he recognized: Skywarp and Bombshell.
Starscream looked at the altar and something about it made him absolutely furious. It was as if whoever had moved in was rubbing it in that Starscream was forgotten. So, Starscream would hurt them back–the altar was right there. It was important for whoever had moved in here.
Starscream kicked it. It left a dent and scuffed a few of the names.
“You memorize all those… nobodies and you throw out everything that’d remind you of me ? Who were they anyway? I was Decepticon second in command!” He stared at his handy-work for a moment, and didn’t feel any better at all. For a moment, he thought about how Megatron would lash out most often when angry over some trifle. Starscream almost felt… bad.
So he kicked the stand again.
And then, he felt a hand close over his shoulder, his plate buckling under the force of the grip. Starscream let out an undignified yelp of pain and shock.
A deep voice laced with fury growled right into his audial sensor, “Now how did you make it out alive, Starscream?”
Windblade hadn’t noticed that Static disappeared until after the military exercise. She’d been quite fascinated by the complexity of the aerial maneuvers and somehow had completely missed the moment when Static went away. She wasn’t sure why he’d left either - he hadn’t mentioned he had anything to do.
“Let’s look for him,” Bumblebee said, “before he finds trouble.” He fell silent and after a moment said, “Weird. I can’t raise him on the comms. Let me check with Swindle.”
But Swindle was quite insistent that Static was not doing anything for him at the moment, so they tried to look for him around the arena. But he was nowhere to be found. Eventually, they stopped next to one of the stands selling Energon treats.
“I can try if I can find him?” Windblade offered. “Like I did with Wheelie before”
“All right. Go for it,” Bumblebee said.
Which was easier said than done–so far she’d only picked up thoughts of people nearby. But there was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to find Static?
So she listened, trying to catch Static’s mental voice from the noise around her.
PAIN How does he know? Quickly, deny. This was a bad idea.
And there was Static–quite panicked but not appearing to be in direct danger. Windblade tried to find out a bit more and tried to look through Static’s eyes.
The first thing she saw was a face–a face that she vaguely recognized. One of the two bots who were leading the teamwork training with the Decepticons. Cyclonus. A very, very angry Cyclonus, judging by the snarl.
“-not Starscream, I swear,” Starscream was saying. Cyclonus had lifted him off the ground with one hand.
“One, you’re just convincing me more that you are in fact Starscream, somehow,” Cyclonus said, sounding like someone who was considering how many limbs he can rip off in one go. “Two, do you really think this is something I care about right now?”
Starscream glanced behind himself, at a stand with a light and a cover. It looked dented.
“I tripped,” Starscream said, looking back towards Cyclonus. His answer only warranted a look full of disdain. “I’ll fix it!”
“No,” Cyclonus said, dropping Starscream from his grip. “You will not. This is not something you can fix.”
Starscream picked himself up and said, “You’re being rather dramatic, it’s just dented. Of course I can-”
“You mistake my meaning,” Cyclonus growled. “You will not fix my altar, because if you try to touch it, I will rip off your arms. Do you understand?”
“But what do you want me to do then?” Starscream said. “I said I’m sorry!”
“You aren’t though,” Cyclonus replied. “You’re upset because nobody cared to remember you like that.”
Windblade pulled away from Static–or Starscream–and hesitated. She was fairly sure that Static–Starscream?--was not in danger–he was clearly more upset at being caught than afraid for his life, but making sure wouldn’t hurt, right? She reached out towards Cyclonus and-
A pathetic creature not worth the anger he was feeling right now. He wasn’t even trying to fight, to argue back - he just sought blindly for something to say that would - what? Magically calm Cyclonus down? HE’D DAMAGED THE STAND- and he was too pathetic to stay angry at. It was infuriating.
Windblade pulled back again.
“He’s in trouble, but not in danger,” Windblade said. “It’s… it’s confusing.”
Bumblebee sighed. “Lead on. Let’s see if we can get him out of trouble.”
Windblade nodded. She didn’t think Static- Starscream needed saving, but maybe he needed friends?
Newly built bots tended to get into all sorts of interesting trouble, especially if they had certain inclinations. And while Static wasn’t exactly new-new, he clearly had the certain inclination all right. Why on Cybertron he’d break into Cyclonus’s apartment remained a puzzle to Bumblebee, but that was a question for later.
Right now, he needed to make sure no one did anything they’d regret later.
So he pressed the buzzer and waited in front of the door. It wooshed open a few moments later, and Bumblebee was greeted by the sight of Cyclonus, looking like a thundercloud, and Static, who appeared to want to melt into the floor. They were far too late to keep him out of trouble then.
“Hi Cyclonus,” Bumblebee said. “I hope Static didn’t get into too much trouble?”
“Static, hm?” Cyclonus said ominously. Bumblebee had to give it to him, he was quite gifted when it came to sounding ominous. “Is that what he said his name was? Why don’t you introduce yourself properly?”
“He thinks of himself as Starscream,” Windblade said. “But I wasn’t sure if it’s true or maybe something went wrong with his personality upload, since Bumblebee said he was dead.”
“It’s a bit of a mystery,” Cyclonus replied. “But I’ve been told Starscream was crafty. Maybe he had a hologram at the ready, and ran away like that before Galvatron shot him.” He glared at Static- Starscream and added, “Or maybe you’re right, and something went wrong during the personality upload. It doesn’t matter really, because I don’t care who he is. I care about what he did.”
“I said I’m sorry! I really am!” Static slash Starscream said, sounding very much like Starscream when he’d been caught. “And look, the download wasn’t faulty, and there were no holograms, I really did die! And then I didn’t have a body, so I snuck into one of the ones you make for the bots from Unicron that you don’t know, and er… It was all very traumatic and you threw all of my things out, so I got a little bit upset! That’s just it! I didn’t mean to upset you!” Then he looked at Cyclonus’s face, and seemed to reconsider something he said, because he added, “I mean, ok, I might have meant to upset whoever was living here, but also I didn’t realize the altar was that important to you, because no one has those anymore except Blitzwing and maybe Ultra Magnus, and um…”
Cyclonus’s face went through several expressions - most of them angry, until he settled on irritated. “You were dead,” he said flatly, “and got better. That is such a moronic lie, I don’t think you could have made it up.”
“Yes! I’m stupid!” Starscream said.
Cyclonus growled something that Bumblebee had heard Impactor yell when he was faced with something really implausible or annoying. It was some ancient curse, something to do with some holy mammaries of some long-forgotten goddess. “According to what I’ve heard of you, you’re not stupid, Starscream. Do not try this with me ever again - I am not Megatron and I find it insulting when you act like I need to be appeased as if I’m incapable of controlling my temper.”
He then looked at Bumblebee and added, “He’s a Decepticon. I should take him to Shockwave.”
“No!” Starscream protested instantly. “You can’t, he’ll vivisect me!”
“Knowing Shockwave, if he hears he came back from the dead, he will definitely be tempted,” Bumblebee added. “We should take him to Optimus first. Even if he’s really Starscream, he doesn’t deserve that.”
“No, I suppose not,” Cyclonus said. “We should be better than the Quintessons. Very well. Let’s take him to Optimus Prime.”
Chapter Text
Nothing had gone as Starscream had planned. He didn’t get to reveal himself on his own terms, and instead had been outed–and had to hope that the Prime was feeling merciful. Which, yes, fine, he usually was, but there were limits to that. Starscream had seen what happened when those limits were crossed in the aftermath of Megatron’s attack on the shuttle.
