Sweet Dreams, Chapter 4.2: Interlude I, Part II: Thundercracker Rising
Title: Sweet Dreams
Chapter: 4.2
Rated: M
Genre: Romance/General
Published: 04-09-09
Weeks of monitor duty as punishment for his latest prank have left Skywarp recharge deprived and with limited control over his warping abilities. Unfortunately, every time he attempts to recharge he ends up warping where he wishes to be most, TC's berth.
Interlude I: Part II - Thundercracker Rising
Thundercracker glided regally through the corridors of the Nemesis, the second shift grunts giving him a wide berth, as he made his way to his quarters. He didn't have far to walk - as an officer, they were on command level - but the hallways seemingly stretched on forever.
Usually Skywarp would have been with him, intimidating the little grounded weaklings for his own amusement, but the corridors were notably absent of his trinemate's sadistic cackle. At that moment, he would have even welcomed the smaller mechs' pathetic squeaks of terror, though he usually ordered Skywarp to leave them be. Anything to break the silence.
It was in these moments that he was able to think; to be alone, to meditate on being alone. Skywarp's pointless cruelty, though generally unwanted, kept him grounded in the present. Skywarp was no longer that naïve little youngling, afraid to make the killing shot... he shivered. It had been so long since he thought of his trinemate as he once was.
The tapping of his thrusters echoed hauntingly along the corridor walls, but they were his own; There was no one to follow - Thunderstrike was long deactivated. There was no youngling following him - Skywarp was a calloused machine of war. He was alone.
His wings fought a losing battle against gravity, his losses bearing down on him like leaden weights. He held them stubbornly high, his stride steady and powerful as he gazed superiorly at the little groundeds; he was a Seeker elite. This war may have taken Thunderstrike and Skywarp from him, but he would not yield.
Only once he was in the privacy of his own quarters did he allow his wings to droop the slightest bit. Only once he was half in recharge, did he allow himself to entertain the agonizing hope that Skywarp wasn't totally lost.
The subtle tapping of black fingers on keys echoed through the command center as two Seekers sat alone, paging through endless personnel files. The tapping paused as one caught Thundercracker's interest.
"Designation: Stormgale," he read. "Currently stationed in…"
"Next," Starscream interrupted. The Air Commander reclined in a nearby chair, twirling a stylus in his hands as he eyed the display screen with distaste.
"What is the point of all this, if you won't let me finish a single file?" Thundercracker pierced the red Seeker with an annoyed look.
"Stormgale. I'll bet he is as generic as his name," Starscream explained haughtily. "Need I remind you, we are the Command Trine of the Decepticon Air Force. Not just anyone will do. We require something special."
"Primus. Just go through the files yourself and comm me when you find someone worthy." Thundercracker's systems gave a threatening rumble, reaching the limits of his considerable patience.
At the sound, Starscream perked up, his optics brightening.
"Yes… that's it. Something special," he whispered, a self-satisfied smirk adorning his features. "Thundercracker, run a filter search for all untrined Seekers with Sigma abilities."
Thundercracker gave a tired sigh as he input the required parameters. It was typical of Starscream to want to fill his trine with "special" Seekers; his commander was a glutton for power.
"Designation: Razorwing. He can…"
"No."
"What now?"
"He trained under Acidrain. No doubt he'll come with some atrocious bad habits."
"Wasn't he Slipstream's old commanding officer?"
"My point, exactly."
Thundercracker could not help but chuckle. Starscream held at least a mild distaste for almost every mech online, but his hatred of their former trinemate was comic in its intensity. Thundercracker was one of the few he tolerated, a seeming impossibility proven by the fact that he received a mere sour look for laughing at his commander, rather than a null ray to the chest.
"I'm just going to read off the list. Stop me if you hear anything: Acidstorm, Afterburn, Blackcloud, Cloudstrike, Darkmoon, Dirge, Rainstorm, Shadowblight, Skydancer, Skywarp, Windchaser…"
"What was that last one?"
"Windchaser?"
"No, the previous one."
"Skywarp?" Thundercracker peered at the name. "What kind of name is Skywarp?"
"It certainly isn't generic," Starscream smirked. "Bring him here."
Two megacycles later, a twitching ebony Seeker stood at attention.
"Sir, you wanted to see me… sir?" The unfortunate mech floundered, pinned under the weight of the Air Commander's appraisal.
Thundercracker watched the proceedings unnoticed from a nearby corner, hiding his amused expression as Starscream made a show of picking up a datapad from the nearby table, making sure that the new mech got a good look at the sleek frame that made him the fastest Seeker online. Possibly even more amusing was the reaction of the black Seeker: nothing. He just stood there, frozen, as if Starscream had shot him with his null-ray in greeting.
"Skywarp," Starscream read from the datapad, "it says here that you can teleport."
"Um," was all the Seeker called 'Skywarp' managed.
Starscream, smirk growing wider, sauntered up to the other flyer, who was making a pitiful attempt at hiding the quivering in his wings.
"How far?" The red Seeker leaned into the mech, who became even more flustered at the invasion of his personal space.
"Um." To his credit, the other collected himself quicker than most. "2.5 hics, if conditions are fair."
"Very good." Starscream moved away, satisfied with what he saw for now. "At ease."
