Chapter Text
Starscream struggled, fully aware he had no hope of breaking Prime's grip. Though it was somewhat annoying that Optimus didn't seem to notice Starscream’s thrashing at all. Surely Starscream was making the act of carrying him over one shoulder a little inconvenient? After all, he couldn't just surrender to Optimus Prime of all bots. Starscream was no Decepticon zealot, but he had his pride.
“We just passed another one,” Starscream said. “Two klicks east.”
Optimus wordlessly adjusted his course to avoid the sparkeater staring at them from a jutting peak. Not that he had any idea where he was going in the first place. When Starscream had asked, the fragger just said “Somewhere safe” in his infuriatingly calm baritone. Then he'd pulled them both up a cliff one-handed.
He may have the processor of a lobotomized cyberbull but he also had the strength of one.
Finally, Prime spotted a cave that met his unspoken criteria. He entered the mouth cautiously, rifle drawn. Starscream scanned as best he could, but he was facing the wrong way. Primus, this was humiliating.
Once their hiding spot was cleared, Optimus dumped Starscream on his aft then leaned against the opposite wall, letting himself slide down rough, slightly iridescent stone. Starscream righted himself and sat, no easy feat with his hands bound and one thruster damaged. He bit back a hiss of pain when he accidentally put his weight on it. Stupid sparkeaters.
“You're wounded.”
Starscream rolled his optics. “They must have put you in charge for your keen observational skill.”
“Let me see—”
“Absolutely not!” Starscream curled in on himself. “Stay away from me.”
Not that he could do much if Prime decided to override his objections. His processor raced, a thin line of condensation sliding down his back as he readied his claws, but thankfully Optimus didn't make it necessary.
Instead he leaned back, one knee bent, and said, “Your self repair protocols will consume energon, and it does not seem likely this planet will have a ready source. You need to conserve fuel.”
“I can manage.” Starscream’s initial burst of panic subsided. He shoved the remainder into the back of his processor.
“I have a medkit.”
“Do you really think me so inept that I'd allow my enemy’s commander anywhere near my systems? And what about you?” he added, eager to turn this around. “Should I apply patches to your wounds as well? Should we play medic together?”
Optimus glanced at himself and his optics widened as if he'd just remembered he was injured. Scratches, yes, some of which came from Starscream, but there was a deeper furrow in his thigh and the scorch mark where Starscream had shot him.
“My energy needs are taken care of,” Optimus said.
“Ah, how could I forget. The perpetual energy bauble in your chest that could probably restart the core of our dead planet, but instead you wear it around to compel your weak-minded followers to worship you.” Starscream wished he could fold his arms, but the indignation in his voice would have to do.
Optimus tilted his head, and the thin light coming from outside reflected off his battle mask. “Do you actually believe that?”
Starscream blinked. There was such dripping sincerity to Prime's tone that he was convinced he'd misheard. Some…echo in the cave.
“Starscream?”
“I heard you,” he snapped. “What kind of question is that? Of course I believe the Matrix can relight Cybertron's core. At least based on current readings it’s theoretically possible.”
“And the rest?” Otpimus said. “Do you think I wear the Matrix for…that?”
He should play this carefully. Much as it galled him, he would have to ingratiate himself a bit to make sure Prime didn't toss him to the Sparkeaters. The idea churned his tanks even more than flattering Megatron did. At least he'd respected Megatron at one point. Not this pretty figurehead of a rotten regime.
“I'm sure you have plenty of reasons, besides simply appealing to the autobot masses. What those reasons are, I suppose I don’t know.” Starscream said. Maybe Prime would give him some information he could use, if he kept the door open just a crack.
Prime waited until their optics met. When he spoke, the frequency was deep enough that it made Starscream’s spinal struts vibrate.
“I have my reasons, but I don't demand worship,” he said. “I don't even want it. Believe whatever else you will, but not that.”
“Right,” Starscream said. “You just tell people our creator gave you a holy artifact, with ‘leader’ literally in the name. What bots do with that information is completely up to them. Hmph. I’ve taken you for many things, Prime but not a h—”
Hypocrite . Starscream cut himself off. That was probably an insult too far. But dammit, he was sore and tired and trapped in a cave. Was it any wonder his temper was a bit short?