And while back then the Prime’s fury had been focused on Megatron, Starscream had been involved. He was the one who had killed Brawn, and wounded Ratchet and Ironhide. He stood by when Megatron finished Ironhide off.
He let Megatron kill one of the Prime’s closest advisors. That was not something that the Prime would have forgotten. Or forgiven.
Besides, he was aware that even before, he was among the least popular Decepticons. He knew that with some others, there had been secret offers of help if Megatron had grown too cruel - there was Catilla, for example, who had in fact taken up such an offer and defected. Starscream had never received any such offer.
Not that he’d accept one, of course. But he still made note of it, because it meant he was really, really unpopular with the Autobots. Though why that was, he really couldn’t say. It wasn’t like he ever did anything that unreasonable.
Yes, sure, he had helped Megatron kill Sentinel Prime, but nobody knew about that, other than Soundwave. And Megatron had taken care of that - Soundwave would never betray Megatron’s secrets after being treated with the Robosmasher.
It couldn’t be about Skyfire - the Autobots had disliked him long before that came to light. And naturally, they’d blown it out of proportion.
Starscream might have lied, but it was only for Skyfire’s good. Nothing would have gone wrong, if Skyfire had just accepted Starscream’s lead. But no, he had to go and get upset over shooting humans–who were terrible little creatures anyway and it was a clear sign that Autobot programming was faulty, if they enjoyed their company.
And yes, he also might have attempted to kill Skyfire a little bit, but honestly who could expect him not to get a tiny bit emotional when his long lost partner chose some human over Starscream? A teensy tiny collision in mid-air was understandable in a situation like this. And anyway, he hadn’t killed Skyfire, so really there was no harm done.
Really, he was drawing a blank about what it could be. Yes, sure, he shot some Autobots, but they were at war. They were usually shooting back. Unless they couldn’t or weren’t armed, but that was their own fault for being unprepared.
It was probably something to do with organics.
“I see why you have come to me, before you have informed Shockwave,” the Prime said to Bumblebee and Cyclonus. Bumblebee still looked so disappointed as if Starscream had personally stolen his favourite gun. Cyclonus still looked angry. Clearly, unlike Starscream, some people tended to over-react. “I’ll ask Perceptor and Ratchet to examine Starscream–Shockwave should be satisfied with them conducting the research.”
“Can you ask Skyfire to join them?” Starscream said and froze up. Why would he ask for that? Skyfire was an astrophysicist, not a mechanic like Ratchet, or an overachiever like Perceptor. Besides, Starscream didn’t really want to talk to Skyfire. It wouldn’t achieve anything, only make him feel bad.
“I will inform Skyfire you’re alive,” the Prime said. “And he will decide if he wishes to speak with you or not.”
Starscream was suddenly, uncomfortably reminded of a conversation he had once with Sentinel Prime over Meteorfire. He’d used the same words then–and Meteorfire had never spoken to Starscream again.
There was a saying about wishes being granted that probably applied right now. Starscream wasn’t sure what had possessed him to ask the Prime to get Skyfire, but it was clear as day that it had been a mistake. Not because Skyfire was going to hurt Starscream or anything like that - Skyfire was still Skyfire, and that meant being ridiculously soft, but because Skyfire looked so very disappointed to see him.
Shouldn’t he be at least a little bit happy that Starscream was alive? Surely, the whole matter in the Arctic wasn’t so bad that Skyfire would have forgotten the good times they shared. And also, he was the one who betrayed Starscream, so really it was Starscream who had every right to be disappointed in him . .
But! He did come. That was something. So maybe he did still care a little bit.
Was that what Starscream had hoped for? He wasn’t sure. He also had no idea what he should say. Perceptor and Ratchet flanking Skyfire like some sort of honour guard weren’t helping him find the right words either. Not with both of them looking extremely judgy.
“I have things to do, Starscream,” Skyfire said, in a tone that was rather cold. When nothing was forthcoming, he sighed and added. “I suppose expecting an apology was too much. Please don’t bother me until you’re ready to deliver one.”
“Wait, wait!” Starscream said. “I didn’t do anything that terrible! I was just trying to protect you, it’s not my fault you went and had to save worthless little fleshbags.”
Skyfire gave Starscream a Look and said, “Just when I thought you couldn’t disappoint me anymore, Starscream. And if you thought I’d let someone hurt those weaker than them, just because they’re weaker, then I don’t think you ever bothered to learn anything about me.”
“But Megatron would have-” Starscream started to say, when Skyfire shook his head.
“Megatron is not the reason we’re having this conversation, you are,” Skyfire said. “Megatron was not the one who crashed into me. You did. You chose power over me. You chose power over kindness. I hope you can learn to be better, but until then I don’t think I particularly want to be around you.”
And then he turned to Perceptor and Ratchet, and said in his usual tone - the nice warm one, “Do you need me for anything here?”
“No, no,” Perceptor said. “It’s fine, we can handle this on our own. Are you OK?”
And he patted Skyfire’s arm consolingly. “Thank you, I’ll be fine,” Skyfire replied and turned to leave, and all that Starscream had was some sort of terrible feeling of which he wasn’t sure what it was. Try as he might, he couldn’t convince himself that Skyfire was all wrong and that he didn't really need him.
Skyfire had asked Nine and Metalhawk to wait for him, while he saw someone. Nine thought he sounded both worried and hopeful, but he didn’t say what it was about. So when he came back looking dejected, she wondered if she should ask him about what happened. This really wasn’t something she was used to - she and the Sweeps couldn’t help but know what was bothering one another.
“Skyfire! What happened?” Metalhawk asked, since he apparently had no compunctions about being direct.
+You normally don’t either,+ Scourge pointed out, because some bots had no sense of when to shut up.
“It’s a long story,” Skyfire said. “To make it short: I had a friend once, before the war. On a research trip, I ended up trapped in ice for millions of years. When he found me again, he was a Decepticon and he lied to me to make me join them, too. And then, when I realized what the Decepticons were really like, he tried to kill me.”
Metalhawk gasped. “That’s terrible!”
“I thought he was dead - that Megatron had killed him,” Skyfire continued. “But that wasn’t the case, it turns out. And he wanted to see me now. I thought he might have finally realized that he was wrong and would apologize, but all he had to say was that he didn’t do anything that bad.”
Which was certainly a really good reason to feel gloomy.
Metalhawk patted Skyfire’s wing and said, “I’m sure he’ll realize eventually that he’s wrong and apologize.”
“I don’t know,” Skyfire said, still dejected.
+Tell him that it’s not the important thing,+ Scourge thought.
+He can’t change his friend,+ Sweep Two added. +Metalhawk doesn’t understand that.+
“Maybe he won’t,” Nine said, the words coming not just from herself, but from the other Sweeps. This was something they were intimately familiar. Stuck in each other’s heads as they were, they couldn’t just decide to never speak with each other again over something. “You know him best, so you also can probably guess best if he will ever apologize and realize he was in the wrong. And if you think that he won’t, then you have to decide if you think this matters to you more than whatever else you’re getting out of your friendship.”
“You can’t say he won’t ever realize that,” Metalhawk protested. “If he cares about Skyfire, then he must care about hurting him.”
