Chapter Text
It had taken a long time, and a significant amount of shouting on Ratchet's part, but finally an agreement was reached to allow all the seekers to fly. The five adults in custody were paroled, and starting to help in the reconstruction efforts.
Bitstream had started training with Ratchet in the medbay. He was proving an adept pupil, and First Aid and Hoist had taken to him immediately. He had not proved such a hit with some of the Autobots, but his presence in the medbay had encouraged more Decepticons to come for regular check-ups—with minimal hunting down and dragging them kicking and screaming. There were a few recidivists, but Ratchet had his own list of Autobots who did the same thing.
Acid Storm was working with the scientists, and helping train Sunstorm in chemistry. Preceptor had told Ratchet privately that he found the big seeker very intimidating. Every interaction with Sunstorm was done under his trine leader's disapproving gaze. Sunstorm was overjoyed to spend most cycles with his trine mate and Ratchet hoped that the youngest seeker could go back to his trine when they had quarters available.
The medic had had several conversations with Acid Storm, and the seeker had unbent enough to admit that he had no idea how to care for a sparkling, especially one as damaged as Sunstorm.
Figuring out that particular problem was an issue for later. Ratchet's big job this cycle was figuring out how to get thrusters re-activated for nine seekers, three of whom were still very frightened of medics, one of which panicked if an Autobot came close, and one of which could not be trusted not to disappear as soon as possible. He was relieved that Skywarp and Thundercracker were both flying together, and hoped that they could be trusted to look after their trine mate. Optimus had asked about allowing Skywarp to use his warp generator. Ratchet had advised that the Prime discuss it with Skywarp to decide if it was feasible.
Starscream's carefully controlled and monitored flight would be someone else's problem. Ratchet's was getting Sunstorm's thrusters turned back on with a minimum of stress for all involved. Ratchet had managed to get Sunstorm in for check-ups, but tended to be left with a nervous, unhappy sparkling for several jours afterwards. It went easier if Ratchet didn't tell Sunstorm he needed a check up too far in advance, but the youngster was getting wise to that ploy.
For this procedure, he had a plan and had enlisted Acid Storm's assistance. The older seeker had the authority over Sunstorm to encourage him to remain calm while Ratchet reconnected the necessary wires. Wheeljack had brought both mechs to the medbay.
Sunstorm was shifting nervously from ped to ped, anxious and becoming stressed. Acid Storm had wrapped his arms around his trine mate, murmuring reassurances into his audial. Ratchet appreciated it. Despite his personal misgivings, Acid Storm was very good with the young mech.
“Sunstorm, come and sit on the berth.” Ratchet requested, patting it gently. Acid Storm led the golden seeker up and helped him onto the berth, settling himself behind the trembling youngster. “Good kid.” Ratchet petted a wing. “I promise this won't hurt.”
“I know.” Sunstorm managed a smile, and clasped his servos together, trying to hide his fear.
“It's okay to be nervous,” Acid Storm assured him. Ratchet gave the green seeker a grateful look.”I’m right here for you. You hold my servo.”
“Will it help if I tell you what I’m going to do?” Ratchet asked gently. Sunstorm nodded, optics very bright. “Alright. The first thing that will happen is that I’ll turn the sensors off in your lower legs.” He tapped Sunstorm's knee. “I’ve done that before, so you know it doesn't hurt. You tell me what happened last time?”
“There was a click and it all went numb.” Sunstorm admitted. “I didn't feel anything.”
“Good, so you know it won't hurt.” Sunstorm nodded again. “When I've done that, I’ll open the plating on the front of your legs.” He ran a servo across the plate in question. “You can watch, if you like, or you can lie back and talk to Acid Storm. It is up to you.” He paused because Sunstorm had made an unhappy little sound. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah.” Sunstorm gave a weak smile, and Acid Storm gently nuzzled his helm. “I want to hear.”
“If you are sure?” Ratchet placed his servo on top of Sunstorm's joined ones. “Okay. There are some wires that I need to reconnect. I put a little bit of solder on them to put them back in place.” Sunstorm didn't comment. “Then I'll close your plating back up and turn the sensors back on.”
“And I’ll be able to fly?” Acid Storm hugged him a little closer at the wistful tone.
“Well, I’d prefer it if you wait until you get outside.” Ratchet tapped Sunstorm's nose with a digit, making the young seeker giggle slightly. “But yes, you will be able to fly.”
“I want to fly,” Sunstorm admitted. “I want to fly a lot!”
“I know. Are you ready for me to start?” Sunstorm still looked dubious. “The sooner I start, the sooner you can get out there.”
“Okay.” Sunstorm straightened his back, gritting his denta. Acid Storm tugged him to relax back against his chassis, telling him how brave he was, and how proud Acid Storm was of him. Ratchet gave his clasped servos another pat, and moved to his peds. A deft flick of a hidden switch and Sunstorm gave a little squeak of surprise as his lower legs went numb.
