Chapter Text
The two mechs stood frozen to their places, the sound of the wind gently blowing over the sandy desert being the only thing to break the tense silence. Starscream didn’t dare move from his crouched position under the overhang. As Optimus stood a few feet away, his weapons drawn and his optics locked on the fearful seeker, he waited for Starscream to make the first move. Once Starscream had realized this, he transformed his own weapons back into his servos, keeping them out of sight as he lowered himself to his knees in the sand. One servo reached down to retrieve the glass vial while the other remained spanned out in a sign of surrender.
Satisfied with the show of submission, Optimus allowed his face shield to retract and lowered his own weapons in response. Unlike Starscream, however, the Prime did not let his guard down.
“Go ahead,” Optimus said, nodding his helm in Starscream’s direction. “Explain.”
At first, Starscream was a little taken aback by the show of peace. Sure, Optimus was no Megatron, but even he had to have his moments, right? Starscream didn’t let himself dwell too long on Optimus’ thought process. He was a Decepticon, after all, and according to Optimus, he had been caught in Autobot territory.
Strange, he thought. Who were they to assign “territories” to earthen land? They were sentient beings from a different planet altogether, for Primus’ sake.
“Now, that—that is a very good question,” Starscream stammered, his wings rising and dipping behind his back with every drawn out enunciation. “You see, it… it’s, er—it’s not official Decepticon business, so to speak, but—but I don’t think Megatron would approve of me discussing private plans with the enemy—“
Optimus’ optics began to narrow, and Starscream immediately fell silent. To his disappointment, it seemed as though his grand plan had only gotten him so far. But to be fair, Starscream hadn’t planned for the interruption in the first place.
“Are you aware that your presence in this area counts as trespassing?” Optimus asked, his tone lowering to a level of disappointment that sent a sense of shame coursing through Starscream’s frame. “By the laws of the war, Starscream, if you cannot provide ample evidence as to why you are here, I will be bringing you in as a prisoner. You’ve already been given one chance, but I will grant you another: why are you here?”
The look of warning in Optimus’ gaze was undeniable, but Starscream could see something else there, too. Something deeper, he thought, something akin to desperation, or pity, or even understanding. As much as he hated to admit it, a part of him knew that Optimus was aware of the reasoning behind Starscream’s troubled gaze and the purpose behind his reckless ambition. Optimus knew that he was a broken, slighted mech, and despite all of their differences, he still wanted to help. If Starscream were honest with himself, he almost felt tempted to simply fall at Optimus’ pedes and share the sob story that had become his life, start to finish. He could envision himself pouring out every little detail, every little mistake that had led him to where he was that day.
All he had to do was let go of pride and fear and just let someone in for once. It was all he had to do; Optimus would likely take care of the rest. His spark ached with anxiety as he struggled to make a decision, all while Optimus remained still and silent, watching the seeker with calm, careful optics.
He wanted relief. He wanted freedom, solace, a safe haven from Megatron’s wrath. However, as much as it pained him to do so, Starscream knew he couldn’t take the offer. Not yet, at least.
Starscream slowly rose up to his pedes, ignoring how the small glass vial slipped from his grasp. As soon as it had landed in the dirt, his pede was coming down on it, crushing the thin vial beneath his weight. He walked forward with careful, confident steps, an aura of control and danger about him. To his satisfaction, Optimus took a few steps backwards, his optics widening in surprise. When the Prime raised his weapons again, pointing them directly at Starscream’s chest, Starscream did the same.
The feeling of power that surged through him as he stood his ground, defiant and unwavering, was nearly intoxication. Starscream felt rejuvenated. It was as though he had finally reconnected to his roots and regained the treacherous, threatening air of deadly ability he had always carried as the Decepticon’s second-in-command. He was a force to be reckoned with, something to be feared.
In that moment, Starscream didn’t care about factions, or wars, or even his own limited capabilities. It didn’t matter who Optimus was or what he stood for. In the end, they were all the same; everyone had always been a bloodthirsty tyrant looking to rise to the top of the food chain. How could Optimus be any different?
“You underestimate me, Prime,” Starscream spat, his wings high above his back. “My motives are my own, and as the second-in-command of the Decepticon army, I have a right to secrecy. Now, you better get out of my way, or else I will have to—”
“You’ve come here alone, haven’t you?”
Starscream’s fiery rant was cut off with an unbecoming stutter as he jerked back in surprise. As expected, Optimus had managed to slice right through Starscream’s defenses, leaving him with a sense of utter vulnerability. It had caught him off-guard, but Starscream quickly tried to retrace his steps and come up with another scathing response.
“You know nothing,” Starscream replied, his voice wavering. He took another step forward, his servos balled up in fists at his side. “Foolish Autobot, daring to speak to me in such a way! I swear to Primus, if you stick around any longer, I’ll… well, I’ll—I’ll do something that’ll make you regret ever facing me!”