“Yes, sure, he probably does, but…” Nine hesitated, not sure how to explain. Sweep Three thought about Sweep Six then, and Nine knew what to say again. “Sometimes there are things you know, but you can’t accept. And the only way you can deal with them is to pretend they didn’t happen or pretend they weren’t that bad. And you can’t make him not be like that. So you can either decide not be friends anymore, and stay away, or accept that the apology might never happen and the rest of the friendship is worth it.”
“You’re probably right,” Skyfire said. “I don’t think I can expect Starscream to admit he was wrong.”
“You don’t have to decide now either,” Nine added, because Scourge just reminded her that Skyfire didn’t have their problem. “You can take your time and keep avoiding your friend for a few million years, and hey, maybe it turns out that Metalhawk is right and he will eventually figure out how to not be a ruststain of a friend.”
Skyfire chuckled weakly. “Thank you. I think I should take some time to figure this out.”
Starscream was moping. He was perfectly aware he was moping, but really what else was he supposed to do? Skyfire hadn’t done whatever it was that Starscream had hoped he’d do. No one threw him a parade on his return.
And worse of all, he was going to have to deal with the consequences of his actions.
“That is fascinating ,” Perceptor said. “His mind pattern and memories must have also been stored in his spark somehow. I didn’t know they could do it.”
“There’s nothing in Shockwave’s research either,” Ratchet said. “And he definitely experimented on sparks.”
At which point both Perceptor and Ratchet looked at Starscream very judgingly, like he was somehow responsible for the fact that Shockwave flunked his ethics classes.
“What about the Unicron survivors?” Starscream asked. Sure, it was far outside his domain, but he was a scientist and he wasn’t about to just sit there and let Ratchet and Perceptor act like they were the only ones with clever ideas about sparks. “Do any of them remember being Unicron?”
“No,” Ratchet said. “At the risk of inflating your ego more, it seems like you’re a unique case.”
“Yes,” Starscream replied. “But I’d prefer to be unique in a way that does not come with the risk of Shockwave dissecting me and experimenting on my spark.”
Not dying wasn’t bad, although it’d have been nice if he didn’t remember how dying felt.
“I think a second survey wouldn’t hurt, just in case some memories have resurfaced with time for the survivors,” Perceptor said, as he typed rapidly on a tablet. His microscope remained focused on Starscream, which meant he was taking readings. What readings though were anyone’s guess–Perceptor probably had a scanner for everything, including finding out what type of mold grew on unattended human clothes. “Fascinating. There’s actually something atypical about the energy signature of his spark–the wave-length is partially out of phase with reality.”
Starscream and Ratchet exchanged equally baffled looks.
“I think I’d like to take you to some locations on Earth,” Perceptor continued. “I’ve seen similar readings in places where ghosts appear.”
“GHOSTS?!” Starscream yelled, getting up. “Oh no! Absolutely not. I’m probably already cursed, I don’t need to get more cursed because I offend a dead organic!”
“What is it with Decepticons and ridiculous superstitions?” Ratchet asked. “The only reason a ghost might be targeting you is because you harmed it in life, Starscream.” He paused. “I suppose that does mean that there’s a number of ghosts who used to be organics you harmed…”
“How does that even work?” Starscream groaned, slumping in his chair miserably. Great, not only did Skyfire hate him, and Shockwave wanted to dissect him, but also there were organic ghosts after him. Oh, and he was probably cursed because of course the nonsense about veils Blitzwing believed in was true. “Organics don’t have sparks. They’re creepy little carbon-based automata, whose actions only have the goal of propagating their DNA.”
Perceptor gave him a very patient look. Starscream had forgotten that one, but it was supremely annoying - it was the look Perceptor had when he remembered he was the smartest person in the room and he had to dumb everything down for his audience.
“They have sparks,” he said matter-of-factly. “You just can’t see them because they’re out of phase with reality–how they’re linked to the mind of an organic is actually quite fascinating.” Then he patted Starscream’s shoulder. “You should start studying it, since your spark has similar characteristics.”
Starscream stared at him in abject horror, not sure what terrified him more: that he had something in common with humans, or that organics were actually people .
Chapter Text
Just six months ago, Slipstream would have been happy to see Starscream alive and would have turned command of the Seekers over to him without question (though not without grumbling). But six months ago, Night Witch and Doom Siren would have probably tried to shoot Slipstream on sight, and she had to worry about Megatron.
And whose fault was it that the Seekers had joined a megalomaniac with a hair-trigger temper?
Not to mention, putting Starscream back in charge would undoubtedly mean she and the others would end up involved in twelve schemes to usurp Shockwave or Cyclonus, and that would upset the fragile peace, and this was the last thing anyone wanted.
In short, Slipstream was technically happy Starscream was alive and all, but also had no intention of stepping down as the leader of the Seekers.
“What are they doing here?!” Starscream exclaimed, as soon as he saw Doom Siren and Night Witch flanking Slipstream. “They’re traitors!”
“He does not like us,” Doom Siren said.
“Tragic,” Night Witch replied. Then they both started sniggering.
“They’re my team, Starscream,” Slipstream said, firmly.
“And only Seekers who can cooperate,” Night Witch added. “Others need example to learn.”
“Anyway,” Slipstream said, before Starscream got himself worked up, “it’s lovely of you to offer, but I’ve got everything under control. You can… focus on yourself. I’m sure dying is very traumatic, so you could maybe take a few hundred years to come to terms with this? We’ll visit you and bring you energon treats.”
“I wouldn’t say traumatic ,” Starscream said, and Slipstream congratulated herself on averting a possible meltdown. “But it was a bit upsetting.”
“We’d never forgive ourselves if you’d push yourself too much for us,” Slipstream continued. Sure, she was laying it on thick, but this was Starscream. If you wanted him to do something, it was best to ply him with flattery. “Besides, we’re at peace now. We do nothing but routine patrols and exercise. Nothing that’d require your leadership.”
“Oh will you stop coddling him?” Doom Siren groaned. “We don’t want you back, Starscream. None of us. Slipstream’s just too afraid you’ll throw a fit if she tells you. But you know what? I’m not and I’m not going to let you think you have a chance. You were the worst leader the Seekers could have had. You put them all under Megatron and stayed a Decepticon until he killed you.
You got Thundercracker, Skywarp, Dirge, Ramjet and Thrust killed. You voted for them to be tossed into space rather than being brought to Cybertron for repairs!”
“Megatron-” Starscream started, but Slipstream realized that Doom Siren was right. She was coddling Starscream. Yes, it was easier, but she was the leader of the Seekers now. It was her job to look out for them now, and Starscream was a Seeker. He needed to know why they were turning him down, so he could learn.
“Doom Siren’s right,” she said. “I’m sorry. I should have told you this from the start: we don’t want you back. You care too much about yourself and not enough about us to be a good leader. Don’t ask again. This is final.”
“Fine!” Starscream yelled. “I don’t need you!” And stalked out, before Slipstream could finish.
“I was going to tell him I’d be there for him,” she said.
Night Witch patted her shoulder. “He will crawl back to you. He is like infection. He comes back when you least want.”
“He wasn’t that bad, before we joined the Decepticons,” Slipstream said, surprised at how defensive she sounded.
“Not that bad, no,” Doom Siren said. “But bad enough.”
Slipstream almost protested reflexively, but instead thought about Meteorfire. How he had left, because Starscream would always throw a fit if he ever tried to do things he liked. And then he thought about Lyzack and Leozack, and how Esmeral had defended them against Megatron.
“Yes, I suppose he was,” she said. “Come on. It’s time for a boring patrol.”