Acid Storm launched into a funny story about something that had happened when he was learning to fly, and Sunstorm laughed weakly, allowing his trine leader to distract him from what Ratchet was doing.
Ratchet worked as quickly as he could, but he could feel Sunstorm becoming more anxious. Acid Storm was telling him how brave he was being again, and how proud he was and how good it would be to fly. The final wire soldered into place and Ratchet hurried to close the gold plating.
“All done.” He announced as he turned the sensors back on. “You are so brave, I know you don't like this.” Sunstorm turned into his trine leader's arms, burying his face in Acid Storm's neck. Ratchet stroked the wide wings gently, allowing the young mech a click to compose himself. “Can you cycle your thrusters on for me? I need to be sure there are no errors.”
Sunstorm did so, expression surprised when he felt power feeding to them, he smiled happily, engine purring.
“No errors?” Ratchet asked gently, Sunstorm shook his helm. “Good. Nothing hurting? No? Excellent.” He extended a servo to assist both seekers off the berth.
“Can I fly now?”
“Let's get outside first. Prime doesn't like mechs zooming down the corridors at Mach ten, you know!” Sunstorm giggled again, earlier fear fading. Acid Storm looked wistful.
“Do you want me to wait here for Wheeljack?” It was clear that he really wanted to watch his trine mate fly, but being on parole made him wary of doing anything that would see his privileges taken away. Ratchet cocked his helm.
“You can come with us if you like, we are just going outside.”
“Please come!” Sunstorm gripped his arm, huge optics looking up at Acid Storm pleadingly. “I want you to see me fly, please.”
“I think that sounds like an invitation to me.” Ratchet smiled, patting the green seeker's arm. He dropped his voice. “You are entitled to go outside between certain times you know.”
“I know.” Ratchet heard unease in his tone, and frowned.
“I hope no one has been making it difficult for you. I’ll go to Prime about it if they have. I'm not having your health jeopardised because idiots can't get it through their thick helms that the war is over!” He indicated that Sunstorm and Acid Storm should precede him from the medbay.
Sunstorm was almost running down the corridor and the two adults quickened their pace. Acid Storm was amused, and Ratchet was pleased that the older seeker was starting to relax more around the Autobots.
Sunstorm was shifting from ped to ped impatiently when they caught up with him. Ratchet chuckled, and Acid Storm gave one golden wing a little pat. Once outside Sunstorm's engines rumbled with his excitement.
“You can take off in a click, kiddo. This is your flight zone.” Ratchet sent the map across to Sunstorm's comm, receiving an acknowledgement ping from the young mech. “You can have a jour of flight time.” Sunstorm squeaked and flung his arms around Ratchet's neck. His caretaker took a step back under the extra weight. “Careful! If it hurts you need to comm me and land immediately, got it?” Sunstorm nodded, jittering in his eagerness. “Okay, go on, have fun!”
Sunstorm's thrusters ignited with a roar, and he rocketed into the air, the force of his take off kicking up a swirling dustcloud. Acid Storm watched him, field full of longing, and something else that Ratchet tentatively labeled as regret.
Greatly daring, because the seeker was not keen on physical touch (as Wheeljack had found out the hard way), he placed a servo on Acid Storm's arm.
“You okay?” Ratchet asked softly, pleased that the green mech had not reacted violently. “He’ll be fine, you know.”
“Yeah.” Acid Storm's optics tracked his trine mate. “I just... he learned to fly when he was already in his adult frame... I still worry.”
“I take it that is not normal?” Ratchet spoke lightly, but he was intensely curious.
“Most seekers learn to fly in their first frame.” Acid Storm told him. “Thrusters start coming online at about ten vorns, and most sparklings are hovering by fifteen. They slowly learn to manoeuvre, then really start to fly properly in their second frame.”
“So at ninety vorns Sunstorm should be... just starting to fly properly?” Ratchet looked up at the golden frame wheeling and looping overhead. “He seems very confident in the air.”
“We think he was framed as an adult.” Acid Storm looked back at Ratchet, regret written large on his face. “Honestly, we didn't ask. Shockwave just dumped him on us. All we knew was that we had been ordered to form a trine with this random seeker we had never seen before. By that time there were few enough of us that we all knew each other.”
“I take it trines are not as simple as we assumed, then. We took a trine to mean three seekers who regularly fly together.” Ratchet was excited to get an insight into the social context behind how trines were supposed to work. “We know trines synch up frequently enough that they can do so without swapping cables.”
Acid Storm gave a little snort of derision. “Typical grounder mentality.” He shook his helm. “To form a trine we need compatible sparks and personalities. We can't be ordered to trine. In many ways, Sunstorm is lucky because we three are compatible. If we weren't, he would be immensely lonely. There are not enough untrined seekers left.”
“So the trine bond is some sort of spark bond, isn't it? But not what grounders think of as a spark bond.”
