Discipline
Thundercracker stormed through the halls. He did not speak, or rant, or curse, but his engines roared in anger. Even that was unseemly, he knew, and part of him hated himself for the obvious display of emotion. Even wingless grounder thugs were staring at him as he passed by, their optics fixed on him as though he were Starscream.
Starscream. His wings flicked with disgust at the very idea of the comparison.
It wasn't that he disliked Starscream. He valued and respected his commander, of course. Starscream outranked him for a number of good reasons. And beyond that, there was the bond he shared with both Starscream and Skywarp. The three jets were wingmates. Which connected them in a way most Decepticons would never understand. And such a bond was indivisible, no matter how deep their disagreements.
But Starscream was completely out of control right now, and Thundercracker was the one paying for it. Why couldn't the damned fool just leave well enough alone?
He scowled, turning a corner, seeing the door he wished he didn't have to walk through at the end of the hall. Cycling air heavily through his intakes, he willed his engines to quiet themselves. It would not do at all to go in to Megatron with his engines booming like they did around his enemies.
The door slid open. Megatron sat on his throne at the far end of the room, his red optics gleaming in the dim light. Dark fingers drummed against the armrest. Thundercracker's wings twitched, seeing it, hoping that it didn't mean he'd kept Megatron waiting too long.
"My lord," he said, bowing low, and then quickly straightening back up again. "You wished to see me?"
A frown creased the tyrant's faceplates. "Once again, I hear that you prefer spending time alone in your aerie to taking care of your duties." His optics flared. "I hear that even your wingmates claim that you have neglected them lately."
"Neglected?" Thundercracker's engine growled in spite of himself. All that he'd wanted was some time alone, some time away from the dirt and stink of the creatures crawling all over the surface of this planet like some disgusting infestation. If Starscream had gotten him in trouble just because he felt ignored - ! "My lord, it's true I've spent time in the aerie, thinking. But surely that is no sin."
Megatron's frown deepened. What is it you want? Thundercracker thought. Starscream doubted Megatron all the time, loudly and angrily. Why should he be so upset with Thundercracker for flying off to think? "My lord, it doesn't mean I have neglected my duties. If Starscream wants me around more often, he should simply tell me so. Or order me to leave the aerie. He is my superior, after all. Unless you think that I would disobey him."
"Disobey?" Megatron asked, tilting his head. "No, I would not expect disobedience from you."
Thundercracker twitched his wings. "Then I don't understand. You - you know Starscream better than any of us, my lord. Surely you realize that his whims are no reason to -"
Megatron's frame rumbled. Thundercracker bit back a curse. Was that anger, he wondered frantically, or laughter?
"Yes, I do know Starscream. And yes, if he felt ignored, he might well try to get you in trouble with me." One of his hands still clutched at his armrest, digging into the metal hard enough to dent it. Thundercracker winced, imagining that hand wrapped around the thin metal of his wings.
"But tell me, Thundercracker," Megatron continued, his lip curling as he watched the Seeker stare at his hand, "do you really think that I would call you here simply because Starscream is bored?"
Megatron rose to his feet. He was smiling now, a cold grin that made Thundercracker's wings twitch again. "Do you really believe that your commander has that much power over me?"
"N - no -" Thundercracker gasped as his leader stepped toward him, taking an involuntary step back. Megatron frowned and grabbed his wings. Thundercracker cried out in surprise and pain.
His leader ignored him. "It wasn't Starscream who told me that you've been avoiding your trine."
Thundercracker's processor raced. Megatron was trying to tell him something, something he expected the Seeker to figure out. He willed himself to ignore the pain in his wings and think. If Starscream hadn't told him, then -
"Skywarp?" His engines raced again, his spark seizing with fear.
Skywarp had never liked seeing Thundercracker fly off to the aerie by himself. Still, of all the mechs in the Decepticon army, he'd be the first one to know that Thundercracker wouldn't disappear forever. As much as the blue Seeker wanted to sometimes - as much as he wondered, some days, just why Megatron insisted on staying on this awful, backward world full of crawling, stinking vermin - he'd never turn his back on his kind. He'd never leave his trine.
And he'd never abandon the one who needed him most. Skywarp was a capable warrior, strong and clever, and his ability to teleport from place to place made him a deadly enemy. But he had no head for strategy. Or anything, really, beyond his endless, silly pranks. Thundercracker smiled, thinking of it, and quickly willed his faceplates to impassiveness again, lest Megatron take the look as an insult.
