8. Choice

The orn after Thundercracker’s and Skywarp’s arrival, Starscream dragged them off to the washracks for a thorough cleansing. The difference it made was remarkable: their faded paintjobs were more visible to my optics, as well as their injuries. Optimus put in a word with Ratchet and the medic came, grumbling but businesslike. Thundercracker was better off than Skywarp, for the most part, but upon scanning his CPU Ratchet found several glitches and viruses requiring deletion. Skywarp was functional, but Ratchet insisted on undoing his sloppy patch-jobs in order to repair him properly. The attitude between the two Seekers and the medic was surprisingly good-natured, in its way: they muttered grumpy comments for a while until Ratchet gave them each a sharp whack with a wrench. After that, they seemed to get along quite nicely.

I set about getting to know Starscream’s wingmates.

Thundercracker was the largest of the trine, about my size. His optics had none of Starscream’s orange tint and none of Skywarp’s violet tinge. Facially, he was nearly identical to Skywarp. He was the quietest in voice, but this made him no less noticeable and no less intimidating. His flight engines made up for his soft voice with their deep rumble.

He was also the most even-tempered of the three, less prone to snickering or shouting than his wingmates. He kept his mouth shut most of the time, preferring to chase ideas around in his processor for a while before speaking. As a result, much of what he said was sensible. He shared Starscream’s habit of watching me oddly, considering, puzzling, trying to fit pieces together.

In stark contrast, Skywarp was loud and boisterous, full of energy. He had a wicked sense of humor and a propensity for pranks that got him into trouble more often than not, forcing me to step in when he went too far. Since he was my slave, he was my responsibility. Though he strained even my temper sometimes, I liked Skywarp. His tricks weren’t malicious, for the most part, and he claimed that they were his way of showing affection. I only ever understood half of what Skywarp said. Starscream explained that his wingmate had picked up his strange vocabulary from the planet Earth during the War.

Aside from Optimus, most Autobots were disapproving of my move. The levels of hostility extended towards me by my fellow Autobots increased noticeably, though it was usually kept behind a thin veil of courtesy.

“I can’t stress this enough,” Optimus cautioned Starscream and me. “The Senate overlooked this one infraction of the slave code for my sake, on condition that there would be no trouble. If any of you slips up, commits a crime, gets in a fight, there could be serious repercussions.” Here he looked pointedly at me. “For all of you.” I nodded to show that I understood.

Prime was worried, I could tell, but I wasn’t. I had no intention of causing trouble and jeopardizing the trine. They had the right to be together; no Senate on this or any planet had the right to separate them.

Did the Senate have the right to limit altmodes, to stop Seekers from flying, to enslave their fellow mechs and silence their protests? How were Prime and I the only Autobots who seemed to realize this? Why did nobody do anything about it?

Well, I was prepared to do something about it. I’d thought long and hard recently about the potential consequences of any actions I now took. I was ready.

I approached Starscream in his quarters, on his terms. He would feel more secure here, more likely to trust me.

“Starscream… do you have a cycle?”

“I always have time for my master,” he said blandly. I gave him a withering look. He gestured at the only chair, settling himself down on the berth. “What is it?”

I wanted to phrase my opening carefully, but unfortunately I lacked Optimus’s gift for tact. Instead, I opted for the blunt approach.

“You’re planning something,” I said. His face slid smoothly into a well-practiced expressionless mask.

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

“You’re building weapons. You and your wingmates are always discussing something. You repaired your comlink. You’ve already tried to get me on your side.” And succeeded, but I didn’t mention that yet.

Starscream smirked. “You noticed. Is it that obvious?”

“Only because I know you.” I leaned forward. “If the Decepticons are planning some kind of uprising…”

“You’re in dangerous territory, saying things like that,” he said softly, optics flaring.

“I know. But unless it’s organized, it’ll never fly. Assuming this is organized, you must have a leader. The Autobots can’t have completely destroyed the chain of command. Someone left over from the hierarchy during the War, perhaps one of Megatron’s command team, surely the rest would turn to him as their leader. I want to know… I want to talk to him.”