Scourge didn’t know what exactly he’d expected Soundwave to be like. Airachnid had told him how he used to be a big time information broker before the war, but also how Soundwave was Megatron’s most loyal follower, and how in turn his infiltration troopers were so very devoted to him.
Several of them were not with Soundwave. Instead, the Sweeps picked up their signatures outside. That in itself was not a reason to be suspicious, but the fact none of them came to visit was. It was not what they had expected - Soundwave and his infiltration troopers were a team. A team stuck together. If it didn’t there had to be a reason for it.
True, they had never had any intention to break Galvatron out, and accepting the treaty seemed more and more tempting with every day Nine was out there. But it never hurt to be cautious, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to find out more about Soundwave and any potential problems he or his infiltration troopers might cause.
+Why aren’t Ravage and Lazerbeak with you?+ he asked, deciding to leave the other question, the loaded one for later.
It took them quite a while to find a frequency they could use to reach outside of the cell, but they’d eventually found one.
+They are traitors,+ Soundwave replied with quite a lot of force and vitriol.
It was also completely unilluminating. Did it mean they decided the other side looked better than sitting in a cage, but might still pass on information to Soundwave? Probably not, given how hateful Soundwave sounded about them, but who knew. Relationships rarely were symmetrical.
+OK, so don’t get angry, but I’ve got to ask,+ Scourge said. +We picked up readings that correspond to several of your infiltration troopers outside. Except, according to what we know, one of them was killed by Autobots. So why is it that we’re picking up Glit?+
The memories that Scourge and the Sweeps retained from Thundercracker and the others didn’t include the emotions connected to them. But Scourge didn’t need those to make a guess–Glit might have been constructed as an infiltration trooper, but he was a medic first and foremost. And most damningly, he insisted on helping anyone wounded, regardless of faction.
The Autobots wouldn’t have killed him.
But there was someone else who might have tried…
+Sometimes, sacrifices must be made,+ Soundwave replied. +Megatron… has a temper and Glit should have known better than to aid the enemy. But Ravage and Lazerbeak wouldn’t understand. They are immature. They don’t understand how the universe works. It was better they believed Glit was dead.+
+Lest they wonder who you will sacrifice to appease Megatron next?+ Sweep Two asked.
The connection cut off abruptly.
+Guess that answers Two’s question, huh?+ Nine thought.
Chapter Text
Starscream had been a scientist before he’d been a warrior. He’d carried that with him too, made sure to be rational and follow the scientific principle when it applied. It had occasionally earned him Megatron’s ire, but that was simple jealousy: Megatron envied Starscreams education.
Oh sure, Megatron could come up with very clever devices, but it was more like… a savant? He’d just build a thing with a goal in mind, and no understanding of what he was actually doing, and then wouldn’t be able to reproduce the result. Starscream might not have been able to just sit down and tinker up a mind control device that’d turn, say, Earth cattle into frenzied beasts, but what he could do was sit down, do the math, make a blueprint and then build an exact copy of his null ray. Megatron, on the other hand, could never reproduce any of his inventions, no matter how useful it’d have been to have a copy.
As long as he’d been under Megatron’s command, he’d found this frustrating and unfair, but now that he was dealing with Perceptor he was actually starting to realize how it might have looked from the other side.
Starscream was an astrophysicist. He understood physics and could do complex calculations even without the specialized processors that his old body had. (His current body would overheat eventually, which was a nuisance.) But there were things where he started to have problems conceptualizing. And they’d landed right there, in the field of complex quantum mechanics, and Starscream’s body was overheating, and his calculation software was starting to just throw errors instead of actually calculating.
“So, can you explain to me, again, just what are you hoping to find out?” Starscream asked, testily. “My spark is out of phase with reality. Partially. What else do you want to know?”
Ratched made a disgusted noise. “We have to know how exactly this is affecting it. There could be long lasting consequences to your health.”
Starscream huffed. “Well, maybe if I were a weak Autobot, that’d be the case, but I’m a Decepticon warrior. Minor inconveniences like that won’t affect me.”
Ratched made another disgusted noise.
“I think it’s time for a break,” Perceptor said.
Starscream wasn’t about to admit how relieved he was - he really didn’t like feeling inadequate.
“This would be much easier, if we’d rebuild my actual body,” he said. “I don’t understand why I have to wait.”
“Don’t understand or don’t want to understand?” Ratchet asked, giving him an irritated look.
“Well, it’s obvious why rebuilding my body should take priority,” Starscream said. “It was built both for excellent combat performance-”
“You mean excellent running away from combat performance?” Ratchet snorted. Starscream ignored him pointedly.
“-as well as performing complex mathematics,” he continued. “Which is required here.”
“Oh don’t worry, I already did all of the calculations required,” Perceptor said. “All you will need to do is follow my instructions.”
Starscream wondered how many times he’d be interrupted. “And once we’re done, I could return to leading the Seekers, which I’m better suited to than Slipstream, because I have more experience.”
Yes, it’d require convincing Cyclonus, but surely, this had to be possible. Starscream just had to find a way to do it, even if it looked about as easy as finding leverage on Ultra Magnus.
“You realize why we can’t just rebuild your body, right?” Ratchet said. “Why we have to rebuild the Unicron survivors one by one? It’s because of the war. You–and yes, I mean specifically you, Megatron’s Second in Command–used up so many resources on trying to murder us, we’re still barely scraping by. We’re only managing because we–you know, the people you have been trying to murder for millions of years–have been building up good will with other species. Often times, species you were trying to destroy or enslave. And now you have the gall to complain that we’re not falling over ourselves to do cosmetic improvements on you, while others are stuck without a body at all? Do you even hear yourself?”
Starscream’s first instinct was to argue. All Autobots had to do for there not to be a civil war was to accept Decepticon rule. Except, somehow thinking like that wasn’t coming as easy to him as it had before. Because now he kept thinking about how miserable being a Decepticon would have made Skyfire. How miserable it had made Starscream.
Perceptor and Ratchet looked at each other, puzzled.
“Did you actually make him feel guilty?” Perceptor asked.
It wasn’t that Scourge thought Cyclonus had forgotten about them, or that he finally had had enough, just when they decided to take the deal, but he definitely felt a little relieved when he saw Cyclonus enter the hallway. What he also felt was apprehensive: what if talking about Quintessons would make them come back?
It was not rational, he knew that, but he couldn’t help the fear gnawing at him.
“We can still change our minds,” Sweep Five said.
“No, we’re not changing our minds,” Scourge replied, trying to sound confident like a proper leader.
“What are you not changing your minds about?” Cyclonus asked, as he approached. He seemed to be curious, and not annoyed. Sweep Two wondered if he would get angry if they asked him how it felt to discover other emotions than anger existed. Sweep Five thought that was a bit unfair. But only a bit. Sweep Nine thought they should ask him - the worst he’d do was yell a bit and maybe pout. Scourge thought that putting Cyclonus and pout in the same sentence was asking for trouble.
“About telling you something we know about Galvatron,” Scourge said. “He was built by the Quintessons. He had to be–he has a disruptor net.”
Cyclonus recoiled, but quickly gathered himself. His expression turned a businesslike angry at the mention of Quintessons.
“He has a what and why does it mean he was built by Quintessons?” Cyclonus asked.
“Do you remember when Unicron caused him immense pain, when he’d resist him?” Sweep Five said.