Starscream led the trine. Starscream told the other two what to do, and when, and how. But Starscream had no patience with a mech whose inability to improvise only slowed the team down. And besides, the Air Commander never missed a chance to do petty things to spite Megatron. Without someone to keep an optic on him and make sure he wasn't bending the rules, he'd have anyone he could convince doing all sorts of nonsense just so he could have his petty revenge. Someone had to translate the orders from above them - whether from Starscream or from Megatron - to something Skywarp could understand.
Yes, Thundercracker railed against the endless, dull missions that filled the Decepticons' lives these days. He wanted to soar above his Autobot enemies, raining death and flame upon their unworthy, grounded frames. He wanted to do what Megatron had always promised the Decepticons they would do: fly from world to world, testing their mettle against the strongest warriors they found, wresting planets from their defeated enemies. He wanted to temper himself against the best of the best, to conquer, to rise, to know that everyone in the galaxy trembled at the name of Decepticon - and that he was worthy to bear it.
Yes, he hated all of this, this endless petty nonsense. But none of that meant he would abandon the one who needed him most.
Blue wings twitched under Megatron's hands, making the tyrant tighten his grip on them. The Seeker's optics fuzzed with static as pain lanced through his systems, but it hardly mattered. His spark whirled in sudden panic he couldn't stop. Did Skywarp really think his wingmate would leave him?
"Yes," his leader was saying. "Skywarp told me where you were going. He did not, however, tell me why."
Dark hands wrenched Thundercracker's wings, twisting them until the Seeker could no longer bite back a cry. Then Megatron pushed down, and Thundercracker's legs buckled under him. With a clang, he fell to his knees in front of Megatron.
"Enlighten me," the tyrant said.
Thundercracker's processor raced. What could he say that Megatron didn't know already? During his long nights brooding in the aerie, Thundercracker had tried to think of how best to explain. Megatron was flight capable, yes, but he didn't have wings. He spent most of his time on the ground, and couldn't possibly understand how awful it felt to be forced to constantly have to leave the sky.
And then, to add insult to injury, to find the ground crawling with tiny, slimy, smelly organic creatures that only stopped making their noises and stench when you offlined them - and that usually offlined in a messy splatter of bright red fluids the composition of which he was far too disgusted to pay close attention to anyway.
It was - it was horrible. Even the aerie was no real refuge from it. The stink of this place got into his vents and stayed there and no cycling of air, no matter how high he flew to try and escape it, could truly clean them out again.
He'd tried, night after night, to think of how to say it. How to make his words elegant and eloquent and concise. How to convince his leader his doubts made sense. But now, his knees aching from where he'd been forced to the ground - filthy ground, at that, all smeared with dirt and particles that got into his seams and stung, even here, and how did it get into everything, everywhere, all the time, sweet Primus it was enough to drive him mad - he couldn't remember any of those pretty words.
Besides, all of those pretty words meant nothing more than "This place stinks." That... would not be convincing. Not to Megatron.
He hesitated. "My lord, you - you know how I feel about this planet."
Megatron's hands moved off his wings. He barely had a chance to cycle a sigh of relief through his shoulder vents before one of them grabbed his chin and twisted his head up.
The Decepticon leader glared down at him, his bright optics wheels of red fire. "This again?"
Thundercracker's spark whirled in dismay. His wings, finally free, trembled, their clicking too loud in the still room.
This. Again. Nothing better to say. Nothing that would fix it, change it, make it right. And Megatron had beaten him for it all once before.
Why did you do this, Skywarp? You knew what would happen. What is it you want? Guidance? Attention? What?
Thundercracker couldn't move his head with Megatron clutching it so tightly. He dropped his optics, something between a gesture of defeat and a makeshift nod. Yes, my lord. This, again.
Megatron rumbled with disgust and let go. Thundercracker's head drooped. He knew things would go better for him if he met his leader's gaze. Proudly, at least, like a warrior, if not brazenly, like Starscream. But he could not bring himself to look up at Megatron.
"Thundercracker." The touch under his chin was gentle now, coaxing his head up.
The Seeker's spark wheeled crazily in response to the light touch. Lifting his head was a relief. He wondered, for one insane moment, if this was how Starscream felt, coming before Megatron for his discipline. If it was, Thundercracker could almost understand why Starscream found himself here over and over.
