SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL

 

 

            NOBODY betrayed Air Commander Starscream!

            The onetime Decepticon Seeker, now a techno-organic gyrfalcon, flew high over the deserted streets of Cybertropolis.  His eyes looked without seeing; he was half-blind with rage.  Down below, a tank Vehicon registered motion on its sensors, but all it was able to see was a lightning-fast blur of white and red, gone before the Vehicon could begin to achieve target lock.  Shrugging, the slow-moving tank drone gave up on the flyer and resumed scanning for Maximal activity.

            Starscream didn’t even notice the drone.  His mind was aware of the surroundings only as much as it took to avoid flying headlong into a building.  His thoughts were somewhere else entirely...

            Depth Charge.

            And Artemis...how in the Pit could she have done it?  Artemis...his mate...

            TRAITOR!

            Starscream shut his eyes and flew faster, higher, trying to escape the thoughts in his mind.

 

***

 

            Down below, a black jaguar named Pantera was cursing her mistake.

            ~I shouldn’t have told him.  Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, have told him.~

            But what else could she have done?  Pick up again after hundreds of years and pretend that nothing had changed between them?  Pretend that she was still Artemis, the same person she’d been when Galvatron had blasted Starscream into little pieces of space debris?  Or even that she was still Artemis Prime, Autobot Leader, as she had been when Starscream’s spark had possessed his deceased comrade Thundercracker?  No...those days were over.  Starscream’s spark had been captured by the Quintessons, possibly destroyed, and Artemis had found a new life as the Maximal Pantera.  A new life, and a new love.  Depth Charge.  And the fact that Depth Charge had died in the Beast Wars didn’t change the fact that Pantera had loved him.

            But she loved Starscream too...and Starscream had reacted very badly to this piece of news. 

            She’d been filling him in on everything that had happened on Cybertron since his disappearance in the Quintesson War.  The end of the Quintesson War.  The Decepticon Rebellion, led by her former second-in-command Tempest.  The Great Reformatting of the Maximals and Predacons.  The Beast Wars...

            ...and then she’d opened her big mouth about Depth Charge.

            ~He’ll cool off.  He’ll come back.~

            But as she stared into the Cybertronian sky, she could only hope that he’d come back sooner rather than later.

 

***

 

            Starscream, exhausted from his hard flying, settled down to a leisurely glide at around the same time that his logical mind began to kick in.  Perhaps Pantera could be forgiven for her indiscretion.  Something inside him reminded him that he’d been, for all intents and purposes, dead at the time. 

            ~That still doesn’t give Arty the right to...~

            ~And you wouldn’t have?~

            ~Shut up!~

            ~Black Arachnia...she was pretty good-looking, wasn’t she?~

            ~I never...~

            ~Because you didn’t want to...or because you didn’t get the time, or the chance, before Primal kicked you out of Waspinator’s shell?~

            ~Shut up shutupSHUTUP!!!~

            He thought of Artemis...Pantera, she called herself now...entwining herself around that insufferable mercenary Depth Charge...purring things in his ear, things she’d once said to Starscream...howling in pleasure, and looking down into the mercenary’s smugly satisfied face, her own face flushed with the afterglow...and he felt physically sick.

            He countered the feeling of helplessness and betrayal with an emotion he was more accustomed to dealing with.  Anger.  Artemis was his mate, his second in command.  Betray him, will she?  She’d regret it...regret her mistake FOREVER!

            The familiar pulses of rage through his system were oddly comforting.  This was a situation Starscream understood.  This, he could deal with.  He’d find a way to make Artemis pay for her betrayal, somehow, some day...  Right now, he flexed his wings and enjoyed the sensation of bitter heat pouring through his circuitry like streams of molten metal.

            He was rudely awakened by a blast of laser fire that streaked mere inches from the tip of his beak, causing him to draw back with a startled and undignified squawk.  His wings beat strongly, holding him in a hover, while he looked around for the source of the attack.

            Jet drones...three of them...above and behind.  They were firing again.  Disgruntled, Starscream furled his wings and dove down for the cover of the streets below.  He didn’t need to be interrupted by a pack of stupid drones.  Still, it should be easy enough to lose them in the alleys.

            Where was he?  The cityscape wasn’t familiar...and Primus, it was a hole.  Dilapidated buildings slouched on all sides...explosion craters pockmarked the streets...broken bridges led to emptiness, dizzying drops.  Broken girders twisted their way in and out of piles of shattered concrete, like worms in a corpse.  Walls were scored with laser fire and smoke damage.  Cybertron was looking pretty tough these days, but even the areas around Megatron’s citadel didn’t look like this.  Most of Cybertropolis was falling apart from neglect.  This place looked actively destroyed, as if a mighty war had been raging here.

            ~By the Pit!  What is this place?~

            A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the three drones were still behind him.  Damn.  Right now he’d give his left arm for a laser or something, anything, that would enable him to fight back.  He was tired, irritated, and downright embarrassed about having to live on the run!

            His optics narrowed slyly as he noticed a forest of pillars ahead.  “All right, you idiotic drones...let’s see if your flying ability matches that of a Decepticon Air Commander!”  Putting on an extra burst of speed, he banked into the first row of pillars and began weaving and darting through the columns.

            The aerodrones attempted the same maneuver, but the pillars were not widely spaced enough to allow the drones to hold their formation.  The two trailing drones were forced to break formation.  One of them didn’t break fast enough and smashed headlong into a pillar.

            Starscream laughed, using all his skill to lead the other two on a merry chase through the pillars.  He was a far better flyer than these two, and without an intelligent general or captain to lead them, they didn’t have a chance.  His attention was so taken with the jets behind him that he didn’t notice the cycle drone pulling up ahead of him...not until it fired a blast that blew up the pillar right beside him.

            ~Damn it, not another...~

            And suddenly, unexpectedly, one of the jets flew out of the forest of pillars and began a strafing run on the cycle drone, shooting at it with bursts of laser fire.  The cycle turned and fled, heading back to the cover of the alleys, with the jet in hot pursuit.

            From each side of the main road came two additional cycles, weapons raised to take down the jet.  The jet saw, too late, that it had flown into an ambush.  It attempted to light its afterburners and pull vertical, but its maneuver only allowed the cycles to fire right up its tailpipes and bring it down.

            ~What in the Pit...?~    

But Starscream couldn’t take time to puzzle out what he’d just seen.  The last jet had made it through the pillars and was firing at him again.  He dodged its blasts, glaring daggers at it.  If only he could...

            A blow from behind seared his wing, sending him tumbling to the ground. 

            Starscream rolled, struggling to remember the method of transforming.  He could hear Pantera’s voice in his head...and that just made him angry at her all over again, and did nothing to help his transformation.  He was still a bird when he finally came to a stop, just in time to see the jet coming at him from one side and a cycle from the other.  The cycle’s laser was smoking.  Figures.  One of the cycle pack had taken its attention from the fallen jet and turned it to Starscream.  The cycle now transformed, snarling at the jet and gesturing threateningly with its laser, as if claiming Starscream for its own.  The jet, equally belligerent, transformed and raised its weapons, one arm covering Starscream, the other trained on the cycle drone.

            Starscream was not impressed.  He was no one’s prize.  He would not be taken back to Megatron in defeat!  He was the Decepticon Air Commander!  Picturing himself as the proud warrior he had once been, he transformed.

            Thinking quickly, Starscream scanned the debris around him for something he could use as a weapon.  There...a metal stake with a pointed end, sharp where it had broken off whatever structure it had once been part of.  A primitive weapon, but better than no weapon at all.  Starscream spread his wings and leapt for the stake.

            The cycle drone noticed his motion.  It turned its attention away from the jet and rolled after Starscream, but before it could fire, Starscream had seized the stake and thrown it straight through the cycle’s core processor.  The cycle drone tensed, sparks spewing from its mouth, and keeled over.  Direct hit.