“A lot of trines end up spark bonded,” Acid Storm said. “My creators were a bonded trine. Icestorm's carrier was spark bonded to another mech, but his trine mates were bonded to each other.”
“Hmm. So the younglings aren't spark bonded, but the synchronisation of their sparks acts like a weaker spark bond?” He saw Acid Storm looking tight lipped and uncomfortable, clearly aware that he had revealed more information than he had intended to. Ratchet carefully brought the topic back to the matter of Sunstorm flying. “So Sunstorm learned to fly much faster than normal? That must have been worrying.”
“He said Shockwave let him use a flight simulator. He was almost incapable of normal flight. I made him practice take-offs and landings for jours because he was terrible.” He sighed, angry at himself. “I wasn’t kind about it.”
“Because you thought he was an adult who should be able to fly?” Ratchet asked, tone neutral.
“Because I thought he was a grounder.” There was bitter self hatred in the green mech’s field. Ratchet’s faceplates creased into a frown of surprise. “All we knew was that he was one of Shockwave’s experiments. We suspected he was a spark taken out of stasis with a new personality component. He had no memories other than being in Shockwave’s lab.” Ratchet reached out again, running his servo down the other mech’s arm. “I...we...weren’t kind to him.”
“And you feel guilty?” It was a rhetorical question, Acid Storm’s field was drowned in guilt. Ratchet moved into the seeker’s line of sight. “He adores you. Trust me. He talks about how kind you are, and how much you do for him. I think he has forgiven you.”
Acid Storm managed a half smile. “He’s very forgiving.” He sighed. “It’s hard. I don’t know if I should try to be a trine mate or a creator to him. Things were...easier, I think...during the war. We had clear cut guidelines.”
“I know what you mean.” Ratchet shrugged. “We’ve all lived with regulations and army discipline for so long I’m not sure how many of us really know how to be civilians any more.” He pushed reassurance into his field. “When your parole ends, you will be able to take him back, but only if you feel you can cope. No one is going to force you. Primus, you and Icestorm are still pretty young yourselves, the three of you will need to figure out your trine’s dynamic in peacetime. I wouldn’t fault you if that takes time.”
“I worry about him,” Acid Storm admitted. “Shockwave had him upgraded with all his programming. He was lucky his spark and processor didn’t fail.”
“We’ve noticed that most of the younglings are missing some bits. I suspect that was deliberate to stop a fatal overload?” Acid Storm nodded. “Kid was very lucky, then.” An unpleasant thought occurred and he frowned again. “When you say all his programming...you mean interface protocols as well, don’t you.”
“Yes.” Ratchet cursed quietly. “I’ve tried to keep him safe! I didn’t even let him sync with other mechs.”
“Poor kid. I’ll have to be careful, then. I trust the mechs I know, but the ones I don’t I’ll keep an optic on.” He smiled at Acid Storm. “You make a good creator.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
“It never does. He’s a fantastic kid, trust me, some of our Autobots were little horrors at that age.”
“Thank you.” Acid Storm’s wings were still drooping, and he turned his attention back to his trine mate. “He’s really happy.” The two watched Sunstorm diving and playing in the air and the seeker started to look a little happier.
Ratchet’s internal alarm pinged and he looked at his companion. “I’m going to call him in now.” Acid Storm nodded his understanding. ::Sunstorm, time to land please.::
:Okay, I’m coming in now.:: The sound of flight engines came closer and Sunstorm swooped in to transform and land neatly. He turned to his trine leader for approval, seeing the green mech smile.
“Very good.” Acid Storm declared, and Sunstorm flung himself into his arms. “You’re such a good flyer!” Sunstorm detached himself, smiling broadly.
“Are you both ready to go back in?” Ratchet asked. Sunstorm nodded, twining his digits with his trine leader’s. “Come on, then.” He made a note to encourage Acid Storm and Icestorm to talk to Smokescreen about their concerns that they weren’t being good trine mates.
***********************************************************
Thundercracker was nervous. Prowl could feel it threading through his field, despite the young mech attempting to present a stoic facade. He had finally agreed, after much agonising and discussion, to allow Wheeljack to upload some language programming for him.
Prowl didn't want to distract the mech with idle chatter. Thundercracker had never proved especially receptive to conversation, although that might change when he got the upgrade. He opted to provide silent support instead.
Blue wings began twitching in agitation as they came closer to Wheeljack’s door. The engineer had explained that it was better to run the download in his lab, rather than dragging the monitoring equipment to the medbay. Prowl put a servo on the seeker's arm, stopping him.
“You can change your mind at any time, you know. If you decide you are not comfortable, no one will blame you. "
Thundercracker shook his helm. “Need it!” he said shortly. “'S hard without it.”
“Just so you know, you can decide you want to wait if you need to.”
“No.” Thundercracker shook his helm again. “'M not 'fraid!”