"It's Skywarp that your doubts harm most," Megatron was saying now, almost kindly.
Thundercracker found himself wishing for those hands digging into his wings again. He liked some of Megatron's decisions even less than Starscream did, but he deserved his punishment for flying away and neglecting his responsibilities. That was fine. But hearing Megatron talk about Skywarp, knowing that Skywarp had been angry or concerned or hurt enough to fly to Megatron with it all was too much for him.
"And for what? You're not Starscream, defiant simply because he can be. Like Starscream, you are one of my best, dedicated to my cause, to improving yourself, to bettering your comrades, to tempering yourself through battle, to honing yourself through war. But unlike him, you are patient. Careful. Determined to out-think your enemies."
His hand clenched. Thundercracker vented a sigh, half of fear and half of relief.
"Tell me, Thundercracker. Precisely what has gone so wrong that your thinking has gone from devising tactics to hiding alone in your perch, fleeing from all you could be?"
Thundercracker had no answer. "I don't -- I don't know, my lord," he murmured, leaning into the dark fingers pressed against his jaw. Whether he wanted pain or comfort, he could not have said.
What had gone wrong? Starscream would shriek to anyone who'd listen that everything was Megatron's fault. But Thundercracker wasn't even certain of that. Megatron's decisions, taken individually, made sense to him. He could find no serious flaws.
And yet, somehow, whether through Megatron's mistakes or through inevitable circumstance or through failures of the Decepticon army or through the sheer perseverance of their enemies, they had ended up... here.
Megatron's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "No, you are not like Starscream. Starscream insists that he is not mine, but he belongs to me. You profess that you are mine, but you're not certain where you belong.
"Are you?" The tyrant gave Thundercracker's chin a hard wrench, nearly snapping the neck cables that held the Seeker's head up. The room swam in Thundercracker's vision and pain flooded his sensor net.
He protested - somehow, some words that meant no more to him than they would to Megatron. Then he quieted, waiting.
"You will be ready for tomorrow's mission?"
It wasn't a question. Thundercracker managed a weak nod.
"Good. Because you will be leading a wing. As will Starscream."
Thundercracker's engine stalled, entirely too loudly. Leading a wing? How was leading a punishment? How was it even wise, given that he had been balking?
"You - you want to be sure I'll guide Skywarp in accordance with your wishes," he stammered, confused.
Megatron smiled, his hand sliding over the glass of Thundercracker's cockpit canopy. The Seeker shivered at the too-familiar touch. What are you doing? I'm not Starscream.
"Not this time." His hand clenched tight around the glass. It creaked in protest. If Megatron squeezed any harder, it would crack.
Thundercracker had seen that happen to Starscream too, thousands of times. He'd felt the ghost of the pain through the trine bond, and Starscream's jumble of indignation and submission in response. He tensed, freezing under Megatron's hand, willing his panicked engines to quiet themselves and his processor to focus on his leader's words.
"Skywarp will not be in your wing. Not until you have learned to understand that your responsibilities trump your doubts. For the duration of tomorrow's mission, Skywarp will be in Wing One. With me."
Thundercracker's spark wheeled in his chest, numb and cold. "My lord - I - it was - I never meant -"
Megatron ignored him, the tyrant's optics flashing red.
Then the dark fingers clenched around Thundercracker's cockpit glass, and the Seeker's world shattered into thousands of glistening amber pieces, pain flaring through him as they tinkled to the ground.
Thundercracker reeled, his sensor net afire with alarms. How did Starscream do this?
Oh, he'd taken beatings before. Many times. That was simply the way of things: power displayed, order restored. And more than once, the pain had cleansed him, forcing him out of his spiraling thoughts, back into the world and the trine that needed him. The blows brought clarity, a reminder of the power that Megatron held and that every Decepticon wanted to share in. They reminded him of the warrior he could become, if he remembered to focus on the war rather than on his own disgust. After they'd happened, he felt almost grateful.
But this, although it had only lasted a moment, was beyond his understanding. Whatever lesson Megatron wanted to impart, the tyrant was willing to break him to make it. Starscream could deal with that. He could not.
His chest felt jagged and hollow. He raised his head, determined not to show Megatron weakness, not when Starscream had always been able to endure this. "My lord," he said, surprised to find that he wasn't angry.
