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It had started raining by the time Skyfire flew the Autobots back from the conference, after Optimus Prime had spoken of peace and cooperation to a crowd full of human journalists.
He found them fascinating, the humans: their languages and cultures. Skyfire wished he could’ve talked to a few of them. Instead, he had stooped awkwardly behind the flashing cameras, self-conscious of being the tallest mech in view.
And before he had a chance to converse post-interview, a distress signal interrupted them. Optimus and an entourage of competent fighters had left to deal with it, while the leftover Autobots piled unceremoniously into the shuttle, ready to head back to base.
At the front of the flight deck, Wheeljack and Sunstreaker were sitting, frames leaning back in their chairs, when Sunstreaker propped his pedes up on the console. Pedes that had been tracked in wet mud.
Skyfire shouldn’t have been too worried about the dirt. His frame was already in need of a deep cleaning because of the rain- to prevent rusting- but something about the action hurt him, as if the lack of consideration had reduced him to his bare functions as a transport.
“I’m a scientist first,” he had told Optimus the night before. But Skyfire still compromised, ferrying the autobots across the planet, because having a use made him feel less like an imposter, and hopefully reduced their apprehensions of him being a Decepticon turncoat.
“Please don’t do that,” he said.
Sunstreaker looked up, optics wide, confirming that he had forgotten Skyfire existed. He took his pedes off, but not before tracking dirt across and spreading it onto the floor panels.
Wheeljack gave him a disapproving stare. “Sorry about that Skyfire. We’re still getting used to you.”
That wasn’t so bad. Maybe Skyfire would acclimate to the faction faster than he thought. Wheeljack was a scientist too, and seemed kind enough to give him some lab space. He didn’t know what the policy for giving unverified mechs access to chemicals was, so could only hope his service as a shuttle would prove himself trustworthy soon.
Sunstreaker rolled his optics. “What? I don’t see what the problem is. He’s a shuttle. He should be used to this sorta thing.”
“Sunstreaker…”
“It’s fine,” He interrupted them. “I don’t mind.” But he did mind.
Sensors picked up an incoming jet, and a moment later, Skyfire heard the whiz of high-power engines gaining on him. Before he could warn the others, a bright red seeker barreled into his side, careening him rightward.
Loose objects slid down with the subsequent tilt, Sunstreaker fell out of his seat and onto his aft, and Wheeljack stumbled to his knees, clinging to the console.
“What the frag was that for?” Sunstreaker glared. “Can’t even fly straight!”
“Not his fault,” Wheeljack warned, a hint of fear in his voice as he glanced at the radar.
The comms malfunctioned for a click, letting through words at mercurial intervals.
“…Require aid…bzzttt……..underes….zzt…ated…powerplant…outnumbered…”
“It’s Prowl.” Sunstreaker yelled again. Skyfire wondered why he was stating the obvious. “He needs our help. Go faster!” Sunstreaker started kicking his walls, as if that could make him speed up..
“I can’t. I’m a transport. Not a warframe.”
An incessant pinging drew his attention away from the irate mech. It was Starscream, trying to pressure him into accepting comms. The image of the seeker trying to shout at him, only for the sound to be carried away by the wind, appeared in his mind, and Skyfire was almost petty enough to ignore him. Almost.
“If it isn’t the traitor.” Starscream had regained altitude and stability- the collision had thrown him off more than Skyfire- and was now trailing close to him, weapons charged.
The scratchy voice renewed Skyfire’s helmache. He made a mental note to be petty next time.
“Starscream,” he said calmly. “Shouldn’t you be catching up with your air force? I didn’t know I was important enough for you to ignore whatever attack you’re staging.”
“You aren’t!”
“Then leave us alone.”
“Defectors don’t get to be let off so easily.” Starscream cut the comms and fired at him, damaging Skyfire’s wing. Another barrage melted smoking holes into his speed brake.
“How far are we from the powerplant?”
“Why?” Wheeljack asked.
“Because I’m making an emergency landing.”
“With Screamer tailing us? Then that stiletto freak’s going to have nullrays and the high ground!” Sunstreaker groaned, prepping his guns with the air of a mech at a remembrance flower ceremony.
Wheeljack looked out of the flight deck, and his face morphed from vaguely concerned to desperate. “Incoming!”
They shot past the treeline and into chaos: Megatron striking Optimus Prime in the jaw, Jazz playing target practice with the casseticons, the aerialbots combining only to stomp on allies and enemies alike.
What a disaster. Skyfire wanted to go back into the ice.
He eased the slope to barely an incline, gliding down into the heart of the battlefield. He heard engines enter full throttle and prepared for the worst, but Starscream bolted past him, heading towards a melee between the coneheads and the Autobots Sideswipe and Prowl.