“I didn't think you were,” Prowl assured him, soothingly. “There is nothing wrong with changing your mind.” They reached Wheeljack's door as he spoke, and he rang the chime. Thundercracker stilled his wings and pulled his field in as far as possible.
Wheeljack appeared at the door, vocal indicators glowing blue in welcome, and ushered them in. Thundercracker's wings perked up when he saw Bitstream sitting on Wheeljack's couch.
“I hope you don't mind Bitstream observing,” Wheeljack murmured. “Ratch’ wants him to learn about fixing programming errors. If you don't want him here, just tell me.”
Thundercracker just shrugged, optics on his fellow seeker. “Bitstream's okay.”
“If you are sure. We’ll have some energon before we get started. I’ve got some treats too!” His vocal indicators glowed a deeper shade of blue, reflecting his amusement. “Sunstorm made them for me when we had a chemistry lesson. Just don't tell Ratch’!”
“I think most of the base knows his views on you and treats. 'Not rewarding bad behaviour’, wasn't it?” Wheeljack's indicators glowed purple in faint embarrassment. “You are hardly the only one!” Prowl snorted, leading Thundercracker to a chair. Both seekers were looking curious so he elaborated. “Ratchet only gives out the treats he makes to mechs he feels deserve them. No one else has had the inclination to make them in the past several vorns, so he pretty much controls the supply.”
“And if you have the odd lab accident, which could happen to anyone by the way, he gets stingy about it.” Wheeljack sounded amused, and his optics sparkled.
“And by 'odd lab accident’ you mean…what?” Bitstream asked. The seeker medic was clearly nervous around Prowl, but trying to hide it.
“Odd is certainly correct,” Prowl pointed out lightly. “That time you nearly created an unstable black hole, for example. Or that incident with the fireworks.”
“Could have happened to anyone.” Wheeljack waved a dismissive servo. “I don't get injured doing silly things half as often as... the twins, for example!”
“The twins, whom Ratchet also won’t give his treats to for exactly that reason, you mean?” Prowl accepted a cube of energon from Wheeljack as he spoke, reaching into his subspace for his and Thundercracker's supplements. He was pleased that Wheeljack had responded so readily to the light banter. It was putting both seekers at ease.
Wheeljack made a rude noise. “Pah! You make it sound so much worse than it is!”
“Really?”
“Well...no.” Bitstream chuckled, and Prowl smiled. “I’ll admit that one or two of my lab accidents could, perhaps, have been avoided.” Wheeljack offered some gelled energon treats to his guests and Prowl was pleased to see Thundercracker take one readily enough. They sat comfortably, drinking the energon and nibbling the treats. Thundercracker was relaxing.
“Do you want to come through to the lab?” Wheeljack asked when they had finished. Thundercracker’s wings tensed all at once, and for a click Prowl thought he was going to decide that he didn’t want the programs after all. Bitstream clicked and chirred at him in a tone Prowl interpreted as soothing and the trembling blue wings lowered slightly.
Wheeljack led the way into his lab, in which a collapsable medberth had been set up. It was surrounded by machines. Thundercracker stopped just inside the doorway, looking alarmed. Prowl put a servo on his wing, feeling the fear in his field, but the blue seeker straightened his shoulders and marched into the room.
Bitstream led him to the medberth, the two conversing in the strange, chirping language that the seekers used. Prowl suddenly realised that he had never heard Thundercracker talk to an adult seeker before. He knew from Ratchet that Sunstorm used Cybertronian Standard when talking to his trine mates, but all the younglings clicked and chirped when they were together. His tactical computer started buzzing with implications.
“You okay?” Wheeljack asked Thundercracker once the seeker was settled. Thundercracker nodded and Bitstream stood with a gentle servo on the younger mech’s shoulder. “Alright.” he held up a data chip. “The programmes are on this chip. Do you want Bitstream to scan it first?”
“Yeah.” Thundercracker looked between the scientist and the medic before glancing back at Prowl, who crossed to the berth. Thundercracker didn’t reach for him, but instinct made the Autobot take one of the young mech’s servos. Thundercracker curled his digits around his caretaker’s and Prowl hummed soothingly.
Wheeljack handed the chip to Bitstream, who carefully plugged it into the diagnostic port in his wrist. His optics dimmed slightly as he ran the scan, and Prowl gently stroked Thundercracker's knuckle joints. Bitstream uncoupled the chip and looked down at Thundercracker.
“It's clean,” he assured the younger seeker. “It has a full suite of basic Cybertronian language programs, plus a set of translation software which will handle any languages you haven't encountered before. It also has some software to update your tactical suite and integrate it with your emotional center more fully.” He paused, glancing up at Prowl, expression slightly suspicious. “Was that what you expected?”
“Yeah.” Thundercracker's voice was very soft, and he was shaking hard enough to make the medberth tremble beneath him. Bitstream stroked the closest wing, field full of reassurance.