Megatron nodded, his lip plates twisting into something that might have been a smile. He opened his hand. Tiny shards of glass glistened inside his black palm, a handful of bright gold. His optics flared as he slowly opened his hand and let them fall. Thundercracker watched, knowing he was seeing something important. But what? He wasn't yet sure.
Then Megatron nodded, slowly, and put his fingers under Thundercracker's chin again, guiding the Seeker's head up to look at him.
"And... after this?" Thundercracker said, his voice so soft he could hardly hear it over his own engines. He forced himself to meet the blazing optics in front of him.
"That depends entirely on you," Megatron said, his hand sliding over the cracked glass of Thundercracker's chest. His sensor net lit at the touch, agony speeding through his circuits.
But that pain, like the pain of the beatings he wished this was, reminded him of what and who he was. It grounded him, pulling him from the spiral of his thoughts, bringing him back to himself.
And beneath that broken glass lay the heavy casing enclosing his spark. His spark, his life itself - and his connection to the others in his trine.
He nodded, suddenly understanding. Megatron could tear that away; it was his right by rank. But Megatron was not the one who had separated him from them. Not really. That, Thundercracker had done himself, flying not only from the dirt and grit of this world he hated, but from everything else. From his kind. From their war, and from the mech who led them.
From his own trine, to whom he owed his deepest allegiance. His spark still burned, but it had grown cold to them.
Was that why Skywarp had done this? Why he would go so far as to report his own trine-mate to Megatron, as if he'd wanted to see him punished?
He'd never meant that. He'd never meant for things to go this far.
"I - I do belong to you," he stammered, the words strange in his mouth. "I will - I will go, tomorrow, and lead the wing. I will not fail or defy you."
Megatron smiled. The touch of his hand on Thundercracker's mangled cockpit canopy was a relief, a singing reminder of his place and of his very self. It did not matter any more to him that it hurt, or how badly.
Returning to himself, he knew from long experience, always did.
"Then there is one more thing to be done," Megatron rasped, his hands clenching into black fists.
Thundercracker nodded again. With a metallic click, his wings flared outward, proud and strong. This ritual, he knew. This part, he understood. This part, he could endure, because this would grant him absolution.
The first blow struck his wing, and everything else fell away. I'm coming back for you, Skywarp, he thought, his sensor net reeling with reminders of who he was. I never meant to leave.
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Starscream. His wings flicked with disgust at the very idea of the comparison.
It wasn't that he disliked Starscream. He valued and respected his commander, of course. Starscream outranked him for a number of good reasons. And beyond that, there was the bond he shared with both Starscream and Skywarp. The three jets were wingmates. Which connected them in a way most Decepticons would never understand. And such a bond was indivisible, no matter how deep their disagreements.
But Starscream was completely out of control right now, and Thundercracker was the one paying for it. Why couldn't the damned fool just leave well enough alone?
He scowled, turning a corner, seeing the door he wished he didn't have to walk through at the end of the hall. Cycling air heavily through his intakes, he willed his engines to quiet themselves. It would not do at all to go in to Megatron with his engines booming like they did around his enemies.
The door slid open. Megatron sat on his throne at the far end of the room, his red optics gleaming in the dim light. Dark fingers drummed against the armrest. Thundercracker's wings twitched, seeing it, hoping that it didn't mean he'd kept Megatron waiting too long.
"My lord," he said, bowing low, and then quickly straightening back up again. "You wished to see me?"
A frown creased the tyrant's faceplates. "Once again, I hear that you prefer spending time alone in your aerie to taking care of your duties." His optics flared. "I hear that even your wingmates claim that you have neglected them lately."
"Neglected?" Thundercracker's engine growled in spite of himself. All that he'd wanted was some time alone, some time away from the dirt and stink of the creatures crawling all over the surface of this planet like some disgusting infestation. If Starscream had gotten him in trouble just because he felt ignored - ! "My lord, it's true I've spent time in the aerie, thinking. But surely that is no sin."
Megatron's frown deepened. What is it you want? Thundercracker thought. Starscream doubted Megatron all the time, loudly and angrily. Why should he be so upset with Thundercracker for flying off to think? "My lord, it doesn't mean I have neglected my duties. If Starscream wants me around more often, he should simply tell me so. Or order me to leave the aerie. He is my superior, after all. Unless you think that I would disobey him."