Starscream crossed his legs and laced his fingers together, never once taking his optics from me.

“Why?” he asked at last.

“Because I want to help,” I answered. What may have been surprise flitted across his face.

“Why?” he asked again.

“Because we’re all Cybertronian.” I was echoing Optimus and knew it... nobody could state the issue more eloquently than Prime. But he'd always been careful to temper his passion for peace's sake; I was more interested in getting my point across. It was treason, borderline anarchy that may or may not become more. “Autobots, Decepticons, it doesn't matter. We’re the same. If things really were as bad before the War as you say, maybe everything is the Autobots’ fault. If they weren’t, even if the Decepticons just fought for the sake of fighting, that’s no excuse for what's happening now. Slavery is wrong. It’s an excuse for Autobots to be as cruel and spiteful as they want to Decepticons. There are ‘bots who would terminate a slave for bumping into them in the street. Even I can see that this is wrong. Prime’s done all he can, trying to solve this without more fighting, but the Senate won’t listen to talk. The people love Prime, but he can’t just ask them to stop hating and expect everything to be fine. The time for talking is over. It would be wonderful if the world worked the way Prime does, if the Autobots actually held to their ideals and did the right thing. But it doesn’t, and they don’t. We can’t resolve this by sitting back and waiting for Primus to descend from the Matrix and set things to rights. We need to act. If fighting is the only way to make them see, then so be it... we'll fight.”

A faint smile hovered on Starscream’s mouthplates when I finished.

“We?”

Of all the questions he could have asked, of all the words, he chose that one… the one that made me freeze, my Spark seeming to skip a pulse or two, my processor of no help at all. I opened my mouth, hesitated, closed it again.

We. We. Not them, we. With that one tiny choice of words, I’d cast my lot in with the Decepticons, something I’d never imagined. If the me of a centivorn ago could have seen me now… I never would have believed it.

I cycled an intake. Rather than try to speak again, I nodded.

Starscream’s smile widened. His expression was confusing: pleasure, puzzlement, and pride all warred there. “Well,” he said. “I hadn’t expected a speech… you’ve got some work to do on that front… but that reminded me of someone else.” He laughed, then leaned back, supporting himself with his arms, the very picture of relaxation. “I’m listening. Talk away.”

It took me a moment to catch up, but I still wasn’t sure what he meant. “What?”

He heaved a patient sigh. “You said you wanted to talk to the leader of the Decepticons. I’m listening.”

I gaped. “Y-you?”

“Why such a surprise?” he asked irritably. “You don’t think I could do it?”

“No, but… you?!”

He laughed at my incomprehension. “Yes, me. I was Megatron’s second-in-command. When he was terminated, I became commander of the Decepticons. That’s why I was given to Prime: only fitting that the highest-ranking ‘con should be under the watchful optics of the highest-ranking ‘bot. And then he gave me to you. And catering to your whims while trying to run a war is no picnic on the energon farm, trust me.”

“I thought the War was over.”

He smiled darkly. “As long as the Autobots continue to believe in their superiority over Decepticons, this war will never end. What do you want to talk about?”

“How do things stand right now?”

The way things stood, as Starscream told it, was a surprise to me. I’d heard of a slave escaping from time to time, but not in the numbers that Starscream described. Evidently, there was a network of Neutral settlements and hidden caves that most slaves were privy to, a “path” of sorts that traveled to Kaon. The city had been nearly demolished and was still frequented by Autobot patrols, but it had a vast system of underground streets and tunnels that rivaled the city itself for size. It was here that the remnants of the Decepticons gathered. It was here that the Decepticons left on Cybertron, including Megatron’s trusted third-in-command Shockwave, had hidden after they received warning of the defeat at Axis. Here they waited now, gathering their strength—warriors, weapons, energon and other resources. They were ready, Starscream said… ready to take on the Autobots.

“Then what are they waiting for?” I asked. “Just for you?”

He chuckled humorlessly. “I’m touched. No, not for me. For a sign.”