To Starscream’s further frustration, Optimus gave no heed to the warning. His weapons powered down again, and they remain lowered as he took a few steps forward. With one servo extended to the seeker, as if hoping he might finally break down Starscream’s walls, Optimus’ optics took on a soft, sympathetic look.
“This pointless war has taken far too many souls already,” he said softly, stopping in his tracks when Starscream showed the slightest sign of fear. “I don’t want to see you fall victim to it as well, Starscream. Despite our differences, I still want the best for you.”
“That’s rich coming from you, Prime,” Starscream replied, his arms crossing over his chest as he glared up at the other mech. He did his best to mask the tremble in his servos by making broad, dramatic gestures, one servo pointing to the sky while the other waved vaguely at Optimus.
“You aren’t the one trapped on a floating prison in the sky. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend the daily struggles I face, the price I pay to reserve my right to the role as Megatron’s second. You and your fellow Autobots probably live a life akin to that on Cybertron, don’t you? Aligning yourselves with the creatures on this planet, making allies everywhere you go… have you no self-respect? No pride in your ancestry?”
To Starscream’s surprise, Optimus faltered. A flash of confusion crossed the Prime’s normally emotionless faceplates, but he quickly managed to reign his emotions back under control. The moment passed all too quickly for Starscream’s liking, and before he knew it, the familiar sound of a ground bridge opening behind him could be heard. He whipped around with a hiss, his weapons raised in anticipation for the new arrival.
His first mistake was ever trusting Optimus to keep things civil between them, Starscream realized. To be fair, he had to admit that the thought was rather ridiculous. As if he would ever accept anything more than hostility from the Autobot army.
By the time Starscream looked back at Optimus, regarding him with something close to betrayal, the Prime had managed to regain his composure. With weapons raised in preparation rather than an outright threat, Optimus’ face shield clicked back into place, masking the saddened expression he had worn only seconds before.
“Screamer?” Bulkhead, who had come through the ground bridge with Bumblebee, groaned in frustration. “What’s hedoing all the way out here?”
Bumblebee chirped in agreement. He questioned Starscream’s motivation for being so close to their base with a series of warbling sounds and long, repetitive clicks. Starscream kept a defensive stance, his frame tense as he awaited an attack from either side. As he stood watching the two Autobot’s every move, Optimus had taken the chance to move in from behind until he was practically on top of the seeker. Without another word, the Prime grabbed ahold of Starscream’s servos and quickly locked them into place behind his back.
“I’m afraid I’ve run out of patience for your reluctance, Starscream,” Optimus said, keeping an even, steady tone. One large servo came up to rest against Starscream’s shoulder while the other held tight to his wrists, carefully securing a set of restraints over them. “From this moment on, you are officially a prisoner of the Autobots.”
“What?” Starscream gasped, pulling against the restraints as he whipped his helm back and forth, struggling to take in everything that had happened in the few seconds of the two Autobots’ arrival. “Wait—wait! You can’t—you can’t do this! I’ve done nothing wrong! You can’t—you can’t take me in as your prisoner. I won’t allow it!”
“I’m sorry,” Optimus said, his voice hardly audible as Starscream frantically squirmed. “You simply cannot be trusted. Bulkhead?”
Several warnings appeared in Starscream’s vision, but he continued to thrash and squirm. As the hot sun beat down on his already exhausted frame, Starscream almost didn’t register Bulkhead’s frame growing nearer. He lifted his helm in acknowledgement of the wrecker’s presence, a scathing remark at the ready, but the only sound to escape him was a startled squeak.
“Sorry, Screamer,” Bulkhead grunted, his optics flashing with guilt as he raised his fist over the seeker’s helm.
It was over in an instant, but Starscream couldn’t bear to watch. As panic overwhelmed him, he could only register the flare of pain that ran through his helm the moment Bulkhead’s fist made contact. The fuzzy silhouettes of the two mechs standing ahead of him grew dim as the darkness ebbing at his vision pulled him into unconsciousness. As his vision faded and his senses failed him, Starscream could still register the sensation of Optimus’ firm, steadying servos on his frame.
*****
The swirling darkness gave way to an all-encompassing chill that nipped at Starscream’s very core. It didn’t take long for him to recognize that the blinding white light surrounding him wasn’t so much Primus’ relief from a long, miserable life, but one of his long-suppressed memories. Starscream prepared himself for a rush of overwhelming grief as he took in the familiar landscape, but he was surprised to feel a mixture of something else entirely.
He could feel the exhaustion and desperation threatening to drag him down to his knees as he—or, his past self—trudged through snow that nearly came up to his waist. His breath puffed out thick clouds of smoky air as his vents struggled to circulate the frigid air. Despite the definite out-of-body experience, Starscream could almost feel the stinging ache in his spark as the cold weather seeped through his thick frame.
