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Part 1 of Warped Minds
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2015-03-28
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2015-04-18
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Warped Minds

Summary:

Pre War. Any resemblance to aircraft living or inanimate is probably intentional.

When Starscream returns to Cybertron without Skyfire, only to find himself accused of murder, it looks like capital punishment might get the better of him. For no apparent reason, people in high places come to the rescue and, (quite aside from being glad he isn't dead yet) Starscream wants to know why. Thundercracker and the delinquent youth unexpectedly dumped on him (Skyway) are dragged along unwillingly on a ride of politics, crime, science - and ultimately war.

Chapter 1: In which Starscream is welcomed back to Iacon

Notes:

This is a story made up of short TF_Speedwriting prompts. If it seems a bit disjointed that's probably one reason... The other is that I'm not a very good writer, (so please crit!)

This is a pre-war G1 story combining elements of G1 from Marvel, IDW and original cartoon story lines. It is slightly AU.

Warnings

1) Every named OC will die in this story.
2) There's lots of violence, injustice and bigotry.
3) Gender identity stuff, including the death of a transgender character
4) there's no porn

Chapter Text

The story begins shortly after Starscream returned from Earth without Skyfire, Megatron lost his job as a miner, and the poorer city-states began to feel the effects of the energy crisis.

Drifting

What sort of a pathetic Seeker gets claustrophobic in space? A vacuum might rip a lesser creature apart, but for all its enormity it couldn’t crush a mech. That there was literally nothing of substance between him and his goal did not mean he was any less trapped than had he been in gaol.

Well, his ‘sentence’ was nearly served.

One more jump and he’d enter Cybertronian space - then it was just a matter of time before it’d all be over. It couldn’t be soon enough. The upgrades that made him space-worthy weren’t designed with long term exposure in mind, and the weakly-shielded extremities of his body were blistering from prolonged exposure to gamma radiation.

Starscream swore, lurching away from the energy barrier that had burnt him. He resisted the urge to retaliate, having already established that the energy barrier was more resilient than his fist.

He wasn’t in space, he was in Iacon Penitentiary. Actual gaol. At least that explained the dream. He'd been on a scientific expedition with his mentor, Skyfire, working towards his post-graduate qualifications - but disaster struck and he'd returned alone, his mentor lost somewhere in the polar ice of a distant planet. Low on fuel and without Skyfire's engines (rated for long distance space travel) it had taken almost a vorn to make it home. Nearly a third of his life. Now he was in a cell. It was beyond unfair; he didn't even have a word for what it was.

The first thing that Starscream had done upon returning to Cybertron was to refuel. Real liquid energon - at a bar. Unfortunately when he tried to pay for it his student credit line was declined. The barkeep been surprisingly understanding about the situation, having Starscream thrown out into the street rather than arrested.

He'd headed to Iacon Science Academy, because his dormatory had long since been occupied by other students. After a few rounds of "Starscream! You're alive! ...Where's Skyfire?" people had started to stare and whisper. This in itself was nothing new, but in no state of mind to deal with it, he'd cleared out his locker and all his research. This (apparently) was theft, since he'd created it using Academy resources. He'd been arrested - but not for the theft. They actually believed he'd killed Skyfire; when he'd nearly died trying to rescue him; when it was the university who wouldn't spare the funds to mount a search party!

He drummed his fingers on the cell floor, frustrated and bored. When he’d first arrived here there’d been mechs in the adjacent cells, which had at least served as a distraction from reality. They were all gone, now, and there was nothing to do but read the free data files on legal procedure he’d been given.

‘Behave and we’ll end you gently,’ another prisoner had summarised. Starscream hadn’t taken the mech’s word on it, but couldn’t truthfully claim that his meticulous study of the documents had left him feeling optimistic.

Eventually he heard footsteps approaching. Consciously, he plastered on the most pleasant smile he could muster, allowing the guards to restrain him and lead him from the cell.

Meeting

"Senator Ignotus," began the new PA, once bidden to enter. "Delegates from the embassy of Vos have arrived to see you, regarding an incarcerated Seeker."

"Delegates?" Ignotus mused, stressing the plural. "Never mind. There are a number of Seekers in our prisons; which Seeker do they want, and why?"

"Er, nominal designation 'Starscream', sir… He attended the academy here, and murdered his mentor." He had the seeker’s native designation written down too, but he wasn’t going to try to say it.

Starscream? The senator frowned at his clerk for a little too long.

"Allegedly," Added the PA, as though concerned he had not been politically correct enough. Ignotus stared for a moment more before sighing and leaning back in his chair. He wished he’d read the calendar memo.

"Wait another klik, then send them up," he said, partly to give himself time to prepare, and partly because he didn't really want to deal with anyone from Vos. The rulers of such backwater territories tended to have an over inflated sense of their own importance. If he was extraordinarily lucky, they would only be here to tick boxes - it was much more tedious when people took a genuine interest.

The hope that he wouldn’t have to deal with anyone particularly uncivilized was dashed when he scanned the briefing packet.

One of them was a Council-mech named Steelcap, who had been raised and schooled in Iacon proper. Ignotus had met him before and remembered him to be pleasantly unremarkable. The other was a Vosnian native - apparently a military dignitary, which explained how a Seeker could get into politics, but didn’t save the senator from having to meet with a savage.

Ignotus smiled, and welcomed the pair into his office.

“Senator Ignotus! It is a pleasure to see you after so long,” said Steelcap, before gesturing to the war frame Seeker accompanying him, “my associate, major Powerdrain, though I’m told the name is only a rough translation.”

