Chapter Text
“Starscream…” Bee started. He looked over at the readouts. 2 hours. “What are we doing?”
“There’s no we about this,” Starscream easily snapped back.
They had taken shelter in some crater. Well, Bee had. Starscream easily deposited the power cell beside Bee’s mecha before climbing back up the bank. He now waved around a device he had pulled out of subspace. He honestly looked ridiculous. Bee would have laughed if he weren’t trying to stave off a panic attack.
“You are lying around like rusted scrap, doing nothing to be helpful,” Starscream continued. He got tired of waving his device around. His face plates pinched as he looked at the little screen. “I am getting us rescued. You’re welcome, by the way. Always have to do the heavy lifting around here.”
Starscream muttered the last part. If Bee had the energy, he would have given a quippy retort. Instead, he stared up at the sky. It was really beautiful. The shimmering pinks, purples, and red reminded him of a warm version of the Northern Lights. However, the mere thought brought his mood down again. Bee’d never see the Aurora Borealis again.
Turning his helm, Bee looked Starscream over again. He was banging at his device now, cursing it out. A ghost of a smile washed over Bee’s features.
The amusement didn’t last long.
“Starscream,” Bee spoke up, voice coming out raspy. He cleared his throat. “Starscream.”
“Ugh, what now?” Starscream complained, “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
Bee didn’t say anything at first. His thoughts were muddled. “I’m dying,” he eventually said plainly.
That got the Seeker’s attention. He froze in place before looking down at Bee. Panic seemed to radiate out of Starscream, though he quickly hid it away with a frown. “It hasn’t been 5 joors yet.”
“Almost. Don’t have one left in me,” Bee confessed.
There was a long stretch of silence. Bee didn’t look over again to see what Starscream’s reaction was.
After another moment, Bee closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the headrest. “You should just leave me,” he whispered into the mic.
The moment they’d crash, Bee had known: this was it for him. Of course, Starscream was stubborn. He continued to forge forward, swatting away Bee’s concern. It had fooled them both. Bee clung to Starscream’s confidence for strength.
But as the hours dwindled, reality sat in again. Bee was going to die. It was alright. Honestly, he should have been dead by now. He felt okay with dying, now that S-M had met her fate. Earth was avenged. He could-
“Are you kidding me?”
Jolting in his seat, Bee focused his gaze out of his mecha’s visor. Starscream loomed over him, snarling. Before Bee could react, Starscream slapped his claws against his helm. The feedback into his neural link made Bee yelp.
“After everything we’ve been through the last 3 stellar cycles, it’s now when you decide to quit?”
Bee tried to think of a response, but Starscream barreled on.
“And over a measly oxygen deficiency? You’re not out yet. And if it does get to that point, I’ll just stuff you in my cockpit. Honestly, you’re so overly dramatic. Now I remember why I don’t deal with organics. You’re so-”
The Seeker continued to ramble, but Bee’s brain clung to one specific glyph. “Wait,” he said, hefting up his mecha’s chassis so he was sitting. He tilted his helm up at Starscream’s unimpressed face, antennas drooping randomly. “What do you mean by cockpit?”
Starscream grimaced, fidgeting in place. He crossed his arms defensively over his chassis. Bee’s eyes latched onto the movement, specifically the shiny yellow-gold glass.
Now that he was really thinking about it, that did look like a cockpit. A weird, alien version of one. The Cybertronian glass was just transparent enough that Bee could see inside it. He never thought much of it because there wasn’t much to see inside the hollow section. Unlike Earth flight vehicles, there were no instruments to manipulate or even a seat inside. It was just… barren.
“Why do you have a cockpit?” Bee blurted out. He immediately knew it was a faux pas.
“Well,” Starscream said after a stilted silence. He cocked a hip, flared out his wings, trying to look indifferent. “If you must know, it’s a byproduct of the Quintessons ruling over Cybertron once upon a time.”
“... what?!” Bee exclaimed after taking a moment to process.
“Tch,” Starscream scoffed, “I assumed you knew; everyone knows. Our two races have quite a history. The Quintessons have tried to take over Cybertron multiple times. Though they’ve only succeeded once. And only two other of their would-be invasions were even noted in our history texts. After we rebelled and kicked them out, the Quints really fell as a species. Their attempts at owning us get sadder with each attempt.”
Bee barely listened to Starscream’s lecture, eyes locked on his cockpit. Something ugly stirred in a chest.
It was true, he had known about the Quintesson’s rule over Cybertron. It had been in the files he downloaded from S-M’s ship. However, he had only briefly skimmed over their shared history. He was more focused on their anatomy. If the sentient robots shared even a sliver of his mecha’s firepower. After confirming, his priority was configuring Starscream into his escape plan and reaching out to imprisoned Cy.
He should have considered the ramifications of the Quintesson’s ruling over Cybertronians. They had destroyed Bee’s own home. Although he felt sick thinking it, he was glad Earth had been annihilated. If the other option had been slavery…
“So, your cockpit,” Bee swallowed roughly, throat trying to close up, “it was put in place by the Quints… to control you?”
Starscream’s face plates did something complicated. “Yes,” he gritted out, denta scraping, “those viruses had climbed into my ancestors and flown them around like they were nonsentient shuttles. They likely had more controls in place than your mecha. Thankfully, the Cybertronians of the past were able to edit the coding in our Vectors so we were no longer forged with those control panels in place.”
Pausing, Starscream’s intense red optics glanced down, away from Bee’s visor. “However,” he rasped, “not everything could be deleted. Our cockpits are a grim reminder of what happened to us.”