However, Prime did not move to strike him or even argue. He simply looked…sad. Sad as he could look with half his face covered anyway.
What sort of game was he playing?
“Anyway,” Starscream added hastily. “I’m not going to fall down genuflecting, so it is a moot point.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
Even with the mask, Starscream could see that Optimus’s expression had shifted to a small smile. That smile alone had probably won him plenty of his followers. So seemingly genuine, almost vulnerable. The type of smile one felt good following, just to try and see it again.
The light outside began to fade as both suns dipped below the horizon. Starscream suppressed a shudder. Did the sparkeaters hunt at night?
Suddenly there was even less light as Optimus’ blue optics faded.
“What are you doing?” Starscream demanded, without a trace of fear in his voice.
“Looking up any information I can about sparkeaters,” he said. “I assume you can handle first watch?”
“Of course I can handle—”
Prime's optics went dark.
###
Optimus' vision filled with soft light. He let his processor adjust, though it took him a moment to filter out the unwanted information.
You suffer a traitor to live?
Kill it.
Before it kills—
Have compassion.
He's misguided
He's a criminal.
He's a murderer.
His mood improved with each voice he dismissed. He was not here for them. He was here for something much simpler and more straightforward. It had been a long time since he'd been able to look into the Matrix—the largest repository of Cybertron's lost knowledge left—and ask an easy question.
“What is a sparkeater?”
Optimus was flooded with thousands of results. Glyphs, words, pictures, walls of text overwhelmed his vision, but Optimus did not so much as blink. He'd never struggled with this part of being the Matrix bearer. If anything it was his favorite part.
It made him feel like an archivist again.
Falling back into old habits, Optimus began organizing his results. Nothing from tabloid publications—the fact Alpha Trion had saved those was annoyingly typical of the old mech—nor anything fictional. Most of the results were from folklore or cultural studies texts, rather than anything scientific. Stories of Cybertronians—mech and mechanimal alike—changing into monstrosities that subsisted off the sparks of the living were common throughout their history. With some variations based on time and point of origin.
Optimus read through several history and literature papers before he finally found something that appeared relevant. A report from the Crystal City Science Academy about a team on a distant lunar research station that had found and contained a cybercat displaying odd behaviors.
Subject attacked Researcher A and damaged spark casing. Medical treatment showed no signs of infection, even after three weeks of observation. Subject displayed mutations, along with the increased aggression. Physical changes included prehensile, barbed appendages (addendum: tentacles, Terrabyte, they are fragging tentacles), increased number and size of teeth, increased length of claws…
Optimus kept reading, only to be disappointed when he read a follow up that the original report could not be verified. The cybercat had perished and its frame apparently degraded before any other researchers got their hands on it. No wonder it had not made bigger waves back when it had come out. The researchers had even been anonymized so no further inquiries had been possible. It seemed like it had been dismissed as some odd subspecies or one-off mutation.
Maybe it had been, but the things on this planet were not one-offs.
He kept searching. Files, audio recordings, vid captures. If it was information, the Matrix had access to it. Before a certain point, anyway. Before the war had split their people in half. But if the Decepticons knew something about these sparkeaters, Starscream would have shared it.
Would he?
Treacherous rat.
He wishes to survive.
Perhaps there is more to know?
Do not trust him.
Optimus sighed and pushed the voices away again. Part of him twinged with guilt at sweeping aside all the echoes. Some were ones he respected. Some he liked. But he was not in the mood to put in the effort he’d need to differentiate, and frankly he did not have the time.
A fact that was further emphasized when his sensors pinged. Four life forms approaching. Fast.
Reluctantly, he abandoned his archives and onlined his optics. The cave was much the same as he’d left it, though the suns had risen again, filling the cave with a warm glow. He must have been lost in his search for longer than he’d thought.
Optimus was almost surprised to see Starscream more or less where he’d left him. He seemed to have paced a little, judging by the scuffs on the cave floor, but he’d not done anything violent and he’d not run.
However, Starscream was currently gnawing at the cuffs encircling his wrists. Biting at the locks, as if he was hoping his canines could spring them.
Optimus snorted a laugh before he could stop himself. Starscream’s helm whipped towards the sound, and his wings flared out like a startled bird.