Ignotus had the distinct impression that a more literal translation of the name would not be socially acceptable. ‘Powerdrain’ was a huge mech, at least twice the size of the average Iaconian, and he was coloured a ghastly mix of army green and energon pink.

“A pleasure, I’m sure.”

Thankfully, as the meeting progressed, the Seeker seemed content to stand at the back of the room and stay quiet, which made Ignotus suspect that his diplomatic position was just a flimsy cover for his role as brawn. Steelcap, in stark contrast, was conversational, intelligent, and as reasonable (ie. morally negotiable) as any other dignitary. Unfortunately he was also well informed.

“-The defendant was a beneficiary of the ‘Broader Horizons’ scholarship exchange, and had been studying in Iacon for well over a vorn before the expedition…. However, his application for Iaconian citizenship was never granted, he’s still a citizen of Vos.”

The senator nodded and gave a false smile; Broader Horizons had been his initiative, back when open-mindedness was a fashionable quality. Apparently it was too much to ask that the past be quietly executed without anyone making the connection. “Unfortunately the legislation around naturalizing foreign students is somewhat ambiguous. I gather there is a specific reason you couldn’t discuss this with lesser officials?” Seeing the Seeker smirk from the other side of the room, Ignotus figured he’d hit the nail on the head.

“Solving problems like this quickly is in everyone’s best interest. Sometimes an uncommon situation requires an uncommon solution.”

A moderately lengthy time later (because meetings never seem to pass quickly when you’re being blackmailed) they came to what was an unexpectedly painless agreement. Vos got another wretched Seeker, and Ignotus got to avoid the scandal of having a mech he’d brought into Iacon convicted of murder.

He waited for them to leave, then called back his PA.

The Trial of Starscream

Starscream was given some gentle encouragement by the bailiff to enter the stand, and though this irked him no end, a rare sensibility (or perhaps stupefaction from the situation he found himself in) prevented the normally volatile individual from attempting to deck the officer.

The stand was a circular platform raised about a step off the floor, facing the much taller stands of the jurors, the council magistrate, and other court officials that the Seeker hadn't bothered to learn the correct term for.

Bright lights glared down at him from above, designed with the idea of dazzling the optics of the speaker (prisoner or witness) such that they were disoriented and unable to easily determine the identity of those above- more for psychological reasons than security, although a containment field could be rendered around the stand if required.

“Prisoner Gwaxchias… Gwaixs…” somebody above struggled with what the seeker guessed was supposed to be his native designation. Truly, a pathetic effort. Properly spoken, a Seeker’s native designation was nothing more than a burst of digital noise, which most cybertronians would only interpret as static. Standard Cybertronian vocalisers were incapable of reproducing the sound, and reading out the data the names represented could take an awfully long time. The speaker gave up. 

“Prisoner Starscream. You have been found guilty of the following crimes-” Starscream only managed to keep from smirking by reminding himself that the only reason he was here--

“larceny, breaking and entering, development of unauthorised weaponry, providing false credentials…”

--one of the reasons that he was here was to be sentenced to some horrible and enduring punishment for the murder of the only person who’d ever gone out of his way to help him.

“…and the murder of second tier scientist, designation Skyfire. The plaintiff organisation, Iacon Science Academy, has registered a preferred penalty of deactivation or extended hard labour. In the case of an inconclusive verdict from the jury, trial will be suspended under the Judicial Priority Act, until policing resources become available to reopen the case, or new evidence is presented.”

The JPA was a nasty bit of legislation that would leave anyone unable to meet bail or pay a court fee serving their sentence or in stasis while waiting for a trial. Starscream had neither credits or anyone from whom to beg them, so this was a serious concern.

“The prosecuting officers have informed the jury of the case specifics. The defence may now speak.”

Starscream repressed his nerves. Nothing he could say would change the outcome of the trial, even if he could repudiate every piece of ‘evidence’ against him. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could keep the fascists and functionists in the stands from going home early.

“Your honor, as this is a matter of Cybertron Law, the proceedings should be opened with the use of the defendant’s - that is, my - legal designation. I am insulted that for such an important occasion I would be addressed by sobriquet!”

A Timely Interruption

When the Senator’s assistant arrived at the court building, he was still running hot from the hurry to arrive in time, and his fans were buzzing audibly.

He had hoped that his new job would be dignified, limited to offices and gala balls… but here he was exhausting himself to rescue a murderer from his well-earned fate.

Senator Ignotus hadn't been pleased to discover that the trial was already in progress, but the courts were sufficiently overburdened that the schedules for minor hearings were never set in steel. It didn't help that the Iacon Science Academy was pulling strings.

Fortunately, the court was still in session when he arrived, though it seemed to have devolved into some sort of a screaming match between the Seeker and anyone who could get a word  in edgeways.

“--I told you, you imbecile,” he was ranting, “that my weapons were legal when I built them--”

“Starscream! Shut up or be held in contempt!”

“--and I didn't kill anyone, and you shut up! If you think i hold you in anything but contempt you're wrong. And I didn't give you permission to call me that!”

Not surprisingly, most of the jury was trying to think up ways to get back to their usual lives as quickly as possible, and the majority of those who were listening wore looks of extreme irritation. There were enough charges that the Seeker was bound to guilty of at least one of them, and probably a whole lot more beside that had yet to be discovered.

The PA wasn't sure he wanted the mech out of confinement either, but such was his job.

