Chapter Text
“Commander? Commander!”
My optics flash open, cockpit already heaving with adrenaline. I could hear him coming, even in recharge. The Nemesis alarm pierces my audials, wailing in distress.
Skywarp stands above me, shaking me violently by the shoulders. Freshly spilled energon trickles down his chin, dripping into my optic. I brush it away as I struggle to regain consciousness.
“I’m up, I’m up!” I gasp, blinking rapidly. “What’s- Get off me! What’s happening?”
“Direct hit, starboard side.” Skywarp rips the blankets from my berth, almost dragging me with it. “Engines three and four are down. Autobots were using their cloakers. We didn’t see them coming. Blew a hole in cargo, they’re already onboard.” I’ve trained him well. Within seconds, I’ve learned all I need to know: My ship is wounded. Defend her.
My wings flick and twist to balance my weight as I stumble across the suite. The southern wall folds away as soon as the sensors recognize me, revealing a generous arsenal of weaponry, swindled or swiped from every reach of the galaxy. The rays on my shoulders are more than enough. I reach forward, swiping several rounds of ammunition. The vials glow in my trembling palms as I load up.
The pounding of frantic running echo through the halls as I follow my trinemate to the lower decks. We find our first autobot on the steps to mess hall. Skywarp doesn’t even give me the chance. He thrusts his talons through her optics, blinding her. She screams, reflectively covering her face. Skywarp raises his null ray, blasting once through her poorly armored chest. Sparks fly from her extinguished spark as she falls silent. We pause to watch her collapse. I’ve trained him well.
“Where’s Megatron?” I look up from the morbid sight.
Skywarp’s mouth opens to answer, but the sudden lurch of our ship sends us flying into the wall beside us. I gasp as the air is knocked from my turbines. Engine five.
I’m running out of time and patience. I grab Skywarp by the wires of his neck, wrenching him to face me. “ Where is Megatron ?!”
My abruptness stuns him. He struggles to answer. “C-Cargo Seven. That’s when I last saw him. He sent me to get yo-.”
I don’t need a story. I shove him away from me, sprinting forward before jumping into a transformation, thrusters filling my halls with brilliant fire as I send myself flying towards Cargo Seven. A lone Autobot stands in my way somewhere in the Mess Hall. My wings decapitate the moronic loner before he can even turn to face me.
Cargo Seven has been reduced to nothing more than a battlefield by the time I arrive. Our trio of cargo ships have been blasted to shreds. Boxes of precious ammunition lie in crumbled ashes. The Cargo Hold is packed beyond capacity by Cybertronians, all fighting brilliantly to their last breath. I spot him in the crowd almost instantly, the giant hulk of a tank crushing helms left and right. I land beside him, ripping through the arms of an Autobot attempting to choke him.
“About time you rose from your lair ,” Megatron barks, somehow finding the nerve to scold me like a sparkling at a time like this.
I scoff, bringing my talons back into the neck of a seeker behind me. Their dying breath curdles as they choke on their own energon. “ I’m not the one who let-” I reach forward, gripping an Autobot by the jaw as I blast a fatal blow through his midsection. “ I’m not the one who let an entire squadron of Autobots onto my ship!”
Our bickering is cut short by the wave of Autobots closing in on us. The telltale numbness of battle washes over me as I focus on my one and only purpose: Defend. Soldiers fall like cattle around me, their lives ended by my finely trained moves. The neck of my nullray threatens to scald my forearm as it fires endlessly, blasting through nameless faces and terrified optics, threatening to overheat.
As the seconds pass, I feel my fighting become desperate, haphazard. I can feel myself becoming barbaric. I’m using my talons more than I should, ripping out jaws and tearing through cables. The circle around us is tightening. Where is my support?
“Megatron!” I snap, praying he can hear me. “This isn’t enough ! We need support !”
I wait for his confirmation, yet nothing comes. I wait for the familiar deafening blast of his fusion cannon, yet it never blows.
“ Megatron !” I cry, terror threatening to crack my voice. I can’t look away. I can’t look back. Every ounce of my focus is spent on the Autobots before me. I am no longer defending just my ship. I am fighting for my life.
Autobots pile on like waves, growing by the tens of thousands. Their bodies twist and contort, joining together in a morbid wave that grows higher by the second. They are no longer attacking me. I watch in horror as they grow to the ceiling, glaring down at me with scowls of disgust.
All at once, their bodies turn to energon. I gasp as I am swallowed by the ocean of death, overwhelming my systems before I can waterlock. My mouth fills before I can close it, flooding my turbines. I gasp for breath, yet I only swallow more. I cannot bring my arms to swim, for the weight of my nullrays overwhelms my strength. I scream, my throat burns.
“Boss? Boss!”
My optics flash open as my body lurches forward. My arm rises, it's mounted null ray aiming for my assailant.
Instead, I find a trembling Rattrap.
“Boss,” he whispers, servos rising, “it’s just me.”
I groan, collapsing back into my pillows. The adrenaline quickly dispapating from my body makes my body ache, and my day has only just begun. “I won’t tell you again, Rattrap: Never barge in like that again.”