He felt… strange. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but something wasn’t right about the situation. Starscream could make out the sounds of trudging pedesteps from behind him, but his past self never once stopped to look back, never spared a worried glance or a word of support. Desperation and anger simmered within him, threatening to boil over, but Starscream never faltered. He kept his optics trained ahead of him, the world around them a field of varying shades of white. So much blinding light, such dangerous temperatures. A quiet warning popped up in the corner of his vision, but before Starscream could read it, his past self had dismissed it.
“My internal thermal readings are reaching dangerous levels, Star.” Starscream perked up at the sound of his past conjux’s voice. “I… I think we should head back.”
The wind was howling around them as they trudged through the snow, their optics blinded by swirling snow. Starscream almost couldn’t make out his partner’s voice speaking above the roaring storm.
“We can’t,” Starscream’s past self shouted over his shoulder. “This is important, Sky. If we go back empty-handed—“
“Starscream, we’ve gone over this, remember? It was the first rule and only rule that the academy seemed to care about I’m certainly not a native to this planet, but even the creatures we’ve seen have long disappeared.”
“I remember,” his past self grumbled, just loud enough for Starscream to hear. “All work ends the moment this planet’s environment become hostile. Not that they really care what we decide to do.”
Through the oppressive emotions that clouded his mind, Starscream could sense the vaguest hint of hesitation beneath his past self’s stubbornness. He may not remember much from the trip, but even he knew Skyfire was right. Given his experience on earth the past few years, Starscream knew that the unpredictable weather patterns were dangerous to their species. Despite the fact that he kept moving, Starscream felt the hesitance. If he and Skyfire had agreed to drawing the line the moment things turned sour, shouldn’t they respect those limits?
“We’re so close, Sky,” his past self whispered. As he fought to keep his shivering to a minimum, he looked back at his partner and shouted, “You go back to our base, but I’m going to keep moving. I’ll keep in touch.”
Primus, he wanted to go back in time and slap himself. How had he ever come to the conclusion that splitting up in such a dangerous could have ever ended well for them? Skyfire was silent for a moment, a look of confusion on his expression. As his last self turned and trudged back to join the huge shuttle, Starscream realized that his partner must not have heard the outrageous suggestion.
It’d become too noisy for any communication outside of comm links, he realized. Unless they stood at each other’s sides shouted back and forth, anything they said would likely go unheard.
“Star,” he heard Skyfire’s voice clearly in his helm. The worried tone was almost as clear as the look of concern that Skyfire held. “Starscream, tell me you’re not thinking about going out there alone.”
Starscream made a show of casually shrugging as he trudged forward, his vents heaving with effort as he as he struggled through the snow. Skyfire was at his side in an instant, his huge servos engulfing Starscream’s shoulders as he shielded the smaller flier from the harsh wind.
“Don’t be foolish,” Skyfire snapped, his optics wide and fearful. “We can try again in the morning. The academy—“
“The academy doesn’t give a slag about us, and you know it,” Starscream snarled, jerking himself free of Skyfire’s hold. He turned his back to the shuttle and begrudgingly turned his comms back on. “You know why they sent us here, Skyfire. Don’t play dumb.”
Skyfire reeled back as though he’d been struck. For a long time, there was only silence. Starscream waited for a reply, assuming Skyfire would even respond to such a statement. His comm link sizzled with static, signaling that Skyfire wanted to respond, but hadn’t yet found the words.
Starscream scoffed and shook his head. He loved Skyfire, he really did, but the huge shuttle didn’t understand. He couldn’t.
“Skyfire,” he said, his voice firm as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “The academy didn’t want us around in the first place. It didn’t want either of us. Tell me you’ve realized this already.” Either that, his past self thought, or Skyfire had put too much faith in mechs in charge of the academy—the same mechs who, without a second thought, would sacrifice them both to spare their own lives.
Starscream was a warrior class mech, after all. He was cold-forged, an outlier. He didn’t belong among the elite, the shiny, the normal mechs who had been born of Primus. He knew it was the only reason the academy had been so quick to support their exploration project, the only reason this planet had been chosen. This was a death sentence, and Starscream knew it. They didn’t want him around. And since Skyfire had shown his alliance early on, the academy knew exactly what they needed to do.
However, Starscream also knew that he was a strong, capable mech. He was going to show them that he wasn’t weak or inferior. The shape of his frame didn’t matter. His origins didn’t matter. All that mattered to him now was proving that slagging academy wrong.
That, and Skyfire.
He looked back at his conjux, the shuttles optics gleaming with a thousand conflicting emotions that Starscream had long learned to recognize. He was such a sweet, tender mech. So supportive, unassuming. He didn’t deserve it.
Despite the uncertainty and desperation swirling in his spark, Starscream gave Skyfire a nod of assurance.