            But now the jet was coming his way, claws bared to rip him apart, and he was all out of weapons...

            ...and then, without warning, a blue blade sliced the jet’s head clean off.  As the jet drone’s body fell lifeless to the ground, Starscream got a look at the wielder of the blue blade.

            She stood atop the cycle drone’s corpse, talons gripping the cycle’s shoulders, a long blue sword in each hand.  Her colouration was bright golden yellow and brilliant blue, bold and distinctive in the colourless grey landscape.  She regarded him out of piercing ruby optics.  She looked  every inch the warrior as she stood there atop the defeated Vehicon, so much so that it took Starscream a moment to realize she was female--a female technoorganic.

            Primus.  If Blancwulf was cute, and Pantera muscularly athletic, his saviour here was positively…martial.  She sported an angular chestplate, with a diamond-shaped keyhole opening in the center, studded bracelets on her upper arms, and a sort of skirt made from sharp blue feathers.  Her head was adorned by a helmet with a curved lip--for a moment he thought of the original Megatron--and from each side of the helmet, a spray of blue feathers pointed skyward.  Her face was marked by blue lines like war paint, and her shoulders sported the gold guards of a commander.  All in all, she had a kind of savage beauty that could never belong to an Autobot or Autobot descendant.  Wings rose behind her back...yellow, trimmed with a line of blue feathers, tipped by clawed hands...which made her form extremely reminiscent of a Decepticon Seeker, maybe a 2B model, what with the triangular chest and the spire helmet...

            She was eyeing him, unmoving, quietly studying him.  He realized with a shock that he could see no identifying insignia of any sort on her form, even though he’d been staring at her.  He blinked, feeling suddenly out of control, and wondered what she’d been thinking as she watched him.  Criticizing him, perhaps?  The optics under the helmet revealed nothing and once again, he was reminded of his former leader Megatron in a way that irritated him.

            “What are you staring at?” he demanded belligerently.

            Her mouth twisted into a cold smile and her optics sparked.  She looked about to speak when the noise of an engine sounded nearby and her head whipped around.  Starscream followed her gaze to see the four surviving cycle drones bearing down on them.  Behind, the first jet appeared to be nothing more than a ruined shell now.

            Starscream leaned over, yanked the laser weapon clear of the other downed jet, and loosed several bursts of laser fire in the direction of the cycles.  The four bikes scattered, spreading out...

            ...making themselves easier targets for the yellow warrior who had launched herself airborne, bearing down on the Vehicons with her blades poised for attack.  She folded her wings, diving on the cycle on the outside of the pack, slicing its head clean off. 

            Starscream charged, vaulting airborne as well, taking careful aim and sending a blast straight into a Vehicon’s gas tank, causing a most satisfying explosion that...

            A silver hand smacked him clean across the face.  Startled, Starscream dropped the laser and looked, flabbergasted, into the face of the yellow technoorganic.

            “Don’t blow them up!” she barked.

            Starscream was still too stunned to react.  His mouth managed a stupefied, “Why not?”

            But by then they were too busy to react, as the last two bikes transformed and came at them.  Starscream dodged to the left; the female twisted to the right, and the Vehicons were carried right past them by the force of their own momentum.  As the cycle drones turned, the yellow warrior threw one of her long blades to Starscream.  He caught it, and, with an appreciative smirk, turned to the Vehicon.

            He wasn’t used to the edged weapon.  An expert marksman with null ray and laser, he was only average with a sword.  The Vehicon, however, was barely competent.  Although it succeeded in blocking his slashes from reaching its vitals, it did so at the price of its left hand, its lasers, and several deep gashes on its arms.  Finally, it decided that retreat was more prudent than pressing the attack.  Starscream lowered his arms, his sword arm aching from the unaccustomed workout, and watched it go...

            ...watched it for only two seconds before a bolt of yellow fury sliced its rear tire with one sword and decapitated it with the other.

            Optimus Primal, even Artemis or Pantera or whatever she called herself these days, would have said to let a defeated foe go.  The yellow warrior, whatever she was, was certainly no Maximal.  A Predacon?  But no...none of Megatron’s lackeys had survived the Beast Wars, save the wasp, and the Vehicon supreme commander had shown no mercy to the others of his kind.

            She bent over the fallen Vehicon, slicing with expert precision, and bent over to retrieve something from the corpse.  “Well fought,” she said unexpectedly, throwing her prize at him.

            He caught it reflexively and stared at it.  He found that he was holding a small square container stained with oil, slowly dripping thick energon fluid.  “What’s this?” he asked, and while saying the words he identified the object as a Vehicon fuel tank.

            “Dinner,” she replied, limping to another cycle drone.  He watched her with morbid fascination as she used her blades to pry the body open and rip out the fuel tank.  She lifted the tank, tilted her head back and poured the fuel down her throat in a long deep draught.  When it was empty, she crushed the tank in her hand while she licked her lips with relish.

            She noticed him watching her and her optics darted over to him again.  “What are you waiting for?  Drink up.”

            Starscream looked at the tank in his hand with sudden and startling distaste.  The very idea of such cannibalism repulsed him.  His companion’s expression seemed to be one of disapproval and Starscream felt a twinge of inadequacy before he demanded of himself why he cared what she thought of him.  Megatron...just like Megatron.  He’d hated the pompous ass, but for some reason had also desperately craved his former leader’s approval.

            Well, he was leader now...the rightful heir of the Decepticons, whatever might be left of them...and he didn’t need anyone’s approval.

            Still, he attempted to excuse his squeamishness.  “You’re asking me to eat someone else’s fuel?”

            “What else are you expecting to eat around here?” the yellow female asked sardonically, her hands on her hips, still not moving from her position beside the cycle drone.

            Starscream was suddenly taken aback.  “Isn’t there a fuelling station or something nearby?  We can steal from the Vehicons without any trouble.”

            She shook her head.  “No stations.  No fuel dumps.  Don’t you know where you are?”

            Starscream felt a sudden twinge of uncertainty.  “No.”

            The yellow female spun on her left heel, resting her right foot atop the fallen drone, spreading her arms to encompass the desolation around them.  “Welcome to Tartarus, City of the Damned,” she laughed.

            The technoorganic gyrfalcon took one nervous step backwards.  She caught his motion out of the corner of her eye and smiled, a mirthless grin.  “That’s my name for it.  This was once the Decepticon stronghold of Polyhex.  Or part of it, anyway.”

            Polyhex.  Just across the Ridge from Iacon.  His head darted left, right, but nowhere could he see anything even vaguely familiar.

            “Oh, the old Polyhex is long gone, buried under the layers of advancing time and civilization.  The Ridge itself is gone too, submerged beneath Cybertropolis.  Some of the old landmarks still remain, if you go down deep enough.  Right now we’re not too far from the main headquarters building.”

            Starscream felt a crushing sense of desolation as he realized that this new world was wholly and completely alien to him.

            “There is one souvenir of the old Polyhex, though:  the particle defence shields installed in the era of Shockwave’s command and later augmented by Tempest during the Decepticon Rebellion.  You up on your history?”

            That was one way to put it.  Shockwave had been incredibly testy about regular maintenance on those damned shields of his...

            ...but the other name rang only vague memories, not of his prior life this time, but of Artemis’ quick history lesson she’d given him after he’d woken up in this technoorganic body.  You missed a lot when you were dead.  Especially when your spark was trapped in a Quintesson containment unit.

            Tempest, though, was not a name he was inclined to like.  Tempest was the bitch who’d betrayed Artemis and started a revolt of her own.

            Artemis.  Betrayal.  He felt himself growing angry all over again.  To his comrade, he simply nodded, hoping she’d distract him from the rage inside his head.

            “Well, those shields are still pumping, powered by the Polyhex steam geysers.  They throw up so much interference that Megatron’s command of his Vehicons gets a little...uncertain...around here.”

            Her smile was absolutely vicious and Starscream couldn’t help but ask what she meant.