“Sorry! Excuse me!” he shouted over the racket. “Honourable magistrate of the court, the Senate compels an adjournment of this session.”

Out of the Frying Pan

Councillor Steelcap studied the Seeker on the opposite side of the interview room’s security partition. Its face was the picture of scepticism.

“So, let me get this straight,” said Starscream in flawless Iacos. There was no trace of the primitive’s original accent. High pitched, but then, Seekers were androgynous, so maybe that was normal. “You are offering to set me free, but in exchange, I have to be your leader.”

“Ah, haha, I hardly think you’re fit to be the leader of Vos, Starscream - that’s what the council is for. We are offering you an outdated title for the sake of diplomatic immunity. The title ‘Emir’ was stripped of any actual authority before either of us were sparked.”

“What does it accord then?”

“Just that; diplomatic immunity.” Steelcap explained, “it would seem that you have enemies in high places, and they want you out of the picture. Your former colleagues at the Science Academy were, shall we say, adamant about your guilt.”

“Please, they're bigots, not conspirators.” Said Starscream, snidely. “Iacon’s legal system is a moronic joke. My conviction was a forgone conclusion regardless of whatever anyone was ‘adamant’ about.” There hasn't been an Emir since the last winglord, over a hundred vorns ago. How invested in my destruction are the Science Council that the government of Vos needs to take such extreme measures to extract me? ...And why would Vos bother?  “So tell me, please, what I did to deserve this exceptional treatment?”

“Don’t underestimate your value, Starscream. Highest recorded academic scores at the War Academy? First of your frame-type to be admitted to the Iacon Science Academy? Is it really such a surprise that somebody thinks you could be an asset?”

Yes! Being brilliant never made a difference before, thought Starscream cynically; but his wings perked up.

“Fine, whatever you need me for, at least I’ll be free.”

“Relatively.” Steelcap pushed a datapad through a slot in the security screen. “Sign this and you’ll be transferred to Vos. I can assure you the suites at Council House are a lot better than Iacon Penitentiary.”

Starscream waited while the mech left, then reached for the contract. Whatever ‘relatively’ free meant, it couldn't be more of a death sentence than an actual death sentence.

Chapter 2: In which Thundercracker is Welcomed back to Vos

Notes:

...And now we jump across to Thundercracker.

Chapter Text

No Respect

Thundercracker went home. On leave for the first time in forever, his blue wings were stripped of decals, save for the red and white banding that marked him as an officer. A varvel of the Senate’s crest was inlaid on his helm, signifying he owed service to the elite.

All rank and no responsibility; shame he didn’t really like drinking. There was a ceremony of some sort at the war academy, celebrating returning officers, but there had been no war - the petty squabbles of the senate hardly counted as conflict - so when nobody was paying attention, for the first time in a vorn, Thundercracker went home.

...And almost instantly found himself flooded with domestic duties. Such is life.

He didn’t move as a dirty gaggle of the flock’s youngest production batch dodged around him as they passed by him, screaming and fighting, into the communal area where the flock gathered during down time.

‘Kids these days… Are just like the kids in those days, actually,’ Thundercracker mused, smiling on the inside, and stoically collapsing energon containers for ration collection on the outside. He checked under the bench-top where the flock stockpiled ration tokens and credit chips, frowned, and closed it back up again.

The best thing about offspring, in Thundercracker’s opinion, was that he didn’t have any. They had no respect, and wouldn’t learn any until they met somebody fast, strong and bothered enough to teach it to them. Somebody who wasn’t on holiday. Somebody who wasn’t Thundercracker.

“Hey, hey, hey! In, in, in!” an adult Seeker shooed the last of the younglings indoors; he was only recently matured himself, and his dark plating was just as filthy as theirs. Vos had a curfew for residents in certain districts, and it was at least partly due to the habit of adolescent Seekers trashing property while 'decent mechs' were too busy powering down to notice and throw things at them. Unfortunately staying indoors didn’t necessarily keep them from their antics.

Thundercracker was continuing with his work, when the dirty mech grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. Thundercracker’s wings hiked aggressively, but he let them drop when he saw the other was oblivious. The youth was acting inquisitive and excited, in the manner of one who isn’t old enough to have yet grown out of all his youngling habits, rather than of an adult looking to start a fight.

“Croeso, hey! It here behind a long time?”

Hey! You’re finally back? Thundercracker had to mentally translate. The youngster spoke Vox, a hybrid of pidgin Iacos, as spoken in Iacon, and the arterial Seeker language; commonly known as Cant.

Cant was a language based around data transmission and gesticulation rather than spoken words. When the early Iacon colonials had come to Vos they had neither the requisite body-parts or audio drivers to speak the language, or even to properly understand it.

In spite of emerging only because the settlers had rather insisted, Vox had become increasingly popular amongst recent generations, and was more commonly spoken than the Seeker’s traditional language. Thundercracker himself had spoken it growing up, but now it sounded willfully imbecilic.

"Aff," he answered anyway, slowly. "Am belong on leave..." It was technically true, and the details of that leave weren't this mech's business any more that they were the business of the idiots at the officer's club.

Thundercracker glared at the other Seeker for a short while before it finally clicked – the filthy black paint job and lilac-striped wings; the immunity to grumpy looks; the mindless invasion of personal space – surely there was only one person this could be, but at last sight the mech had been little more than a bitlet.

He hazarded to guess, “Skyway?”

After a few moments of talking it was clear that Skyway hadn’t changed much at all.