“You okay?” Wheeljack asked again from beside one of the machines. “You don't have to do this if you don't want to.”
“Need it.” Thundercracker responded again, worrying his lower lipplates with his denta.
“If you are sure. Do you need a click to get comfortable?” Thundercracker shook his helm, venting deeply. He gripped Prowl's servo a little tighter. “Alright. What I’m going to do is hook you up to this monitor, which Bitstream will be checking. This is just to make sure your systems stay within normal limits. Are you okay with that?” Another nod was the only answer. Prowl got the impression that the seeker didn't trust his vocaliser. “I’ll plug it into the port in your left wrist, then. Tell me to stop if you need a click.”
Thundercracker's vents hitched as the jack clicked into the port. He redoubled his grip on Prowl's servo, and the Autobot suppressed a wince. Bitstream clearly caught his discomfort because he chirred soothingly, and the tight hold eased slightly.
“Everything still alright?” Wheeljack asked again, stepping back to avoid crowding the young mech. Thundercracker managed a vaguely affirmative noise as Prowl stroked a wing. The fear in Thundercracker's field was strong and cloying. Prowl could see Bitstream's discomfort, and Wheeljack's vocal indicators were a rich orange with his own distress.
Prowl and Bitstream reassured and petted until Thundercracker was a little calmer. Prowl nodded to Wheeljack, who hadn't spoken again, and the engineer came closer.
“I am going to hook you up to this now.” He indicated a bigger piece of equipment. “The jack goes in the port at the back of your helm, alright? This is going to unpack the programs from the chip and run the download. It is here to make sure that the new programs integrate with the old ones.” Thundercracker made a nervous little noise, but lifted his helm, allowing Wheeljack to slide the jack home. “Just relax. Bitstream is going to put the data chip in. When it starts to download, you’ll get an access ping from the system. If you accept it your firewalls will drop and the download will start, so you’ll feel a buzzing in your processor. When it is done, your systems will go through a full reboot and you will be offline for about fifteen clicks.” Thundercracker nodded again, jaw tense.
“I’m going to be here the whole time.” Prowl promised. “I won't leave you on your own.”
“'K.” Thundercracker tried to even his ragged venting. Bitstream clicked at him again, servo rubbing circles over his wing. He looked up at his fellow seeker, chirping softly. Prowl got the impression that he was asking the medic to stay as well.
Bitstream gave the wing a final pat, and moved to the machine, careful to allow Thundercracker to see what he was doing. The chip was slotted in place, and Bitstream looked back over at him, waiting for Thundercracker's nod before pressing the button that would initiate the download.
Prowl knew the instant the young seeker received the access ping. Thundercracker stiffened, making another frightened noise. There was a long pause, in which both medic and engineer watched him carefully, then the machine beeped, indicating that the download had started. Thundercracker had offlined his optics, vents hitching softly again. Eventually his systems powered down and he stopped shaking. The grip he had on Prowl's servo slackened.
“He's rebooting.” Bitstream remarked, optics on the monitor. Prowl let go of the servo he had been holding and flexed his digits once or twice. There was a tiny dent in the plating as the side of the servo, proof of how strong Thundercracker's grip had been. Bitstream noticed it as well. “I can probably pull that out if it is compressing any relays.”
“I think it is fine.” Prowl answered, knowing what it would have cost the other mech to make the offer. “But thank you.”
“Poor kid.” Wheeljack was looking down at the still figure on the medberth. “He was terrified.”
“Not surprising.” Bitstream didn't look at the Autobots as he spoke. “He's gone nearly his whole function knowing that grounders are likely to hurt him. Especially in the name of science.” He gave a little growl. “It isn't an unfair assumption, either.”
“Shockwave?” Prowl asked, expression dark. Thundercracker’s journal contained quite a lot about what the purple scientist had done to him. Prowl had never considered himself to be a violent mech, but when he had read a little about what Thundercracker had been through, he found himself wishing that the Decepticon had not deactivated quite as quickly as he had.
“Who else?” Bitstream asked rhetorically. “Not that the other medics were much better. There wasn't much I could do for any of them.” Wheeljack put a servo on his arm and the corner of the seeker's mouth twitched up in a half smile, half grimace.
“I'm curious about what you were saying to Thundercracker,” Prowl said to the medic. “I don't recognise the language you were speaking.” Bitstream gave him a suspicious look, going tight lipped. “I know it isn't Vosian. I thought it must be something the sparklings had developed.”
“It was,” Bitstream admitted. “We all learned it. We had to. It's evolved over the vorns.”
“That makes sense. Thank you for telling me. I wondered where they had picked it up.” Prowl offered him a tight smile. “It worried me, thinking that he didn't have any real way of communicating with you.”
Bitstream hummed, turning back to the monitor. Prowl opted not to press him for an answer about what he had said to Thundercracker. It had probably been a reassurance of some sort. None of the caretakers had been able to listen to the language enough to allow their own programming to develop a basic syntax, and few had the additional programs required to incorporate the associated wing movements.