Lulled into a false sense of security, the ebony flier unwound like a tense coil. No longer puffed up at attention, the mech looked abnormally slight - even for a Seeker.
"As you undoubtedly know, Slipstream was terminated earlier this orn," Starscream spoke to the mech, not bothering to hide his pleasure at his hated trinemate's demise.
Thundercracker quietly observed the other Seeker from his dark corner. His thrusters were woefully small and the angle of the junction where his wing struts met his back was off. He zoomed in his vision, focusing on the juncture; there seemed to be scarring. Perhaps the deformity was due to an old injury. Fine silver lines ran out from his armor seams, stirring up memories of a time Thundercracker himself possessed such marks. It had been a long, long time ago.
In a fit of rare fury, he threw open the private comm channel he shared with his trineleader. The black Seeker continued to stare at Starscream as if he expected the Air Commander to suddenly hurl a cluster bomb in his direction, completely oblivious to the silent conversation occurring over his head.
"At any point in your scheming over Skywarp's file, did you happen to check his age?"
The red Seeker threw a discrete glance at his trinemate, before returning to address their new addition.
"No." He openly appraised the other flyer, who squirmed under the scrutiny. "He does look a little young, but what does it matter if he can fly?"
"He is a youngling, a liability," Thundercracker seethed. "Do you see his wing juncture? Growth seams!"
"Good, he will be a blank slate. Free of bad habits and sloppy training."
"He will not last a day!"
"If he doesn't, then he is a weakling and doesn't deserve to function." Starscream answered matter-of-fact. "He is the perfect addition to our trine, and I will not let your misguided morals get in the way."
"You are unbelievable." Starscream smirked, uncaring and cruel; a true Decepticon. Leave it to him to take that as a compliment. "What is his combat experience?"
Starscream paused to check his datapad.
"As I said, Thundercracker, he is a blank slate. According to the database, he is former CADF, stationed in neutral territory. No combat experience has been recorded."
"None?" Thundercracker's voice rose in disbelief over the channel.
"Yes, none." A wisp of irritation crossed his commander's face, anticipating trouble.
Thundecracker knew it would be pointless to argue. Starscream had his processor set on this one, and there was nothing he could do to change the stubborn mech's mind. He just hoped the youngling's inevitable death would be quick and painless. Such a shame, there were so few left.
Thundercracker watched the youngling, expression dark as he brooded on the implications of having such an inexperienced Seeker in his trine. He eyed the other's underdeveloped wing struts with distaste. He would surely fly on an inconsistent vector. What good was an unusual Sigma ability if one was not yet capable of flying in a straight line? No doubt Starscream would reconsider his decision when close formation flying became a hazard. That is, if the youngling survived long enough to be dismissed back to his post in Vos.
Starscream carried on with his proposal unhindered by his wingmate's doubts, though the black Seeker was no longer paying attention. Thundercracker suddenly found himself the subject of intense scrutiny as the youngling finally noticed his presence. The mech openly examined him, all previous shyness gone. Annoyed, he met the other's stare.
In those optics, he saw none of the malice he saw in his comrades, none of the insane energon lust. He saw neither jaded callousness, nor the weighty exhaustion of a drawn-out war. Instead, he saw youthful ardor, a curiosity and zest for life that he had not felt in vorns. And something he never expected to see in the eyes of a soldier: innocence.
Thundercracker, calm and collected, calculating and in control, was unhinged. Undone by crimson mirrors that reflected on a past he'd rather forget.
Mercifully, he was soon torn from his staring match by the clearing of Starscream's vocalizer.
"W-What?" the other Seeker asked, appearing similarly unmoored.
"Do you accept?" Starscream repeated, amused.
The youngling gave him a blank look, to which Starscream replied with an exasperated blast of his vents, "Look, I don't have to explain my reasoning to an insignificant underling like you. But if you must know, we only have a limited range of low ranking Seekers to choose from. All ranking Seekers, with the exception of Thundercracker and myself, are currently members of full trines. Your special ability sets you apart from the mediocrity. Hopefully it will help you to keep up with us, as our new right wing. So, do you accept?"
"WHAT?" Skywarp exclaimed, shocked at his fortune.
Starscream quirked an optic ridge. "Am I going to have to repeat the question again?"
"N-no. I mean, yes. Yes, I accept."
"Finally, a semi-coherent response! Very well then, from now on you will be staying in Kaon. I have a meeting with Megatron," he turned to the cruel, angular visage of the Decepticon commander that had just appeared on the central monitor. "Thundercracker will show you to your quarters. Dismissed."
Thundercracker gave his commander a quick glance that spoke volumes about how he felt being relegated to the role of sparkling sitter before setting off down the corridor at a brisk clip.
He could hear the hesitant tapping of the other's thrusters behind him, following at a safe distance. Already testy, his mood began to sour further when he felt that hated prickle on the back of his wings that told him he was being watched.
What was so fragging fascinating about him? He was a military Seeker, just like his unwanted trinemate behind him. Granted, with much more experience and an actual chance of survival come the next battle. Seriously, what was Starscream thinking? Power-hungry, aft-headed glitch...
The youngling startled at the angry growl that emanated from his thrusters, lagging further behind. At this rate, they might make it to the other Seeker's quarters by evening mess.