"Disobey?" Megatron asked, tilting his head. "No, I would not expect disobedience from you."
Thundercracker twitched his wings. "Then I don't understand. You - you know Starscream better than any of us, my lord. Surely you realize that his whims are no reason to -"
Megatron's frame rumbled. Thundercracker bit back a curse. Was that anger, he wondered frantically, or laughter?
"Yes, I do know Starscream. And yes, if he felt ignored, he might well try to get you in trouble with me." One of his hands still clutched at his armrest, digging into the metal hard enough to dent it. Thundercracker winced, imagining that hand wrapped around the thin metal of his wings.
"But tell me, Thundercracker," Megatron continued, his lip curling as he watched the Seeker stare at his hand, "do you really think that I would call you here simply because Starscream is bored?"
Megatron rose to his feet. He was smiling now, a cold grin that made Thundercracker's wings twitch again. "Do you really believe that your commander has that much power over me?"
"N - no -" Thundercracker gasped as his leader stepped toward him, taking an involuntary step back. Megatron frowned and grabbed his wings. Thundercracker cried out in surprise and pain.
His leader ignored him. "It wasn't Starscream who told me that you've been avoiding your trine."
Thundercracker's processor raced. Megatron was trying to tell him something, something he expected the Seeker to figure out. He willed himself to ignore the pain in his wings and think. If Starscream hadn't told him, then -
"Skywarp?" His engines raced again, his spark seizing with fear.
Skywarp had never liked seeing Thundercracker fly off to the aerie by himself. Still, of all the mechs in the Decepticon army, he'd be the first one to know that Thundercracker wouldn't disappear forever. As much as the blue Seeker wanted to sometimes - as much as he wondered, some days, just why Megatron insisted on staying on this awful, backward world full of crawling, stinking vermin - he'd never turn his back on his kind. He'd never leave his trine.
And he'd never abandon the one who needed him most. Skywarp was a capable warrior, strong and clever, and his ability to teleport from place to place made him a deadly enemy. But he had no head for strategy. Or anything, really, beyond his endless, silly pranks. Thundercracker smiled, thinking of it, and quickly willed his faceplates to impassiveness again, lest Megatron take the look as an insult.
Starscream led the trine. Starscream told the other two what to do, and when, and how. But Starscream had no patience with a mech whose inability to improvise only slowed the team down. And besides, the Air Commander never missed a chance to do petty things to spite Megatron. Without someone to keep an optic on him and make sure he wasn't bending the rules, he'd have anyone he could convince doing all sorts of nonsense just so he could have his petty revenge. Someone had to translate the orders from above them - whether from Starscream or from Megatron - to something Skywarp could understand.
Yes, Thundercracker railed against the endless, dull missions that filled the Decepticons' lives these days. He wanted to soar above his Autobot enemies, raining death and flame upon their unworthy, grounded frames. He wanted to do what Megatron had always promised the Decepticons they would do: fly from world to world, testing their mettle against the strongest warriors they found, wresting planets from their defeated enemies. He wanted to temper himself against the best of the best, to conquer, to rise, to know that everyone in the galaxy trembled at the name of Decepticon - and that he was worthy to bear it.
Yes, he hated all of this, this endless petty nonsense. But none of that meant he would abandon the one who needed him most.
Blue wings twitched under Megatron's hands, making the tyrant tighten his grip on them. The Seeker's optics fuzzed with static as pain lanced through his systems, but it hardly mattered. His spark whirled in sudden panic he couldn't stop. Did Skywarp really think his wingmate would leave him?
"Yes," his leader was saying. "Skywarp told me where you were going. He did not, however, tell me why."
Dark hands wrenched Thundercracker's wings, twisting them until the Seeker could no longer bite back a cry. Then Megatron pushed down, and Thundercracker's legs buckled under him. With a clang, he fell to his knees in front of Megatron.
"Enlighten me," the tyrant said.
Thundercracker's processor raced. What could he say that Megatron didn't know already? During his long nights brooding in the aerie, Thundercracker had tried to think of how best to explain. Megatron was flight capable, yes, but he didn't have wings. He spent most of his time on the ground, and couldn't possibly understand how awful it felt to be forced to constantly have to leave the sky.
And then, to add insult to injury, to find the ground crawling with tiny, slimy, smelly organic creatures that only stopped making their noises and stench when you offlined them - and that usually offlined in a messy splatter of bright red fluids the composition of which he was far too disgusted to pay close attention to anyway.