Crashing into the Autobots at a speed that made Skyfire wince, Starscream let out a screech of victory before tearing into Sideswipe’s chassis. Sideswipe never got a chance to react. He collapsed, energon glugging out and onto the flooded concrete, dyeing the puddles pink. Starscream didn’t stop, vearing into the remnants of the main building to grab what the coneheads were attempting to retrieve: a powerful converter that could sustain a space bridge.
“Megatron! Call the retreat. We’ve achieved what we came here for.”
The leader of the Decepticons was in the middle of being pummeled by the Prime. He attempted to growl out, “Unlike you, Starscream, I am not a coward.” But the volley of punches he was tanking made him pause between each word, causing the statement to lose all menace.
Starscream stomped his pedes in frustration and flew straight up, ordering his airforce to leave. As seekers began to trickle out of the fight, other Decepticons hesitantly followed suit. Once the air was clear of all but storm clouds, He descended near the fight, urgently whisper-arguing with Megatron.
Seeing that his forces had retreated, Megatron relented, withdrawing from Optimus Prime, but not before getting in the last punch. As he left, Skyfire saw him wack Starscream on the helm. The Autbots saw it too, and Sunstreaker laughed cruelly.
Skyfire was not impressed. He thought back to his brief stay with the Decepticons, regretting that he had not noticed their lack of morals earlier. Seeing Starscream now made his spark ache, because it was like looking at an unfunny parody of his former partner. Starscream was inquisitive. He was bold. And he had always detested the status quo. But the mech that had confronted him was like Starscream dialed to a thousand, and vindictive beyond reason. Why he chose to stay with Megatron, despite their mutual loathing, Skyfire couldn’t understand, and hoped he never would.
The field smelled of charred grass and fuel, a grim sight that matched their mood. Prowl only managed a curt nod at Ratchet before going back to running calculations on damage control, and Sideswipe remained unmoving, the energon pool growing larger around him.
In a clearing naturally insulated by the wreckage of the human infrastructure, the Autobots laid out their injured as Ratchet worked triage. The medic approached Sideswipe, cauterized his fuel lines, and fed him energon directly through a medical drip, but the mech was still in critical condition. Skyfire had barely opened his cargo doors when Sunstreaker ran out to his spark twin’s side.
Ratchet turned to him. “How fast can you get him to base?”
The air seemed to still as everyone within hearing distance turned to look at him. Skyfire suddenly felt very exposed, unable to hide his overtly damaged state. He shifted his weight. Left pede. Right pede. Left pede again, chewing on his lips nervously.
“Not at all if you don’t patch me up first.” He cringed at his words. Were they too passive-aggressive?
Unfazed, Ratchet stepped towards him with his tools, before staring up at him with a questioning arch of his brow. At first, Skyfire couldn’t understand why he had stopped.
“Going to let me patch you up then?”
“Ah sorry.” Skyfire bent down to help him reach the damaged areas, feeling his systems heat up in embarrassment.
They went on in relative silence, Ratchet moving through his injuries with the self-assuredness of an expert, and Skyfire holding still, barely exventing.
“You’re damn lucky, kid,” Ratchet muttered under his breath.
“Is that one of the human words?”
“What.” He looked up, surprised.
“Damn. Is that one of the human words?” Skyfire asked again.
“Yeah. But you better not go around repeating it.”
Ratchet didn’t elaborate, continuing his repairs at a faster pace. Once Skyfire was ‘flight-capable’- or as flight-capable as was possible- they loaded Sideswipe into his cargo bay, and he took off with a helpful boost from Prowl’s energon reserves. As they reached a stable altitude, the mechs lost their battle frenzy, the mood turning somber from the loss.
“You let him get away.” Sunstreaker’s accusation was so quiet, nobody but Skyfire heard it.
When the quiet chatter didn’t dissipate, he growled his engines. The sound was low and controlled, but held an undeniable fury. And Skyfire knew that he would be forced into another unwanted confrontation.
“You Let him Get Away!”
Everyone froze. They stared at him with wariness, like he was a ticking time bomb. But the mech had just watched his spark twin get mutilated. And the countdown was entering single digits.
“Hey now. You know that’s unfair.” Wheeljack touched his shoulder in placation.
But Sunstreaker shoved him off, violently, and the scientist stumbled into the bulkhead.
“Unfair?” he hissed. “I’ll tell you what’s unfair. Making us play nice with a slagging Decepticon. And not just any ol’ con.” Sunstreaker scoffed. “Ooh no. Not just any con, but Screamer’s frag buddy.”
“Lab partner. And that was before the war.” Skyfire managed bitterly.
“Sure. Lab partner.”
Sunstreaker’s accusation hit deeper than he would’ve liked to admit. They were never a couple, but there had been something developing between them. A something that had been cut short, frozen, and smashed into unrecognizable pieces.