Granted, he was technically now an adult and that came with a given number of upgrades – for example he was somewhat larger than he had been – which made him better at being obnoxious, but he was still Skyway.

The name was synonymous with ‘unhelpful,’ and Thundercracker mentally added a breem (about 10 minutes) to his estimate of how long it would take to get all the containers ready. This wasn’t a good thing, because although the local dispensary was nearby, and although the curfew wouldn’t come into effect for another two breem, and although no security detail was likely to try to get in the way of anyone wearing the Senate’s mark… making one’s way home through a (supposedly) deserted skid district with enough energon to feed a medium sized flock was probably not in his own best interest.

It was for this reason that when Thundercracker came across some residual energon slush that he immediately turned and pressed the pot to the younger jet’s torso. The slush was more brown than pink, but if Skyway was really as unchanged as he seemed to be then that was unlikely to put him off.

“Skyway," Thundercracker's switched to cant, "take this and go join the others. Make sure they behave when the Old Mech gets distracted.” 

Skyway shot back a dirty look which could either mean he saw through Thundercracker’s weak excuse to get rid of him, or just that he was peeved at being told to do anything. Regardless, he took the pot.

Thundercracker left Skyway entranced by the Old Mech’s storytelling. He’d briefly entertained the idea of bringing the younger mech with him, but decided against it out of fear that the other mech might actually agree. Thundercracker would be cutting the curfew fine as it was. Technically, his military rank made him exempt from the regulation, but he was told that it was a good idea to follow it unless he had pressing reasons not to.

Outside seemed quiet at first, but as he walked through the maze of alleys he could hear the muffled sounds of a hoard of Vos’ inhabitants, busy with their own lives, indoors. Few were out and about, and the noise dropped away again as he headed up to the open, unsecured walkways above the slum. At some point buildings had been thrown up here in such a way as to make it impossible to get from A to B without leaving the ground in some way or another. Unfortunately at this time he’d need to register a flight plan to get there the easy way.

An electrical storm boomed in the distance, and it began to drizzle. Thundercracker took a moment to be thankful that he was well-maintained, and the slightly acidic rain would cause him only mild inconvenience.

A moment later he descended back into the warrenous slums, and the stench of the Skids. He didn’t remember the smell. The slums of Vos looked almost exactly as they had when he’d left them, but somehow they felt more… dank. He couldn’t pinpoint any major changes, and wondered if perhaps it was he that was different. The idea made sense, but made him feel slightly uneasy.

It didn't help his peace of mind when a city guard (non-Seeker, so the denizens of the area must be in poor shape indeed if the mech was expected to be in any way effective) blocked his path.

“Eh, Seeker! It’s getting late, you shouldn’t be wandering around here.” He began somewhat aggressively, but his view of Thundercracker must have been obscured by the rain, because when he shone a light on the Seeker’s face and illuminating the Senate varvel, the mech’s tone changed notably. “It’s curfew in little more than a breem, and there’s those who can’t be trusted in the area.”

The rain picked up, becoming uncomfortable, but it wasn’t long before he arrived at his destination. The sign was unlit, and the door was shut, but it yielded when he pushed on it, so he entered anyway.

A twitch of his wings sent a shower of slightly-acidic water to the floor.

“We’re closed,” said an ancient seeker who was struggling without success to pull closed a security shutter on the till. She was a macabre grey from age, and her transformation seams visibly bulged with corrosion damage. You couldn’t catch that, thankfully.

Unlike the guard outside she had spotted the senate varvel right away. She glared.

“You’ll have to come back tomorrow, like everyone else. I don’t do favours for Senate lackeys, local stock or otherwise. I remember you as a young thing, Thundercracker, but don’t you think I approve of what you’ve been doing. You may be sending something home to the flock, but them as you work for ain’t doing no good for the rest of us!”

After that, she kept talking for rather longer than required to tell somebody to get lost, and Thundercracker guessed she spent far too much time alone. The sound of her objections melded easily into the background noise of rain hammering on a metallic roof, since he wasn’t really interested in what she had to say. At least she wasn’t talking in Vox.

She glared at him as he approached, and finally shut up when he was standing just across the till from her. It was as though it had just occurred to her that if he wanted to rob the joint there wasn’t much she could do about it.

He put a hand on top of the till, and her optics narrowed in a way that might have been considered dangerous if she were younger and fitter.

“I need 14 quarts tonight, Old-one and I’ll come back for the rest tomorrow.” She held his gaze for a moment before a fractional drop in the position of her wings signaled submission. She turned to gather the allotted rations, and then watched tight-lipped as her unwanted customer dropped the required credits (not ration tokens) into the till.

He pushed the security screen shut with a screech of poorly lubricated metal, and gave the shopkeeper an apologetic look. He didn’t remember her. It was odd because very few Seekers identified as female. It was acceptable amongst the elder generations because many of them had had their gender designated when Vos was first civilised. For younger generations this was a personal choice, but it was not unheard of for female-identifying mechs to suffer vilification for adopting what many saw as a functionalist gender construct.

“I’ll bring some grease for it when I come back.”

The journey home was uneventful, save for a distant and unexplained shout, and he wasn't mobbed for the energon he carried until after he got in the door. The smell, the guard, and the hag bothered him, and he wondered if he really had sold out on his origins without realising.

That's Entertainment

While Thundercracker was gone, the Old Mech was getting on with his storytelling, and didn’t notice when the rain stopped. The batchlings on the other hand lacked the ability to keep focused on any one thing for more than a moment, and consequently noticed anything that could possibly serve as distraction.

