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***
"I'm tired of seeing your face. Let this be our last time."
"What a coincidence. I'm exhausted, too. Exhausted of everything."
"Huh?"
"Oh, no way, there's no point in telling you this!"
The shadow of the clear sky dropped Silverbolt's face.
Motormaster saw blue in his nemesis's optic.
It was too dull a blue to be the color of the sky.
***
Ringing in audials like a stun grenade. Error. Pain. Warning. Strange feeling within frame. Error. Ringing. Roar. Silence.
"Ugh..."
Feeling a dull pain in his chrome, Silverbolt woke up in an unfamiliar place.
One discomfort after another ran through his frame, and his processor emitted loud warnings tormenting the brain. It seemed that most of them were coming from his main wings, and it seemed Silverbolt's proud wings had been systematically destroyed, while his rest parts restrained. It would be difficult for him to transform and return at this point. However, they were Cybertronians, after all. The blessings and curses of being machine-lifeforms were fully ingrained in their bodies. Even if his wings were torn off, it wouldn't be a big problem as long as he could reunite with his allies or return to the base. Silverbolt took a deep breath and forced himself to stay calm. As his optics got used to the surrounding environment, he realized that he was somehow trapped in a small space, but he still pretended not to be upset. Even if he couldn't sense the presence of his gestalts, which a Combiner absolutely should be able to sense.
Silverbolt commanded his processor to self-repair. The top priority is to understand the situation he is in, but if the top of all systems within, including sensor nodes, don't work properly, it's no good. Perhaps because of the absence of wings, the sensors seemed to be not actually working. Jets like Silverbolt often have the their sensory organs reached towards their wings. They use these to read the wind and sometimes communicate with their wingmen, making it an optimized structure for flight, but it also is an obvious weakness. Silverbolt is currently unable to see the world as much as normal. All the training he and his comrades received on the Ark run through his memory. Jazz used to say; information determines the outcome of a battle. ...Well, it just confirmed that Silverbolt's situation is in fact not good at all.
Now, where is he at?
His circuits finally starts to turn around, concluding this is not a "room". It seemed too unsuitable for habitation, whether for Cybertronians or humans, as there are no doors or windows. There were such things in rooms made for interrogation, but there was no structure that makes whole room visible from the outside. This must be some kind of container or cargo hold owned by Decepticons or humans──And this was the exact moment that Silverbolt's processor completed self-repair, giving his audials back. The irregular and regular rattling sound indicated that the container was being loaded onto a car, and the sound of the engine approaching and receding meant that it's running on a roadway.
...Roadway?
The planet Silverbolt had been fighting on until just before he went fainting, was a isolate, remote planet. Where Decepticons' move had been caught. It was a planet with no civilization, let alone any life that had taken root──
"You're finally awake."
"...! You!"
His newly restored audials were greeted by a voice that was easy to identify. It was Motormaster, the leader of the Stunticons. His fate, nemesis, and curse of the Aerialbots. Which automatically meant that Silverbolt was currently loaded onto Motormaster's container.
The Aerialbot shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Are we on Earth?! What's your purpose? Release me immediately!"
"Heh, you see. A Decepticon taking Autobot prisoners. It's not that uncommon. Just shut up and be loaded."
Silverbolt held his breath in tension and disappointment, though he hadn't expected him to be so kind as to give him all the information. Motormaster. "Of all Decepticons it's him" and "Maybe if it's him I can" swirled around in his mind.
Even so. The concord pondered. He couldn't understand his actions. It was certainly common to get captives before the Unicron War. Autobot or Decepticon, either side would capture someone from the other, and the other would abduct in return, in the end they would exchange prisoners and go back to square one. Sometimes the captive is robbed just because the needs for their talent. A personnel like Perceptor or First Aid - who has other reason to be kidnapped according to Hotspot - had been the target once, but in any case, it is admittedly rare now.