            “Basically, Megatron’s no longer in control of them.  And prolonged exposure to the radiation patterns doesn’t do much for their primitive thought processes.  Just passing through those shields makes them erratic, unpredictable, even if they leave.  They revert to their simplest primary directive...search and destroy...and they kill everything in their path.  Even each other.”

            “Then why aren’t they running rampant through Cybertropolis?”

            “They avoid the shields.  Evidently passing through them is painful for them.  They’re trapped in, and they can’t get out.”

            “And us?”

            “We could leave any time.”

            “Charming.  So why don’t you?”

            “And do what?  Go beg for fuel from the Maximals?  I’d rather die.  And I don’t like the odds of raiding Megatron’s refuelling stations by myself.  I think my chances are better here.”  She sheathed the blue long blades in her wings, in amongst the outer feathers.  “Blood and blade, that’s a language I understand.”

            She had some very, very good points, Starscream thought.  “None of those insufferable Maximals, eh?  But they do have one use...cannon fodder...maybe we should revert to beast mode before more Vehicons pick us up, hm?”

            “They can’t.  Their sensors are scrambled.  It’s sight-only around here.”

            ~Aside from the rotten decor, this place is looking better and better.~

            There had to be a catch.  “So if the shields are messing up the Vehicons that badly, why doesn’t Megatron send a diagnostic drone or two to fix the problem?  Those drones aren’t programmed to be killers and I’m sure he could insulate them, or send them through the shield while they’re inactive.”

            “He has.  Those drones are rather tasty, actually.”  Another cold smile.  “They’re slow flyers.  If the mad Vehicons don’t get them, I do.  They never even reach the shield power station.”  She chuckled. 

            Starscream was beginning to debate his new comrade’s sanity, and then a chilling thought occurred to him.  “What about us?  Are we...”

            “Are we crazy?  I haven’t exactly had a lot of Maximals to test my theory on, but it’s my belief that techno-organic brainwaves are mostly unaffected by the shields...at least, I don’t think I’m any crazier than I was before.”  She emitted a low laugh.

            Starscream breathed a sigh of relief.  He’d had enough insanity already.

            She continued, “But if any place on Cybertron will drive you mad, this is it.  Megatron’s given up on the Vehicons here.  He simply directs the new ones away from this locale.  This place isn’t valuable enough to warrant the kind of effort it would take to bring it back under control, and who else is going to control it?  The Maximals?  The perimeter patrols are thick...those are the jets you ran into...and I’m sure Primal would stay far away from a region like this.  Maximals are not built survivors.  They’re far too squeamish about what it takes to survive.”

            ~And to thrive.~  Starscream’s sentiment exactly.

            “So now Megatron is simply waiting for the crazy Vehicons to kill each other off.  They have no choice around here.  There’s no fuel.  There’s no spare parts.  So if you want to live...you’re going to have to take what you need from someone else.”  She gestured to the fuel tank in his hand.

            Savagery.  The region had degenerated to pure savagery.  Never in the course of his entire existence had Starscream been reduced to living like a beast.  Briefly he thought about flying back to the Maximal base, but the idea of coming begging to Primal and Pantera was gall to him, and pride overrode his innate revulsion.  He took the tank and tossed its contents quickly down his throat.

            Gah, it tasted like crude sludge, thick and disgustingly warm, clogging his tubes.  He swallowed hard before he could retch.

            She looked at him as if approvingly.  “Don’t worry, you’ll get a taste for it.”

            An utterly disgusting idea.  He was about to comment when he noticed her making her way to another fallen drone.  She was still limping heavily and leaning on her sword for support.  As she halted, Starscream circled around the fallen drone to get a good look at her right leg.

            ~Good Primus!~

            That limp wasn’t from exhaustion.  Her right leg had been badly mangled, and it now looked like a combination of twisted metal and ground meat.  Rough steel guards had been welded around the leg and wires had been crudely repaired with twists of copper, but the raw wiring was still evident.  From halfway up her thigh a hint of broken frame tubing protruded out the back of her leg, only half covered by her homemade guards.  Makeshift splints helped the leg bear her weight.  The flesh was crossed with massive scarring and...

            He stopped staring as he felt something like a hot weight pressing on his shoulders.  Starscream lifted his head and gazed right into the burning, hating eyes of the yellow female.

            Her wings were flared for combat and her lips were pulled back in a snarl.  She hissed at him, an animal hiss, and in that moment her fury consumed her and she reverted to beast mode.  Now a yellow and blue archaeopteryx perched on the fallen Vehicon, still hissing, flicking its forked tongue at her and fanning its feathers in an effort to appear as ferocious as possible.  Even in this mode, the right leg was damaged, and he noticed her leaning most of her weight onto her left leg.

            “What the hell happened to you?” Starscream asked with his usual tact.

            “Tank drones,” she hissed, the claws on her wing tip flexing.  She was still watching him intently, studying him.  Abruptly, she cocked her head.  “So what are you going to do now, young warrior?”

            Evidently she had something in mind, and he could not figure out what it was.  “Do?” he prompted.

            “Limited fuel, young soldier.  And I am injured.  Do you think you can fight me, for the spoils of our battle?”  She tossed her head to indicate the fallen Vehicons.

            Starscream wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, but he wasn’t really hungry any more.  The cycle drone’s fuel tank had been almost full, probably thanks to the unfortunate jet the cycle pack had killed.  And despite the yellow female’s severe injury, he’d seen her dispatch those drones in true Decepticon style.

            “Why waste our resources squabbling when we can gain these kinds of results together?” he asked.

            She smiled again.  “Oh, you are a clever one.  But what if I am in the mood to fight?”

            “If you wanted to fight me, you’d have done it already...or let the jet drone take care of it for you.  I think you’d have found the drone an easier target than me.”  His optics narrowed.  “You saved my life for a reason.  And now I want to know what it is.”

            “You already guessed it.  Two warriors are far more deadly than one, if both those soldiers are of similar calibre.”

            Starscream felt like he’d passed some sort of test with flying colours.  Oh, he liked her a lot better than he’d liked the original Megatron.  Megatron had been appreciative of him at first, but then their relationship had decayed into a battlefield of volleyed insults and thinly veiled threats.  If Starscream wanted to fight, he’d go find some Autobots, thank you very much.  He didn’t need to get sniped at on his personal time as well.

            ~What am I thinking?!  I don’t need a leader!~

            ~No.  You’re on your own in a time you know nothing about, in a place totally changed, and you think you can get by fine by yourself?  You may be the rightful Decepticon leader but even a leader needs advisors.~

            He eyed her cautiously.  “So you want a partnership, hm?  Why should I bother?  What’s in it for me?”

            “The same as for me.  Two soldiers are better than one.”

            “But what do you really want?  To slink around the slums of Polyhex forever?”

            She bowed her head.  Her wings drooped.  She suddenly looked very tired, and very old.

            “Existence is a war,” she said quietly, as if talking to herself.  “Battle is not a choice for us.  It is the very fact of our existence.  We must fight, or we will die at the hands of those who are stronger, smarter, and most importantly, more ruthless.  Even the Autobots learned this lesson.”  She hopped off the Vehicon.  The main talon of her right claw traced patterns in the dust as she spoke.  “I fight because I must...because to not fight is to lay down my life at the feet of my superior.”  Her voice became vehement.  “And I will not call Megatron my superior.”

            Starscream blinked in shock.  That last phrase had been his own.  He’d spoken it countless times.  It took him a moment to realize that she was speaking of the Megatron who currently ruled Cybertron.

            “Megatron,” Starscream growled.  “Megatron will rue the day he degraded me.  I will hunt him out in his Citadel and I will rip his miserable head from his shoulders.  I will tear out his spark and extinguish it slowly, painfully...”

            She smiled approvingly.  “I’d enjoy that.  Megatron certainly has been making enemies for himself, hasn’t he?”