A few of them glanced upwards, and one of the older ones poked his neighbour, cocking his head towards the exit, and freedom.

They didn’t escape Skyway’s notice, because if anything he was more prone to distraction than they were, in spite of the age difference.

The Old Mech had told him once that the trait was inherited, and that if he wasn’t more careful he’d die of stupidity just like his progenitor and batch mates.

Skyway had taken the well-intended advice as expected; by completely ignoring it. The flock raised their young communally anyway, and it had never bothered Skyway if his parent had been killed in combat, or found himself trapped in a scrap compactor.

He smiled slightly as the pair of youths quietly exited the building. It hadn’t been that long ago that it had been him sneaking out for a little public vandalism, so he wished them luck, and pretended not to see.

Skyway’s mind finally tuned back in to the voice of the elder, who was blissfully oblivious to the fact that part of his audience was no longer captive.

The story he was telling was one of Skyway’s favorites, and because he never bothered to listen the whole way through there was always something new he hadn’t heard before.

That, or the Old Mech’s memory was corrupted, and the ancient was just making things up to fill in the gaps.

The story could be summed up as follows:

Primus’ younger brother had been concerned that his elder’s trusting naivety would someday get him hurt, so he created twenty seven warrior children to guard his brother and nephews.

Foremost amongst the twenty-seven was Order, the first winglord.

Primus was angered, believing that his brother was interfering in his affairs. He thought that only by refuting the ways of violence, and taking a policy of non-interference would they set an example for their creations to follow.

To prevent the twenty-seven from interfering, Primus cursed Order so that should his subordinates lose control of their violent tendencies, then he would likewise lose control of his mind.

Primus’ own children worked hard and became rich, while his nephews were shunned and forgotten. One day while Primus’ children were out selling their goods they were attacked, and because they couldn’t fight back, they were captured. Their captors made them work to produce riches for others, while Order watched helplessly and Primus refused to interfere.

One day, distressed that his pleas to his creator seemed in vain, the eldest of Primus’ children, Alpha, escaped from his captors and begged Order to protect them, as he had been created to do. Order eventually agreed to help in spite of Primus’ curse, activating the windbond to protect his cousins at the cost of his own sanity.

The elder seemed somehow to think that the story was relevant to today’s world, but Skyway wasn't paying attention when he explained why. Ostensibly, he was collapsing used energon containers, and passing the material back into the recycling unit, casually leaning on the loose bench top Thundercracker had worked at earlier - and checking it for loot.

Chapter 3: In which folks are not where they should be

Summary:

Ch 3. Skyway and Thundercracker help, help, help the po-lice.

Chapter Text

Missing

It was already early afternoon when Thundercracker returned from fixing up the Seeker-hag’s credit register - and several other things. Once the elder got over her issues with Thundercracker's employers, she was more than willing to make the most of his presence. She hadn’t been so forgiving toward everyone else living in Vos, however, and Thundercracker’s audio receivers were aching from the incessant talking. 

Female or not, nobody would accuse the hag of being a class traitor.

He had been looking forward to returning to the flocks abode for some peace and quiet - unfortunately that was where Skyway happened to be, and the youth had other ideas.

“Hey! Tee Cee! Bitties lose Old Mech behind story yest’night. Its not-back.”

“Uh?” asked Thundercracker, who’s processor wasn’t quite able to catch up with his cousin’s unfamiliar, blurted Vox, and who wasn't at all sure how he felt about being called 'Tee Cee'.

It helped a little when the younger Seeker slowed down a little. He looked a lot like he’d rather be keeping the information to himself, but was worried enough to admit to his shortcomings.

“Tailwind and Blackwind; its run away yest’night” Said Skyway, slowing down, and Thundercracker was forced to admit that he did understand what Skyway was getting at, and it was going to be a pain in the aft to deal with the issue. Still, he needed to find out the details, and if he could help it, he wasn’t going to learn them in Vox. He switched to Cant.

“You sound like an idiot when you talk like that.” he said with classic Vosian tact, “Tailwind and Blackwind ran away?”

Skyway nodded. “They're not back yet.”

Thundercracker groaned.

“Skyway, do you realise that the point of watching younglings isn’t just that you see when they do something stupid, but to actually stop them from doing it?”

Skyway frowned momentarily before his expression cleared and he threw on servo up in the air.

“I don’t see why I should. The whole curfew system is dumb anyway-”

“That’s not really the point-”

“-yes, it is. I always ran off as a bitty, and I still would now if I wasn't on notice.”

“What?”

“Ehh..." Skyway made a face. "I got done by the cops.”

“What?”

“It’s just a warning notice. Apparently winning fights is illegal now - if you’re up against the cop’s son.”

“...What?” Thundercracker scowled, think Skyway was lucky to get off without an assault charge, but Skyway seemed impervious to the glare, and perhaps even slightly pleased with himself. “Do I actually want to know where you’re going with this?”

“You gotta go down the shop and pick them up. Cop’s got it in for me, now.”  he smirked a bit, “anyway, better getting a warning notice than getting smashed faceplates.” He left it to the imagination whether he had been at risk of getting his faceplates beaten in, or if he had beaten in those of the officer’s son... Skyway’s manner seemed to indicate the latter, but Thundercracker was pretty sure that his younger cousin wouldn’t have gotten off with a warning if his opponent had sustained more than minor damage.

“The cop said he was watching me and he’d sort me out, one way or another.”

Skyway’s tone implied that he didn’t think much of the threat, but in this case inaction spoke louder than words; Skyway didn’t look keen to pick the kids up himself.