“Just a little further, Sky,” he said, an affectionate smile spreading across his faceplates. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
*****
When the familiar darkness gave way to a tingling throughout his entire frame, Starscream couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He’d been lucky to have experience an influx of memories with Skyfire in such a short amount of time, but he still wanted more. He didn’t want to find himself stuck in a world of running from one safe haven to the next, never certain of where his energon would come from—assuming he was able to find any, and always looking over his shoulder for the slightest hint of danger. It was tiring, and it got old very quickly.
Unfortunately for Starscream, Primus had seemed to take much pleasure in subjecting him to whatever sick jokes the universe had to offer. The real world had called him back to his senses with blinding lights and an awful, pounding helmache. Though he tried, Starscream simply couldn’t ignore it.
Despite the low number of Autobots present on earth, it sounded like an entire army was arguing just outside of his field of consciousness. Starscream forced himself to regain his senses a little faster, if only to put an end to the obnoxious sound. Instead of coming face-to-face with an irate Autobot warrior, however, when Starscream sat up on the medical table he’d been strapped to, he found himself staring into the wide eyes of a human girl.
Said girl stood on his chest—the audacity—and stared down at him with her arms crossed, looking like she had just stepped in something gross on the sidewalk. To his relief, she eventually tore her gaze away from Starscream’s glowering expression long enough to wave over an actual Autobot. She still stood on top of his frame, the tips of her boot kicking against Starscream’s insignia in an almost subconscious way.
Disgusting, he thought. If they hadn’t strapped him into place, he would’ve shown the fleshling some proper respect.
“He’s awake,” the girl said, pointing down at Starscream as Ratchet came over to inspect their new arrival.
“I can see that,” the old medic sighed. With a vague gesture of his servo, he shooed the young girl away. “Now get off of him so I can work.”
Starscream watched with mild annoyance as Miko carefully climbed down his frame and jumped down to the floor, not even bothering to wait for Ratchet’s assistance. The medic was a little startled at first, a flash of worry crossing his optics, but he quickly masked it with a look of irritation.
“Children,” he huffed, reaching over Starscream’s frame to begin loosening the restraints.
As much as he hated to admit it, Starscream found himself begrudgingly empathizing with the grumpy doctor. However, before he had a chance to chime in with his own complaints, familiar pedesteps caught his attention. He sat up as best he could and snapped to attention as Optimus’ large frame came into view. At his side, Ratchet did much of the same.
“Optimus,” Ratchet said, masking his surprise by busying himself with a nearby tool tray.
“Ratchet,” Optimus said, stopping to stand on the other side of the medical berth. “How is he?”
Between them, Starscream tried not to squirm. He could already feel the tension in the air, and he hadn’t even been the one to cause it. Ratchet set one of his tools down hard enough to cause a ringing clatter that echoed through the base, but didn’t look up to meet Optimus’ gaze. Privately, Starscream almost wished Knock Out had been there with him. Despite their differences, Starscream knew both he and the Decepticon doctor had a thing for drama—as long as it didn’t include them, of course.
“I’ve already told you,” Ratchet said, speaking as though he were lecturing one of the human children. “He’s fine.”
“Have you checked him for any wounds?” Optimus asked, his tone softer than the medic’s. One servo reached down to rest against Starscream’s shoulder, and it took everything in Starscream not to crumple under the tender act.
Ratchet began to speak, but stopped. He grabbed another tool, holding it up to the light, as if looking for any signs of wear.
“I haven’t.”
Optimus’ gentle grip hardened. “Why not, if I may ask?”
“Because,” Ratchet said, his own voice taking on a much firmer tone. “I said I wasn’t going to, Optimus. This is our base—our home, not a rehabilitation center for wayward Decepticons.”
Another awkward silence fell between the two mechs, leaving Starscream trapped in the middle. It almost felt wrong for him to be there, listening in on what seemed like a private conversation. It was about him, of course, but there was obviously something lingering beneath the surface that neither mech seemed willing to address. As Ratchet kept his attention on various small tasks like sorting through datapads or organizing his medical instruments, Optimus remained at Starscream’s side. He’d removed his servo from where it rested against Starscream’s shoulder, which the seeker found a little disappointing.
Not that he verbalized this. No, he wasn’t that desperate.
As the Prime watched his medic work, Starscream took notice of a look in Optimus’ optics that seemed all too familiar. He couldn’t pinpoint where he’d seen it before, but he recognized the conflicting emotions that were present behind the leader’s stoic expression. He seemed to be thinking deeply, but about what, Starscream wasn’t sure. The uneasy feeling that he was listening in on a conversation that he really shouldn’t have any part of only grew from there, and Starscream was about ready to say something when Ratchet finally cleared his throat.