            Starscream glared at her possessively.  “Megatron is MY kill.  You can have all the Vehicons you want, but Megatron is MINE!”

            She tilted her head.  “I don’t care who kills Megatron as long as he dies.  This...”  She gestured to the ruined cityscape.  “...this is not survival of the fittest.  This is cheating.  Megatron has stacked the deck.  Without that damned virus, Megatron would never have stood a chance against the Predacon forces.”

            The gyrfalcon pounced on the bias in her words.  “So, you were a Predacon then.”

            “Designation means very little to me.  But yes, I was a Predacon.  My name is Samiel, and I am the last Predacon commander, heir of the Tri-Predacus council.”

            Starscream had considered the Predacons sorry heirs of Decepticon glory, but looking at the yellow archaeopteryx, he changed his mind.  He could easily have seen Samiel as a Decepticon commander.  He realized with a blink that he’d been imagining himself as Decepticon leader and Samiel as his Air Commander.  And Arty...where was Arty?

            ~Out back fooling around with Defcon or Depth Charge or whatever he calls himself.  Fishlips.~

            That jealousy just wouldn’t quit!

            And neither would the stabbing pain in his spark...

            “And you?”  Samiel’s sliding words woke him out of his daydream.

            “Starscream,” he said proudly.

            The serpentine head rose, then slithered forward to study him again.  “That’s quite the name to carry.”

            ~And here it comes.  She doesn’t think I’m the real Starscream...and when she laughs at this miserable fleshie body, I’m going to rip her snaky throat out!~

            She smiled again.  “But you live up to it nicely.”

            He blinked with surprise and supposed that he could deal with her not thinking he was the original Starscream, if her manners were that good.

            And she was, again, watching his reaction.  “You were expecting some other remark, maybe?  Perhaps some comment about your namesake being a notorious traitor?”

            He scowled.  “I...”

            She interrupted him.  “There’s nothing wrong with that.  Blind loyalty is foolish.”

            Once again, Starscream’s jaw dropped.

            “What’s the use of a leader who cannot face a challenge?  Any leader not strong enough to eliminate any direct threats is not worthy of his position.  The mighty stay mighty by being constantly tested...and when they fail, they are brought down by another more worthy.”

            His thoughts exactly...but...

            “So which of us is leader, then?”

            She half-smiled.  “The stronger.  Time will tell.”

 

***

 

            “Anybody seen Starscream?” Pantera asked the other Maximals.

            “No,” Nightscream responded flatly, in a tone that asked why anyone would want to.

            She looked around the room.  Everyone else was also shaking their heads.

            “And this comes as a surprise?” said the rogue Vehicon Stormrave with all her usual tact.  “You know Starscream.  He’s probably got his tailfeathers in a knot about something, and he’ll come back as soon as he cools off.”

            “Or he’s trying to slag Megatron all by himself,” Cheetor added.

            “Screamer’s many things, but not stupid,” Black Arachnia argued.

            Pantera sighed.  She hated to admit it, but with the Vehicons out hunting and no one having seen hide nor hair of him, she was actually beginning to worry.

 

***

 

            “It’s a sewer,” Starscream said flatly.

            “It’s easily defended, well camouflaged, off the regular Vehicon routes, and I’ve stockpiled some weapons here.”

            “It’s a sewer.”

            Samiel stared at him challengingly.

            “The mighty Starscream does NOT sleep in a sewer!”

            “If you’d rather sleep in the alleyway, be my guest...but please, leave your fuel tank here for me.  Better my meal than the Vehicons’.”

            Grumbling, Starscream tried to find the cleanest possible place in the little enclave.  A stream of foul water flowed in through a big pipe and out through a hole in the masonry.  He left the slimy ledge he stood on, flew over the water, noted that the ledge on the other side of the flow was no cleaner, and decided to spend the night perching on a pipe overtop of the water.  Primus, the smell was horrible.  He reverted to beast mode and sat himself down, fluffing his feathers, trying to keep everything but his feet clear of the pipe he was squatting on.  In his head, he realized that in their competition as to who was leader, Samiel was winning.  If she hadn’t said anything, he would probably still be wandering the alleys, dodging the Vehicons and looking for a place to rest.

            The yellow archaeopteryx settled in beside him, paying no heed to the filth of the place.  “You’re not used to this, are you?” she asked.

            He tried to discern if she was mocking him.  “Decepticon Air Commanders do NOT sleep in slums!”

            “And if you were alone, where would you be?”

            Meat for the Vehicons, and he knew it.  He grumbled under his breath and tucked his head under his wing.

            She wasn’t done talking.  “This is a step down for you, isn’t it?”

            Starscream raised his beak.  “That, my dear Samiel, is an understatement.”  His eyes narrowed.  “And what about you?  From your comfort here it seems that Predacon commanders make a habit of sleeping in squalor.”

            “Predacon commanders, no.  But I came from conditions like these.”  She noticed the flicker of surprise in his optics and continued.  “Where did you come from, Air Commander Starscream?  If you are the Starscream of history, you came from the Cybertronian Military Factory, Aeronautics Division, model Seeker 1A, speed package...”

            “IF?  You don’t believe that I’m the real Starscream, do you?”

            “In all honesty I do not care.”

            “If I was making it up, wouldn’t you think I was crazy?”

            “Harmlessly so.  We do what we must to survive.  Your beliefs about your origin do not affect your fighting skills.  And, in fact, if you say you are something often enough, perhaps it will someday become truth.  I have known that to happen.  A warrior who convinced himself that he was a Decepticon Duke...”

            She fell silent, brooding, her eyes focused somewhere beyond the walls in a world Starscream couldn’t see.

            “Well, I am the real Starscream.  Not that the Maximals believe me.”

            “The Maximals are idiots,” she agreed.  “But back to you, Air Commander Starscream.  What kind of life have you known?”

            “I went to the War Academy.  Did a stint in Tarn.  Hooked up with Megatron, helped him gain leadership, got promoted to Air Commander after Solarius’ rebellion, and ended up on the Ark.”  He shrugged.  “An illustrious career.”  The gyrfalcon peered at her.  “But you should know that.  You knew enough about my origins.”

            “Enough to know that your beginning was typical.  Most Decepticons did not rise as high as you, but most of them started like you, with the War Academy.”

            “You didn’t go to...whatever the Predacons had?  Didn’t they keep the War Academy going?”

            “I’m a lot older than the Predacons.”

            He studied her.

            “I was a Decepticon before I became a Predacon.”  She looked him in the optics.  “What, don’t you believe me?”

            “Whatever truth you have made for yourself...”  He grinned.

            She laughed suddenly.  “I suppose in this world it doesn’t matter what we choose to say about ourselves.”

            “I’d like to hear the story.”  The gyrfalcon cocked his head.  “Did I know you?”

            “Probably not...but I knew you, Air Commander Starscream.  And that’s why I’m inclined to believe you.  You haven’t changed much.”  A smile.  “I wrote my paper on you, at the War Academy.”

            “A fellow Academy graduate, hm?”

            “I was old when I went there.  Almost two million years.  A grown soldier.”

            Starscream blinked.

            “Surprised?  I told you I came from the scumpits of the universe.  I was a pirate long before I became a true Decepticon--a soldier.”

            “A mercenary?”

            ~Like Artemis?~

            She chuckled coldly.  “Mercenary, no.  I do not work for anyone.”  Her optics narrowed into slits.  “I take what I please and I keep it for myself.”

            “And how did you manage that?”

            “Strength.  Speed.  Cunning.”  A pause.  “Will.”  The serpentine head bowed.  “Before I had any of the rest...before I had honed my skills, earned my experience, built my weaponry...before anything else, I had will.  The will to survive.”  She raised her head, her eyes flashing.  “The will to power.”

            “And the rest just came in time?  You were lucky to have lived so long to earn it.”

            “I had will and ability, and no qualms about using them.  Ruthlessness is a virtue where I come from.”