“How are you finding working with Ratch’?” Wheeljack asked, breaking the slightly uncomfortable silence. “I know he's happy to have another medic around.”
“He's easier to work with than most Decepticons,” Bitstream admitted. Prowl suppressed a smile. The seeker probably meant it as a compliment, but he could imagine Ratchet's expression if he heard that.
“Ratchet is quite demanding,” Prowl noted, optics alight with amusement. “How is your trine leader doing?” He was careful not to mention Nacelle. The former slave was yet to find a role in which he was comfortable.
Bitstream shrugged. The habit of not giving information away was obviously still strong.
“Hotlink is great fun!” Wheeljack said enthusiastically. “He's got a great idea for distilling high grade!” Prowl's expression reflected his opinion, and a quick look at Bitstream suggested that the seeker had similar qualms.
“You remember that the Prime banned you from distilling high grade?” the tactician asked.
“I'm not distilling anything,” Wheeljack assured him sweetly. “We are building a converter to purify larger amounts of energon, and trying to see if we can work in the supplements without them precipitating out. The high grade idea is a fringe benefit.”
“Hotlink likes creating new machinery. He sometimes gets a little carried away,” Bitstream warned, and glanced back at the monitor. “Thundercracker is starting to reboot.” Prowl covered the young mech's servo with his own as Thundercracker's optics started to flicker online.
“How are you feeling?” Prowl asked when the seeker appeared to be awake. Thundercracker looked up at him for a click, a tiny frown on his faceplates. The new programming was clearly coming online, leaving him unsure of how it worked.
“I’m... fine. I think… feels strange.”
“That's normal,” Wheeljack assured him. “Do you want me to unplug you?” He moved forward as he spoke, stopping at the foot of the berth.
“Um… yes, please.” Wheeljack gently unplugged the two jacks, and Prowl helped the seeker to sit up. He looked slightly dizzy.
Bitstream came over as well. “Can I give you a quick scan please?” he asked, servo coming up to stroke a blue wing. Thundercracker nodded, holding his wrist out. Prowl was surprised, given the resistance the young mech usually put up about medical scans. There was a small flinch when Bitstream plugged in, but none of the stress that usually accompanied a medical scan. Prowl suspected that he was still disoriented. “You are fine,” Bitstream said. “The programming took perfectly.”
“Come on Thundercracker, let's go back to our quarters.”
*****************************************************************
“Primus! I cannot believe how fragging STUPID you Autobots are!” Starscream was shouting again, wings high and field lashing Optimus with a boiling fury.
“Starscream…” Optimus was equal parts exhausted and exasperated. The young seeker had been sniping and being as difficult as possible for jours, and a simple comment had set him off on his latest tirade. Starscream retreated when Optimus said his name, but the mech was still spoiling for a verbal battle.
“You’re an idiot,” Starscream announced, more softly, but still vehemently. He retreated further when Optimus sighed, wings trembling.
“Starscream.” Optimus wasn’t sure what, specifically, had set the seeker off. These outbursts were becoming less common, but Starscream was obviously having a bad cycle. He had started early with a bad recharge flux and been out of sorts ever since.
Ignoring him didn't work, as he would quickly escalate his behaviour. When Optimus had tried that, the young mech had upended the table. He was also getting better at evading Optimus, skipping out of reach if the Prime tried to calm him down with physical contact.
Sighing again, Optimus held out his servo to the seeker, beckoning him closer. Starscream was shaking, but he had found that the young mech would eventually come closer, unwilling to postpone the punishment he was anticipating. Not that Optimus ever did more than settle him down with an arm around his shoulder.
“Come and sit down,” he coaxed. Starscream backed off further, hissing, but Optimus didn't move, keen to stay relaxed and unthreatening.
They remained frozen in that little tableau for several clicks until Starscream's tense wings started to slump. His angry tremors were replaced by nervous shaking. Optimus hummed reassuringly, slowly extending his servo again and waiting for Starscream to creep closer.
Ratchet had theorised that Starscream had received all the necessary tactical programming and the full suite of language software, which had allowed him to function as an effective commander, but that he was lacking any nuanced emotional regulation software. He would be able to turn his emotional subroutines off and on, but his control over what he expressed was erratic.
Starscream was close enough to touch, eventually, and Optimus patted the couch next to him, repeating his request that the seeker sit. He did, and Optimus turned off the little timer he had been running. A little over fifteen clicks to go from hissing fury to sitting back down was a pretty good time, and the log he was keeping showed Starscream responding more and more quickly.
“If you are finished being silly, we can go back to watching this program,” he offered. Starscream stiffened in offence, but a servo on his wrist made him slump back down, crossing his arms over his cockpit. Optimus slung his arm around Starscream’s shoulders, settling him close and rumbling his engine.