“That was the disruptor net,” Sweep Two continued. “It heats up, disrupting your sensory systems. The Quintessons used to install them on military hardware.”
“Not in my time,” Cyclonus replied, still businesslike and focused. “Go on.”
“We had disruptor nets,” Scourge said. “Unicron reconstructed our new bodies without those, and we think he would have equipped us and you with them, if he knew how to create them. Galvatron’s must have been from before he was reformatted.”
“And the story of how he was constructed makes no sense,” Sweep Three joined in. “Everyone says he was built by the Constructions, but they were Autobots back then. Why would they build a leader who’d unite the Decepticons?”
Cyclonus crossed his arms over his chest with a distant look on his face. He stood silently like this for a while, before saying, “Plausible. Megatron unified the Decepticons–something none of the previous leaders had managed. His war destabilized Cybertron much more significantly than the other two…”
“Sweep Nine thinks it’s strange he didn’t take the Matrix after he killed Sentinel Prime,” Scourge added.
“She’s right,” Cyclonus said, nodding. “Taking the Matrix would ensure no new Prime could succeed Sentinel.”
“And the raid on Tlalakan wasn’t his idea,” Scourge said. “He was hired by Quintessons.” When Cyclonus nodded without any signs of surprise, Scourge continued. “He accepted almost right away. That’s weird - normally he won’t accept anyone else’s ideas unless they convince him it was their own.”
“That does sound like they built him,” Cyclonus said. “They built him, programmed him and sent him to destabilize Cybertron… But why?”
“Well, it was millions of years ago,” Scourge said. “Maybe they thought they still had a chance to retake Cybertron if it’s weakened by a civil war?”
Cyclonus nodded slowly. “That makes some sense at least. All right. I believe you - what next?”
The Sweeps looked at one another, trying to figure out an answer. Nine was outside, and clearly doing well. She liked Skyfire and Metalhawk. Scourge thought they could trust Cyclonus too. And if the Quintessons were meddling…
“Maybe we’re not ever going to be safe,” he said. “So… we’ll accept the treaty. Join you. I think hiding behind you is safer than in a cell anyway.”
That got a surprised chuckle from Cyclonus. “Your wings will stick out.”
And then, just as things for a moment seemed to be turning out well, Sweep Three noticed something: Soundwave was no longer in his cell. Worse, he couldn’t locate him. The other Sweeps quickly joined him in scanning for Soundwave, and found they had the same problem.
“Uh… Cyclonus? Soundwave’s not in his cell,” Scourge said.
“Frag, we need to find him,” Cyclonus replied. “Can you do it?”
“We can’t right now, but maybe when we’re outside?” Scourge answered.
Cyclonus nodded, and reached up to the panel next to their cell. The security field came down a moment later.
“Let’s go,” Cyclonus said. “Armada is waiting for us outside.”
Chapter Text
Galvatron didn’t understand how he could have been this humiliated. True, his troops were pathetic, but he was their leader. Surely, that had to make up for their failures. And yet, he was in a cell on Cybertron now, awaiting trial, as if things like Autobot law applied to him.
The further the joke, the crimes that he was going to be tried for were the murder of Sentinel Prime - which was a farce: he’d dueled him (so what if he cheated?), not properly declaring war (apparently, he was supposed to present a formal declaration to Sentinel Prime?!), the use of the Robosmasher (everyone should be grateful for that, he made Soundwave into a productive member of society!) and killing various organics (having spent a few minutes as an organic, Galvatron was of the opinion that killing them was a mercy. Being organic was disgusting ).
Still, if anyone expected him to take all of this quietly, they were mistaken. He would break out.
Once again, Galvatron raised his cannon and fired at the containment field. As with the times before, the field absorbed the energy. Galvatron’s fingers were numb by now and the area under the cannon was burning hot and painful. But he wasn’t going to stop. Not until he was free.
He fired the cannon again, and a sharp spike of pain exploded from his arm into his chest. Galvatron stumbled to his knees. Warnings flashed - his diagnostics were telling him that his internal power plant was close to meltdown.
“You look like you need some help,” someone said. Galvatron looked up. There was a Quintesson there. It looked like the two from before: it too had a big head. And with it there were Wingthing and Soundwave. “Now, you have cost my colleagues an operation. But fortunately for you, we managed to acquire information that has made me quite glad.”
It smiled. There was something off about it–the Quintesson’s face was looking at Galvatron, but the smile wasn’t aimed at him.
“Now, I know, I know, you don’t think I’d help you simply because you inconvenienced my colleagues and I learned that my creations are exceeding expectations,” the Quintesson continued. “That is absolutely true.” And now its smile was aimed at Galvatron. He didn’t like it. It reminded him too much of how Airachnid looked at her playthings. “I think it’s important that we’re honest with each other. Do you know of the Autobot Matrix of Leadership?”
“Yes, of course,” Galvatron said, puzzled and impatient. He needed to be out, to do something. And here was this creature, prattling at him as if whatever it said mattered. “The Primes carry it. Autobots believe it contains the wisdom of all previous Primes. Or maybe of all the dead. It’s nonsense of course - the dead are dead. But it does make Primes more powerful.”
“Indeed, indeed,” the Quintesson said. “Didn’t it ever strike you as strange that there is only one artifact like that, and yet Cybertron has two distinct factions?”
Galvatron nodded. That was strange, wasn’t it?
“That’s because there is a second, Decepticon Matrix of Leadership,” the Quintesson continued. “Long ago, the Autobots hid it, for fear of what you might achieve with it.”
“WHERE IS IT?!” Galvatron roared. Of course! Of course there had to be a twin to the Autobot Matrix. And once he had it, he’d be undefeatable. Yes, yes. That made perfect sense. In fact, it was quite poetic that he’d learn of it in his supposed hour of humiliation. He’d rise from the ashes of his defeat, glorious and powerful, and undefeated once more.
Prime would fall beneath his feet - maybe he’d keep him alive to watch the galaxy burn?
“Wingthing has found it,” the Quintesson said, reaching out with a tentacle to stroke the infiltration trooper’s head tenderly. “Such a clever little thing, isn’t he? He’ll lead you to it.” Then it turned to Soundwave and said, “I’m sure you can figure out how to break your glorious leader out without my help, can’t you Soundwave?”
“Affirmative,” Soundwave said. “Extempaxia: can leave.”
The Quintesson floated away, but Galvatron paid it no heed anymore. He was too busy planning his future triumph.
Extempaxia had run many an experiment with military hardware. In fact, she had very fond memories of some of her test subjects. Therefore, she’d admit to a scientific interest in the Galvatron case study, more specifically as to the cause for his obvious and sudden mental instability. She hadn’t been the one who programmed Megatron, but she knew the tests had been thorough: he had been narcissistic and temperamental, but his mental state was stable. That was clearly no longer the case.
Without a more thorough examination, Exptempaxia could only make a preliminary hypothesis. She was not hasty in making one, though. First, she considered the other case of mental instability in Cybertronian military hardware she was thoroughly familiar with: Threnody. She had programmed the unfortunate machine and was certain the programming had had no flaws. She had also found no flaws in Threnody’s construction. And yet, she had suffered such acute guilt that eventually she had taken her own life.
Back then, Extempaxia had no choice but to assume the reason could neither be programming, nor construction - it was a third, unpredictable element. The spark. That had to be where Threnody’s guilt had originated.
Was it like this for Galvatron too?
