Chapter Text
Starscream was absolutely freezing . He had completely forgotten just how cold Luna 1 Moon Base became in the second half of the Stellar Cycle.
Before the war, this moon had been his fortress, his base, the castle from which he once commanded the seekers, an elite race of airborne Cybertronians, fearless and terrifying in their animalistic nature. Now, it was a skeleton of what it once was. Damaged, neglected, and long forgotten, as well as his seekers.
The ending of the war marked what felt to Starscream as his second birth. Being elected ruler of Cybertron was his fruition, all that he had worked for. It had taken him eight million years, but he had done it.
Now, facing trial and stripped of his title, Starscream truly had nothing. There was no denying it. During the war, he always had the Decepticons to have his back. Being locked in a cell used to be a mere trifle. All he had to do was kill time until the walls were blown in and he was escorted to safety by his seekers.
No one was coming for him now.
The cell he lay in truly was a cage. He only had the room to lay down and walk in small circles. The only entertainment he received was his memories, as well as the small conversations he held with the guards that delivered his energon. Not that those conversations mattered. They weren’t anyone he could use in his favor. They didn’t have any connections. As the Decacycles passed, Starscream began to realize with a heavy spark that this cell was likely to be his last home.
~
Starscream lay upon the berth of his cell, rolling a pebble between his claws. His mind was serene, utterly empty of thought. The isolation reminded him of the oceans he had seen on Earth, undisturbed and peaceful. Truly, he preferred to be alone.
His optics began to dim. A recharge felt so inviting in the silence…
“Let go of me! Do you even know who I am ?!”
Starscream bolted upright. He hadn’t heard this much commotion in ages.
“Just shut up,” a stern voice snapped. Starscream knew that voice.
“Prowl?” he murmured, walking to the edge of the cell and straining to get a better look.
The voices grew closer. “Your evidence is scrap! You have nothing on me. I’ll be out of here in a nanocycle!” A green and black seeker was shoved into the hallway before Starscream and Prowl wrenched him into a cell.
“Let go !” The seeker shrieked, attempting, and failing, to claw at Prowl’s optics.
Prowl smirked and twisted the seeker’s wing. It wailed in pain, yanking away from the assault.
Starscream’s spark flared. “Don’t you dare touch my seeker like that!”
Prowl shut the cell door behind him as he walked out, taking a moment to glance at Starscream’s bared fangs. “ Your seeker?”
Starscream scowled and stepped back from the bars. Yes, he had been stripped of his title, but surely the seekers knew who their real ruler was?
Prowl scoffed and waved a hand dismissively as he walked away from the cell block. “Enjoy your new friend. He’ll be your last.”
Starscream didn’t want to chat, and neither did the seeker. They were both exhausted. Being in a cell had to be one of the most draining forms of torture for an airborne mech.
The seeker lay upon the berth, dragging the thermoblanket up to his chin. “Good to see you again, Starscream.”
Starscream merely nodded, retreating to his berth as well.
~
“Star? Star, wake up.”
Starscream scowled, his recharge disturbed. “Leave me.”
“Star, it’s me.”
Starscream recognized the voice. He looked back. Skywarp and Thundercracker stood outside the cell, much to his surprise.
“What?” Starscream scrambled from the berth, stumbling to the bars and grasping at his trine’s servos. “What are you doing here?”
Thundercracker clutched his servo tightly, his optics full of concern. “We came back from Earth as soon as we heard. What happened?”
Starscream rolled his optics. “I’m being accused of treason. A mess, really. I have no idea where they got that idea.”
Skywarp chuckled. “Treason? Man, you’re really screwed.”
Thundercracker shot the purple seeker an unappreciative glare. “We came here to help you with the trial. I was able to talk Optimus into letting you have this .” He pulled out a datapad and placed it in Starscream’s servo.
Starscream frowned. “What am I supposed to do with a blank datapad?”
“It may help save your life , you jerk,” Skywarp grumbled. “You’re welcome.”
Thundercracker pushed Skywarp away. “What he means to say is we thought that this datapad could be your saving grace. If the public knew your life story, they might see a personal side of you that will counter their vote to, well…”
“Off ya,” Skywarp smiled, crossing his arms.
Starscream’s optical ridge cocked. “You want me to write a memoir in the hopes that maybe I won’t be killed?”
“It’ll help the people of Cybertron to see the real you!” Thundercracker reassured. “They’ll see that you’re a normal mech, just like them.
Starscream’s lips curled into a smile. “But I’m not a normal mech.”
Thundercracker sighed, clearly growing desperate. “ Please , Starscream! Won’t you give it a shot?”
Starscream looked down at the datapad and shrugged.