He gave an annoyed jerk of his helm in the direction of the living quarters, hoping the youngling would take the hint. He wasn't one for small talk, particularly with someone straight off the assembly line like his companion. Any such discussion would be shallow, lacking any of the practical intelligence that came with experience. Likely, the youngling was still mulling over the Air Commander's theatrics, if the troubled look on his face was any indication.
Thundercracker discreetly observed the black Seeker, now just behind him. He could feel the air disturbances caused by the other's movement on the backs of his wings. Glancing back, he could see the other's growth seams. The thin silver lines stood out in startling contrast to the deep ebony of his armor now that they were in the bright light of the corridor.
With another angry glare, Thundercracker picked up his pace. The pair of thrusters trailing behind him followed suit in a sharp staccato that reverberated off the stark corridor walls to quiver in his very spark. He stopped abruptly to glance down the hallway, expecting to see a pair of charcoal-striped wings just ahead of him, mentally berating himself when - of course - they were not there.
The haunting tapping mercifully ceased as the youngling came to a halt beside him, curious optics examining his face, darkened with painful memories. He met the youthful optics for a nanoclick, fully intending to tell the nosy bot off, but found himself caught up in an innocent curiosity that had him spilling a brief, rare glimpse into his thoughts
"This is a war, mechs will die."They were familiar words, though he had never spoken them. He watched the tension drain from the younger mech as the stifling silence was broken. Unwittingly, he relaxed in turn.
"What?" The youngling lost his faraway look, twin points of red coming into focus on Thundercracker's carefully blanked face.
"I saw you staring, obviously," he elaborated. "It wasn't too difficult to figure out what you were thinking."
Slipstream had reacted the same way when he met the Air Commander, and he had been much older. Starscream was, by his very nature, a lot to process for any mech, and his new trinemate seemed a little on the slow side. He was no doubt trying to fit the Air Commander into whatever optimistic, cookie-cutter idea his naïve processor had dreamed up about the 'great Air Commander Starscream.' Well, Thundercracker wouldn't be the one to break it to him, but he'd learn soon enough... square peg, round hole. Starscream was Starscream.
"You younglings are all the same. A few more vorns of this war and you'll become as callous as the rest of us. You'll have to, if you want to survive." Skywarp could not be allowed to trust mechs like Starscream. He wouldn't last a day. Thundercracker wasn't sure why he cared, but he found himself wanting the youngling to survive. This war had taken enough…
"If you take every deactivation to spark, your grief will consume you."
"So, you don't miss Slipstream?"
That was what was bothering him? The silly youngling thought he was upset by the deactivation of his aft of a trinemate? He had been sure it had been Starscream's antics. He couldn't help but chuckle, which caused the youngling to frown unhappily as he registered how naïve he had sounded.
"Slipstream? No. To be blunt, Slipstream was an incompetent aft. It is unfortunate that he was terminated." He couldn't help but snort a little, pausing briefly to frown at the youngling's shocked look. "But really, it's better for the trine. Slipstream schemed his way to the top. That slagger had connections, I'll give him that, but he was a poor excuse for a Seeker."
Seekers could forgive arrogance, a trait they all shared. Sour personalities, megalomania... even mild cases of insanity. All of that could be overlooked, but ineptitude in flight was unforgivable. Thundercracker hoped that the youngling possessed enough of the basic Seeker programming to understand his reasoning. He was reassured when the other gave a small smile, appearing perfectly at ease in a matter of nanoclicks.
"I always felt exposed on my right in trine formation. Maybe that will change." He gave Skywarp a critical look. Doubtful.
He was haunted by many ghosts, but Slipstream's deactivation... had he really once been this naive?
Yes, he had.
How did Thunderstrike ever put up with his nonsense? Unbidden, a small smile brightened his face.
"Skywarp, right? I saw your file." And the 1024 other files Starscream forced him to look over.
"Yeah, that's my designation."
"Well, I have drills to oversee, comm me if you need anything vital. Anything less and I will turn you into spare parts."
He hesitated a moment before sending Skywarp his private comm frequency. He regretted his decision almost immediately as he felt Skywarp open the channel. He should not allow the youngling this close. Oh well, he wouldn't live very long anyway.
That thought was not as reassuring at Thundercracker would have liked.
"Okay, TC. I'll see you at maneuver practice at 0630," Skywarp said cheerily.
"Do not call me TC," Thundercracker's spark froze as he was addressed informally for the first time in thousands of vorns. He retreated down the corridor, icy demeanor firmly back in place.
"You're off by three degrees." Thundercracker observed. Skywarp transformed to regard the older Seeker.
Thundercracker had been following him in root mode, all sensors focused on the youngling's vector. As he had predicted, the seams along Skywarp's wing joints, his growth plates, had caused him problems with staying on a consistent vector. Skywarp would intend to fly in one direction, but his wings would go in another.
The deviation was minute; if he were flying with anyone but the command trine, no doubt it would have gone unnoticed. But Starscream had noticed, which was why Thundercracker was outside, using his off-duty time to coach his young wingmate.
His wingleader had said that Skywarp would learn to compensate, or be slagged. Thundercracker would have liked to have just retired to his quarters with a good datapad, but his spark gave an unwelcome jolt every time he considered the likely outcome of Skywarp's 'trial by fire.'