Their simulations on Megatron had established he lacked a conscience and did not experience guilt. Therefore, Extempaxia discounted that reason. She was left with programming and construction once more. Megatron’s recent reformatting posed a clue: either some imperfection had entered his neural structure or his programming had become corrupted.
There was, of course, another possibility. Extempaxia considered it less likely, but she’d be negligent not to acknowledge it. Stress. Galvatron had experienced a number of losses in rapid succession recently. They could have been the reason for his mental breakdown.
In any case, the effect was plain and simple: Galvatron’s usefulness as a tool was severely limited. But that did not mean he was completely of no use: he would help Extempaxia re-acquire her two favorite test subjects. She just needed to bide her time and wait for the right moment.
It was taking too long. Galvatron needed the Decepticon Matrix and its power now, but Soundwave was insistent on being cautious. Grudgingly, Galvatron conceded. Not because he agreed, but because Soundwave was his most loyal follower and Galvatron would sometimes humour him. It had nothing to do with the fact that Soundwave’s loyalty was only due to the Robosmasher and its brainwashing. Galvatron had absolutely no concerns that it’d fail and Soundwave would return to his old, ruthless self.
How could he have any doubts about that? Back when he’d been Megatron, he had killed Slugfest, and Soundwave had obediently covered it up. And then, when he’d maimed Glit, Soundwave had covered for him too. If he was willing to do this, then surely, Soundwave’s loyalty could not be shaken?
After this was over, he’d test it again. He had to be sure. But this was something for later, when he had the Decepticon Matrix and the power he needed. For now, he needed Soundwave in his best shape, and so he’d humour him and be cautious, even if everything inside him screamed to hurry, lest someone else found the power that was meant to be his.
After what seemed like eternity (three whole minutes! Who needed this much time to open a door?!) Soundwave finally opened the door. Galvatron pushed past him, and marched forward until he realized he had no idea where he was headed. He stopped and barked, “Are you waiting for a written invitation?! Lead me to the Decepticon Matrix!”
Wingthing fluttered forward, making sure to stay out of Galvatron’s reach, and they made their way out, through abandoned corridors, until they reached an doorway that lead into some unused tunnels. Wingthing continued leading them, until they reached a door that had a holographic “Do not enter” message set up.
Soundwave and Wingthing stopped to inspect the message, but Galvatron couldn’t wait any longer. This had to be it. And Sounwave wanted him to wait? When someone could be there already, stealing his Matrix! With a howl of fury, he rushed past the message, ignoring Soundwave yelling something about triggering alarms. Let them. No one would be a match for him, as soon as he had the Decepticon Matrix.
He rushed into a large chamber. It was mostly empty, save for a control station with a large lever. But he’d been right: there was someone there - a group of Autobots - the Protectobots, was it? - had been inspecting the lever, but dove into cover when Galvatron entered. He shot at them, ignoring the pain in his arm, and marched towards the lever. It was surely the mechanism that was used to hide the Decepticon Matrix, and he couldn’t let them recover it before him.
“Wait!” one of the Autobots yelled. “It’s dangerous! We don’t know exactly what it does yet! It needs to be disarmed!”
Galvatron ignored his lies and continued shooting, forcing the Autobot to hide again. A moment later Soundwave and Wingthing entered the chamber behind him. Wingthing took on suppressive fire, while Soundwave released Rumble and Frenzy. The two infiltration troopers wasted no time in activating their piledrivers, all of which gave Galvatron ample opportunity to reach his prize.
He pulled the lever down, let go of it and stepped ba-
Chapter Text
Everyone around Windblade was frozen in mid-action. It happened all of a sudden, with no warning. A shimmering field of unknown energy surrounded every bot and seemed to hold them captive. Windblade couldn’t even hear their thoughts.
It wasn’t even that she was unaffected - she found moving exceedingly difficult, as if trapped in some viscous thick fluid. Was she going to stay like this? The lone conscious Cybertronian, aware of every minute ticking by on a silent planet of frozen metal figures.
And then, she felt a thought - an alien one. She knew she couldn’t turn in time, just like she knew that the source of the thoughts was behind her. But she could reach out and listen to the thoughts of whoever it was, and find out if she could get them to help.
She touched the mind and almost recoiled in shock.
The mind belonged to a Quintesson - a very gleeful Quintesson. They were responsible for what happened.
Windblade withdrew, and regretted doing so almost immediately. She could have found out what happened that way. But the Quintesson’s thoughts disappeared already.
But if the Quintesson wasn’t affected, then maybe other non-Cybertronians wouldn’t be either? Bumblebee’s human friends were on Cybertron. Maybe they could help?
Windblade hadn’t tried contacting anyone with her mind over a distance so far. She didn’t know if it’d work. But she had to try.
She concentrated. Imagined herself reaching out towards… this was harder than it seemed: what was she supposed to reach out to? Before, she’d caught stray thoughts, but now there was nothing, just silence.
Maybe… maybe she needed to try something else. Cybertronians had, among many other systems, internal comms. Maybe if she tried using her telepathy like that, it’d work better? The first attempt went nowhere - she just activated her comm and sent a call into nowhere. The second time…
The second time she felt something else: another mind. To her surprise, it didn’t feel all that different from what she’d felt from the other Cybertronians, at the first touch. The differences only became pronounced later, once she noted the strangeness of how image and word blended into a river of thought. Some of what she saw was clearly what the human - Carly - was seeing right now. But other paler, more fleeting images were memories or things she was imagining, like diagrams of circuitry. For a Cybertronian, there was no difference in what they’d see right now, or remember: all would be video recordings. And imagination worked differently again, with a separate program constructing a 3D or 2D image, if necessary.
But Windblade didn’t have time to compare and contrast. She needed to act.
Carly? Carly, I’m Windblade- I’m sorry, this is probably very weird, I’m a telepath-
Communicating via thought was clearly not as easy as speaking or sending a radio message. It came out more like a jumble, and she worried that her emotions bled through as well, adding to Carly’s worry.
Windblade? You’re one of the new bots, Carly thought. Do you know what happened? How come you’re still active?
There’s a Quintesson - there was a Quintesson here, she did it, Windblade answered. There’s an old mechanism that’s supposed to shut down all Cybertronians in case of a riot. I think it didn’t fully work on me because I can do mind magic and stuff.
Do you know where the mechanism is? Carly asked, all focus now.
No, the Quintesson was thinking about it, but not where it was, Windblade replied. It’s some sort of a signal? Keeping everyone in a type of stasis?
All right. Carly seemed certain now and much calmer. If it’s a signal, we can trace it and follow it to its source.
Galvatron might have been completely incompetent as a leader or conqueror, but as a patsy he had done an excellent job. Extempaxia had waited until the anti-riot shutdown was initiated, and then emerged from her hiding spot to collect her specimens. The shutdown had its flaws - chief being its location, as the Quintessons had learned during the ill-fated slave rebellion. Getting to it required an approach right through Iacon - something a Quintesson like her couldn’t do without an unacceptable risk.
How fortunate for her then that Galvatron had done all the hard work.
Despite the fact that the shutdown was indefinite, Extemapxia didn’t waste time. Not that she acted in undue hurry either. She collected her test subjects one by one - well, the ones that were on Cybertron. There were three she’d have to collect from other locations.
She didn’t activate her recall beacon immediately once she was done. True, she’d planned to inform Klementia that Cybertron was theirs once again, but not before she’d collected all of her test subjects. And there was one more object for study: Galvatron and the reasons for his mental breakdown.