            “Ruthlessness always was a hallmark of the Decepticon forces.”

            She frowned, as if disagreeing.  “It was my experience that the Decepticon forces became too dependent.  Dependent on laser weaponry.  Dependent on orders being carried out.  Dependent on events proceeding according to plans.  Dependent on one another.”  Once again, her optics grew distant.  “You would do well to remember that in the end, we are always alone.”

            Part of him was inclined to agree with her, but the other part was remembering his old flying buddies, Skywarp and Thundercracker.  Oh, they’d had their disagreements, but when it really counted they’d always have been there for each other.  He wouldn’t be sleeping in a sewer right now if Skywarp and Thundercracker were still alive.

            “I…”

            “ALWAYS alone,” she insisted.

            “Are you saying you’re going to try to kill me?”

            She cocked her head.  “Only if I find I can’t live without you.”
            He was still trying to puzzle that out as she tucked her head under her wing and went to sleep.

             

***

 

            When he awoke, Samiel was standing in front of him with two Vehicon fuel tanks in her hands.  “Eat up,” she said, tossing him one.

            “Thanks,” he muttered, slugging the juice down.  It tasted only marginally less disgusting than yesterday’s.

            She drained her tank and tossed it aside.  “Now, to get you a weapon.  What’s your choice?”

            “Null rays.”

            The female laughed shortly.  “Yeah.  Right.  The Vehicons aren’t packing null rays and I haven’t got the expertise to build my own.  I’m a fair weapons smith at blades and simple lasers, but that’s about it.”

            “Wonderful,” Starscream muttered, walking over to her stockpile of weaponry.  “All right, what are my options?”

            “What you see is what there is.”

            Starscream squatted down and rummaged through the pile.  Most of the weapons were retooled Vehicon lasers.  He would have appreciated the firepower, but he remembered what Samiel had said the night before, about the Decepticons growing too dependent on high powered weapons.  There was no guarantee they’d be able to get enough photon charges to fill the lasers.  He selected a small handgun, but continued to search for something else.  She’d assembled a few knives, but those were too short to be much use in combat with Vehicons.  She also had a backup pair of longblades, but to Starscream, who was accustomed to guns, the idea of being able to maneuver two swords at once was daunting.  The falcon had to admit that to wield both swords simultaneously took more skill than he had.  One sword, however…Starscream smirked as he took the hilt of a long sword that resembled a claymore.  “I’ll take it.”

            “Practice, shall we?” Samiel asked.

            “You’re on.”

            Her onslaught was swift.  The next thing Starscream knew, he was parrying madly, trying to keep those longblades from his skin.  He could tell that Samiel wasn’t fighting to kill, or she’d have landed a few hits, but the glow in her optics was not comforting.  She was very much feral, and if she ever lost control and gave in to that predatory nature…

            Samiel slapped his cheek with the flat of a blade.  “Pay attention!”

            He sliced back harder, faster, using the heavier weight of his sword to knock the thinner longblades out of the way and get in closer to her.  Samiel grinned and dropped one longblade, taking him on sword-to-sword.  Back and forth they parried, thrust and dodge, slice and block, evenly matched.  Starscream felt privately galled to think that he wouldn’t be doing nearly so well if she had her other blade.  He cut out again, driving her sword down and to the right.

            Without warning, Samiel’s crippled leg gave out under her and she went down on her knees.  Her optics flashed red with alarm; she raised her sword high and hard as a form of defence, as if the battle were real.

            Starscream lowered his weapon, paused a moment, and offered her a hand up.  The yellow archaeopteryx scowled, jerking her head away.  She drove her blade’s tip into the ground and used it as a cane to haul herself back to her feet.  Her lips were set in a sullen line and she turned her back to him, limping back into the sewer.

            “Where do you think you’re going?” Starscream demanded insolently.

            “I’m working on a strategy,” she snapped back.  “We want to kill Megatron, right?  Then we either have to sneak into his Citadel, or else match him one-on-one.”

            “Match him…right.  How do you think we’re gonna do that?”

            “Re-wiring the rogue Vehicons might be a start.”

            Starscream blinked.  She had what might be a good idea there; he only wished he’d thought of it.  But he always thought of his own glory first and foremost, whereas she was evidently a strategist, thinking of a larger picture.  And, looking at his surroundings, Starscream realized ruefully that he had always considered himself a cultured individual.  There were some things that were just too demeaning.  Samiel didn’t have that problem; there was nothing she would not do to reach her goal.  She wasn’t under any illusions of propriety or civility or morality.  In the old days, he would have called her savage, animalistic, lacking in grace.  Now, he admitted, Samiel’s way would serve better in this harsh new world than his.

            She was the better leader.

            He felt the old bitter recoil rising up in him…an automatic urge to throw a tantrum.  ~I wanna be leader!  I wanna I wanna I wanna!~

            ~Do you want to survive in this world?~

            Like Samiel, he was going to have to swallow a bit of his pride in order to stay alive.

            Starscream spoke at last.  “Good idea…Commander.”

            She stopped, turning back to him, her gaze still downwards.  “I can’t be commander,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

            “Let’s face it.  You just said that I wouldn’t have lasted the night without you, and you’re right.”  His old insolence demanded that he add, “Probably.” 

            “What does that count?  You saw what happened in our fight.”

“And if you’d had two swords?”

            She smiled a little.  “The word “if” is meaningless.  I needed to be able to beat you even if I was unarmed.  That wouldn’t have happened…this damned leg…”

            Her jaw set a little more firmly; her hands clenched; her eyes hardened.  She drew in a ragged breath.

            ~and would anyone else be crying now?~

            She paused long enough to assure herself that her composure was flawless and added, “The new Decepticon order doesn’t need a cripple for a leader.  You know that.  How long would I have lasted, if I’d been in the place of the Megatron you’d known?”

            ~About two megacycles, if you were lucky.~

            “So what am I supposed to do?  I know battlefield tactics, but you’re the one who knows this planet—where the drones’ control hubs are, the layout of the Citadel, the five hundred years of tactical thought I missed out on while I was dead…”

            Samiel’s expression widened into a smirk and her optics took on a sparkle.  “So you’re saying we’re mutually screwed without each other.”

            “We’re certainly more dangerous together.”  His eyes narrowed.  “But I know you well enough to realize that you consider me a threat to your position as leader.”

            “And without you, I have no one to lead.  And vice versa.”

            “And we both know there can’t be two leaders.”  He folded his arms.  “This can’t go on simmering.  What happens when we take down Megatron?”

            She paused, thinking.  “You’re the young one.  You’re the strong one.  The law of survival makes it self-evident that you’re the leader of the future.”

            He almost gasped, so shocked was he, and he couldn’t help feeling proud and pleased with himself for the first time in many stellar cycles.  “And where does that leave you?”

            “Elder, I suppose.”  She mirrored his pose, folding her own arms, and they faced each other like bookends.  “You don’t need to listen to my advice; but if you don’t, you’re apt to wind up dead.  You’re the rising star, but I’m the one who’s walked the heights you’ve only dreamed of.  And just because I’m no longer at the pinnacle of my prime doesn’t mean that, if you turn on me, you’ll survive the experience.”

            Starscream nodded.  “I can deal with that.”

            And he could—for the time being anyway, he needed her, and that part of him that looked up to her for whatever possible reason was telling him that this was the natural order of things.

            He put out his hand.

            She took it.

            The bargain was sealed.

            “So, Elder, what is your advice?” the gyrfalcon asked.

            “First, we need to set up a permanent base.  We can buttress it with automatic defences salvaged from the Vehicons and feed in a power current from one of the generating forces.  We should be able to shunt over one of the shields and create another shield around our base.  That’ll keep the Vehicons out.  From there, we capture Vehicons and start experimenting with reprogramming them.”

            “Works for me.”  He paused.  “The Decepticon Hall of Leaders…it’s not still standing, is it?”