“Well,” he began, a datapad in one servo as he stared down at Starscream. Even then, he still refused to look Optimus in the optics. “I’ve finished the general scan and everything came back normal. His energon levels were a little low, but for a flight frame, that—“
“Wait, ‘flight frame?’ Don’t you guys just drink the same amount of energon or whatever anyway? Why does it matter?”
Miko, who was now sitting on one of the empty examination tables, her legs kicking back and forth in the free space beneath, piped up, much to Ratchet and Starscream’s annoyance.
“That is so cool,” she continued, oblivious to their frustrations. “Does that mean Arcee and Bumblebee would eat less energon? Or maybe it’s the other way around. Does Optimus need a lot of fuel, Ratchet? Wait. If everyone’s different, and all your robot bodies need more energon and stuff, then is that why you we never see you refueling, Ratchet? Or do you—“
“No more questions, please!” Ratchet said quickly, cutting the young girl off with a shake of his helm. “You’re making it impossible for me to think, let alone—wait a moment.” As if suddenly realizing who was speaking to, Ratchet glanced up from his work to glare in Miko’s direction. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have somewhere else to be, or… I don’t know, something that doesn’t involve interrupting my very important work?”
Miko grumbled in response, but didn’t put up much of a fight. With a long, dramatic sigh, the young girl slowly dropped down from the table and headed off in a random direction, already calling out to the other two humans about a variety of things. As Ratchet watched her leave, his annoyed expression subtly lifted up into a small, affectionate smile.
“Pesky humans,” Starscream muttered under his breath, relieved that he was finally alone with beings of his own race. “I don’t know how you manage one, let alone three.”
“You get used to them after a while,” was Ratchet’s response. He eyed the scuffed insignia on Starscream’s chest with a small sound of disapproval, but didn’t comment on it. “Think of them as domesticated scraplets, or—or even minibots, if you will. They’re a nuisance at first, but after a while, you start to appreciate the company.”
“I suppose you make a good point,” Starscream said, his optics lingering on Miko’s retreating form. “Still, the chances that I would ever willingly surround myself with the little fleshies remain slim.”
To Starscream’s surprise, this earned him a chuckle from the Autobot medic. Ratchet looked ready to respond, but cut himself off, as if suddenly realizing that he had been conversing with the enemy. He held a servo to his faceplates and gave another awkward cough, then glanced up at Optimus, who had stayed close by.
“I… suppose I’ll leave you both to talk,” he said, already turning to head for the base’s main console. “If you need further assistance, I’ll be here.”
Starscream watched the medic leave, half tempted to beg Ratchet not to leave him alone with Optimus. Primus, he could already feel Optimus’ steady gaze on him, as if meticulously plotting the ways he could get past Starscream’s barriers this time.
Even though he was being given a chance to reside in the presence of a mech who wouldn’t dare hurt him, Starscream simply couldn’t trust that there wasn’t something else to look out for, like fine print on an advertisement. He kept his gaze averted as Optimus fully unlatched his restraints. The tension being released from his sore frame was nice, of course, but Starscream dreaded what came next.
“Starscream,” Optimus said, his expression gentle, his tone firm. “We need to talk.”
Starscream scoffed loudly, refusing to move from the medical table right away. “What a surprise: you want to talk with your prisoner. Well then, by all means, have at it. What’ll it be? Coordinates for an energon mine? Intel? Are you looking to recruit me, make me work for you as an Autobot spy?”
Optimus didn’t respond to any of the suggestions, which only aided in aggravating Starscream further. If he didn’t want any useful information from him, then why on earth had he bothered to bring him in as a captive in the first place?
“Follow me,” Optimus finally said, startling Starscream with the sudden command. “I’d like to take this somewhere a little more private, for both of our sakes.”
Optimus didn’t wait for a response, nor did he wait for Starscream to comply. He slowly turned and began to walk towards the dimly lit hallway across the room, only stopping to look over his shoulder at Starscream, who stared back at him with a shocked, blank expression.
Did Optimus really just expect him to… obey? Without any hesitation, no ulterior motives? Starscream had been taken in as a prisoner—much to Ratchet’s dismay, it seemed. Yet despite his medic’s vehement disapproval over the situation as a whole, Optimus didn’t even bother to properly monitor his prisoner?
What if Starscream tried to escape? What if he randomly decided to attack one of the small, helpless fleshies that seemed to love the base so much? What if he tried to ambush the other Autobots? Actually—no, he quickly thought. That would be too dangerous. Still, what if he decided to rob the base of any useful information? It might not get him very far, but he could still succeed. With a sudden burst of thought, Starscream tried his comm links. To no surprise, he found them to be offline.
Well. At least they had thought that far ahead. Honestly, if he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought that the Autobots hadn’t ever held someone captive—
“Starscream,” Optimus repeated, his voice taking on a much more serious tone.