Skywarp huffed, taking Thundercracker’s hand. “We’ve done all we can do. Even in prison, he’s just a spoiled little bot.”
Starscream’s optics dimmed. He didn’t want to show weakness, but he also didn’t want his trine to leave. Would this be their last meeting? What would happen to their spark bond if he was executed?
Much too soon for his spark to handle, Starscream watched as his trine left him.
“Thank you,” he whispered. But they were already gone.
~
Several cycles later, Starscream still had yet to write a single word in his data pad. What could he say? Every time he tried to think of his life’s story, it came out as some kind of grandeur speech. Thundercracker had told him to let Cybertron see the real him, but even facing death, Starscream saw himself as he always had: the chosen one. Why should a mech like Starscream stoop to the level of a jury? Who were they to decide his fate when an ancient Metrotitan had crowned him leader of all Cybertronians?
Still, he didn’t want to die.
~
It was the wee hours of the night when his neighbor finally spoke.
“You’re in quite the doozy,” he said.
Starscream huffed, the sharpening of his claws on adamantine bars distrubed.
When he received no reply, the seeker continued, “Before they finally nailed me, I saw you on the news. Cybertron wants your head on a spike.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Starscream growled.
His neighbor laughed. “No, I’m serious! They’re holding rallies down there. Mechs are protesting. They really want you dead. What the slag did you do to piss them off so badly?”
Starscream ran a claw against the bar so roughly that sparks flew. “Will you be quiet ?!”
“You know what I think?” his neighbor pressed on, “I don’t think you’re mad at me. I think you’re scared . You’re scared because I’m telling you the truth .”
“ Shut up!” Starscream hissed, rising to his pedes. His wings hitched upward, a defensive reflex.
His neighbor scoffed, slowly sitting up from the floor. “You’re in no position to demand anything . You’re about to be killed. Besides, is that any way to treat one of your seekers?”
Starscream’s wings relaxed, but he was unwilling to admit the sliver of guilt that shot through his spark. “They used to be my seekers,” he murmured.
“They were never yours. I bet you don’t even remember my name.”
Starscream’s optics remained locked upon his own cobalt pedes. “Of course I do. Your designation is Acid Storm. You served under me in the civil war as my third platoon. You joined my cause right after I assassinated the Senator. Only a few cycles, actually.”
Acid Storm was quiet, then he huffed. “Lucky guess.”
“It wasn’t a guess,” Starscream replied. “I always knew my seekers. I knew them and I loved them. Even if I… never let them know that.”
Acid Storm watched the mech who was once his commander sit down on his berth. There was a time that Acid Storm idolized this little Starscream. He once thought of him as… larger than life, really.
After a long pause, Acid Storm smiled. “Why don’t I write your memoir for you?”
“My what?” Starscream blinked.
“Y’know, for court?” Acid Storm gestured to the air with his hand in no particular direction. “Your life story that will touch the spark of Cybertronians everywhere?”
Starscream reached back, rubbing grime off his wing. “You don’t even know my story. You only knew me as commander and a prisoner.”
Acid Storm chuckled, crawling over to the bars between the two cell mates. “I know that, silly! You could tell me your story and I’ll type it out.”
“I can write my own story, thank you very much.” This was so typical of Starscream, Acid Storm thought, that he would say something so vulnerable and immediately retreat into his facade of indifference.
Acid Storm smiled gently. “I have the audials of a seeker. You haven’t typed a single word.” His smile faded, his tone deepened. “Commander, your life is on the line here. You’ve clearly messed up real bad. I don’t think you’ll be able to talk your way out of trial. What do you have to lose?”
Starscream couldn’t think of a rebuttal. Acid Storm continued, his serious tone easing into humor. “If anything, I’ll be doing all the hard work. All you have to do is relive happy memories and tell your story. Even if they kill you, you’ve had a pretty epic life. I know someone out there would love to hear it.”
Starscream’s eyes met his comrade. “You think it’s all been happy memories?” More of a question than a challenge, it seemed.
Acid Storm sighed. He could see a glimmer of genuine fear in his commander’s optics. Or perhaps it was simply desperation to live.
“Please,” Acid Storm whispered, “give it a chance .”
Starscream said nothing. The pair lay in silence, listening to the buzzing of lights in the hallway and thrusters engaging on ships outside their windows.
Luna One continued to orbit around Cybertron. Acid Storm watched as night fell upon his home planet. Once in a while, his optics fell to his commander. The crimson red seeker lay on his berth, facing the wall, saying nothing. A faint glow of red on the lead walls told Acid Storm that his former leader was not in recharge.
Acid Storm had just begun to offline his optics when his commander finally spoke.
“I was born in the year of the seeker, in the era Quintessa. I am four million, six hundred thousand years old. I am only seven hundred years younger than the war.”