“What are you laughing at?” Starscream snapped.
It really was rude. The Second of the Decepticons was notoriously proud, and Optimus could not blame him for trying to free himself. It just looked so silly, his fangs trying to bite through the stasis cuff’s thick material. Optimus tried very hard not to think it also looked cute.
He also tried not to linger on the part of him that was interested in what else those teeth could do. That part was Orion, probably overindulged by the research binge Optimus had just conducted.
Optimus reminded himself just how dangerous Starscream could be, especially when he was desperate.
He also reminded himself they were in very imminent peril.
“We need to go,” Optimus pushed himself up then offered a hand to Starscream. “Quickly.”
Starscream flinched, arms partially lifting to defend himself. Optimus’ tanks twinged. He shouldn’t take it personally. They were enemies. But he didn’t like that Starscream seemed afraid Optimus would hurt him under circumstances like these.
Optimus’ sensors pinged again. The newcomers’ speed was increasing.
“Slag,” Optimus ex-vented.
“Such common curses? From a Prime no—hey!”
Optimus dragged Starscream to his pedes by the arm, carefully as he could with the urgent alerts in his HUD. His hand fit easily around the jet-frame’s waist, which let him drag Starscream back up over his shoulder.
“You can’t keep hauling me around like a piece of cargo!” Starscream yelled, straight into Optimus' audial.
“If it will stop us from having our sparks devoured, I can.” Optimus moved to the entrance. “Even if you are heavier than you look.”
“Don’t try to flatter me, you oversized—”
The sight of something screeching silenced Starscream, which Optimus was starting to think only happened when things were quite bad.
A large shadow crested the top of a cliff, flying straight towards them.
“Slag!” Starscream hissed.
“Such common curses,” Optimus said. “And from the Decepticons’ Air Commander, no less.”
Starscream stared at him. “Did you just needle me?”
Optimus jumped down the slope, falling until he hit an angle that let him slide down the rest of the way. His pedes scraped painfully against the rock. At least most of the rest of the damage had resolved itself. Except for his side, which twinged painfully enough that he nearly dropped Starscream when they landed on solid ground.
“Careful!” Starscream said. “If I'm going to be cargo, at least remember I'm to be handled with care.”
Orion would have had a wonderful time with that one. Optimus, however, said nothing, instead searching for areas that could not be easily accessed from the air.
“That way,” Starscream pointed. “The peaks are creating a wind tunnel. The flyer can't navigate it with all the extra mutations.”
Optimus wondered if this was another scheme, but he didn't have time to hesitate. He barrelled forwards, trying not to knock his unwilling passenger against the walls of the valley closing in around them. He twisted past sharp outcroppings, keeping his sensors at maximum, but the longer they went, the more apparent it became that Starscream had been correct.
“It’s not following,” Optimus said. “This path was nicely spotted.”
Starscream let out a loud ex-vent. Which could have been irritation, but Optimus wasn’t sure.
“There are still three more,” Starscream said. Apparently his sensors had finally caught their pursuers too.
But they too were falling behind. Perhaps it was better to seek shelter for now and prepare for a fight rather than endlessly running. Although these things were hard to kill. Optimus’ research as well as his experience with their first attackers had already taught him that.
It would be easier with an ally beside him, rather than a prisoner to protect, but he did not know if Starscream could be trusted to act as the former.
After nothing showed on Optimus’ proximity sensors for a while he allowed himself to slow down. He set Starscream down gingerly, and was relieved to see his damaged thruster was able to bear his weight. Optimus made for an outcropping they could rest under and Starscream followed.
“From what I’ve managed to glean,” Optimus said. “Sparkeaters are able to trace a spark’s energy signature. So long as we are alive, they will be able to track us.”
Starscream rolled his optics. “Of course they can. Why make this too easy?”
“Ratchet has always accused me of being a magnet for trouble.” Optimus chuckled awkwardly. “Seems I should apologize for dragging you along.”
“Please, this doesn’t even rank in my top ten worst days,” Starscream replied. “My poor luck is imaginative, but I’ve survived it thus far.”
Oddly, that made Optimus feel a bit more optimistic.
That was until the ground split beneath Starscream and thick, toothy jaws locked around his injured leg.