Starscream pushed the thoughts aside and sat up on the berth, almost expecting a wave of dizziness, or fatigue, or… something. The only thing he experienced, however, was the dull ache in his helm from where Bulkhead had punched him. A little strange, he thought, but a mild helmache wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He slid off of the table and onto his pedes, then followed close behind Optimus as the Prime led him further into the base. Starscream didn’t bother looking back, but he could almost feel the burning gazes of several pairs of optics on his back, watching his every move.
“Optimus,” Ratchet called out, stopping the two mechs in their tracks. This time, Starscream did look back, and caught a glimpse of the medic holding up what looked to be a pair of stasis cuffs. “Please. If you’re going to be reckless, at least take these.”
Optimus hesitated, and for a brief moment, Starscream thought—and hoped—that he would decline the offer. However, it seemed that not even Optimus was willing to sit alone in a room with Starscream without taking precautions. He quickly strode up to the medic and took the stasis cuffs, the hesitation never leaving his optics. If it had been anyone else, Starscream might’ve been offended; it wasn’t like he was some sort of broken project for others to try to put back together. There wasn’t anything wrong with him. He was a normal mech, struggling to survive in a war just like the rest of his fellow Decepticons.
Starscream wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe that he had no reason to flinch away from the slightest touch or question every little kind word he received. He wanted to believe there was nothing wrong with him. Really, he did. Given his colorful past, however, he knew it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe if he’d been more careful… Maybe, if he hadn’t taken Megatron’s side, things could have turned out differently.
He didn’t have much time to dwell on past mistakes. As he found himself drifting off into his own thoughts again, Optimus had come up and latched his servos in the cuffs, an apologetic expression on his faceplates. Starscream pointedly ignored the sympathetic look Optimus gave him, instead jerking his helm towards the direction they’d been heading before the interruption.
“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” He snapped, adding just enough snark to wipe the worry from Optimus’ expression. He wasn’t shocked when the remark received little to no reaction, but he still felt disappointed that he wasn’t able to get under the Prime’s skin like he could with others.
Optimus nodded his agreement. He gently grasped Starscream’s shoulder and led him down the hall, his steps slow to be sure Starscream didn’t fall behind. As they walked down the dimly lit hall, Starscream was a little surprised to see how small their base actually was. He didn’t comment on it, though, and remained quiet until Optimus had led them to the farthest room.
Starscream watched with mild interest as Optimus punched in a long code into the pin-pad, but still didn’t say a word. He took private amusement in the way Optimus’ faceplates scrunched up with the slightest show of irritation when the first code denied him access. After a few failed attempts, the door finally clicked open, and Optimus led the way inside.
As soon as Starscream had stepped through the door, he knew right away that the Autobots had either never taken anyone in for a long-term interrogation or simply decided to treat him much better than they should. The cramped space was completed by a small cot in the corner with a table and chair directly across from it. On the wall above the table was a mounted shelf with a handful of datapads, and if Starscream hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought that the room had belonged to one of the Autobots as their living space.
“I apologize for the scarce resources,” Optimus said, gesturing with a servo for Starscream to sit.
Starscream watched as Optimus awkwardly grabbed the chair and flipped it around until it was facing the cot. With slow, careful movements, Optimus lowered himself down onto it, his expression one of poorly concealed panic. The poor rickety chair gave a squeak of protest, but to Starscream’s surprise, remained upright under the Prime’s weight.
“Please,” Starscream scoffed as he crossed the room to sit on the cot. Unlike Optimus, Starscream didn’t hesitate to settle down onto the cot, his frame stretched out as though he were lounging on his own berth. “I’ve seen worse.”
Optimus made a sound of interest, but didn’t press Starscream for details. As the seconds passed between them without either mech speaking, Starscream could feel his anxiety growing.
“Starscream,” Optimus eventually began. “Something is going on aboard the Nemesis. I don’t expect details, but I know that whatever is happening between you and Megatron—“
“What gave you that idea?” Starscream cut in, leaning forward with his arms braced against his thighs. “We’re Decepticons, after all. Do you expect us to be mirror images of Primus himself?”
“What were you doing in the middle of the desert?”
The question was quick and to the point, and Optimus ignored Starscream’s attempts at deflection completely. He’d been expecting it, of course, but Starscream found himself at a loss for a proper response. He sat up straight, his cockiness faltering.
Of all mechs, Starscream found himself dreading any and all interactions with Optimus the most. Much like Soundwave, the Prime had a way of slipping past his defenses, peeling away at the many layers Starscream put up. Optimus was much gentler compared to the communications officer, however, and knew when and where to draw the line. But given his authority, his role as a Prime, the inherit role model for their planet, Starscream couldn’t deny the resentment he felt.
For a mech with such unlimited power and access to the laws of their land, Optimus should have been taking advantage of it all. He should have sucked their world dry of freedom and rights just like all Cybertron’s former rulers. He should have struck fear into the hearts of everyone beneath him, taken what now belonged to him, made a show of humbling the rest of his kind.