“I said he can’t threaten me 'cause threats are illegal, but I don’t think he got what I was saying. Iacos is a sooo a stupid language.”

In the end, Skyway agreed to show Thundercracker to the local police office, but opted to stay outside the building when they arrived. The office was only slightly less dilapidated than the strip of shops that huddled against it as though the single groundling officer inside could protect them from any more serious threat than an errant youth. Once this station would have had as many as four officers on duty, but budget cuts and transfers had taken their toll on this one. A faded ‘help wanted’ sign hung in the window. In spite of the area’s high unemployment rate it appeared to have been there for some time.

Thundercracker allowed his optics a moment to adjust to the dimmer lighting inside. The officer, a Praxian build, looked up from the datapad he was reading, before indicating an empty stool and speaking to the visitor. He smiled.

“Captain-?”

“Thundercracker.”

“I’m Goodcop. What can I do you for?” It was a bad pun, and Thundercracker politely ignored it. He’d hoped for better from the mech who had intimidated Skyway.

“A pair of batchlings ran off from our flock last night, and I was hoping that you’d rounded them up.”

The officer just made a ‘hrum’ sound, and turned to the console, tapping at the control panel.

“Nobody was brought in here last night, and I'm not seeing any kids from this sector on the other station’s manifest.” Thundercracker frowned, but the officer continued before he could say anything. “I wouldn't worry about them yet, a night or two in a cell won’t do them any harm, and kids often give false idents if they’re caught making trouble. Some stations let it pass so long as they aren't up to anything serious.” He paused before nodding out the window at a fidgeting Skyway. “You wouldn't be responsible for that menace too, would you?”

That would be a life sentence, thought Thundercracker. “Responsible? Nooo,” he said, and would have left it at that if Goodcop didn't motion him to continue. Grounders had an unhealthy obsession with conversation. “I'm just off a tour of duty yesterday. I'm surprised he remembers me; he was brand new when I left.”

“Alright. Leave me your comm code and I’ll log a memo. I’ll let you know if I hear anything, but I can’t do much else; I've got no staff.”

As Thundercracker turned to go, the police officer stood up to stop him.

“One more thing,” he said, indicating Skyway outside, “your responsibility or not, if that one doesn’t get taken under someone’s wing, so to speak, I’d bet my pay packet he’ll show up in a gutter. Enjoy your sabbatical.”

Chapter 4: In which Skyway goes on an adventure

Notes:

This is very short, because it's really the second half of what I posted yesterday.

Language warning.

Chapter Text

Independent

Skyway liked to think he was independent. Well, when it came to money, food, and a place to crash he still needed the flock – but not for much longer. He was a free spirit. He was not tied down by rules or the need to do what other people thought was right.

…And if he was borrowing ration tokens from the flock it was only because he knew he needed them more. Not that he needed them, really, but Thundercracker was seriously loaded, and once he got back this afternoon they’d have enough Energon to last an entire Orn.

Anyway, the flock had been sent a sizable fraction of his cadet stipend for quite a while... so really he was just encouraging them to pay him back. It wasn’t like he’d be getting anything out of them otherwise.

This afternoon Skyway was visiting his friend Skyhigh. Skyhigh was only slightly older, but had been living on his own for a decivorn. Skyway blamed the fact that his friend hadn’t wasted so much time at the war academy, and thus had had plenty of time to do good things like moving out of home and getting over-energised.

They met on the flat rooftop of an old block of flats. The place was a mess, and there was no power, but it was cheap and kept out the worst of the acid rain.

Skyway greeted Skyhigh with a casual ‘hey’ and handed over a pair of the credit chips he’d taken from the flock’s stock.

“Is payback,”he said in Vox.

Skyhigh smiled. His friend had been short of change last time they went out, but he’d had enough to cover for it. “Has more behind?”

Skyway shrugged. “Is little-bit,”he shrugged, transmitting the exact value in Cant.

“Sweet.” Skyhigh cocked his helm as if thinking, then gave the same little grin as before. He held up a digit to Skyway so he’d stay quiet, and made a silent comm-call.

He lowered the finger a moment later. ‘Some friends of mine are having a party.’ He canted, ‘They make a special blend, I think you’ll like it. It’s not much, but the tokens should cover you – I’ve seen you on high-grade, you lightweight.’

“Hey!”

Skyhigh took Skyway to one of the flats in the building he hadn’t been to before. It would be difficult for ground based mechs to access, because the stairs that ran up the outside of the building had long ago rusted away in the rain. This didn’t pose much of a problem for the two seekers, who had no trouble jumping down from the roof onto the landing. Short bursts from their thrusters slowed them down as they landed, adding to the black marks caused by numerous others doing the same thing.

The sound of their engines was loud enough that they didn’t need to knock, and a moment later the door was opened by an oversized neon-orange Seeker. Her lips were enamelled to match its plating in the style popular with Iaconian femmes, and her big fuck-off plasma cannons were in the style popular amongst assault tanks.

She greeted Skyhigh neutrally, and stared at Skyway questioningly until somebody inside yelled out, asking if it was Skyhigh and his friend. Skyway grinned and gave a little wave at the big Seeker, who moved to the side so that the visitors could enter.

“Hey, it good?” Skyway heard somebody asked as they entered, and Skyhigh responded with a quick “Yeah, it good.”