Bee let that sink in. He stared at the shiny golden glass a moment longer before turning his gaze up. He hoped his mecha showed his sincerity when he shared his sympathy with Starscream.
Of course, the Cy didn’t accept it. He scoffed again before rolling his shoulder pauldrons. “Don’t bother,” he snipped, “if anything, you should be thankful.”
Bee jolted at the exclamation. His mecha must have tried to copy the motion because Starscream gave him an unimpressed look. “Although its base function- control- has become obsolete, some of my cockpit’s systems are still operational, including ventilation.”
Starscream gave Bee an expected gaze, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. However, it dropped when Bee just kept staring blankly at him. “As in,” Starscream laminated dryly, “I have atmospheric pressurization systems. I can produce oxygen for your inferior organic vents, so you don’t suffocate to death.”
“...oh,” was all Bee could get out.
The Cy scoffed, “Yeah, ‘oh’,” he proclaimed, flaring his wings out aggressively.
“You’d allow me in your cockpit?” Bee asked. Even he could tell that was a big ask for the Seeker.
Starscream stiffened, arms tightening over his chassis. He then relaxed, but looked away as he waved a servo. “Yes, yes. It’ll be fine. I’ve invested too much into you for you to just keel over.”
Bee opened his mouth to continue the conversation. But before he could assure Starscream that they could try another solution, he was shaking his helm and grabbing onto Bee’s limp servos.
“Now get up before I start dragging your aft across this desert. We still have time. I’m not allowing you to become dead weight until absolutely necessary. We-”
An audible ping interrupted Starscream. He stilled, optics flickering around randomly. Bee knew the look. Starscream’s attention was now on his HUD. While he was distracted, Bee lumbered up, stretching out his struts. He wished he had taken the chance to disconnect and stretch his regular limbs, but he doubted Starscream would give him the-
“Ah HAH!” Starscream suddenly crowed, making Bee jump. “I knew it. I knew there had to be someone in this district. Those fools. How dare they ignore my comms.”
Without looking back, Starscream latched a servo around Bee’s wrist. He yanked hard, dragging Bee up the slope. He continued to march on, a determined expression on his face.
“What’s going on?” Bee asked. He shied away from the crazed look in Starscream’s optics.
“There is a ship. A Cyber- a Decepticon ship on this planet,” he explained.
“Wait, really?!” Bee exclaimed, trotting alongside Starscream.
The Seeker smirked, but it transformed into a scowl. “Yes, but the idiots haven’t been responding to my pings or comms. Such negligence. They will be facing consequences for-”
Bee’s radar picked up a huge mass in the distance. Although it would have been a feat for human Bee to trek towards, in his mecha, it should be within his sight range in a breem or so.
Starscream’s radar must have also picked it up because he seemed to brighten up again. He shared a look with Bee before continuing forward. Their jog was filled with Starscream muttering to himself, mostly putting together a scolding for the Con crew that failed to answer his comms.
Bee felt an awed gasp fill him when he caught sight of the ship. It was a black, jagged thing with purple biolights (Bee thought that’s what Starscream called them) illuminating in the dim lighting. The warm-toned northern lights above them added to the sinister build of the ship.
Despite its evil look, Bee couldn’t help but be relieved. This was Starscream’s people. They’d no longer have to rely on Quintesson technology to transport them throughout the universe. Bee will finally be done with them.
Grinning, Bee glanced back at his companion. “Star- what’s wrong?”
Starscream’s face plates had gone slack. He stared in horror at the ship in front of them. “We need to leave.”
Blanching, Bee shook his head. “What?”
“We need to leave,” Starscream repeated, taking a step back. “C’mon, before they-”
“Whoa, what? Starscream, what’s-” Bee turned his back on the ship, giving the Seeker his full attention.
“I told you I’m the Decepticon Second-in-Command, correct?”
“Uh, yeah, you never shut up about it,” Bee quipped. When he didn’t get a harsh retort back, he dropped his joking tone. “What does that have to do with this situation?”
“Well, being Second isn’t all about glory as most mechs think.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You make a lot of enemies in that position.”
“Are you sure it’s the position, or could it just be y-”
“Shut up!” Bee’s mouth twitched as Starscream glared at him. “Despite Megatron’s claims, being a commander isn’t a popularity contest; some of your decisions won’t be favored. At best, they grudgingly go along with your orders. At worst, they’ll…”
“Mutiny?” Bee guessed when Starscream didn’t finish his sentence.
“Something like that,” Starscream grumbled, opticking the ship.
Bee turned back to it, looking over the vessel. There had been no sign of life yet. “Okay, but again, what does this have to do with this situation?”
“That ship is called the Reaper,” Starscream exclaimed. He never took his optics off it. “It belongs to Onslaught, leader of the Combaticons.”
“Okay…” Bee said slowly, “What did you do to him?”
Instead of getting fired up as Bee expected, Starscream winced. He finally looked away. “I didn’t know,” he confessed softly.
Alarms went up in Bee’s head. Although his two hours weren’t up yet, it felt like all the air had just left his cockpit. “What does that mean?”
Before the Cy could answer, there was a rumble. Terrifying nostalgia washed over Bee, remembering the Quint scouts that would burrow into the dirt to ambush mecha pilots. Instinctively, he started up his battle protocols, priming his mecha.
He was too late. Periwinkle sand sprayed everywhere as a monstrosity of metal twirled in a choatic transformations. Bee barely registered the dull green and gray plating standing between him and Starscream before a rumbling voice roared, “Traitor!”