"TC, I mean Thundercracker, I am adjusting my vector by .05 degrees every nanoclick." Skywarp's frustration was bleeding through the comm. "According to my flight computer, that should be enough."
"You were three degrees off." Thundercracker sighed at the youngling's put-out look. "Come here."
"Turn around." Skywarp did as told, which gave Thundercracker a chance to inspect the other's wing joints. His growth plates had expanded 20%, so he had reached 80% of his growth potential. It would be some time yet until his frame would expand fully and a medic could weld and reinforce the seams.
"How old are you?" It was the first time he had asked his trinemate directly, preferring not to know. Skywarp's easy grin fell into an uncomfortable frown.
"Old enough to serve," he said simply, more serious than Thundercracker had ever seen him. "I came off the lines ready to serve."
"In the CADF." Thundercracker knew his trinemate's history. "You must be young. They only started creating purpose-built military fliers after the riots started."
"My frame might've been built for CADF, but my spark wasn't. I don't have to be loyal to them." Skywarp looked angry; Thundercracker had never seen this side of the youngling before. "I serve myself! Not the stupid Autobots!"
It didn't escape the older mech that Skywarp avoided his question, but that seemed of little importance now.
He had never considered the youngling's reasons for joining the Decepticons; his trinemate's thoughts appeared so simplistic, he doubted it could have been more than the other's military coding driving him to fight.
Yet, here was Skywarp, the warped metal of his Decepticon brands standing slightly raised against his wings, a look on his faceplate that just dared Thundercracker to question his place in the faction.
Thundercracker's wings ached with sense memory; he could see a blue youngling, brought to his knees by the pain of Megatron's mark, determination waging a war against despair within his processor.
You'll see the end of this war. Someday, you'll be free.
I serve myself!
Skywarp had as much right as he did to be here, fighting for his right to an identity, a purpose greater than that of an Autobot pawn.
"I thought you were just here for the trigger time."
"That too." Skywarp's grin was back in place as he flipped back into his tetrajet form. "Okay, so I'll try an extra 0.07 degree compensation. I just realized I didn't account for the wind." His voice sounded sheepish over the comm.
"Very good." Thundercracker was smiling slightly as he transformed. There was hope for Skywarp yet. "Stay on my wing." He flew in front of the other jet, to Starscream's customary position.
"What? Let me try this out first!" Skywarp sounded panicky. "What if I hit you?"
"You won't." Thundercracker said simply. "Oh, and no warping out on me again. You are going to run this drill to the finish."
"You're no fun, TC-Thundercracker." Skywarp pouted, following his trinemate across the sky, a sunset colored by pollution - bright reds, oranges and purples - a hazy shroud over the once clear skies of their war ravaged home.
Thundercracker emerged from recharge, the haze of purple still surrounding him, a lingering reminder of all he had lost. He onlined all of his systems at once, and mercifully, the violet was gone. He lay still a moment, expecting to hear the hum of a base preparing to mobilize, but it was quiet.
He checked his chronometer. It was far earlier than he had expected; Starscream would not be databursting the details of their mission for at least another megacycle. Thundercracker continued to lay in his berth, fully online and not quite sure what to do with himself.
He contemplated the wide metal expanse, which suddenly felt much wider than necessary. He stretched out, wings and arms askew as he tried to fill the gaping void he only just realized was there. He paused as his hands brushed heated metal. The empty side of the berth was warm. Very warm.
He glared at his offline recharge computer, its terminal connections hanging forgotten on the wall. Without its data filtering capabilities, he was prone to troublesome memory file dumps. It was not such an issue now that he had his own quarters, and nobody else was present to witness his tossing and turning, but they often left him onlining in such a horrible mood.
He felt the ping of a data package against his firewalls, quickly adjusting them to allow for a download as he identified the sender as Starscream.
"Good orn," Starscream's voice sounded oddly pleased across the comm. His strategy meeting with Megatron must have gone well. "Our target is nuclear. My databurst contains the coordinates and schematics for the plant."
"Acknowledged."
"Good. We will depart in four breems." Starcream cut the connection.
Thundercracker rose, preparing to report to the conning tower. On his way to the lift, he opened the file, studying the layout of the plant. It was a standard layout for a human nuclear facility, nothing out of the ordinary. He gave a pleased hum as he noted that it was surrounded by open desert. It would be difficult for the Autobots to defend such an open target; without any cover, they would be extremely vulnerable to aerial attacks.
The lift doors opened, the bright morning sun forcing him to reset his visual field. Straining his optics, he could make out his trineleader in the distance. Starscream seemed to be back in favor with Megatron; they were deep in discussion, voices only slightly raised, and neither was wielding a charged weapon. The familiar outline of a black Seeker, perched on the edge of the platform, cut through the blinding white.
"Hey TC," his trinemate's voice was animated with the prospect of battle. "Ready to kick some Auto-aft?"
"Good orn, 'Warp." He frowned slightly, shading his optics with his servo. "I'm ready to raid a power plant, whether the Autobots show up or not."
"What's with the attitude, morning spark? You know they're gonna show!" Skywarp sounded amused. "It's about time too. I still owe Skydive for that cheap shot."
His frown deepened as he remembered his trinemate laid out in the medbay; it wasn't often that an Autobot managed to disable Skywarp.