Vox didn’t mean much if you only listened to it. It was the gestures and transmissions borrowed from Vosian Cant that turned ‘it good’ into ‘My friend and I are operating within acceptable parameters, thanks,’ ‘my friend is rich,’ or ‘this is delicious’. The conversation made more sense to Skyway once he had squeezed past the orange giant and could see everyone inside.

Chapter 5: In which Skyway's adventure goes horribly wrong.

Chapter Text

Fallstreak

A blue tetrajet shot up through the clouds and rolled his way through a series of practice manoeuvres. Thundercracker didn't need need the practice, but it felt good to be up in the air, away from the clutter and solid surfaces that made up the world below.

'Mettlewing to Thundercracker,'

His vacation wasn’t turning out like he’d expected it to. 

He’d spent some time speaking with the flock’s elder, the Old Mech, and had found brief distraction in being idolised and pawed over by those younglings who planned to enter service, but after that had not really had much interaction with anyone. The Seekers who he’d spent time with growing up, or even those he was in service with, mostly worked different rotations than he did, so most of the people around that he could spend time with were either too young for service, or invalid.

Skyway was the former and the old hag the latter; the groundling police bot didn't count.

'Thundercracker, come in,'

He supposed he could visit the academy. There was an officers club just off campus - full of those he'd carefully avoided by playing truant at his return ceremony - where he might even cross paths with somebody he didn't particularly dislike - but even if he did, drinking for pleasure got his gyroscopes rolling the wrong way far too quickly for it to be worthwhile.

'Thundercracker, so help me--'

He muted the channel. His CO could shove it. Thundercracker was on leave.

Down below, the effects of ice-crystals nucleating where he’d punched through the clouds was starting to become visible - heavier ice crystals dropped lower than the surrounding clouds before re-vaporizing, leaving a growing hole where he’d passed. The hole in the clouds added to the pock marks left by numerous other fliers, but though he was far from alone up here, the skies seemed emptier than they had in the past. Once again, Thundercracker was struck by the sense that either Vos, or his own perception of it, had changed.

Vos didn’t feel like home, anymore.

Maybe it was just because he was up in the air, but the thought didn’t bother him quite so much as it had earlier. It was probably normal... He hadn’t been back to Vos for a long time, and in that time (as evidenced by the difference between himself and Skyway) he’d grown up, and matured beyond the need to fly home to the place of his upbringing. Perhaps after his next tour of duty he wouldn't return.

Deciding he could (eventually) come to terms with the changes to Vos, and to himself, Thundercracker managed to stop brooding for long enough to properly lose himself in the enjoyment of his flight. He hadn’t realised before hand just how much his inability to find harmony with his city had been tying up his processors.

Time passed quickly for him after that, and it didn’t seem like long before Cybertron’s star was throwing lengthening shadows from Vos’ central spires far across the countryside.

He was just deciding to turn back so that he would be in time to make sure Skyway didn’t let anyone else breach curfew, when his comm system activated again.

‘Goodcop to Thundercracker’

‘Thundercracker receiving. Do you have good news?’ There was a brief pause.

‘No, I haven’t found them-’ Goodcop continued on quickly, as if trying not to leave Thundercracker a chance to reply before he finished speaking, ‘but I’m calling on another matter, actually.’

Thundercracker transformed into his root mode, so that he could more easily frown irritably. ‘Acknowledged.’ If this turned out to be some sort of survey, Goodcop would score poorly, with a complaint attached regarding the use of contact details for reasons other than those solicited. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Not me,’ if Goodcop was put off by Thundercracker’s tone over the comm., it couldn’t be heard, ‘the latest addition to my holding cell could use some, though.’

‘What? Who?’ Thundercracker didn’t stop frowning. ‘...Skyway?’

‘That’s right. Should I tell him you’ll come down to the station?’

‘... He really isn't my responsibility, you know.’ Thundercracker thought about it. Skyway should really be contacting the Old Mech if he was in trouble. For some reason he hadn’t done that. Then again, Thundercracker himself had been thinking of checking that Skyway was doing what he should be doing. That was also the Old Mech’s job. If Thundercracker wasn’t willing to rely on the flock’s elder, then maybe Skyway wasn’t either.

'I know. Will you come?'

‘...I'll come. E.T.A. four breem. Thundercracker out.’ that should give him time to check on things at home before heading over.  He transformed into jet mode and continued on his way.

It took Thundercracker only one breem to reach the police station, because when he’d reached the flock’s residence Old Mech already had everyone well in hand. A quick check revealed the presence of everyone he didn’t already know to be missing. When asked about Skyway, the elderly Seeker had snorted and said ‘not here, which is a flutter in the right direction.'

Not a Nice Girl

Skyway leant back against the wall, unsure if he felt relieved, or that other emotion: The one other people felt when something was going on that they hoped to feel relieved about. Worried.

The cop had just told him that his elder refused to come down to the station. ‘Don’t worry too much,’ he’d said ‘lucky you came in with Thundercracker yesterday; he’s agreed to show up instead.’ Skyway didn’t normally bother with worry. Things would go to the pit, or they wouldn’t.

But… Old Mech wouldn’t come for him? Well it wasn't really a problem. TC would pay the fine, or whatever. Luckily the guy was pretty rich.

'Sweetwings, you two seem awfull familiar.' Canted the brawny orange Seeker with whom he was sharing a cell. She leaned into his personal space, and spoke just a little too suggestively. 'Just saw him yesterday? See him often?'

'Primus, what are you on?' Skyway scooted sideways, towards the energy bars that prevented them from leaving.

'What am I on, Primus?' She growled, following him. 'Anyone would think you were trying to get me to confess, or something. Wanna share why that Copper’s so cozy with you?'

