Work Text:
“You never did work well with others. Everyone thinks you do, but I know better.” Starscream hissed. Skyfire couldn’t bring himself to look at him yet, so he didn’t. Starscream leaned in closer, vocalizer buzzing with spite. “If only they knew what I knew, they’d see who really puts up with who.”
“Okay.” Skyfire muttered, gaze locked down the length of a microscope. He fiddled with the knobs, bringing the slide in and out of focus. Anything to keep from having to address the angry Seeker venting down his struts.
“Way to prove my point, Skyfire. You’re not even bothering to listen to me.” Starscream said bitterly, stepping to Skyfire’s other side. His disapproving optics fell heavy onto Skyfire’s fiddling. “If you did bother, you might like to know that’s not how one properly uses that instrument. Don’t you work alongside a microscope, Skyfire? Or was it the ice that caused your form to degrade so severely?”
Skyfire shuttered his optics and vented out heavily. He finally sat up and looked at Starscream, who stared back with an overwhelming air of smugness.
“Was there something you needed, Starscream?” he asked, faux polite. The unheard leave me alone echoed between his clipped words sharply. Starscream smiled.
“No, not particularly.” He turned away and walked to the exit, wings held high. “Just figured I’d come say hello.”
-
In the midst of organizing the Autobot-Decepticon peace accord, likely deep into the night cycle and slagged out of their mind, someone proposed the concept of a united science department. The idea took hold immediately, eventually blossoming into an ugly amalgamation of promises that seemed impossible to keep and demands phrased as simple requests. Their war, as Skyfire had come to understand it, devolved from a battle of ideas to a battle of resources. Who better to solve the issues of fuel and materials than a combination of Cybertron’s brightest minds?
What was left of them, anyway.
Skyfire left several meetings with the general understanding that if the unified science department of Decepticons and Autobots couldn’t deliver, their fragile truce would dissolve. It was so dire that Optimus Prime himself descended to their laboratory and gave a long, passionate speech about the unmatched potential of the Autobot science team. He told them they were the new frontline; if an Autobot scientist and a Decepticon scientist could overcome differences and work together, then they all could.
It was a nice dream. Skyfire wasted no time in the delusion at all, even if he told Wheeljack and Perceptor the opposite. There was a time in his life that the news of a truce, the unified focus on science, and the trust of all his peers would spin his spark joyfully, but that time had long passed by. He knew, deep down, that this would all likely crumble away back into war. It always did, no matter what they tried.
Regardless of Skyfire’s reservations, teams were assigned and projects were handed out on double time. The list was long and detailed, and when skimming for his name, Skyfire caught several others first. Perceptor, Wheeljack, and some of the Constructicons were thrown into the task of building a stable space bridge. Perceptor was also split with Brainstorm on engineering better medical equipment for the equally busy medical team. Red Alert had also assigned various soldiers to “keep an eye” on things, which meant poor Ironhide and Hound were stuck with Mixmaster, Beachcomber, Hoist, Grapple, and the Rainmakers working on a project titled Earth Material for Ship Rebuild.
Skyfire initially assumed he’d be put onto Teletraan-1 reprogramming duty, but that role was already taken by a Decepticon named Excavator, overseen by Red Alert himself. He also wasn’t on engine repair, materials manufacturing, or even running transport with Astrotrain. Eventually, he found his name printed next to a blurb describing the Energon Synthesis project.
His spark sank. That was the project Starscream was heading.
During the onslaught of meetings between the existing science teams, Starscream was initially absent. He was the Decepticon SIC, so Skyfire figured he’d be safe from dealing with him up close. Maybe he’d come into their meetings to lord over their decisions with red tape and restrictions- even if Prowl had already done it enough for both factions- but that would be it. It wasn’t until a week later that Starscream announced his involvement in the united science team. Seeing Starscream casually perched on the Decepticon side of the room, sneering down his nose at all the proposals laid out across the table, nearly sent Skyfire into spark-arrest.
Worse was the fact that it was a good idea. Skyfire had already been working on an energon synthesis concept in his free time based on a combination of Starscream’s old notes and Wheeljack’s amateur findings. To have Starscream back and focused on the work he once abandoned for warfare could mean true progress could finally be made. In theory, of course.