So do I, he thought darkly.
Chapter: 4.2
Rated: M
Genre: Romance/General
Published: 04-09-09
Weeks of monitor duty as punishment for his latest prank have left Skywarp recharge deprived and with limited control over his warping abilities. Unfortunately, every time he attempts to recharge he ends up warping where he wishes to be most, TC's berth.
Interlude I: Part II - Thundercracker Rising
Thundercracker glided regally through the corridors of the Nemesis, the second shift grunts giving him a wide berth, as he made his way to his quarters. He didn't have far to walk - as an officer, they were on command level - but the hallways seemingly stretched on forever.
Usually Skywarp would have been with him, intimidating the little grounded weaklings for his own amusement, but the corridors were notably absent of his trinemate's sadistic cackle. At that moment, he would have even welcomed the smaller mechs' pathetic squeaks of terror, though he usually ordered Skywarp to leave them be. Anything to break the silence.
It was in these moments that he was able to think; to be alone, to meditate on being alone. Skywarp's pointless cruelty, though generally unwanted, kept him grounded in the present. Skywarp was no longer that naïve little youngling, afraid to make the killing shot... he shivered. It had been so long since he thought of his trinemate as he once was.
The tapping of his thrusters echoed hauntingly along the corridor walls, but they were his own; There was no one to follow - Thunderstrike was long deactivated. There was no youngling following him - Skywarp was a calloused machine of war. He was alone.
His wings fought a losing battle against gravity, his losses bearing down on him like leaden weights. He held them stubbornly high, his stride steady and powerful as he gazed superiorly at the little groundeds; he was a Seeker elite. This war may have taken Thunderstrike and Skywarp from him, but he would not yield.
Only once he was in the privacy of his own quarters did he allow his wings to droop the slightest bit. Only once he was half in recharge, did he allow himself to entertain the agonizing hope that Skywarp wasn't totally lost.
The subtle tapping of black fingers on keys echoed through the command center as two Seekers sat alone, paging through endless personnel files. The tapping paused as one caught Thundercracker's interest.
"Designation: Stormgale," he read. "Currently stationed in…"
"Next," Starscream interrupted. The Air Commander reclined in a nearby chair, twirling a stylus in his hands as he eyed the display screen with distaste.
"What is the point of all this, if you won't let me finish a single file?" Thundercracker pierced the red Seeker with an annoyed look.
"Stormgale. I'll bet he is as generic as his name," Starscream explained haughtily. "Need I remind you, we are the Command Trine of the Decepticon Air Force. Not just anyone will do. We require something special."
"Primus. Just go through the files yourself and comm me when you find someone worthy." Thundercracker's systems gave a threatening rumble, reaching the limits of his considerable patience.
At the sound, Starscream perked up, his optics brightening.
"Yes… that's it. Something special," he whispered, a self-satisfied smirk adorning his features. "Thundercracker, run a filter search for all untrined Seekers with Sigma abilities."
Thundercracker gave a tired sigh as he input the required parameters. It was typical of Starscream to want to fill his trine with "special" Seekers; his commander was a glutton for power.
"Designation: Razorwing. He can…"
"No."
"What now?"
"He trained under Acidrain. No doubt he'll come with some atrocious bad habits."
"Wasn't he Slipstream's old commanding officer?"
"My point, exactly."
Thundercracker could not help but chuckle. Starscream held at least a mild distaste for almost every mech online, but his hatred of their former trinemate was comic in its intensity. Thundercracker was one of the few he tolerated, a seeming impossibility proven by the fact that he received a mere sour look for laughing at his commander, rather than a null ray to the chest.
"I'm just going to read off the list. Stop me if you hear anything: Acidstorm, Afterburn, Blackcloud, Cloudstrike, Darkmoon, Dirge, Rainstorm, Shadowblight, Skydancer, Skywarp, Windchaser…"
"What was that last one?"
"Windchaser?"
"No, the previous one."
"Skywarp?" Thundercracker peered at the name. "What kind of name is Skywarp?"
"It certainly isn't generic," Starscream smirked. "Bring him here."
Two megacycles later, a twitching ebony Seeker stood at attention.
"Sir, you wanted to see me… sir?" The unfortunate mech floundered, pinned under the weight of the Air Commander's appraisal.
Thundercracker watched the proceedings unnoticed from a nearby corner, hiding his amused expression as Starscream made a show of picking up a datapad from the nearby table, making sure that the new mech got a good look at the sleek frame that made him the fastest Seeker online. Possibly even more amusing was the reaction of the black Seeker: nothing. He just stood there, frozen, as if Starscream had shot him with his null-ray in greeting.
"Skywarp," Starscream read from the datapad, "it says here that you can teleport."
"Um," was all the Seeker called 'Skywarp' managed.
Starscream, smirk growing wider, sauntered up to the other flyer, who was making a pitiful attempt at hiding the quivering in his wings.
"How far?" The red Seeker leaned into the mech, who became even more flustered at the invasion of his personal space.
"Um." To his credit, the other collected himself quicker than most. "2.5 hics, if conditions are fair."
"Very good." Starscream moved away, satisfied with what he saw for now. "At ease."
Lulled into a false sense of security, the ebony flier unwound like a tense coil. No longer puffed up at attention, the mech looked abnormally slight - even for a Seeker.