From the cell opposite, Skyhigh made a noise like he was going to say something, but she shut him up with a gesture, not taking her gaze off Skyway.

A Good Deal to Think About

Goodcop opened the door for Thundercracker before the Seeker could do it for himself.

“I hope you’ll excuse my breach of protocol in asking you here, Thundercracker.” Said the officer, ushering the Seeker inside. “In all honesty, Skyway didn’t name you as his next of kin, but, for him at least, it’s rather important that somebody show up.”

“He asked for the Old Mech.” Said Thundercracker. It was a statement, but Goodcop nodded anyway gesturing in invitation to the seat opposite his desk, which Thundercracker accepted.

“Luckily I didn’t file the request straight away. Skyway’s charges are serious. He was arrested during a drug bust, and since he already has a record he won’t be tried as a minor.”

“Alright.” Pause. "A record? He said he got away with a warning."

“He lied. It means no trial is needed to convict him. He can eventually appeal, but it’s a lengthy process and I wouldn’t put credits on a good outcome, even if he was innocent-”

“-Is he?”

“He was still high when they brought him in, so I doubt it. Regardless, he’ll be sentenced to labour or imprisonment. He’s young and well maintained, so I expect private industry will snap him up on the market.”

Thundercracker frowned “You wouldn’t have called me here for nothing. What did you want me to do?”

“Buy him.”

“Buy him? I don’t want him.” Fortunately Goodcop was experienced enough with seeker mannerisms to realise that Thundercracker’s blunt statement wasn’t actually an outright refusal to help. “As his next of kin you can tie him to you for a bail fee, otherwise his labour contract will be up for auction once the paperwork has gone through. Here." Goodcop passed a pamphlet data chip to Thundercracker, who promptly inserted it into his arm.

“Out of the question,” said Thundercracker after a moment analysing the data, ”I’d be responsible for anything he does under bail.. I’d be putting my commission on the line. I doubt I can afford it on my pay, anyway.”

“I see. The system won’t be kind to him.” Thundercracker didn’t reply. “No, no, I understand, he’s not your responsibility. I’ve run out of pamphlet chips about it, but you’re also entitled to manage his financial and legal affairs while he’s away, including organising his defence, if you choose to go down that road. You’re considered his point of contact for the outside world, and you have some visitation rights.”

“I’m surprised you’re so concerned, given what Skyway told me about your history.”

There was a pause during which Goodcop avoided looking Thundercracker in the optics. Then he sighed. “Yes. Well. My creation wasn’t badly damaged, just humiliated.” Another pause “I’m not sure I could have said the same for Skyway if things had gone down differently. ” The awkward moment stretched on a moment longer.

“You feel guilty?!” Thundercracker’s wings perked up in what Goodcop thought was either shock or amusement. Seeker wing kinesics were similar to their Praxian equivalent, but not identical. Even with practice it was hard to be sure.

Thundercracker gave a pointed look at the ‘Help Wanted’ sign.

“So why don’t you buy his contract?”

“Ugh..” The look on Goodcop's face said 'I don't feel quite that guilty.'

“‘The force can take recruits from amongst convicted inmate," quoted Thundercracker dryly, "This takes priority over external applications for service.’”

That came straight from the regulations, but Goodcop didn’t think that information was on the pamphlet chip he’d handed over. He pulled up a document on his console, then turned to Thundercracker. Never mind.

“Very well. With that in mind, how would you rate the applicant’s verbal and written communication skills?”

Thundercracker met Goodcop’s stare for a klik before admitting to himself he really didn’t have a decent answer for that.

“Well played. I suppose I should go and see him.”

 

When Thundercracker arrived in the cell block, it was only to be met with the grisly sight of Skyway on the ground, spitting energon from a blow to the face, a burly Seeker standing over him.

The confined space and Skyway’s relative inexperience gave the larger, ginger femme the advantage, but it wasn’t a one-sided fight. A moment later Skyway was up and ducking under a swipe to send his cell-mate crashing wing-first into the wall. She gave a shout and lunged, crushing Skyway into the bench and then sending them both to the floor where he clawed at her optics until a punch to the helm left him dazed.

Another two blows had landed before Thundercracker made it to the cell door. His weapon was up and a command to “stop!” punctuated with a warning shot before Goodcop was even half way across the floor. He wasn’t new to Vos, but sometimes he was still surprised by how quick Seekers' reaction times could be. By the time he’d made it the rest of the way across the floor both captives were up against the back wall of the cell, the femme with her claws entangled in Skyway’s neck cables, using the smaller jet as a body shield.

‘Tell your cop he ain’t getting his snitch back,’ she spat to Thundercracker in Cant. He didn’t bother to translate.

Skyway let slip an effete noise, and Thundercracker almost sighed.‘Skyway isn’t a snitch,’ he replied in kind, ‘Put him down or I'll take you out.’

She grinned, showing corroded denta. "Whatever'na," she vocalised, 'You better shoot straight. Mines don't take murderers - either way I won't go back.'

“Alright," said Thundercracker. "Goodcop, How long does it take for you to deputise a mech?”

“Not long; you make a pledge. Retrospective in an emergency”

“Fine,” he said, and Skyway screamed as a laser blast cut right through his intake, and crumpled to the ground with his rapidly greying cell-mate. There was a hole where her face used to be.

Thundercracker lowered his weapon and levelled a red glare at Goodcop.

”I would be grateful if you would consider my application for this position.”

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