I can hear the scrape of metal as he sheepishly rubs his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that, boss. Really, I am. It’s just- You’re really late.”
“ How late?” I growl, rubbing my optics. I despise the guessing game that he continuously forces me to play. I couldn’t possibly recall the number of times I’ve told him to be specific with me.
“You were supposed to be on your transport forty kilks ago.”
“Oh, for Primus’s- ” My legs kick out, ejecting the sheets from my immaculately polished body. “Come,” I bark, heading for the shower. “What’s on the docket?”
Rattrap stands just outside the door as I groggily scrub my body down, the scum of yesterday slipping down the drain. The faucet fights my attempt for warmer water. The engines of the Nemesis had always blessed me with blazing hot showers, just the way I liked it. The hotter the water, the better it washed away the day.
Rattrap’s claws drag along the glass of a datapad as he reads my schedule. “First off, you got a few meetings to attend. Nothing big, just a few companies lookin’ for funding. Then, it’s off to the Capitol for a hearin’ or two. Oh, that memorial is opening today, you’re expected to say a few wor-”
“The memorial?” I pull back from the scorching stream purifying my face. “It’s done already?”
“Well, yeah . They just had to install the monolith, boss. And trim some undergrowth.”
I smirked, returning my attention to the showerhead. Four million years. Countless dead. And they get a monolith . What would I even say? I think I may have killed about half of them. Sorry about that.
“Is that it?” I sigh, well aware that it isn’t.
“You’re expected at a gala at sundown. Fundraiser type. I think it’s for schooling? Not sure. I think it’s the one in Iaco-”
I don’t have time for this. “Get my emerald cape from the closet. The embroidered one. Put it in the transport, and don’t you dare wrinkle it . I’ll know .” I reach for a towel as the water cuts, scowling at the frigid cold that welcomes me shortly thereafter. Rattrap’s pedes scurry against my imported tile as he runs off. I glance down, admiring my own taste in architecture. The public wouldn’t appreciate it, nor would they have the intelligence to appreciate it. The war has given my people a twisted sense of simplicity . Materialism, they say, will only keep us divided. A beautiful home for a beautiful seeker is not materialism , I say, this is taking pride in oneself. And it pains me to see its tradition dying in my fellow seekers. Even the cape is seen as an outdated practice. Fine . Let them lack flavor. I will not be joining them.
“You have a few missed calls, by the way,” Rattrap gasps, breathless from his search. “That silver one? The one from the dinner last cycle. She keeps asking to see yo-”
“ Next .”
“Uh- Right. Anyway, the uh- The TV mech, she asks that you please reconsider your appearance on Cybertron Nightly-”
I push past my associate, fuming with annoyance. “How many times can one mech say no before she gets the hint? I have been very clear with her, she knows I hate TV types. Venemous snakes , I say, always twisting the truth-”
Rattrap shuts the door of my habsuite behind us. “She says you have a real shot at connection with your people, Boss. She says they don’t even know who you are .”
My optics blaze as I turn to face him. “Don’t know who I am ? I am the prize of the Decepticon Forces , I am the Chosen Leader of Cybertron! There isn’t a mech in the universe who doesn’t know my name!”
“I don’t think that’s what she meant,” Rattrap mumbles as I turn away.
I shake my helm, accepting Rattrap’s servo as I step up into my transport on the balcony. “Forget it.” The driver nods once before shutting the cockpit door. They know I don’t care for small talk. “Why should I care what she thinks of me?” I snort. “I’ll tell you what happens when you go on television, my dear Rattrap . You wave, you smile , and the producer does the rest. Everything you say is cut and molded to fit their image, whatever it takes to raise their ratings . Well, I’m not interested in being part of their ratings. I have my own ratings to worry about. Let the people think of me what they please. My job is to lead , not to please.”
My rant seems to have overstimulated Rattrap. I can see the glaze in his optics. He sighs through his teeth, running gentle digits over the emerald cape in his lap.
“Don’t touch that,” I hiss. “You’ll wrinkle it.”
His servo tucks away under his leg. “Sorry, boss.”
I exhale sharply, turning to the window. Seekers and transports whizz through the Iacon sky, going about their day perhaps as mindlessly as I.
I wave a servo in the vague direction of Rattrap. “Any other calls?”
He fumbles for his datapad. The engines below us hum as he scrolls. “Uh- No, doesn’t look like it, Boss.”
My tanks churn ever so slightly. “Of course not.”
The suns hang low in the horizon by the time I land in Praxus. The day has worn my patience thin, and by now my legs are yearning for rest. I could have easily been flown here. But the crowds appreciate an honest seeker, one who does not “waste” tax on “frivolous” private transports. They smile back as I wave, yet I feel almost nauseous as I brush their palms with my own on the park steps. Every mech before me has their own life, their own wants and needs. We share the same burning spark, plucked from the heart of Cybertron herself. Yet I feel alien among them.
By the time I reach the top of the park steps, I’m struggling to maintain my composure. The crystal podium glistens in the sunset as I grip its sides. I swallow dryly, glancing back to the looming monolith behind me. Dread looms in my chest as I dare myself to recognize a name, and it turns to a disturbing sense of relief when none come to me. Even the Decepticons.