Silverbolt had of course been with the Aerialbots in the previous battle. Now that the processor has been repaired, will his gestalt link be restored? - Silverbolt traced the connection again and realized that the reason he couldn't sense his gestalts' presence was not because of a malfunction, nor because he was searching for something that no longer existed, but because they were simply too far away. My brothers are alive! ... Hence, the current situation is that either of; he was the only one who had been knocked unconscious in the battle and was kidnapped, or that everyone had been knocked unconscious but was being transported separately. And even if they can become Superion, it would be inefficient to hold prisoners taken in the same battle in different places. Once, when all the Stunticons were captured by the Autobots in the past, they were all held in the Ark's brig. Unless the Decepticons were planning some grand scheme, it would be more realistic to assume that only Silverbolt was captured. ...
Silverbolt had tried to figure out Motormaster's intentions, but he was becoming even more confused. Why Earth? Why a land route when Sweeps and the others were there? Why couldn't he hear or sense any other Stunticons moving? Why did they use him, despite he was no underling?
And, most importantly, why was Silverbolt able to regain consciousness, when he was nearly out of energy before he passed out?
"Uh, hey. Assuming my memory isn't damaged, when I compare the last record of my remaining energy with the current amount, it doesn't seem to have decreased... or rather, it seems to have increased."
"So WHAT."
"...Did you share yours with me?"
Motormaster snorted and went silent for the rest. Not many Autobots knew this, but Silverbolt had heard from Skyfire, the Sky Guide, that this was "yes" in Decepticon language.
Considering that the war between the Cybertronians, which had become so usual that it could be said to be an instinct as a whole race, was originally caused by a fight over energy, the meaning of sharing it was immeasurable. If everyone could do this exchange without hesitation, the war could end immediately.
Inside Silverbolt, confusion overcame caution. He couldn't read the Stunticon's intentions at all.
"Look, if you needed a prisoner... You could just leave me in stasis after the powers run out. Are you planning on interrogating?"
"Yeah, maybe."
"Sounds like you're not telling me truth. Are you?"
"..."
Silverbolt had been friends with Skyfire, Skyfire had known Starscream, and Starscream's behavior was typical of a Decepticon soldier; all these coincidences suffered Motormaster. But fortunately, Silverbolt's good nature was acutely sensitive to such tragedies - mess. (Humans would call it the Firstborn gesture.)
"Well, what... thank you, I guess?"
"Shut up."
"I have no idea what your motives are, and I do think you only did it because you needed it somehow."
"Shut up!"
"Still, I'll be grateful, for now. Since I regained consciousness, my brothers would know I'm safe..."
"Just SHUT UP! I only did it because it was you!"
Motormaster's slip of the tongue caused Silverbolt's brain to temporarily shut down.
For a moment, only the awkward sound of the engine echoed in the container.
"...What do you mean by-"
"Hey. Erase the memory for the past 120 Astro-seconds right now. And don't open your mouth ever again."
"What if I said no?"
"You're such a airhead if you think you can threaten me like that."
"No! It's just, this is the first time I've ever been told things like that, from a Decepticon. From you! I don't want to pretend it never happened."
"..."
Motormaster clicked his tongue loudly, but at the same time Silverbolt heard his engine roaring in high spirits. In the language of trucks, was this a way of hiding his embarrassment? ...A memory of someone now offlined suddenly flashed through Silverbolt's mind. Optimus had never showed behavior like this in front of Silverbolt, or rather, they had never been allowed to have such time, but the situation of being carried by the truck itself, gave Silverbolt a certain sense of relief. A strange sentimentality that was largely detached from the reality of being abducted by the enemy, filled his spark. A nostalgic memory was revived. The memory of the day after he'd destroyed the key of Vector Sigma. When his legs gave out and Prime had to carry him. Memories of embarrassment and warmth. Memories of the trailer and the truck... Something had been poking his spark. He had a premonition that this nostalgia was somehow close to the heart of the situation.
"Motormaster. Tell me. Why was it me?"
"...Ugh. You Autobot bastard."
Transforming.
The moment Silverbolt heard the sound of Motormaster's transformation cog working, he prepared to be crushed. However, the Stunticon deftly opened the trailer door, slammed on the brakes, and threw Silverbolt out with a centrifugal force. It was a performance worthy of where his teams' name comes from, and before he could really be impressed by his enemy, Silverbolt, who was thrown out while still restrained, was hit hard all over his body. Since his wings had been taken away, there was nothing to hold onto on the ground, so he rolled around, letting sand cover his optics. By the time Motormaster finished transforming with a smooth movement, Silverbolt's frame was in a mess.