It was - it was horrible. Even the aerie was no real refuge from it. The stink of this place got into his vents and stayed there and no cycling of air, no matter how high he flew to try and escape it, could truly clean them out again.
He'd tried, night after night, to think of how to say it. How to make his words elegant and eloquent and concise. How to convince his leader his doubts made sense. But now, his knees aching from where he'd been forced to the ground - filthy ground, at that, all smeared with dirt and particles that got into his seams and stung, even here, and how did it get into everything, everywhere, all the time, sweet Primus it was enough to drive him mad - he couldn't remember any of those pretty words.
Besides, all of those pretty words meant nothing more than "This place stinks." That... would not be convincing. Not to Megatron.
He hesitated. "My lord, you - you know how I feel about this planet."
Megatron's hands moved off his wings. He barely had a chance to cycle a sigh of relief through his shoulder vents before one of them grabbed his chin and twisted his head up.
The Decepticon leader glared down at him, his bright optics wheels of red fire. "This again?"
Thundercracker's spark whirled in dismay. His wings, finally free, trembled, their clicking too loud in the still room.
This. Again. Nothing better to say. Nothing that would fix it, change it, make it right. And Megatron had beaten him for it all once before.
Why did you do this, Skywarp? You knew what would happen. What is it you want? Guidance? Attention? What?
Thundercracker couldn't move his head with Megatron clutching it so tightly. He dropped his optics, something between a gesture of defeat and a makeshift nod. Yes, my lord. This, again.
Megatron rumbled with disgust and let go. Thundercracker's head drooped. He knew things would go better for him if he met his leader's gaze. Proudly, at least, like a warrior, if not brazenly, like Starscream. But he could not bring himself to look up at Megatron.
"Thundercracker." The touch under his chin was gentle now, coaxing his head up.
The Seeker's spark wheeled crazily in response to the light touch. Lifting his head was a relief. He wondered, for one insane moment, if this was how Starscream felt, coming before Megatron for his discipline. If it was, Thundercracker could almost understand why Starscream found himself here over and over.
"It's Skywarp that your doubts harm most," Megatron was saying now, almost kindly.
Thundercracker found himself wishing for those hands digging into his wings again. He liked some of Megatron's decisions even less than Starscream did, but he deserved his punishment for flying away and neglecting his responsibilities. That was fine. But hearing Megatron talk about Skywarp, knowing that Skywarp had been angry or concerned or hurt enough to fly to Megatron with it all was too much for him.
"And for what? You're not Starscream, defiant simply because he can be. Like Starscream, you are one of my best, dedicated to my cause, to improving yourself, to bettering your comrades, to tempering yourself through battle, to honing yourself through war. But unlike him, you are patient. Careful. Determined to out-think your enemies."
His hand clenched. Thundercracker vented a sigh, half of fear and half of relief.
"Tell me, Thundercracker. Precisely what has gone so wrong that your thinking has gone from devising tactics to hiding alone in your perch, fleeing from all you could be?"
Thundercracker had no answer. "I don't -- I don't know, my lord," he murmured, leaning into the dark fingers pressed against his jaw. Whether he wanted pain or comfort, he could not have said.
What had gone wrong? Starscream would shriek to anyone who'd listen that everything was Megatron's fault. But Thundercracker wasn't even certain of that. Megatron's decisions, taken individually, made sense to him. He could find no serious flaws.
And yet, somehow, whether through Megatron's mistakes or through inevitable circumstance or through failures of the Decepticon army or through the sheer perseverance of their enemies, they had ended up... here.
Megatron's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "No, you are not like Starscream. Starscream insists that he is not mine, but he belongs to me. You profess that you are mine, but you're not certain where you belong.
"Are you?" The tyrant gave Thundercracker's chin a hard wrench, nearly snapping the neck cables that held the Seeker's head up. The room swam in Thundercracker's vision and pain flooded his sensor net.
He protested - somehow, some words that meant no more to him than they would to Megatron. Then he quieted, waiting.
"You will be ready for tomorrow's mission?"
It wasn't a question. Thundercracker managed a weak nod.
"Good. Because you will be leading a wing. As will Starscream."
Thundercracker's engine stalled, entirely too loudly. Leading a wing? How was leading a punishment? How was it even wise, given that he had been balking?