Yes, she’d collect him too. Why not? It was an interesting question.
And so, she floated to the anti-riot chamber at an unhurried pace - a mistake, as it turned out. When she arrived, she found unexpected activity in the chamber: three humans - a female, a male and a juvenile. The female pushed the juvenile behind her and drew a gun, and shot at Extempaxia. The male rushed towards the riot shutdown’s control station.
Extempaxia dove into cover, but not before being hit once.
With mild regret she discarded the idea of collecting Galvatron, and activated her recall beacon.
Perhaps she’d be able to acquire him later. But now, she needed to add a different subject to her study: a human. Clearly, the little mammals were more than met the eye.
-ck. But nothing happened. No secret door opened. Nothing revealed itself.
A human jumped down from the control station. Where had the human come from? There hadn’t been one there before. The lever had been pushed back, too. Something had happened after all. But Galvatron had no idea what it had been.
But clearly it had something to do with the human. It must have done something to the Decepticon Matrix, prevented it from revealing itself to Galvatron. Had it destroyed it?!
“DIE!” Galvatron roared, diving down to catch the human. The damn pest was too far away already though. Galvatron ignored a shot from one of the Autobots - his armor could take it, and jumped to his feet. He was going to catch the human and crush it, like the pest it was.
He moved forward, only for someone to grab him and push him aside. He felt something big pass him very closely, as he tumbled to the floor. A red truck. Optimus Prime. He’d almost crushed him, if not for Soundwave. But Soundwave had no time to jump out of the way. He was hit with the full force of an angry Prime, and just like Thrust on the Moon, he went down with the sickening sound of metal being crushed.
Galvatron raised his cannon, but his shot went wide. Something was wrong with his targeting solutions - it was as if his arm was shaking. He tried again, as Prime was transforming. Rumble and Frenzy were rushing towards Soundwave–ignoring the danger to their leader.
A shot hit Galvatron’s arm. Elita One had been right behind Prime, but unlike her partner she’d transformed right away. And now she was shooting at Galvatron, giving Prime time to transform.
No. This was not how it was supposed to have gone. It was meant to be his victory. Was he to die here? No! No, no, no, no! He was not going to let it happen. His final moments would not be a failure.
Galvatron transformed and fired at the ceiling of the chamber. Something in his cannon short circuited at that point, but he managed to transform back and fly out. His anti-gravs stuttered for a moment, and he fell onto the ground. But he was out. He could run.
He didn’t look back.
Soundwave wasn’t dead. Yet. And Frenzy had no idea how to fix him. And Galvatron had just left them behind. This wasn’t how things were supposed to work. Even if they had to run from Autobots (and in the last twenty years, they did an awful lot of running), they weren’t supposed to leave each other behind.
Yeah, OK, the other Decepticons would do that. Starscream, certainly. But Soundwave was so loyal to Megatron, so he couldn’t just leave him behind to die, right? That’s how loyalty worked - you got it back.
Except, Galvatron left them in a cell, and Ravage and Lazerbeak and Ratbat left them behind too. And now Galvatron ran without them again, and Soundwave was going to die, and Frenzy had no idea what to do.
A shadow fell over Frenzy, and when he looked up, the Prime was looking down on them. Frenzy had never been afraid of the Prime. He was weak, right? Soft. He was an Autobot, and he didn’t like fighting, and wanted to build things with organics, and-
Except, there was the thing with the Matrix. Frenzy didn’t really get how it worked - Soundwave had explained it to him once, but it was boring and complicated, so he tuned most of it out. He just got the gist: there were dead Autobots in the Matrix. And they told Primes what to do. And Decepticons had killed a bunch of Autobots.
Recently. Really, really recently.
They had killed Prowl, and Brawn, and Ironhide, and then the Prime caught up with them on Earth’s moon, and killed Skywarp, and Thundercracker, and the Insecticons, and Dirge, and Ramjet, and Thrust, and nearly killed Megatron too.
So now Frenzy was really scared. But he wasn’t going to let Prime kill Soundwave. Not even if he was going to die anyway.
“First Aid, can you do anything for him?” Prime asked, and Frenzy froze up. That didn’t make sense. How come was Prime telling First Aid to help Soundwave? Didn’t the dead Autobots inside him want Soundwave dead?
The Prime knelt down in front of Frenzy and Rumble. “Please step aside. I know you’re both scared for Soundwave, but we will do what we can.”
“WHY ARE YOU BEING NICE?!” Rumble burst out.
“YEAH! YOU’RE A BUNCH OF DEAD AUTOBOTS! AND YOU WANT US DEAD!” Frenzy shouted.
“SHUT UP AND MOVE!” Wingthing yelled, and slapped Frenzy with his wing, forcing him to move. First Aid was already beside Soundwave, and was doing something to him. “Why are you two such idiots?!”
“Wingthing, don’t yell at them,” the Prime said. “They’re understandably afraid, and misinformed. Perhaps you two would like me to explain how the Matrix really works, while First Aid fixes Soundwave?”
Frenzy wanted to punch something, but if he did, the Autobots would decide not to fix Soundwave, probably, so he nodded.
“Yeah, OK,” Rumble said. “But we’re not dumb. So don’t dumb it down. Just use words we understand.”
“And take out the boring stuff,” Frenzy added. “Soundwave always insists on the boring stuff and then we get distracted, and then Wingthing tells us we’re stupid.”
Chapter 13: Epilogue
Chapter Text
Scourge stumbled, though he wasn’t sure why - he was only aware that all of a sudden he was off balance, when he shouldn’t be. And then he realized something else was wrong. Cyclonus had been running ahead of him, but now he was gone.
Something was very wrong. He ran through his sensors, trying to see if he could find anything that’d tell him what happened and where Cyclonus was. The other Sweeps did the same.
+Someone activated a teleportation beacon nearby,+ Sweep Two reported.
+There’s a gap in all of my sensory input approximately an hour long,+ Sweep Nine added.
“Cyc?!” Armada shouted. She’d joined them moments ago - well, what felt like moments, anyway. She turned towards Scourge and the Sweeps and shouted. “Where is he?!”
Scourge crouched down ready to defend himself from the inevitable attack - she was going to think they did something to Cyclonus, he was sure of it, but Armada didn’t accuse them of anything.
“Stop this nonsense!” she snapped. “And find him!”
“We were already looking!” Scourge shouted back. Things were happening far too fast - he didn’t have time to think, he was suddenly chasing… something that had spooked Cyclonus and that was still making him uneasy. And now Armada was yelling at him .
“How about maybe you don’t get in a fight right now?” Sweep Two said, pushing himself between Armada and Scourge. “We can probably find Cyclonus, but it’ll take time. Someone teleported him out of here.”
Armada looked at Sweep Two, then at Scourge and finally nodded. “Fine. Do your thing.” This was followed by a transmission, Scourge’s sensors picked up - it was encrypted, but he guessed she was informing someone of what had happened.
Except, whatever news she got wasn't to her liking, judging by her scowl. She caught Scourge watching her, and the next moment he received an image of Ultra Magnus with a question sigil.
“He’s missing too?” he asked.
Armada nodded.
“That makes this much easier,” Scourge said, and when Armada gave him an incredulous look, he continued, “This means more data. And more possibility for whoever it was to slip up and leave something else we can track. We’ll start at their last known locations - just tell whoever’s there to expect us and to leave everything there alone.”