            She grinned slowly.  “Actually, it is.  One of my caches is there already.  It’s about four levels down, and a little ruined at the one end, but overall I think that’s a very wise choice.”

            “I thought it was…appropriate.”

            “Indeed.”

 

***

 

            A week.  It had been a week, and Starscream still hadn’t returned.  Several nights ago, Pantera had started actively looking for Starscream with the help of some of the other Maximals.  She’d checked all their old haunts--Brainstorm’s, the Ridge, even the ruins of the Decepticon War Academy across the Ridge in Old Polyhex, where the Vehicon scanners didn’t work--but there was no sign of him, nor any indication that he might have been there.  Pantera frowned.  Loud and rebellious as Starscream was, he didn’t like being left all alone.  What had happened, that Starscream was willingly isolating himself from the others?  Or...was he injured, captured by Vehicons, or worse? 

            “How’s that scanner gear coming along?” she asked Rattrap abruptly.

            “Don’t get your tail in a knot, sweetheart, I’m almost done,” the rat replied, adjusting a few gears.  “When this baby’s done, I’ll be able to deliver your featherduster on a silver platter.”

            ~Yeah.  If the Vehicons don’t deliver him to Megatron first.~

 

***

 

            Night watch.  It was Starscream’s turn to be awake, Samiel’s turn to be asleep.  They’d been out salvaging equipment from the ruins of a factory and were simply too tired to carry it all back to their base in the Hall of Leaders that night.  There had been less fuel available the last two stellar cycles; to compensate, their bodies were demanding more rest.  On the morrow they’d take the equipment back to base, and then go hunting.  In the meantime, they were grabbing a few megacycles’ rest in the top of a tower. 

The perimeter of their aerie was silent.  Starscream supposed he could fly around outside and look for Vehicons, but he was willing to bet that exposing himself would only tire him farther and draw Vehicon attention to their makeshift outpost.  Better to remain concealed and allow the Vehicons to fly on by.  Starscream spread his wings and glided down from the rough windowledge to land across the room from Samiel.  It seemed that she finally trusted him enough to fall fully and deeply asleep.  The only sound in the room was the whistle of air in and out of their intakes.  Cybertron’s twin moons cast a soft glow into the room, illuminating Samiel’s features.

            Starscream had an unbidden recollection of Pantera by moonlight, the gentle shine illuminating her sleek curves and restful face...

            ...no, no.  He wouldn’t think about that.

            Where was Pantera now, tonight?  Out looking for him?  Patrolling, hoping he’d show up?  Wondering where he’d gone?

            ...or fantasizing about Depth Charge?  Where was Fishface tonight? 

            Maybe he and Pantera were together...and maybe Starscream was the last thing on Arty’s mind.

            Fine.  Two could play that game.  He wouldn’t have any qualms at all about checking out the sleeping Predacon general.

            The moonlight lit up Samiel’s sharp angles with bold, shocking light.  There was nothing at all soft or rounded about her.  Maybe his half-flesh body had learned to appreciate Pantera’s seductive curves, but Samiel appealed to the part of him that was still robotic, to the innermost heart of his Decepticon core.  Hers was a Decepticon beauty, the ruthless appeal of a finely-tuned weapon of destruction.  A kind of beauty he’d given up long ago for the sake of an Autobot named Artemis.

            Dammit, why couldn’t he get her out of his head! 

            ~Let go of me, witch!  You have no control over me!  Starscream is ruled by NO ONE!~

            But his inner voice sounded hollow inside his head.

            Damn it.

            Wilfully, he ignored the voice, shoving it to the bottom of his mental processor and returning his attention to Samiel, hoping to find a sort of consolation in her face...something that would make him forget Artemis.  He could look at her sleeping smile and make himself believe that she smiled because of him, because they were the team that would rock Cybertron to its core, because he was here to guard her while she rested.

            He found nothing of the sort.

            There was no peace on Samiel’s sleeping face.  Her brow was drawn tightly together; her lips frowned.  The little claws on her wings clenched and unclenched rhythmically.  She shifted, her position not the languid relaxation of a resting cat...

            ...~Pantera~...

            ...but that of a soldier crouching in a trench, waiting as laser fire strafed above his head, waiting for the attack to come, waiting, *waiting*...

            She grunted a little, digging her taloned hands into the scrap of a blanket that covered her.  Her left leg twitched reflexively, kicking several times.  Discomfort twisted its way deeper into her expression.  She shuddered, her mind in the grip of an enemy that Starscream couldn’t see, and from the look on her face she seemed to be in a battle for her life, for her very soul.

            Starscream’s curiosity got the better of him.  He’d been left with special abilities even after the Oracle had wrapped his spark in a techno-organic frame.  Now, Starscream sent a probe from his spark into Samiel’s, trying to sense what she was feeling.

            The first sensation he became aware of was a current of tension, not unlike that he used to feel in the original Megatron’s command headquarters during an Autobot attack.  Slowly, images began to flicker across the inside of his mind.  He saw a dirty bulkhead, a few battered boxes.  He realized he was seeing through Samiel’s optics, and what he saw looked like the inside of a ship.

            More sensations came to him.  Struggling.  He was struggling...she was.  She was bound.  He could feel the aches from her stiff limbs.  There was something else, too...an ache deep inside her, under the chest panel...

            ...and then he went a little deeper, into the core of her spark, and what he found there sent a current of agony screaming through his entire body.  The damage was deep, spark deep...and it was rending his own into a facsimile of hers.  Pain, loss, fear, degradation, horror, hunger, all overshadowed by the knowledge of a hostile, hating universe that didn’t give a damn what atrocities were committed under its skies, and the knowledge that she was nothing more than an insignificant speck in the infinite blackness, with only one weapon at her disposal...her own undying rage to lash back at the world that had wounded her, that had tortured her and forged her, that had made the mistake of leaving her alive long enough for her to bend its rules to her own advantage and someday be the predator rather than the victim...but in the meantime, there was only pain, pain fuelling hate, a hate to cling to and submerge yourself in, lose your spark in, because it was all you had to call your own, all that there was to insulate you from the pain…

            …THE PAIN…

            “Starscream, wake up!”

            A sudden slap across his face.  It stung, but the pain was only skin deep, only on the surface of his cheek.  His body, and his spark, were whole and undamaged.  He felt irked as he realized she’d slapped him, but he said nothing.  The action had severed the connection between them.

            “What do you think you’re doing?  You were screaming your damned head off.  Probably alerted every Vehicon from here to the Citadel.  Let’s leave this stuff here, get down to the hall and put the perimeter defences on full alert.  We can come back for the salvage later.”

            “Won’t that drain our batteries?”  For a moment he felt like he was talking to the original Megatron again.  Megatron had always pushed his robots and his equipment to breaking point, without a thought of his reserves.

            “What choice do we have?  We can’t flight off Vehicons in our condition and burdened down with all this salvage.  We can’t rest here either.  If a Vehicon pack is out there, they need only wait for us both to sleep to sneak up on us and have us, and we’re both too tired to keep functioning without rest.  We need the safety of the perimeter defences.”

            She had a point.  And the noise had been his fault.  “I’m sorry,” he muttered begrudgingly.  “I...was having a nightmare.”

            She only nodded curtly.  Watching her, Starscream wondered if that hellish agony was still roiling in her chest; if it was, her expression did not betray it. 

            Starscream partly expected a reprimand as she limped to the window and scanned the dark skies for Vehicons.  Her words, muttered, came as a surprise.

            “Yeah.  You and me both.” 

 

***

 

            “Got him!” Rattrap exclaimed.  On either side of him, a feline head rose to examine the monitor he held.

            A sudden glimmer of hope warmed Pantera’s spark.  “Are you sure?”  After a week of extra night patrols, looking for Starscream, she could only hope they’d finally located him.

            “Yeah,” Cheetor added.  “As sure as those other five times?”

