To force myself to write a story that actually has Autobots in it, I wrote it in alternating scenes, so...one Autobot scene, then one Decepticon scene. I keep this up until it becomes...untenable. And by that point, everyone's pretty much in the same place trying to kill each other anyway, so...that's my excuse.
Anyway, here's some fangirl swooneriffic Starscream for ya.
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III.
Nemesis
Starscream paused the playback. Walked around the display, slowly. Frowning. What had he done wrong? What could he have done better? They had won, but he could have won…better. By more. It was an old battle, yes, and he liked to consider he had progressed beyond those clumsy tactics. But how far? And was it far enough? Had command dulled his battle edge? Had losing it to Megatron cost him more than respect?
He refused to think of the present—what he’d be doing now instead of whatever insanity Megatron was pursuing. It only bred fury and discontent—sure enemies of a warrior’s performance. No. He did not want to think of Megatron. Or of Bourzey, and the countless mistakes he had probably made there. Nor the humiliation of having been sent on such a mission, a punishment—what had Barricade called it? ‘One of Megatron’s little disciplinary specials’? Yes.
He didn’t want think about Barricade, either. So instead he stared at cascading tactical scans of battles that were to him ancient history. They might have been tactical or strategic disasters, but they were a time when he knew his place, felt sure and confident of his own power.
Unlike now.
He barely registered the whoosh of the ready-room’s door, or the approach of another bot, until the other stopped beside him.
“Blackout,” he acknowledged, curtly.
“Tyger Pax, huh?” The copter tilted his head to consider the elevation displays in more detail. “Going back to the bad old days?”
The jet snapped off the playback. The tactical scan vanished. “A warrior continually hones his mind,” he snapped. Those days were not so bad. Not like now.
Blackout stepped back, a little surprised. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Just trying to make conversation.”
“If I desire conversation, I will initiate it. If I desire intelligent conversation, I will merely have to face my disappointment.”
“You know, Starscream,” Blackout said, “there’s a reason you don’t have any friends.”
“It is because I do not need any,” the jet retorted.
The copter gave a snort of contempt. “Yeah. Sure.” He headed back to the door, his shoulders stiff with frustration. “Have fun in here all by yourself, Air Commander.”
*****
“Ready Room Delta,” Blackout subvoc’d to Barricade. He leaned against the wall a few paces down from the ready room’s door.
“Fine. How’d I let you talk me into this again?” Barricade said, sourly.
“Pulled some macho bullshit line on you and you fell for it.” The copter’s smirk could be heard over comm. So much for Barricade’s continual put-downs about warriors.
“I hate you.”
“Love you too, sweetheart. Should warn you—he’s in a pretty ugly mood.”
“Makes two of us.”
“Want me to stick around in case things get rough?”
“No, but I might want you to stick around so I can kick your aft after this.”
“You can try.” A moment later. “You’ll be okay?”
“Fine time to care now, whirly-brains. Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Blackout heard him log off his IC console through his internal systems. “And if I’m not, I wish you a lifetime of guilt.”
“That’s what I like about you, Barricade—your perpetual optimism.”
“Really? I thought it was my devastating good looks.” Barricade was under no illusion he was anything other than…unattractive.
“You just keep thinking that, delusion-bot.”
“Just as well: I suspect my handsome face is about to get reconfigured.”
“Can’t get any worse.”
“Always looking on the bright side, aren’t you?”
“Good luck,” Blackout said, but Barricade had already cut comm.
*****
“Starscream,” Barricade burst with a jovial enthusiasm he didn’t feel. “What a pleasant surprise to find you here.”
“It is neither pleasant nor a surprise for me,” the jet replied. He’d cued up the Tyger Pax playback after the copter had left, adjusting the actual combat with simulated scenarios. What if they had flown in a reverse-V formation instead? What if they had kept their grouping looser? What if Blackout had arrived with reinforcements a hemicycle earlier? So many variables—which ones actually mattered? “I suspect that Blackout gave you my location. However, if I had been entirely certain of the pleasure of this visit, I would have called up Saejon Three.”