Groundfire . Could my crimson optics have been their last sight? Did the pierce of my talons lay them to rest?
I glance down, watching my digits tighten around the podium. No. Not these. I had my frame changed cycles ago.
“What a bittersweet honor,” I murmur, leaning forward, my lips faintly brushing against the microphone. “I recognize a few of these names, I’m pained to say. Yet I know every name fought brilliantly. I can tell you with all of the confidence in my spark that they sacrificed for what they believed in. That is what makes Cybertronians such an evolved species. We live following our spark, paying little regard to the risks it may bring.” Nods and hushed murmurs of agreement pass through the crowd. Many of them are Praxian, their obscenely large chevrons catch the last of the daylight.
“I am proud of our constructicons for giving love to a previously unloved brush,” I continue, waving to the azure trees around us. “They have transformed this valuable space into a place of peace and remembrance. May the mechs who join here find clarity in its beauty.”
I know how these things go. Nothing I could say would be the right words. My people prefer easy speeches, ones they can interpret in their own ways. I give a soft smile before waving and stepping away. The mourning silence erupts in cheer as they thank me for such a miniscule slice of my time. I take one step too far and nudge the monolith. Once more I look up. It disturbs me. It is merely a slice of marble, yet it feels as though it can see right through me. I find myself craving the warmth of my berth.
Rattrap is waiting for me when I reach the bottom of the park. “Well said, boss,” he grins.
“Yes, yes,” I sigh, “I know. Give AstroBite a call and have them deliver. I want dinner in my habsuite by the time I get home.”
“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck again. “Sure, you got it, boss.”
Cybertronians recognize when a seeker is about to take flight. Their pedes backtrack as my wings flex, clearing a short runway for my departure. For a reason I can’t quite comprehend, they have always loved watching me depart. I cannot blame them. A frame like this is meant to be adored, no?
My focus is torn by a timid call behind me. “Wait! Please wait?”
I grit my denta, holding my snort as I turn back. My annoyance fades as I spot the source of my disturbance, a seeker clutching the servo of their carrier.
“She would love to say goodbye to you,” the carrier explains, giving an apologetic smile.
I shrug, kneeling down to match the sparkling’s height. “Always.”
The sparkling looks up at its carrier, perhaps shocked that I would accept her request. The carrier nods, releasing his grip. I rest my chin on a palm, attempting to look harmless. “I hear you would like to say goodbye.”
All at once, the seeker releases her carrier’s palm and rushes forward, embracing me with amber arms. I find my balance topple, sending me back onto my aft. My reflexes make me reach forward, holding the sparkling against me to cushion her fall. The carrier gasps, stepping forward. “ Cascade !” He snaps.
I chuckle nervously, shaking my helm. “No worries. I appreciate the gusto of it all.” I stabilize myself and place the seeker back on her pedes. “You have quite a way of saying goodbye.”
“You were very brave,” the sparkling coos, her voice no more than a whisper.
“Brave?” I grin. “Up there? Thank you.”
She shakes her helm. “No. In the war.”
I blink, releasing her. “In… the war?”
She nods. “I learned about it in school. You were the leader of seekers.”
I smirk, taking her servo in my own. “Yes, they taught you well. Though my title was officially the Decepticon Air Commander.”
“I wish I could have been there.”
She may as well have shot me through the spark. I feel it drop to my tanks. “I’m… sorry?”
“School said that the battles were very scary. But you were fighting for freedom. I wish I could have fought with you. Then I would be brave. Like you.”
I can feel my arms begin to tremble. The vents of my chest feel crushed. Was this some kind of prank?
“Darling,” I whisper, praying that my voice does not crack, “do you know why I fought?”
The seeker looks down for a moment, searching for the right answer. “Because… the functionals were bad.”
I couldn’t help but smile, though I couldn’t tell if the fatigue of the day or this conversation was the force crushing me. I pinch the bridge of my nose, the back of my helm is throbbing. “Yes, the functional ists were bad. But that is not the reason why I fought. Darling, I fought so that one day you would not .”
My answer fails to satisfy her little processor. She looks away, struggling to understand. “I guess so.”
Her carrier steps forward, placing a gentle touch to her shoulder. “I think it’s about time we head home, little one. Vos is a long way away.”
I nod, lifting her chin. “Yes it is. The sun has set, it’s time for little seekers to rest.” I envy her schedule. Free to rest, only to wake for education and play.
She looks once more to me before waving. I smile, waving back. My arms feel as heavy as lead.
The carrier nods to me as his sparkling climbs onto his arm, clinging with the true vice of a seeker. “Thank you,” he whispers. He looks at me as though I am his own. Perhaps I have failed to disguise the weight of her words on my face. I wave once more, watching them disappear into the crowd. The sparkling’s optics follow me until they are swallowed by Praxians.
Rattrap’s footsteps scurry up to me. “They said they ran out of the house special, boss. What else would you want to order?”
“Rattrap, do you still have the number from Cybertron Nightly ?”
“Uh, yeah. Why?”
I’m walking away before he can ask why. “Call them. Tell them I’ll do it.”