            “Shut up.  The thing just had a few bugs in it.  Now the signal’s coming through bright and clear,” the rat replied, looking down at the instrument in his hand. 

            Cheetor shook his head.  “What do you know.  That old Vehicon gear still works.”

            “No thanks to you, fuzzball.  Did you have to chop those drones up so much?  You have any idea how much work it took for me to put all this stuff back together?”

            Pantera smiled.  “Oh, surely it wasn’t too much of a challenge for you, hm?”

            The rat preened.  “That’s true.”  He suddenly scowled.  “Though why you’d be wasting it to find the likes of Starscream, I don’t know.”

            The black jaguar stared off into the distance.  “It’s my fault he took off.  It’s my job to find him.”

            “Okay, cross referencing with maps and...well, if you want to find him, he’s twenty klicks north and three levels down in the former Decepticon Hall of Leaders.”

            ~Figures,~ she thought.  ~Typical Starscream.~

            “You want backup, mama cat?” Cheetor asked as she took the tracking device from Rattrap.

            Pantera shook her head.  “I think it would be better if I worked this one out on my own.”  And then she set off running, driving herself forward on the long run to Starscream’s current location.

 

***

 

            “Starscream!”

            The falcon-bot scowled as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes and rolled over on his side.  Dreams...Artemis again.  He could almost hear her calling his name.  Cursing softly, he looked around for Samiel.

            “Starscream!”

            That was louder, closer, and he was awake this time.  His head jerked around to the entrance.  There, in the shadows...the soft gleam of the dim light reflecting off of chrome.

            “Arty?”

            A motion.

            “Arty, don’t move, you’ll trip the automatic defences!”  Without thinking, Starscream moved to the control console to deactivate them.

            In a glimmer of light, the black jaguar transformed.  “Starscream, where have you been?” 

            He smirked as he realized that there was no anger in her voice--only concern, and a little bit of...was it fear?  ~Heh, she’s been worried about me.  Good.  She can worry a little bit more...~

            “What business is it of yours?” he snapped.

            “Starscream, I’m sorry.”  No reaction from the falcon.  Ire tinged her voice as she added, “What was I supposed to do?  Lie?”

            ~She has a point,~ he conceded grudgingly to himself.  He was dying to ask her where fishboy was now, but he wasn’t about to let his desperation show.  He’d toy with her a little longer first, he thought, ignoring the screaming voice in his spark that was urging him to sweep her into his arms and never let her go.  Slowly, he stepped forward into the light.  “If you think you can waltz in here and make me forget everything, you’ve got another thought coming.”

            Pantera’s face fell and Starscream’s stomach suddenly hollowed.  She looked really, really hurt, and for a moment he almost...

            “Starscream!” Another voice, sharp, abrupt. 

            Pantera’s head whipped around.  “What was that?”

            Samiel.  Starscream felt suddenly guilty.  The yellow female would not be happy about him allowing someone else into their base.  He was about to explain Pantera’s presence--she deserved that much--but when he turned, Samiel was nowhere in sight.  Carefully, Starscream sent out a cursory spark probe.  He was careful not to go too deep.  The last thing he wanted was that hellish pain he’d felt last time.

            No sooner had he sent the probe than he could feel the tension in the air.  Slowly, he locked in on its source.  Samiel was in hunting mode, somewhere in the dark shadows of the hall, stalking them.  “Come on out,” Starscream beckoned her. 

            Pantera didn’t have the same abilities as Starscream, but she could sense the hostile presence in the hall.  She took a few steps towards the right row of statues, her batons in her hands, searching for the new arrival.

            “Arty, put those away.  It’s my...”

            How would he describe Samiel?

            “...my comrade.” 

            Where in the Pit was she?  Starscream paced towards the left row of statues, looking, when suddenly and out of nowhere the yellow archaeopteryx slipped out from behind Tempest’s memorial and stood with her arms folded, keeping Starscream between herself and Pantera.

            “Arty, meet...”

            The jaguar turned, and suddenly her face was twisted by a snarl of pure hatred.  “Tempest,” she hissed.

            Tempest?  The criminal?  Shocked, Starscream jerked his head backwards.  “This is Samiel,” he started to say, but the expression on the yellow female’s face caused his words to dry up.

            Samiel wasn’t showing the least interest in denying the charge.  “Get out of my base, Artemis,” the archaeopteryx hissed, flaring her wings in an oddly protective gesture around Starscream.

            “Get away from him!” Pantera barked.

            “What?”  Her face took on a calculating smile.  “Why?  Surely the Decepticon Air Commander is capable of making his own decisions.”

            “Decisions?”  The jaguar faced Starscream.  “What is she talking about?”

            “Overthrowing Megatron,” he croaked, his throat suddenly dry as his brain went into overdrive.  ~Tempest?  The war criminal...the one who almost killed Arty?  Samiel is Tempest?  And I’ve been with her all this time?~

            Pantera’s eyes narrowed to slits.  “And you’ve been working with Tempest just to get a shot at Megatron?”  Her voice broke.  “You know, maybe they were right about you, Starscream...maybe you really would sell out anyone!”

            “No, Arty, I didn’t know...I swear!”  He was suddenly afraid, terrified he’d lost her.  Searching desperately for anger to replace his fear, he found a thought and latched onto it.  “What about you and Fishface, huh?”

            “Depth Charge is dead!” Pantera replied.  “He died in the Beast Wars...and he wasn’t your sworn enemy!  Why don’t I go hook up with Megatron, maybe then you’ll understand how it feels!”

            “Arty, no!”

            Meanwhile, Samiel was studying them both, her head cocked to the side.  “You know, Screamer, I don’t think Artemis is going to be interested in our battle plan.”

            “Damn right I’m not interested!” Pantera raged.  “Because I know, damned well, that as soon as we’re rid of Megatron you’re going to put a knife in my back...again!”

            “Do you honestly think the Rebellion was personal?” Samiel asked.

            Pantera’s jaw dropped.  Personal...of course it was!  Artemis Prime had joined the Autobots and the Decepticons behind a common cause, ended millennia of war and bloodshed, only to have her second-in-command start the conflict all over again.  But Samiel’s face had a strange look of sincerity.

            “What...why else?” Pantera choked.

            “Survival!” the archaeopteryx said.  “We are a race that has thrived on warfare.  Look how far we have evolved since the First Great War, all as a result of conflict!  Even the Autobots became war machines, even if they didn’t admit it to themselves.  If we are to remain viable, we must continue to sharpen our skills...not isolate ourselves on Cybertron, carefully managing our population and resources, falling into stagnation!  Survival is an eternal war, each living thing against the other, and only those who continue to meet the challenges of existence deserve to live.”  She smirked.  “But I wouldn’t expect you to understand that.  You’re an Autobot at heart.  I’m sure Starscream understands...power, glory, wealth, fame...and pride.”

            Starscream hesitated.  Her dream of Decepticon glory, that certainly did sound good to him, and part of him still wanted that.  But the other side of her description...an eternity of warfare...no.  No.  He didn’t fight for the sake of fighting.  At the end of the day he wanted to be able to relax and enjoy the spoils of his victory.  Samiel...she lived for the fight itself...and she wouldn’t quit, not until she destroyed herself.

            He studied the archaeopteryx, standing there, her stance proud despite the horrific damage to her right leg.  Pride...or fanaticism? 

            Starscream took one hesitant step towards Pantera. 

            “You’ll never take Megatron down her way,” Samiel said.  “She’s too busy toadying to the Maximals.  She doesn’t understand the sacrifices that have to be made to win a war.”

            “Those sacrifices,” Pantera snarled, “are my friends.  Do you ever think about people, Tempest?  Do you care that the soldiers who died for you were individuals with friends, goals and dreams?”

            “I cannot afford to care, Artemis...not if the battle is to be won.”

            “Is that all that matters to you?  Your damned wars?”