Barricade flinched. Starscream’s jaw gritted in satisfaction. Let the pain begin, apparently.
Barricade dropped the boisterous act. Ridiculous anyway. Blackout should have stayed out of this. Since he hadn’t, the least Barricade could do would be to keep him out of the circle of blame. “Small ship, Starscream. Sooner or later I’d run into you. Unless,” he drawled, “of course, you’d be hiding from me.”
“Me? Hide from
you?” Starscream pretended to be engrossed in another combat scenario.
“That’s what I thought.” Barricade stared at the combat sim. The jet looked over at him. Back to the sim. Back at Barricade. Dying to know what the smaller bot was thinking—Barricade could feel it build up in him.
Finally, the jet snapped, “If you are waiting for my congratulations, you will have to wait longer than this.”
“Don’t want congratulations,” Barricade said, “Yours or anyone’s.”
“Well then, what do you want?” He gestured at the simulation. “As you can see I am busy.”
“So busy you’ve got nothing better to do than slag around with sims. Last time Megatron’s met with you?” Barricade cursed himself even as the words left his mouth. You were here to calm things down, not escalate them. Can’t you turn that damn thing off? Can’t you, for once, try not to run a slagging approach?
The jet’s eyes spiralled in tightly. “That is none of your business.”
“Actually, it is my business. Access logs. You haven’t met with him since returning from Bourzey.” Barricade squinted his eyes shut against himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid bot. You’re making it worse. Stop it. Now. Ego down. Way down. Forget the Saejon Three dig. Stop trying to power-over him. You know it doesn’t work. He watched the jet seethe. Come on, he goaded himself. You can do this. Pride/ego up. Stroke his ego. Say how great he is. You know he’ll respond to that. You know he will. He’s about 90% ego. Stroke it. Just stroke it the right way for a change.
Stop being the interrogator. Start being…whatever the hell you actually are under all the self-delusion. Under all the artificial sentiments, feigned emotions, under the ruthless processor. Dig under that. Let that speak for a change. What came out was…. “I’m sorry.” He winced, waiting for the jet to run with it, take his apology and tear it down. He felt Starscream’s eyes hard on him. Could almost hear the sneer on his face. Then, unreadable silence. Barricade looked up.
“It was…unconscionable, what you asked of me.”
“I know.” This, he decided, did not feel good. It felt, altogether, too much. He wanted numbness.
A flare of anger. “Then why did you ask it?”
“I thought it was necessary. I thought it was the only way.”
The jet grunted, folding his arms over his torso. His eyes were on, but not seeing, the combat sim. “There is never only one way, Barricade.”
Barricade felt his hands tighten into knots of shame. “It seemed like it.”
“It always does.” Starscream froze the sim. “Why me? Why did you ask that of me? Do you hate me so much? Was Megatron’s punishment not enough for you?” The jet’s talons dug into the console, gouging the bare alloy.
Barricade blinked, surprised. Had he been entirely wrong in gauging the jet’s head-line? “Asked you because I trust you. Only one I know who’d stop it in time.” Had the jet really thought he’d made him do it out of hate? Of all the bots who had a reason to trust the jet? Was Starscream questioning that?
“And is your trust supposed to be worth more to me than my honor?”
“Everything’s a damned ‘matter of honor’ to you, Starscream.” Damn these stupid warriors and their spark-cursed honor! Such a thing as getting the job done. He felt anger simmer in him. Forced it down. No. He wasn’t going to defend what he did. Couldn’t. Hot anger felt better than shame…but it was still not what he wanted to feel. It was still too much.
Starscream’s voice was soft, somewhere between a whisper and a hiss. “What else is there, Barricade? Don’t tell me you still believe in the Decepticon cause? As smart as you tell everyone you are?”
Barricade’s central core went cold. “That’s dangerous talk.” Why would Starscream be talking sedition to the chief intelligence officer? Did he want to be offlined?
“Which is why I do not say it very often. But you seem to think there is something more important than coming out of this with honor.” The jet rocked back against the console, arms over his chassis again. “I would like to know precisely what you think that is.”
Barricade had no answer.