"As you undoubtedly know, Slipstream was terminated earlier this orn," Starscream spoke to the mech, not bothering to hide his pleasure at his hated trinemate's demise.
Thundercracker quietly observed the other Seeker from his dark corner. His thrusters were woefully small and the angle of the junction where his wing struts met his back was off. He zoomed in his vision, focusing on the juncture; there seemed to be scarring. Perhaps the deformity was due to an old injury. Fine silver lines ran out from his armor seams, stirring up memories of a time Thundercracker himself possessed such marks. It had been a long, long time ago.
In a fit of rare fury, he threw open the private comm channel he shared with his trineleader. The black Seeker continued to stare at Starscream as if he expected the Air Commander to suddenly hurl a cluster bomb in his direction, completely oblivious to the silent conversation occurring over his head.
"At any point in your scheming over Skywarp's file, did you happen to check his age?"
The red Seeker threw a discrete glance at his trinemate, before returning to address their new addition.
"No." He openly appraised the other flyer, who squirmed under the scrutiny. "He does look a little young, but what does it matter if he can fly?"
"He is a youngling, a liability," Thundercracker seethed. "Do you see his wing juncture? Growth seams!"
"Good, he will be a blank slate. Free of bad habits and sloppy training."
"He will not last a day!"
"If he doesn't, then he is a weakling and doesn't deserve to function." Starscream answered matter-of-fact. "He is the perfect addition to our trine, and I will not let your misguided morals get in the way."
"You are unbelievable." Starscream smirked, uncaring and cruel; a true Decepticon. Leave it to him to take that as a compliment. "What is his combat experience?"
Starscream paused to check his datapad.
"As I said, Thundercracker, he is a blank slate. According to the database, he is former CADF, stationed in neutral territory. No combat experience has been recorded."
"None?" Thundercracker's voice rose in disbelief over the channel.
"Yes, none." A wisp of irritation crossed his commander's face, anticipating trouble.
Thundecracker knew it would be pointless to argue. Starscream had his processor set on this one, and there was nothing he could do to change the stubborn mech's mind. He just hoped the youngling's inevitable death would be quick and painless. Such a shame, there were so few left.
Thundercracker watched the youngling, expression dark as he brooded on the implications of having such an inexperienced Seeker in his trine. He eyed the other's underdeveloped wing struts with distaste. He would surely fly on an inconsistent vector. What good was an unusual Sigma ability if one was not yet capable of flying in a straight line? No doubt Starscream would reconsider his decision when close formation flying became a hazard. That is, if the youngling survived long enough to be dismissed back to his post in Vos.
Starscream carried on with his proposal unhindered by his wingmate's doubts, though the black Seeker was no longer paying attention. Thundercracker suddenly found himself the subject of intense scrutiny as the youngling finally noticed his presence. The mech openly examined him, all previous shyness gone. Annoyed, he met the other's stare.
In those optics, he saw none of the malice he saw in his comrades, none of the insane energon lust. He saw neither jaded callousness, nor the weighty exhaustion of a drawn-out war. Instead, he saw youthful ardor, a curiosity and zest for life that he had not felt in vorns. And something he never expected to see in the eyes of a soldier: innocence.
Thundercracker, calm and collected, calculating and in control, was unhinged. Undone by crimson mirrors that reflected on a past he'd rather forget.
Mercifully, he was soon torn from his staring match by the clearing of Starscream's vocalizer.
"W-What?" the other Seeker asked, appearing similarly unmoored.
"Do you accept?" Starscream repeated, amused.
The youngling gave him a blank look, to which Starscream replied with an exasperated blast of his vents, "Look, I don't have to explain my reasoning to an insignificant underling like you. But if you must know, we only have a limited range of low ranking Seekers to choose from. All ranking Seekers, with the exception of Thundercracker and myself, are currently members of full trines. Your special ability sets you apart from the mediocrity. Hopefully it will help you to keep up with us, as our new right wing. So, do you accept?"
"WHAT?" Skywarp exclaimed, shocked at his fortune.
Starscream quirked an optic ridge. "Am I going to have to repeat the question again?"
"N-no. I mean, yes. Yes, I accept."
"Finally, a semi-coherent response! Very well then, from now on you will be staying in Kaon. I have a meeting with Megatron," he turned to the cruel, angular visage of the Decepticon commander that had just appeared on the central monitor. "Thundercracker will show you to your quarters. Dismissed."
Thundercracker gave his commander a quick glance that spoke volumes about how he felt being relegated to the role of sparkling sitter before setting off down the corridor at a brisk clip.
He could hear the hesitant tapping of the other's thrusters behind him, following at a safe distance. Already testy, his mood began to sour further when he felt that hated prickle on the back of his wings that told him he was being watched.
What was so fragging fascinating about him? He was a military Seeker, just like his unwanted trinemate behind him. Granted, with much more experience and an actual chance of survival come the next battle. Seriously, what was Starscream thinking? Power-hungry, aft-headed glitch...
The youngling startled at the angry growl that emanated from his thrusters, lagging further behind. At this rate, they might make it to the other Seeker's quarters by evening mess.