It took another fifteen clicks for Starscream to stop shaking. It saddened Optimus that he had so little trust, but it didn’t surprise him. All he could do was prove to the seeker, again and again, that he wasn’t going to be hurt.
The programme on the screen ended and Starscream immediately began squirming to get up. Optimus allowed it and the seeker scooted to the other end of the couch.
“You seem unhappy. What’s wrong?” Optimus asked gently. “You’ve been touchy all cycle.” Starscream looked away, expression sulky. “You are being unusually difficult all of a sudden.”
Silence. Not that Optimus was terribly surprised. Starscream folded his arms again. It seemed to be a defensive thing, protecting his spark. Optimus remembered that Megatron used to swing for his spark a lot when they fought, too.
“Is it something to do with that flux you had earlier? We can do this as twenty questions if you prefer.” The offer was slightly sarcastic, and Starscream scowled at him in irritation. Optimus pulled him in for another hug before he could start shouting again. The seeker growled. “You can talk to me, or we can sit like this until you’ve calmed down a bit more,” Optimus offered.
“Ugh, fine. Yes.”
So they WERE going to go with twenty questions then. Well, sulky cooperation was still cooperation, he supposed.
“So, you had a bad flux and it has upset you all cycle. You want to tell me what it was about?” It was a long shot, but Optimus figured he had nothing to lose.
“No.” Optimus didn’t press his servo to his temples, but he wanted to.
“Alright, was it about something that happened when you were with the Decepticons?”
“No.”
Oh sweet Primus grant him patience!
“Something that’s happened since the end of the war?”
“No, and you have sixteen questions left.” Starscream’s tone was snide, taking the Prime’s sarcastic suggestion seriously. Optimus hummed soothingly, trying to plan his next question. Not something that happened with the Decepticons, or afterwards. Something from before, perhaps?
“Something that happened when you were a sparkling?”
“Nope.”
Well, there went that idea. “Something...that happened during the war?”
“Yes.” Starscream huffed and flicked a wing. It wasn’t much help. Starscream had been fighting most of his life, so ‘something that happened during the war’ was a very large timeframe. Not something that happened with the Decepticons, though.
“Something that happened...umm...when you were in Autobot custody?” He knew that he had hit something worth pursuing when Starscream stiffened, turning his helm away. Optimus rearranged them so Starscream was leaning against him. “Oh, Star. Please talk to me. I might be able to help.”
“Liar!” Starscream hissed, angry again. He didn’t try to move away, though, so Optimus rumbled soothingly.
“What happened?” Starscream was tense and unhappy, Optimus rubbed little circles across his wings, wanting to help, but not knowing how. “Star, talk to me.”
“Why now?” Starscream’s voice had an edge to it, angry yes, but there was something else there, something older, raw and painful. “You were never interested in talking before, too much the high and mighty Prime to lower yourself to speaking to a lowly Decepticon.” Optimus couldn’t see Starscream’s face, but the sneer in the seeker’s voice was loud and clear. “When we needed you to rescue us, where were you?”
“I’m listening.” He tightened his arms around the seeker. “Talk to me.”
“Very well, Autobot. I will tell you a story.” He huffed a laugh, the sound totally devoid of humour. “I am a good storyteller. I used to read to them, you know.”
“Your trine?”
“Of course. I taught them to read, and write, and speak enough Standard to understand orders.” He took a shaky in-vent. “I got promoted early. Despite what Megatron used to say, I was a perfectly competent air commander. Airbrake chose me to train as his successor.”
Optimus remembered the name Airbrake. He had been the first Decepticon air commander. Early intelligence suggested he had been part of Vos’s military, probably their highest ranked survivor after the bombing. The mech had been deactivated at Kalis, like so many mechs of rank. Starscream had become the air commander shortly afterwards.
“I was captured at Althelix about three vorns after I became air commander. Someone got a lucky shot which hit my wing hinge. I couldn’t fly, and Megatron wouldn’t let Skywarp teleport in to find me.”
“Megatron never did come back for injured mechs, did he?”
“It kept us strong,” Starscream snapped. “If we couldn’t make it back under our own power, what use were we to the faction?”
“The Autobots never left their mechs behind.” Optimus felt compelled to remind him.
“I am aware.” Starscream’s tone was bitter. “I got repairs and energon when I was captured, and then your head of special operations decided I must have plenty of intelligence to share.”
Sidestep had been the head of special operations back then, Optimus knew. One of the officers promoted by Sentinel, he had been ruthless and unforgiving. Optimus and Prowl, who had been newly promoted to second in command, had been wary of him. He had run his stable of operatives with an iron servo, forging them into a force to be feared. And fear them the Decepticons had. Optimus didn’t remember hearing anything about Starscream being interrogated while he had been in Autobot custody the first time, but Sidestep was the type of mech to have kept it quiet.