He could also empathize with Sunstreaker’s misery, but he wouldn’t tolerate it. The mech seemed like the type that had to make others suffer when he was.
“Just because you’re angry at Starscream, doesn’t mean you can take it out on me. What he did is not my fault.”
“What?” Sunstreaker’s face twisted into a sneer. “How fitting that the con is avoiding responsibility. If it weren’t for you, Sides wouldn’t be bleeding out on the ground! We should’ve left you in the ice to grey.”
“Ugghhh.” A moan came from Sideswipe as he woke up to a flood of pain sensors. “Hey? Maybe don’t argue while I’m deactivating.”
“Not on my watch, you aren’t.” Ratchet adjusted an energon line, making his patient wince at the movement. The medic sounded tired. “And you.” He glared at Sunstreaker. “Shut your intake before I make you.”
Mercifully, Sunstreaker stopped provoking him. Skyfire swore he even saw a collective shudder spread through the bystanders. It appeared that the medic had a reputation, and Skyfire decided he didn’t want to get on his bad side.
“How come he listens to you?” Wheeljack stood up, rubbing the bruised metal of his shoulder. Ratchet turned his death glare to him.
“Nevermind. I understand.”
The rest of the journey was calm, with his passengers settling into idle chatter. When they reached the base, First Aid boarded to help Ratchet carry Sideswipe to the medbay, Sunstreaker trailing along with them.
“I’m gonna be fine Sunny. Don’t you worry.” Sideswipe managed to grin between system shutdowns.
Skyfire watched as the Autobots ran to their base. To them, it was home. But for Skyfire, the Ark was as impersonal as the Nemesis. As if to remind him of his outsider status, the doorway’s height caused him to hit his helm , and he stood there for a click, more shocked than hurt.
“Are you coming?” Wheeljack turned to him with a pleasant crinkle in his optics.
“Uh,” Skyfire said dumbly. “Yes, but um first I need to take a shower.”
Wheeljack studied his frame, noticing the dried mud and energon caked into his joints and crevices.
“I don’t want to hold you back then. But after you're done, you can stop by the lab. Perceptor wants to meet you.” He winked.
“Do you really mean that?” Skyfire’s spark fluttered excitedly. Lab access! For him!
Wheeljack nodded but then paused a few nanoclicks too long, trying to find the right words. “Don’t let Sunstreaker get to you. We’re all glad you're here with us. So don’t be shy if you need anything.”
At that moment A tension that had been gorging on his worries like a parasite was exterminated. For the first time since the ill-fated exploration forty-eight thousand vorns ago, Skyfire no longer felt lost.
***
A few orns later
Sideswipe was up and driving again. As Skyfire had learned when his samples were sabotaged by purple glitter, the mech was also a troublemaker.
Despite Skyfire’s initial stand-offish nature, he had managed to make friends with the scientists: Perceptor, Wheeljack, and even Ratchet, who appeared unapproachable. The medic was grateful for Skyfire’s aid and compliance with regular medical check ups. Apparently avoiding exams was a pervasive issue in the faction, something they shared in common with the Decepticons. Not that Skyfire would tell them that.
His newest acquaintance Perceptor spoke in a clinical fashion, and turned into a microscope. According to Wheeljack, the mech was taking a vacation from an elite task force known as the wreckers. One battleground being a vacation from another didn’t make sense to Skyfire. But Perceptor’s meticulousness in the lab convinced Skyfire that he was highly trained- in both war and STEM.
The mech he was closest to was Wheeljack. They had started collaborating on an energon converter, less powerful than the one the Decepticons had stolen, but useful for optimizing food rations. At times, when they had fallen into a shared state of focus, Skyfire would confuse him with Starscream. Fortunately, he had never accidentally called him by Starscream’s name, and hoped to keep it that way.
A couple missions later, Skyfire’s chance to end Sunstreaker’s vendetta came. They were flying over the Pacific (that was the name of one of the humans’ oceans) , when the Sunstreaker had started berating him about being late to arrive at a rendezvous point.
Skyfire honestly couldn’t do anything about it. They had been delayed because of bad weather, which he couldn’t control. But the mech insisted on holding it against him.
Tuning out Sunstreaker’s rant, Skyfire lurched upwards, sending the unbuckled mech into the back of his cargo bay. Sunstreaker fell into the corner, splayed on top of boxes of aid packages and energon.
“Sorry. There was turbulence.”
Sunstreaker gaped like one of the fish he had seen during his stay on the Nemesis. “You did that on purpose.”
Wheeljack shrugged. “Felt like normal turbulence to me.”
Skyfire took his chance. “You said it yourself. I can’t even fly straight.”
After that, Sunstreaker ignored him instead, only flashing him resentful gazes in the halls of the Ark. Skyfire couldn’t have been happier.