Had Optimus done any of this, Starscream would have felt justified in his hatred of the mech. As it stood, he was merely another victim of war, desperately searching for meaning in the ruins that had become his day-to-day life.
Optimus—such a kind-hearted mech, too kind for his own good—seemed to catch onto Starscream’s inner dilemma. Unlike Megatron, who would have beaten the truth out of him by now, Optimus remained quiet and non-threatening.
“Ratchet has been a close friend of mine for a very long time now,” he began, scooting his chair closer ever so slightly. “But he sometimes becomes blinded by his own experiences in this war. You can believe me when I tell you, Starscream, that while you reside here in this base, you are safe.”
“Safe,” Starscream echoed, his lips curling into a sneer. “I’m afraid I don’t know the meaning of the word, Prime.”
Optimus gave another sound of understanding, his expression drifting further into the disappointed-role-model area. Starscream began to fidget, his servos wringing together as best they could from between the stasis cuffs. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. No, he definitely shouldn’t have said that. If Optimus’ expression was anything to go off of, Starscream could tell that he needed to reign himself in a little more.
“Fine, fine. Let’s say Megatron and I aren’t on the best terms at the moment,” Starscream said, gesturing with his servos as though the statement was something minor, and that he hadn’t been abused by the warlord in more ways that one over the past week alone. “So… s-so what? I’m always going to be at his throat, waiting for my chance to take over, and Megatron will always be there to put a stop to my plans before they can come to fruition. It’s just the way things are, Prime.”
“Your body language says otherwise,” Optimus calmly pointed out, tilting his helm towards Starscream’s wings.
The appendages had practically taken up a mind of their own, twitching and fluttering with every rise and fall of Starscream’s tone. The poor seeker wasn’t quite sure how educated Optimus was on the more technical forms of communication flight frames tended to use, but given his past as a well-read archivist, Starscream was willing to bet that Optimus knew more than the average flier would expect.
“What do you know about my body language?” Starscream asked, struggling to sound as offended and outraged as he can physically manage.
“Enough to know when you aren’t telling me the truth,” Optimus said, his tone colder than before. He leaned forward in his chair, his steady gaze piercing through Starscream’s fearful optics. “Tell me the truth, and this process will go much easer for the both of us.”
“It—it was a causal flight, nothing more,” Starscream stammered. “I just—I just needed a break. I couldn’t handle being stuck in the same room as that savage brute, and a flight seemed like the only solution.”
Optimus leaned back, blinking with surprise. “In order to escape Megatron, you went for a flight…”
“Yes,” Starscream said, annoyance flashing across his faceplates. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
“…to collect sand?”
Starscream fell silent, an expression of uncertainty replacing the confidence and irritation he tried to display. He had to admit, the action was certainly bound to confuse anyone who wasn’t as involved in his past as Starscream. The more he thought about it, the more he began to realize that finding a member of the opposing army crouched under a Rocky overhang and scooping up vials of sand probably would have looked pretty strange.
He attempted to come up with a reasonable response, but Starscream was saved most of the trouble when Ratchet opened the door to the room, looking more exhausted and confused than Starscream believed he normally appeared. Maybe he should start observing the Autobots a little more closely, he thought. It certainly seemed like he was missing a crucial amount of data, and he’d only been awake for a good thirty earth minutes.
“Optimus,” Ratchet said, the word torn between a sigh and a desperate request for help.
Right away, Optimus went from a serious leader interrogating his enemy to the default worried expression he always wore. He turned to look at his medic, his optics searching for any sign of injury. Starscream watched the exchange quietly, struggling to suppress the sense of jealously he felt at the way Optimus looked at Ratchet. He wasn’t like them, he reminded himself. He didn’t need their support; he didn’t need anyone’s support.
“Ratchet?” He asked, giving the mech his full attention. “What is it?”
“It’s… I don’t know how to explain it, but you need to come take a look. I think I’ve located another energon source.”
For reasons unbeknownst to him—at least, that’s what he told himself—, Starscream felt a surging panic race through him. An energon source? If it had been another mine, Ratchet would have said so, right?
Could it be…? No. No, there was no way. It had been so long. No bot could survive the frigid temperatures for that long. Starscream remained silent as Optimus turned back to him, an apologetic look on his face as he rose to his pedes.
“I’m sorry, Starscream,” he said, his helm turned over one shoulder as he headed to join Ratchet. “This shouldn’t take long. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“By all means,” Starscream said, waving a servo with mocking concern. “Do what you must, Prime. I’ll be here waiting.”
He most certainly was not going to be there when Optimus came back, but they didn’t need to know this.