"You - you want to be sure I'll guide Skywarp in accordance with your wishes," he stammered, confused.
Megatron smiled, his hand sliding over the glass of Thundercracker's cockpit canopy. The Seeker shivered at the too-familiar touch. What are you doing? I'm not Starscream.
"Not this time." His hand clenched tight around the glass. It creaked in protest. If Megatron squeezed any harder, it would crack.
Thundercracker had seen that happen to Starscream too, thousands of times. He'd felt the ghost of the pain through the trine bond, and Starscream's jumble of indignation and submission in response. He tensed, freezing under Megatron's hand, willing his panicked engines to quiet themselves and his processor to focus on his leader's words.
"Skywarp will not be in your wing. Not until you have learned to understand that your responsibilities trump your doubts. For the duration of tomorrow's mission, Skywarp will be in Wing One. With me."
Thundercracker's spark wheeled in his chest, numb and cold. "My lord - I - it was - I never meant -"
Megatron ignored him, the tyrant's optics flashing red.
Then the dark fingers clenched around Thundercracker's cockpit glass, and the Seeker's world shattered into thousands of glistening amber pieces, pain flaring through him as they tinkled to the ground.
Thundercracker reeled, his sensor net afire with alarms. How did Starscream do this?
Oh, he'd taken beatings before. Many times. That was simply the way of things: power displayed, order restored. And more than once, the pain had cleansed him, forcing him out of his spiraling thoughts, back into the world and the trine that needed him. The blows brought clarity, a reminder of the power that Megatron held and that every Decepticon wanted to share in. They reminded him of the warrior he could become, if he remembered to focus on the war rather than on his own disgust. After they'd happened, he felt almost grateful.
But this, although it had only lasted a moment, was beyond his understanding. Whatever lesson Megatron wanted to impart, the tyrant was willing to break him to make it. Starscream could deal with that. He could not.
His chest felt jagged and hollow. He raised his head, determined not to show Megatron weakness, not when Starscream had always been able to endure this. "My lord," he said, surprised to find that he wasn't angry.
Megatron nodded, his lip plates twisting into something that might have been a smile. He opened his hand. Tiny shards of glass glistened inside his black palm, a handful of bright gold. His optics flared as he slowly opened his hand and let them fall. Thundercracker watched, knowing he was seeing something important. But what? He wasn't yet sure.
Then Megatron nodded, slowly, and put his fingers under Thundercracker's chin again, guiding the Seeker's head up to look at him.
"And... after this?" Thundercracker said, his voice so soft he could hardly hear it over his own engines. He forced himself to meet the blazing optics in front of him.
"That depends entirely on you," Megatron said, his hand sliding over the cracked glass of Thundercracker's chest. His sensor net lit at the touch, agony speeding through his circuits.
But that pain, like the pain of the beatings he wished this was, reminded him of what and who he was. It grounded him, pulling him from the spiral of his thoughts, bringing him back to himself.
And beneath that broken glass lay the heavy casing enclosing his spark. His spark, his life itself - and his connection to the others in his trine.
He nodded, suddenly understanding. Megatron could tear that away; it was his right by rank. But Megatron was not the one who had separated him from them. Not really. That, Thundercracker had done himself, flying not only from the dirt and grit of this world he hated, but from everything else. From his kind. From their war, and from the mech who led them.
From his own trine, to whom he owed his deepest allegiance. His spark still burned, but it had grown cold to them.
Was that why Skywarp had done this? Why he would go so far as to report his own trine-mate to Megatron, as if he'd wanted to see him punished?
He'd never meant that. He'd never meant for things to go this far.
"I - I do belong to you," he stammered, the words strange in his mouth. "I will - I will go, tomorrow, and lead the wing. I will not fail or defy you."
Megatron smiled. The touch of his hand on Thundercracker's mangled cockpit canopy was a relief, a singing reminder of his place and of his very self. It did not matter any more to him that it hurt, or how badly.
Returning to himself, he knew from long experience, always did.
"Then there is one more thing to be done," Megatron rasped, his hands clenching into black fists.
Thundercracker nodded again. With a metallic click, his wings flared outward, proud and strong. This ritual, he knew. This part, he understood. This part, he could endure, because this would grant him absolution.
The first blow struck his wing, and everything else fell away. I'm coming back for you, Skywarp, he thought, his sensor net reeling with reminders of who he was. I never meant to leave.
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