"Cough, sand in my joints..."
"Serves you right. Jets without wings are so embarrassing."
"You're the one who caused it."
"You have been like that before I got you."
"You're too destructive to make me actually believe that."
Motormaster approached Silverbolt, laughing at him. His footsteps sounded intimidating, as if he's about to kick the stomach of the Autobot lying in front of him. Despite Silverbolt steeled himself, Motormaster's white servos easily released the restraints. With a whoosh, the Energon chains on Silverbolt's back lost their grip. His frame is now free, but strangely, he had no desire to go on the offensive now. If the other person isn't in an offensive position, then you can't harm them either, is the principle that makes the Autobots Autobots. But more than that, at this very moment, Silverbolt understood. That Motormaster needed him. That he was being asked for help.
Silverbolt put his servos on the sand and slowly raised his torso. He couldn't see when he was thrown out, but it seemed that Motormaster had been running along the coastline this whole time. With the mountains that looked like sand dunes behind him, the burning red of the sand and the contrasting white-indigo horizon filled his field of vision. Motormaster lay quietly beside Silverbolt. The clouds were thick. The sun was about to set. A town was visible in the distance, but no noise could reach it. Silverbolt looked at Motormaster. Their visions aligned. They were both in the center of his field of vision. A sea breeze blew.
"Motormaster,"
"Galvatron is-"
His voice almost sounded like it is strained.
"Lord Galvatron is..."
His face, that knew no fear, that was not made to hold fear or sadness, wavered. It hurt Silverbolt.
"Is Galvatron not worthy of being the leader of you Decepticons?"
"No, his orders are... a complete mess, but Lord Megatron..."
"Megatron would not harm your brothers. Isn't that right?"
Motormaster's optics narrowed as if he was being pressured, as if he was glaring. Several voices echoed in his processor. The voices of his brothers in pain. The voices of his brothers in anxiety. Their cries seeking for protection. Motormaster hated it all. His brother should have been allowed to run wild, under his command. Now he no longer could give them their own discretion.
"Rodimus is doing a great job."
Silverbolt looked at the sun overlooking them in the distance. He just stared at something that was out of reach.
"He lacks nothing. He understands us well and assigns us accordingly..."
Lying on the sand, Motormaster saw that same blue on Silverbolt's profile. The light melancholy that fell on him painted him beautifully, though helplessly. The sun began to set.
"But I still miss him."
"That blue-and-red Prime."
"Yes. Do you miss Megatron too, Motormaster?"
"..."
"That's why you choose me, right? That day, we certainly were born with a mission. But...Those who wished for us are all gone."
"Galvatron is still-"
"He's no Megatron!"
Silverbolt shouted. And as soon as he did, his face twisted in self-blame.
"...I've said too much. To you, I'm a mere Autobot, you don't need my-"
"No. You're right."
Motormaster slowly got up. He didn't seem to mind the sand on his back, and looked straight into Silverbolt's eyes. Why were all the Decepticons' optics are as fierce and hot as a heat haze?
"I was waiting for someone to say that. I thought you would."
"...Okay. But, you sure it was me? I'm the one destined to be your enemy."
"Unlike you idiots, we weren't created to kill you. Why don't you worry about yourself?"
"I... We certainly were made for that, but Prime gave us more than that."
"Whatever."
Like Harmonia, who was born by overcome of war and love according to the Earthlings, it was difficult for Silverbolt, who was born as a warrior but was also wished to love, to hate. It's not that he was simply not suited to it, but that such a high-level conflict was too early for him. To him, hatred, like morality, is something he will learn over time. It is not like he knew how to love his enemy from the start. But hating evil - valuing freedom and not forgiving its predators - was the prayer engraved in his spark, and Silverbolt had not yet reached the realm of hating individuals.
Perhaps this very fact, or that the Aerialbots had been born with the expectation of thinking for themselves, was a blessing.
"What about you? What did Megatron carve into your spark?"
"..."
(──Anger and hatred towards the Autobots!)
"Eh. He's gone now. Who cares."
"I do care, though."