“I was ‘lucky’...” and Optimus heard the quotes slotting into place around the word, “enough to be passed off to your current head of special operations rather than one of your more experienced torturers. He quickly realised that conventional torture wouldn’t work, so he decided to bring something else to the table.”
Optimus kept rubbing gently at the white wings, wanting Starscream to keep talking, but not wanting to interrupt his flow. The mech gave a little stifled sob.
“He started by keeping me in the dark, chained to a wall in the dark. In silence. Unlike Megatron, though, he came to visit me. He brought me energon. More importantly, he brought light and sound and proof that I wasn’t forgotten.”
Optimus was aware of how that worked. Make the prisoner dependant on you for all their interaction. They would start to talk to you just to make you stay a little longer. It would take less time to get a seeker to that state that most grounders.
“So I told him things, because when I didn’t he went away for a long time.” Starscream’s vents hitched again. “So I told him things, and he promised me he could help me get Sky and TC out of the Decepticons.” Starscream evened his venting out, field bitter, and angry. “He promised that you would come and talk to me, but you didn’t. Too important, apparently. Too busy to talk to a prisoner trying to defect.” His voice was cold, angry. “So I escaped, and I went back, and I watched my trine mate get ground under that tyrant’s servo, and I have to live every cycle with the reminder that Autobots lie, and that I gave up information that lead to the deaths of hundreds of my seekers because of an Autobot lie. And I live with the memory that it. Was. My. Fault!”
“Oh, Star.” Optimus held the seeker as he started sobbing, cradling him and trying to push comfort and understanding into a field which was roiling with unhappiness, and not a little anger. If Jazz had just come to him with this, Starscream and his trine might have defected, or at least turned neutral. The war could have ended a lot sooner. “Why offer to join us, though?” That the seekers hated the Autobots was hardly a revelation.
“We thought you might be different. Clearly we were wrong!”
“Oh Starscream, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” Part of Optimus, the part that thought of Jazz as a friend, was furious with the mech. The other part of him, the Autobot commander part, knew that Sidestep would have come down hard on a subordinate who deliberately bypassed the chain of command and reported directly to the supreme commander. Jazz had still been quite junior and couldn’t have told him. They had barely known each other at that point. “I’m sorry.” There simply wasn’t anything else he could say.
************************************************
Skywarp was waiting outside Prowl's quarters when they returned. Prowl was slightly surprised to see him, but Thundercracker's wings perked up and the young mech actually smiled at his trine mate.
“Does Ironhide know you are here?” Prowl asked. Skywarp being allowed to roam at will was still relatively new, and Red Alert had insisted that the seeker tell Ironhide where he was going. The security director was starting to mellow (slightly), but unexpected events tended to set him back.
“Yeah!” Skywarp was clearly offended by the suggestion, scowling at Prowl. The Autobot gave him a bland look as he opened the door and ushered both seekers inside. Skywarp was still looking aggrieved, so Thundercracker hustled him off to his room.
“You okay?” Skywarp asked in sparkling Vosian as soon as the door was closed. Thundercracker realised that his trine mate had been holding his anxiety in check with an effort as his field was suddenly full of protective worry. It took a moment for him to work out how to answer. The new programs had yet to learn the language he had spoken for most of his life.
“Yeah,” he responded slowly. “Feels kind of funny, like I can't remember how to talk.” Skywarp's face screwed up in distaste at that. “It didn't hurt,” he assured the black seeker. “I just need to get used to it.”
“'Hide wants me to think about it,” Skywarp admitted, looking at his servos. “Makes me scared.”
“It didn't hurt,” Thundercracker repeated. “Bitstream scanned and uploaded the chip so they couldn't add anything.” He pulled Skywarp to the berth and wrapped him in a hug. “I was scared, but they were really nice 'bout it.” He thought for a click as Skywarp relaxed against him. “I bet I can write easier now. I could make some new stories.”
“Can you read better?” Skywarp knew how much the struggle to read Standard had frustrated his trine mate. He wriggled out of Thundercracker's hold and crossed to his shelves. “Could you read to me, like Star used to?”
“I... I think so.” Thundercracker poked tentatively at the new protocols. “I can try.” Skywarp handed him the data pad and climbed back on the berth, looking up at the stormy ceiling with the glowing, jagged crack of lighting he had painted for his trine mate.
“'Hide wants a sunset on his ceiling,” he remarked, eliciting a chuckle from Thundercracker. He had missed Skywarp’s random non-sequiturs. Since the end of the war, most of their conversations had been tense, nervous, and to the point. Skywarp coming out with a random comment showed Thundercracker, more than any assurance his trine mate could give, that Skywarp was happy.
“It’ll be pretty.”
“Yeah.” Skywarp turned to look at him, and smiled. “Read to me!”
Slowly, self-consiously, Thundercracker started reading, voice deep and smooth. Skywarp offlined his optics, listening with a little smile on his faceplates.