I couldn’t help my doubtful look. “A sign?” I asked incredulously. “What, you mean, a sign from Primus or something?”

He shuttered his optics for a moment in exasperation. “Possibly.” When he unshuttered his optics, they glowed slightly, distantly. “No matter how dire the situation, no matter how ready they may be, the common mech will not fight of his own volition. Why do you think nobody tried rising against the Autobots before Megatron came along? For them, he was a sign that the time was right. He made them bold, stirred them up, made the energon run hot in their lines. He inspired them. They fought for him until the bitter end… they would fight for him again in a nano-klik.” He smirked wryly. “But let’s talk about you.”

Starscream leaned forward once more, optics burning intently into my own. “If you’re serious about this,” he said quietly, “then I have to tell you. I’m bound to protect you… it’s going to be difficult for me to lead as I have to if you’re in danger. And the moment someone finds out, however they do, sooner or later, that you’re a Decepticon or even a Decepticon sympathizer… with your model, they won’t be picky… you’re fair game for slavery. It’s in the Axis Decree and the slave code. I need to be certain that you can take care of yourself.”

“Teach me to fight and you’ll have less to worry about,” I answered. He nodded… it had been a command, not a request. “I’m prepared.”

“Excellent. There’s just one more thing,” he said. “I trust you… mostly… but I need you to take the Decepticon Oath of Allegiance.”

“No,” I said at once.

“Nova. You have to. I know that you have good intentions, but I can’t risk you betraying us.”

I faced him down, unrelenting. “I wish for the Decepticons to be free, and I am ready to fight for that cause. But I will not swear allegiance to you or any leader. You saw what happened to Megatron: he lost sight of his goal, and that was the cause of senseless killing. If that happens to you, I will not be sworn to follow you down that path.”

He was silent for a cycle, considering me. Then, he vented air. “Fine. You want to help, hm. Then we’ll see what you can do for us…”

-

Ye Olde April Fools' Joke

Starscream was acting oddly as we neared my quarters. He seemed anxious, glancing at me quickly before averting his gaze. Finally he cleared his vents in a cough.

“Nova… did Prime mention that you might have… visitors today?” he hazarded. I shook my head.

“No, not to me specifically. Though he did say something about some of his friends arriving from Earth. Why?”

“Yes, them. The Aerialbots. They haven’t been here in a while…”

“And…?” I prompted, wondering if this had a point. We reached my quarters and I keyed in my code.

“Well, there’s something that Prime and I have been, er, meaning to tell you about…”

The door opened and I was surprised to see two strange mechs inside. One was a strangely-built flier sporting Autobot red. The other was a Decepticon with a dented mask and a red visor. Upon close inspection, there were two others, a pair of small mechs peeking around the Decepticon’s knees. All of this I spotted in a klik; that was as long as it took for the strange jet to let out a squeal and tackle me in a hug.

“Novaaaaa!” he cried. “Soundwave, look, it’s little Nova! Look how big he is!! He’s got your face and he flies like me!”

“Fireflight’s observation: seconded,” Soundwave answered in monotone. “Frenzy, Rumble, initiate Operation: Greet Your Brother.”

My struts creaked as what felt like two more cannonballs slammed into me.

“Stakzzzzzteam… helkzzzzzzt!” I tried, my voice laced by static.

“…you creators,” he finished weakly.

:Processor reboot imminent: flashed in my vision. Oh, thank Primus! I thought gratefully, unable to process the new development. The last thing I remembered was my overenthusiastic Aerialbot creator planting an insistent kiss on my cheek before my processor shorted into merciful darkness.

APRIL FOOLS! XD

That’s right, don’t worry, they’re NOT REALLY HIS CREATORS… oh, dear Primus, no. XD First of all, it takes a Seeker to make a Seeker. Secondly, Soundwave escaped loooong ago and I doubt they’d trust Fireflight with him anyway. Haha! Happy April Fools’ Day… a little early, I know. Thank Primus it only comes once a year…

That last section NEVER HAPPENED.