As if to tell Silverbolt to shut up, in a clumsy motion Motormaster leaned his back on him. Or rather, he threw himself off. The sound of metal clashing rang out uninhibitedly. Even though Silverbolt's wings were still torn off and the mass of a truck was now on his back, he found himself not feeling particularly uncomfortable. On the contrary, the sound of the engine reverberating from within other's core still brought him a sense of nostalgia and comfort.
"Silverbolt."
"What is it?"
"If I said there was no way to return to base. What would you do."
The sound of receding waves. The cries of seabirds. The vibrations of resonating sparks. Silence was eloquent. But Silverbolt chose to answer anyway.
"I... I'd like to rest for a while. I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting."
"Huh."
"By the way, are you sure you can return? It's just a hypothesis, right?"
"OF COURSE I can."
"That's good. Hey, you...Remembered the complaint I let slip out that day?"
"The fuck are you talkin' bout."
"Oh, so you just pretend."
"Hey, are you sure rest for just while will be enough?"
"It will be a while, since I have a responsibility. Hey, You carried me this far. I can't go all the way to Chaar, but I can carry you nearby. It wouldn't matter how heavy you are in space."
Since Silverbolt couldn't fly at the moment, he would have to get his wings returned and repaired by Motormaster if he were to carry him, but spontaneous acts of kindness are often unplanned.
"...You accept those dumbs as your home even without that Prime?"
"Well, I still have brothers to care. You have it too, don't you?"
"..."
"──Hey, it can't be helped, Motormaster. Even if there is no one to show us the way, life goes on. We have to live on our own, from now on."
"Why can't I just end it when he's gone? I... I can't even run straight..."
"That's okay. Even if it's floppy or wobbly."
In fact, that was okay. Motormaster learned this for the first time today. The teaching that Silverbolt and the other Aerialbots were taught shortly after they're born into this world, by the Autobots' members in their embraces, has finally come to understand in the Stunticon's spark. To celebrate life.
To live.
The Autobots' ideal made him sick. He was supposed to feel so. But Motormaster couldn't harbor any anger or hatred towards Silverbolt right now. But that was not his concern. He has to run on his own now, and it seems like he can decide on his own path.
No matter what Motormaster chooses, no one observe.
"...Guess I'll give you back wings. And transmitter. Do whatever you want with that. I don't care about the rest."
"Are you satisfied now?"
"Yeah."
Their goal was achieved.
But neither of them wanted to move.
A long, peaceful silence continued. They couldn't find a reason to end this time. If they stood up, they would betray the comfort they felt. If they opened their mouths, they would destroy the understanding they had built. The static electricity that ran through the plates they touched was like the nostalgic sea of Vector Sigma. But they knew very well what awaited them. Their responsibilities.
There is no such thing as eternity, and there was no exception.
However, Silverbolt, did know what the eternity is.
"Motormaster."
"What."
Motormaster turned around. He looked at Silverbolt's face. The red sand scattered the sunset's gaze carelessly. The deep purple melted on Motormaster's shoulder. Black was no longer black. The color of the Insignia lost its meaning. Silverbolt's cheek was illuminated. It looked like a fire is running.
His gaze was soft and calm. He beamed, and with a look of sadness in his eyes, he said,
"You want to kiss?"
***
"Autobots, maintain your defense! Whatever happens, don't let them lay a finger on humans!"
Battlefield. Lights bloom on the ground, and terror fills the sky. Their homeland.
The Aerialbots fly between the lines of fire. To make their comrades' battle on the ground a little easier. To make the sky free again.
Suddenly, Silverbolt's eyes saw a familiar purple. A group raising dust, rushing across the ground like a storm. They are approaching at an incredible speed, a group of Decepticons - the Stunticons.
"Aerialbots, we need you to combine!"
"Understood!"
Transforming. Free fall. Silverbolt's brothers gather and fall by his side.
──Oh, please don't let war tear apart our shared losses and commonality.
"Aerialbots, transform into Superion!"
──Please don't let death take my nemesis away!
Silverbolt closed his eyes. The circuitry started. A spark from within him that is not himself, a mechanical stage device, awakens with a will of its own.
With an incredible sound, the force itself descended towards the ground.
"Superion, online!"