He gave an annoyed jerk of his helm in the direction of the living quarters, hoping the youngling would take the hint. He wasn't one for small talk, particularly with someone straight off the assembly line like his companion. Any such discussion would be shallow, lacking any of the practical intelligence that came with experience. Likely, the youngling was still mulling over the Air Commander's theatrics, if the troubled look on his face was any indication.
Thundercracker discreetly observed the black Seeker, now just behind him. He could feel the air disturbances caused by the other's movement on the backs of his wings. Glancing back, he could see the other's growth seams. The thin silver lines stood out in startling contrast to the deep ebony of his armor now that they were in the bright light of the corridor.
With another angry glare, Thundercracker picked up his pace. The pair of thrusters trailing behind him followed suit in a sharp staccato that reverberated off the stark corridor walls to quiver in his very spark. He stopped abruptly to glance down the hallway, expecting to see a pair of charcoal-striped wings just ahead of him, mentally berating himself when - of course - they were not there.
The haunting tapping mercifully ceased as the youngling came to a halt beside him, curious optics examining his face, darkened with painful memories. He met the youthful optics for a nanoclick, fully intending to tell the nosy bot off, but found himself caught up in an innocent curiosity that had him spilling a brief, rare glimpse into his thoughts
"This is a war, mechs will die."They were familiar words, though he had never spoken them. He watched the tension drain from the younger mech as the stifling silence was broken. Unwittingly, he relaxed in turn.
"What?" The youngling lost his faraway look, twin points of red coming into focus on Thundercracker's carefully blanked face.
"I saw you staring, obviously," he elaborated. "It wasn't too difficult to figure out what you were thinking."
Slipstream had reacted the same way when he met the Air Commander, and he had been much older. Starscream was, by his very nature, a lot to process for any mech, and his new trinemate seemed a little on the slow side. He was no doubt trying to fit the Air Commander into whatever optimistic, cookie-cutter idea his naïve processor had dreamed up about the 'great Air Commander Starscream.' Well, Thundercracker wouldn't be the one to break it to him, but he'd learn soon enough... square peg, round hole. Starscream was Starscream.
"You younglings are all the same. A few more vorns of this war and you'll become as callous as the rest of us. You'll have to, if you want to survive." Skywarp could not be allowed to trust mechs like Starscream. He wouldn't last a day. Thundercracker wasn't sure why he cared, but he found himself wanting the youngling to survive. This war had taken enough…
"If you take every deactivation to spark, your grief will consume you."
"So, you don't miss Slipstream?"
That was what was bothering him? The silly youngling thought he was upset by the deactivation of his aft of a trinemate? He had been sure it had been Starscream's antics. He couldn't help but chuckle, which caused the youngling to frown unhappily as he registered how naïve he had sounded.
"Slipstream? No. To be blunt, Slipstream was an incompetent aft. It is unfortunate that he was terminated." He couldn't help but snort a little, pausing briefly to frown at the youngling's shocked look. "But really, it's better for the trine. Slipstream schemed his way to the top. That slagger had connections, I'll give him that, but he was a poor excuse for a Seeker."
Seekers could forgive arrogance, a trait they all shared. Sour personalities, megalomania... even mild cases of insanity. All of that could be overlooked, but ineptitude in flight was unforgivable. Thundercracker hoped that the youngling possessed enough of the basic Seeker programming to understand his reasoning. He was reassured when the other gave a small smile, appearing perfectly at ease in a matter of nanoclicks.
"I always felt exposed on my right in trine formation. Maybe that will change." He gave Skywarp a critical look. Doubtful.
He was haunted by many ghosts, but Slipstream's deactivation... had he really once been this naive?
Yes, he had.
How did Thunderstrike ever put up with his nonsense? Unbidden, a small smile brightened his face.
"Skywarp, right? I saw your file." And the 1024 other files Starscream forced him to look over.
"Yeah, that's my designation."
"Well, I have drills to oversee, comm me if you need anything vital. Anything less and I will turn you into spare parts."
He hesitated a moment before sending Skywarp his private comm frequency. He regretted his decision almost immediately as he felt Skywarp open the channel. He should not allow the youngling this close. Oh well, he wouldn't live very long anyway.
That thought was not as reassuring at Thundercracker would have liked.
"Okay, TC. I'll see you at maneuver practice at 0630," Skywarp said cheerily.
"Do not call me TC," Thundercracker's spark froze as he was addressed informally for the first time in thousands of vorns. He retreated down the corridor, icy demeanor firmly back in place.
"You're off by three degrees." Thundercracker observed. Skywarp transformed to regard the older Seeker.
Thundercracker had been following him in root mode, all sensors focused on the youngling's vector. As he had predicted, the seams along Skywarp's wing joints, his growth plates, had caused him problems with staying on a consistent vector. Skywarp would intend to fly in one direction, but his wings would go in another.
The deviation was minute; if he were flying with anyone but the command trine, no doubt it would have gone unnoticed. But Starscream had noticed, which was why Thundercracker was outside, using his off-duty time to coach his young wingmate.
His wingleader had said that Skywarp would learn to compensate, or be slagged. Thundercracker would have liked to have just retired to his quarters with a good datapad, but his spark gave an unwelcome jolt every time he considered the likely outcome of Skywarp's 'trial by fire.'