            “What I feel is completely irrelevant!” the archaeopteryx exploded, but before Starscream could make sense of her words, Pantera had taken the yellow female’s scream as a challenge and leapt to the attack.

            In a flash, Samiel drew her longblades from her wings and crouched down, raking the tips of the swords into Pantera’s line of travel, but the black jaguar blocked the blades with her batons.  The force of her spring caused Samiel’s bad leg to give underneath her.  Rather than fall with Pantera on top of her, the archaeopteryx reverted to beast mode and flew underneath Pantera.

            “Fight, you coward!” the jaguar hissed.

            Samiel soared to the room’s main beam, over their heads, and transformed.  “Come and get me, then,” she taunted.

            Pantera, enraged, transformed to beast mode and sprang up the side of the statues, onto the main beam.  Samiel ran across the beam as best she could with her bad leg, blades swinging.  Once again, Pantera transformed and blocked with her batons.  The block required considerable effort on Pantera’s part, as the long slim swords were a good four feet in length and designed to slip inside an enemy’s guard to maim before the final killing blow.  Pantera had to do a lot of jumping and stretching to keep her short batons between the swords and her body.

            Starscream returned to falcon mode and flew upwards, perching on a smaller beam.  He had to admit this was rather interesting, watching the two females spar.  He only hoped they gave it up before they seriously injured each other.  Samiel, of course, didn’t stand a chance with that crippled leg.  He should be able to break it up if it got ugly...

            Pantera seemed to be getting the best of the fight.  Starscream grinned.  That was his Arty, all right.  Samiel was falling back, blocking Artemis’ batons, but losing ground.  They were above the center of the hall now, with nothing beneath them but the hall’s floor a hundred feet below.

            Heights.  Oh, slag.  Pantera hated heights.  At the moment, though, the feline was too angry at Samiel to realize where she was. 

            And that was when Samiel retreated...pushing her blades against Pantera’s batons and shoving herself backwards, flapping her wings, flying out of range.

            The jaguar hissed, “Come back here, you...”  And then Pantera looked down and realized how high she was, how far away from the supporting walls.  Her stomach twisted inside her.  She instantly returned to beast mode, where she could have four sets of claws digging into the beam instead of just two.  Far below her the floor seemed to be spinning.  Cold waves of fear gripped her heart.

            And on Pantera’s left side, Samiel had risen up above the beam, her wings beating and her longblades positioned to kill as she dove on the beast-mode jaguar.

            A trap.  A strategy.  Starscream’s blood ran cold.  Samiel had known she couldn’t fight Pantera one-on-one...so the yellow female had stacked the odds, using Pantera’s fear of heights against her.

            Pantera would have beaten the archaeopteryx, beaten her savagely, but knowing Pantera, Starscream knew she probably would have let Samiel live.

            There was no question that Samiel meant Pantera to die.

            “Arty, look out!” Starscream yelled.

            Pantera’s head jerked back, saw the longblades descending.  She rolled to the side and the blades embedded themselves the beam...but her left hind leg stepped down on empty air and her body tilted as she scrabbled to keep her hold.  Samiel, a cold smile on her face, used the embedded blades as support for her right leg and used her good left leg to rake her talons across Pantera’s front paws.  The jaguar drew back instinctively, further weakening her grasp.  Samiel dropped to her knees, striking Pantera in the face with her wing hands, elbowing the jaguar in the ribs with her left arm, shoving her off the beam.  Pantera screamed as her claws lost their hold and she fell...

            In a flash of red light, Starscream transformed, soaring down and catching the black female in his arms.

            Pantera was large, and solid for all her sleek figure belied the fact.  He couldn’t fly with his burden, only spread his wings and glide to a gentle landing on the floor of the hall.  As they descended, she transformed and wrapped her arms around him.  Even once they were down, Pantera’s arms stayed around his shoulders, clutching tightly, for a good deal longer than they needed to.

            Love.  This had to be love.

            Slag.

            And then he remembered Samiel.  Starscream’s head darted up, towards the beam where the yellow female was staring down at him from hot, hating ruby eyes.  “Traitor!” she hissed, pulling her longblades free of the beam.  She, too, glided down to a landing, several paces from Starscream and Pantera.  Pantera finally released her mate’s shoulders and readied her batons.

            “You’ll never take out Megatron if you leave with her,” Samiel hissed.  “Whose side are you on?  Kill her or, if you must, send her on her way!”

            “No,” Starscream said defiantly, drawing his own sword, waiting for her attack.

            Samiel, however, did not make a move on him.  Her shoulders slumped as she leaned on her swords for support, and in that moment, she suddenly seemed very old and tired.

            “So this is how it is to be,” she said dully.

            Vicious though she was, Starscream couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, as if he’d let her down.  And why the hell did her feelings matter so much to him?  Was it because he saw something of himself in this yellow renegade?  Was it because of that pain he’d felt in her spark?  Was it because she’d come from circumstances harsher than his, risen to leadership for longer than he, because he respected her for that?  And if she’d chosen anyone else than Artemis to rebel against, would he have admired her, or envied her?  Plotted with her, or against her? 

            Would he, in time, have become like her...hating everyone in the world, including himself?

            ~What I feel is completely irrelevant.~

            Her words finally made sense to him, and they chilled him.

            He looked down at Pantera.

            Depth Charge...oh, he still hated the fish on principle, and he was still more than a little disturbed about Pantera’s confession, but it was obvious he still meant a lot to Pantera or she wouldn’t have sought him out here, wouldn’t have reacted so strongly to Samiel’s claim on him.  And he still felt, in his spark, that same jumble of feelings he’d always felt.  If he ignored them...buried them...he might end up like...

            The yellow warlord was still watching them out of guarded eyes.  She gathered her composure and flared her wings aggressively.  “Get out of my lair.”

            “Let’s go,” Starscream said to Pantera.

            Pantera shot a glare at Samiel.  “You want to just leave her here?” she demanded.  “She’ll slit our throats for the hell of it some night!”

            “Vehicons make easier targets.  Let’s go.”

            Pantera nodded, then half laughed.  “Since when were you the sensible one?”

            Starscream’s head darted around.  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, unexpectedly, to the yellow and blue figure.

            “Apologies?” Samiel asked.  “Apologies mean nothing.  Save your breath, you’ve made your decision.” 

            “But…what are you going to do now?” he protested, once again drawn to her as she turned to leave.

            “Survive,” she said bluntly.  “Like always.”

            “By yourself?”

            “What did I tell you?”  She gave him a wan smile.  “In the end we are always alone.”  With that she turned on her heel and limped away into the swallowing darkness.

            “You don’t feel sorry for the yellow bitch, do you?” Pantera demanded as they left the hall.

            “If she were me, she’d have let you fall,” he answered.

            Pantera grinned.  “What, you love me more than you hate Megatron?  Aww.  That’s sweet.”

            “She’d have let you fall.  Stayed with her plan.  Killed Megatron.  And spent the rest of her life hating herself for it.”

            “You sorry you caught me, flyboy?”

            “Not in the least.”

            They reverted to beast mode and moved on in silence, across what had once been the Ridge, now overgrown with buildings and infrastructure, into the area of the city that sat atop Iacon.  The Vehicons didn’t seem to be out tonight, and the two of them made their way along the streets unopposed.

            Suddenly, Pantera sat down and cocked her head.  “Listen.  What’s that?”

            The sound was faint, but Starscream could guess what it was.

            ~Your tragedy, Samiel, is that you are right …and until you stop believing your own prophecies, you will be condemned to have them come true.~

            The Predacons had long believed that the archaeopteryx was a bird without a song.  Screams, battle cries, hisses...all these had emitted from Samiel’s throat...but never once a hint of a song.

            ~In the end we are always alone.~

            Tonight, though, in the darkness, Starscream caught a few faint notes on the breeze that was blowing in from Polyhex, and he shivered a little, knowing them to be the keening lament of the one called Samiel, the Poison Wind, a forsaken spark in anguish and despair.