In truth, Starscream was wildly out of practice and unwilling to address it. Skyfire discovered that he’d pivoted to weapons manufacturing as a hobby during wartime, but that was a far cry from making a stable alternative for the fuel that runs Cybertron itself. The first few cycles of working together were as disastrous as he feared they’d be. Starscream’s technique was sloppy, his respect for proper lab protocol and PPE was gone, and worst of all, his faith in their work seemed non-existent. His frustration was at a near-constant boiling point, and many days ended with more broken equipment than fixed problems.
Over the course of a month, Skyfire and Starscream had settled into a tense but functioning compromise of separate offices, separate materials, and a heavily moderated private feed for notes and inquiries. Even Wheeljack was even roped in to help, despite his overwhelming workload. They managed to make some breakthroughs, but nothing flashy enough to show off and nothing concrete enough to test.
Skyfire vowed to work through it. Their project was the most important one, and no air was wasted in letting them know that. Skyfire suspected the level of importance was the cause for a large chunk of Starscream’s willing involvement. Regardless, mechs needed fuel to function, and by joining forces, the number of intakes had increased significantly. Without a stable energon flow, they were running on borrowed time. When their combined stash ran out, progress would grind to a halt and war would most likely start back up. Hungry, angry, irritated mechs fresh out of a war couldn’t be counted on to be patient for much longer.
-
“This again? I’ve already told you that using a base like that will never yield any quality results.” Starscream was back in Skyfire’s office, servos on his hip guards in a dictionary-perfect pose of disgust. He was looking at a slide Skyfire left unattended at his workstation. “If you’d read my notes on the matter, you never would’ve wasted precious time and resources. We might’ve been able to synthesize real energon by now.”
Skyfire didn’t lift his optics off of the holoprojection across his light table. It was currently showing the known structure of energon molecules, of which he was comparing to the structure of water. He was taking notes with pointed flicks of his stylus, doing all he could to ignore Starscream’s debasing.
“Are you going to answer me or just sit there, pretending to work?”
Skyfire sighed.
“It was just a test. I had to back your findings up with my own peer review.” Skyfire grit out, tilting the projection with a large digit. His optics only raised enough to catch the bottom of Starscream’s cockpit. He found that he couldn’t raise them any higher.
“Oh, so you don’t trust my work, is that it?” Starscream hissed, puffed up with indignation. “Is it not good enough for you, Skyfire?”
Skyfire summoned all of his patience to keep petty remarks out of his intake. “It’s just a peer review. I typed out the article and sent it into the feed last night. I tagged it next to yours.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” Starscream stalked closer, servos balled into fists. Skyfire lowered his optics back down to his datapad. He hated when Starscream resorted to intimidation to get his way, and he hated that it affected him so much. Other mechs tried to tell him that it was understandable to be afraid of Starscream. The Seeker was a ruthless killer and had been that way for millions of years, while Skyfire was still mostly civilian. Skyfire knew that. He did.
He just wasn’t used to being afraid of Starscream in a setting that was once so precious.
“Your work was good. I needed to rule out some factors I didn’t see listed in your notes.” Skyfire replied. “If we rule something out as a base, we need to be thorough. It was just a test, Starscream. Otherwise, your findings were perfect.”
“Obviously.” Starscream scoffed, but he relaxed slightly. Skyfire finally looked up. He was relieved to see Starscream’s wings held in a contemplative manner. “I’ll be sure to double-check your findings from now on as well. My work is always impeccable, but your work, well. We can’t be too sure, now can we?”
“Sure.” Skyfire returned to his study. Whatever it took for Starscream to follow a decent peer review system, then so be it. They needed this work to be accurate to the furthest degree possible.
Starscream lingered for a moment longer, but Skyfire fought to ignore it. He tilted the projection further, noting the bonds extensively on his datapad. Starscream could waste time and glower at all of Skyfire’s work all he liked. The second this project was over, Skyfire would never have to put up with him again. Of that much, he was sure.
-
Their first real test ended in failure. They weren’t precious enough, and something contaminated the base, a fact that Starscream refused to let go. The second test ended up in a Wheeljack-level explosion that sent both of them to the medical team with burnt plating and wiring damage. Starscream’s seething from the other side of the med bay meant their patch-ups were done in tense silence.