Armada sent another message, and after a moment, sent Scourge coordinates to where presumably Ultra Magnus was last seen.
“Nine, Two, you get going already,” Scourge said. “We’ll finish here and you two get started on collecting all the readings you can find.”
The Sweeps might not have been great warriors in any sense, but there was one thing they were very good at: hunting. And this was exactly that. Maybe whoever teleported Cyclonus and Ultra Magnus away was very clever and covered their tracks. But there was always something you could track.
The Sweeps would find their quarry sooner or later.
Windblade still wasn’t exactly sure what had happened. She knew a Quintesson had managed to sneak on Cybertron - Carly and Spike had seen them. There was a switch that caused every Transformer on Cybertron to freeze. How the switch had done it no one knew, because the Protectobots dismantled it as soon as they could.
Windblade certainly couldn’t explain why she was only partially affected.
And it wasn’t like she had time to think about it. Bumblebee had gone missing along with several other bots, and someone needed to find them and rescue them.
“All right! Settle down bots!” Hot Rod yelled, clapping his hands. “You know what happened - we were all somehow frozen or whatever, and now Ultra Magnus, Bumblebee, Cyclonus and Impactor are missing. Optimus has his hands full right now! So does Shockwave, so we’re gonna show some initiative, and deal with the missing bots ourselves!”
“Shouldn’t we still inform Prime and Shockwave that we are looking for them?” Scourge asked.
“Yeah, sure, once we have everything ready,” Hot Rod said without missing a beat, but Windblade caught him thinking Oh oops Optimus is going to be worried. “We need the Sweeps for tracking. Starburst, Metalhawk and Armada want to go because Cyclonus and Impactor are their friends, but I think one of you should stay to keep an eye on the Decepticons. Metalhawk?”
Metalhawk looked back, surprised. “Me?”
Armada patted his arm and pointed to herself.
“All right, Metalhawk and Armada,” Hot Rod said and grinned at them. “Don’t worry ‘Hawk, I’ve got a good feeling about you.” He looked around, and added, “All right, so that means Starburst is coming.”
The orange and yellow bot punched their palm with their other hand in response.
“We don’t know what kind of defenses the Quintessons will have, so we should add some more firepower,” he continued. “No offense, Scourge, you guys are probably close combat monsters, but you need to be able to close the distance first.”
“We are?” Sweep Five asked.
“Yup,” Hot Rod said. “So, me and Arcee are obviously going. Springer will stay to take over for Magnus with Jazz. Kup’s gotta stay on Cybertron and run security.”
Jazz held a thumb up and patted Springer’s shoulder.
“I’m going too, Hot Rod,” another Autobot said very firmly. Windblade could sense determination mixed with fury.
Hot Rod nodded. “Right. And Paragon’s coming. And I see you glaring, Provoke, so yes, we’re taking you too.” He paused, before turning in another direction, “Sorry Drift, Twin-Twist and Topspin, someone has to keep watch over the installation on Hiermis, so you gotta sit that one out.”
That was met with some annoyed muttering. “We understand, Hot Rod,” the white Autobot with red markings on his face said. Drift, Windblade picked up from Hot Rod’s thought. Formerly Deadlock. “Besides, it’s Impactor. He’s probably blown up the cell by now.”
“Don’t worry, Hot Rod,” Jazz said. “I’ll explain to all of Bumblebee’s friends who didn’t make it. And Spike and Carly know they’re needed here.”
“Besides, you’ve taken all our babysitters,” Spike added as he ruffled his son’s hair.
“Right, speaking of Bee’s friends,” Hot Rod said, looking at Windblade. “What about you, Windy? Up for a little adventure?”
“Hot Rod!” Arcee hissed. “The war’s over! We don’t have to recruit freshly built bots for dangerous missions!”
“We don’t, but Windblade’s got her weird psychic powers,” Hot Rod said. “Besides, she’s here, and no one told her we’re having this meeting, so I think we might as well let her come with us, otherwise we’ll find her hitching a ride anyway, won’t we?”
Windblade grinned at him. “Yes.”
“I hate it when he’s right about those things,” Springer grumbled.
“So now we just need a transport,” Hot Rod said, and reached up to pat the arm of a grey Decepticon. “I figured I’d ask Astrotrain, since he’s the stealth-approach specialist.”
Astrotrain puffed up visibly. “I’ll do it.”
Hot Rod grinned. “So now we grab our gear, and let Optimus, Shockwave and Kup know - Jazz can you handle that? - and we’re going to rescue Magnus and the others.”
Starscream hadn’t thought an opportunity to reverse his current predicament would come so quickly, and perhaps this was why he’d failed in seizing it. Not that he didn’t try - he offered, utterly selflessly!, to take over Cyclonus’s duties as soon as he learned that he was missing. That way poor Armada and Metalhawk wouldn’t be forced to do it, and could instead join the search party.
“Absolutely not,” Shockwave said.
“Just why not?” Starscream asked, pressing his hands to his sparkchamber. “Are you so insecure that you’d deny them the possibility to look for their friend just because you’re worried I’ll somehow usurp you?”
“No,” Shockwave said. “The Decepticons in the Cybertronian military are to be commanded by a politically neutral general. You are not politically neutral Starscream. It is perfectly logical.”
“But it’d only be temporary,” Starscream said in his most reasonable voice.
Shockwave looked at him for precisely ten seconds, managing to convey utter disbelief without moving an inch or making a sound. Then he said, “No.”
Starscream had many more arguments for why Shockwave was being unreasonable, and was preparing to list the next one, when Shockwave continued, “You have a more important task. The safety of Cybertron depends on it. The newbuild with mind-reading powers - Windblade - was only partially affected and she has the poor judgment in character to like you. You will therefore investigate how this happened, and if it can be replicated.”
Starscream was torn. On the one hand, he was perfectly aware Shockwave was using this new task to distract him from his actual goal. He was also an astrophysicist, and the task he was being given sounded not related to astrophysics at all. On the other hand, if he succeeded… well, he’d do something that Shockwave couldn’t.
Yes, he’d show Shockwave.
“Well, I see you do have some sense,” he said, deciding to be magnanimous to Shockwave for a change. “It’s nice that you’ve finally recognized my intellectual superiority.”
“You accept,” Shockwave said. “Excellent. Don’t let me detain you.”
Starscream wasn’t about to spend more time talking with Shockwave than necessary. He needed to find Windblade. And then…
His mood soured, but he didn’t think he had a choice.
He was going to do something absolutely painful and degrading. An act he never thought he would have to commit. His very spark rebelled at the mere idea. But it was for the good of Cybertron, and more importantly, it’d show his commitment to the new regime and readiness to adapt.
He was going to have to ask Preceptor for help.
Magenta_Prime on Chapter 1 Wed 30 Oct 2024 09:06PM UTC
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BloodyMary on Chapter 1 Thu 31 Oct 2024 06:21AM UTC
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Magenta_Prime on Chapter 2 Sun 03 Nov 2024 02:18PM UTC
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BloodyMary on Chapter 2 Mon 04 Nov 2024 10:32AM UTC
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Magenta_Prime on Chapter 3 Sat 09 Nov 2024 02:01PM UTC
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BloodyMary on Chapter 3 Sat 09 Nov 2024 07:50PM UTC
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Magenta_Prime on Chapter 4 Sat 09 Nov 2024 06:03PM UTC
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BloodyMary on Chapter 4 Sat 09 Nov 2024 07:55PM UTC
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