"TC, I mean Thundercracker, I am adjusting my vector by .05 degrees every nanoclick." Skywarp's frustration was bleeding through the comm. "According to my flight computer, that should be enough."
"You were three degrees off." Thundercracker sighed at the youngling's put-out look. "Come here."
"Turn around." Skywarp did as told, which gave Thundercracker a chance to inspect the other's wing joints. His growth plates had expanded 20%, so he had reached 80% of his growth potential. It would be some time yet until his frame would expand fully and a medic could weld and reinforce the seams.
"How old are you?" It was the first time he had asked his trinemate directly, preferring not to know. Skywarp's easy grin fell into an uncomfortable frown.
"Old enough to serve," he said simply, more serious than Thundercracker had ever seen him. "I came off the lines ready to serve."
"In the CADF." Thundercracker knew his trinemate's history. "You must be young. They only started creating purpose-built military fliers after the riots started."
"My frame might've been built for CADF, but my spark wasn't. I don't have to be loyal to them." Skywarp looked angry; Thundercracker had never seen this side of the youngling before. "I serve myself! Not the stupid Autobots!"
It didn't escape the older mech that Skywarp avoided his question, but that seemed of little importance now.
He had never considered the youngling's reasons for joining the Decepticons; his trinemate's thoughts appeared so simplistic, he doubted it could have been more than the other's military coding driving him to fight.
Yet, here was Skywarp, the warped metal of his Decepticon brands standing slightly raised against his wings, a look on his faceplate that just dared Thundercracker to question his place in the faction.
Thundercracker's wings ached with sense memory; he could see a blue youngling, brought to his knees by the pain of Megatron's mark, determination waging a war against despair within his processor.
You'll see the end of this war. Someday, you'll be free.
I serve myself!
Skywarp had as much right as he did to be here, fighting for his right to an identity, a purpose greater than that of an Autobot pawn.
"I thought you were just here for the trigger time."
"That too." Skywarp's grin was back in place as he flipped back into his tetrajet form. "Okay, so I'll try an extra 0.07 degree compensation. I just realized I didn't account for the wind." His voice sounded sheepish over the comm.
"Very good." Thundercracker was smiling slightly as he transformed. There was hope for Skywarp yet. "Stay on my wing." He flew in front of the other jet, to Starscream's customary position.
"What? Let me try this out first!" Skywarp sounded panicky. "What if I hit you?"
"You won't." Thundercracker said simply. "Oh, and no warping out on me again. You are going to run this drill to the finish."
"You're no fun, TC-Thundercracker." Skywarp pouted, following his trinemate across the sky, a sunset colored by pollution - bright reds, oranges and purples - a hazy shroud over the once clear skies of their war ravaged home.
Thundercracker emerged from recharge, the haze of purple still surrounding him, a lingering reminder of all he had lost. He onlined all of his systems at once, and mercifully, the violet was gone. He lay still a moment, expecting to hear the hum of a base preparing to mobilize, but it was quiet.
He checked his chronometer. It was far earlier than he had expected; Starscream would not be databursting the details of their mission for at least another megacycle. Thundercracker continued to lay in his berth, fully online and not quite sure what to do with himself.
He contemplated the wide metal expanse, which suddenly felt much wider than necessary. He stretched out, wings and arms askew as he tried to fill the gaping void he only just realized was there. He paused as his hands brushed heated metal. The empty side of the berth was warm. Very warm.
He glared at his offline recharge computer, its terminal connections hanging forgotten on the wall. Without its data filtering capabilities, he was prone to troublesome memory file dumps. It was not such an issue now that he had his own quarters, and nobody else was present to witness his tossing and turning, but they often left him onlining in such a horrible mood.
He felt the ping of a data package against his firewalls, quickly adjusting them to allow for a download as he identified the sender as Starscream.
"Good orn," Starscream's voice sounded oddly pleased across the comm. His strategy meeting with Megatron must have gone well. "Our target is nuclear. My databurst contains the coordinates and schematics for the plant."
"Acknowledged."
"Good. We will depart in four breems." Starcream cut the connection.
Thundercracker rose, preparing to report to the conning tower. On his way to the lift, he opened the file, studying the layout of the plant. It was a standard layout for a human nuclear facility, nothing out of the ordinary. He gave a pleased hum as he noted that it was surrounded by open desert. It would be difficult for the Autobots to defend such an open target; without any cover, they would be extremely vulnerable to aerial attacks.
The lift doors opened, the bright morning sun forcing him to reset his visual field. Straining his optics, he could make out his trineleader in the distance. Starscream seemed to be back in favor with Megatron; they were deep in discussion, voices only slightly raised, and neither was wielding a charged weapon. The familiar outline of a black Seeker, perched on the edge of the platform, cut through the blinding white.
"Hey TC," his trinemate's voice was animated with the prospect of battle. "Ready to kick some Auto-aft?"
"Good orn, 'Warp." He frowned slightly, shading his optics with his servo. "I'm ready to raid a power plant, whether the Autobots show up or not."
"What's with the attitude, morning spark? You know they're gonna show!" Skywarp sounded amused. "It's about time too. I still owe Skydive for that cheap shot."
His frown deepened as he remembered his trinemate laid out in the medbay; it wasn't often that an Autobot managed to disable Skywarp.
So do I, he thought darkly.