Optimus seemed hesitant to leave, but Ratchet gave his arm a firm tug, which was apparently all it took to get him moving. Starscream watched as the two Autobots stepped outside, allowing the door to click shut behind them. He gave it a few long seconds before he got up and headed for the door, just in case they had decided to stick around for a little while before leaving.
Starscream sat up carefully, wincing at the loud creaking of the cot beneath him. He watched the door for any signs of a mech coming back inside, and only continued when there was nothing but silence. He crept across the room, his optics scanning for any sign of a security camera. If the Autobots were more prepared for a captive Decepticon, they would have rigged the entire room with various forms of equipment. As it stood, however, Starscream wasn’t fully convinced that he hadn’t been left in someone’s private quarters.
After assuring himself that there weren’t any surveillance cameras positioned in the room, Starscream rushed for the door handle. He didn’t bother using stealth any further; there wasn’t much need, anyway. At first, the handle only shook and rattled, having been locked from the outside. Starscream cursed under his breath. Of course they had to make things difficult for him.
Given the basic lock placed on the door, it didn’t take long for Starscream to realize he could simply fiddle with the latch using his claws. He crouched low to the ground and gently slipped a digit in between the door and the wall, twisting it around until the familiar click could be heard. This time, when Starscream tried to open the door, it slid wide open.
“Wonderful,” he whispered to himself, a gleeful smile spreading across his faceplates as he slipped out of the room. “Now to find a way out of this Primus-forsaken place.”
Against his better judgment, Starscream followed the sound of faint voices down the hall. From what he could tell of the Autobot’s inferior home, there seemed to be one main exit, and only one. Unless he contacted Soundwave for a groundbridge (which he couldn’t do, given his current predicament), Starscream was left with one option.
He simply hoped the Autobots would be distracted by the energon source long enough for him to make his escape.
As he crept closer, Starscream was able to faintly make out the sound of Optimus and Ratchet’s discussion. From what he could tell, the two were deep in thought, desperate to determine what they had discovered. Starscream paused at the end of the hallway and poked his helm out far enough to catch a glimpse of the Autobots huddled around a bright screen with a highlighted set of coordinates.
He hated himself for it, but Starscream couldn’t help but feel a little curious. Energon had been one of his main interests in the academy, given his seeker heritage. If he really wanted to, he could easily determine a solution to this new “discovery.” He was stuck in their base, after all, and—assuming he actually managed to escape—there wasn’t much for him to return to. Unless, of course, he wanted to fall victim to more of Megatron’s twisted affections.
Starscream made up his mind rather quickly. He strode into the room, holding himself up with an air of confidence that he’d grown so used to displaying. The action was a little awkward given the restraints, but Starscream made a show of casually inspecting his claws as he came to a stop in the middle of the room.
“Having trouble, Prime?” Starscream asked, relishing in the way the entire group of bots turned around in startled surprise. “Maybe I could be of assistance.”
As expected, Starscream’s offer was immediately met with backlash. Ratchet fervently shook his helm, his servos waving in a dismissive manner.
“No, no, no,” he said, a stern look in his optics. “We will not be having the Decepticon’s second-in-command anywhere near our precious resources. It’s a recipe for disaster, for Primus’ sake.”
“Easy, Ratchet,” Optimus cut in, a gentle servo coming down to rest against the medic’s shoulder. “Starscream is under our careful observation. He’ll be unable to do anything without one of us intervening.”
Without waiting for a response from the agitated medic, Optimus nodded his helm in Starscream’s direction. “Do you think you would be capable of determining the energon’s source?”
“I know I will,” Starscream responded, already heading straight for the console. He forced his way past the group of confused Autobots until he was able to get his servos on the console’s control panel. “Energon is my specialty, after all.”
Ratchet grumbled in disapproval, but Starscream merely ignored him. His servos floated across the control panel, typing in a few quick commands as his optics studied the readouts. Within seconds, the console responded, and Starscream was granted a full list of coordinates and defining characteristics.
“You see?” He said, leaning back to fully take in his work. All around him, the Autobots leaned in, their optics wide with surprise. “All it took was a different approach. Now, what have we here—“
As soon as his optics fell on the data report, Starscream could feel his spark clench with a renewed agony. There was no denying the strong, pulsing energon signal for what it was: another living spark. A silence had fallen among the rest of the group, and Starscream knew as well as them that whatever he had found was most definitely another living bot.
With trembling servos, Starscream inputted another command. He needed to know the location. Where were the coordinates found? What was the bot’s faction? The second request came up as undetermined, and Starscream knew for a fact that whoever it was, they hadn’t been around for a long, long time. At least, long enough to avoid joining either of the two factions. He could hardly keep himself standing upright when he traced the energon signal back to a set of coordinates that resided on earth.
There was no denying it now; Starscream knew exactly what they had found. The coordinates showed up with a successful ping, visualizing that the energon source could be traced to the middle of the Antarctic.