By the sixth try, Starscream was strung out of his processor with stress. The more failure they produced with these tests, the more pressure was applied to their workload. The space bridge needed energon to run. The new ships needed transport-grade energon to even start testing. Teletraan-1 and the medics couldn’t properly rebuild necessary Cybertronian part replacements without an abundance of medical-grade energon at hand. On top of it all, regular rations were running at a new low. Skyfire felt the optics of all the Autobots fall onto him as he wrapped up for the night and dared to sneak an hour or two of recharge. He could only imagine the sort of slag Starscream was getting on the other side.
“Energon Synthesis, attempt seven.” Skyfire read out. Starscream looked up from the energon synthesis machine he was in the middle of double-checking.
“Must you record every failure of ours, Skyfire?” he grumbled. Skyfire ignored him.
“Update from last attempts include an upgraded filter system, a hotter crucible rating, and reinforced plating for all internal features. Thanks to the last try, we know that energon has a rapid-heat and cooling reaction that is completely unique and difficult to measure while attempting to refine.” Skyfire continued. He flicked to the next screen of notes. “We’ve been studying connections between Earth fuel and water, considering the function of fuel for Earth automotives and the connection and similar function water has to organics. There is a significant similarity to the function of water in organics and energon in synthetics.”
Starscream sat back from the machine and lifted up their chosen base for the camera. It was a pain-stakingly combined mess of hydrocarbons and heavily refined energon. Skyfire lifted his notes and pointed to a chemical chain. “This is the mixture we’ll be testing today. Starscream has derived this from earth crude oil, concentrated energon, and some ore obtained from the Ark’s quantum engines.”
“You’re welcome.” Starscream piped up. He stood up and brushed his plating off, flicking his wings in such a nostalgic way that Skyfire had to shutter his optics in order to keep his venting regulated. Not now. He needed focus.
They both stood behind the explosion guard (newly installed) as the machine whirled to life slowly. Skyfire kept a close optic on the internal temps in his feed, Starscream idly doing the same to his right. The energon synthesizer evened out after a klik, rumbling with a consistent metallic roar as it began to process their base. Starscream pressed himself closer to the thick glass window of the wall, digits tracing the edge of it as his focus locked tightly onto the machine. This was as far as the other attempts had gotten before the readings spiralled out of control. Skyfire held his vents closed in anticipation. For a startling moment, he thought they might’ve finally done it.
Then, of course, the machine started to shutter. The readings pouring in cited something wrong in the heating element. Starscream cursed. Skyfire sighed and moved to hit the emergency shut-off, but a blue servo stopped him.
“Wait, wait.” Starscream said, optics still locked onto the machine. It was stuttering in a loud, rolling set of knocks, data reporting the sharp uptick in temperature to be at an alarming rate.
“If we don’t shut it off, we will have to completely reconstruct the machine again.” Skyfire urged. He knew he had the strength to power past Starscream’s grip, but something kept him paused. It wasn’t fear or nerves per se; it was the fascinating gleam in Starscream’s optics that held him in place. It reminded Skyfire of their university days, with Starscream always pushing their experiments to the furthest edge before pulling back. It had charmed Skyfire then, back before he saw the results of what such a drive could accomplish when put into practice... other ways.
He hit the emergency shut-off. Starscream shouted furiously, openly pissed off, but Skyfire was getting a better idea of Starscream’s anger threshold. Working in such close quarters with the Seeker meant learning more about him against his will, despite his best efforts. He tried not to think about that fact as he stepped out from the barrier towards the machine. Starscream followed behind him, spitting insults.
“You great big oaf! You’ve gone and ruined it!” He shrieked, arms flailing animatedly. “The machine- which, mind you, I built- can handle those measly temperatures! If something as simple as engine noise was enough to scare you, then I suppose I really should locate another project assistant! Maybe I’ll get one that actually listens-”
“The crucible can handle those temperatures, but not the wiring.” Skyfire opened the side panel of the energon synthesizer and yanked out a half-melted wire. It sparked in Skyfire’s servo, but thanks to his thick armor, it hardly registered. “We can’t afford to completely redo delicate wiring like this every time you want to push the experiment too far.”
“Too far,” Starscream scoffed, “Listen to yourself. We can’t keep working at your snail’s pace, Skyfire. You’re taking time that we simply don’t have to try and do this “right.” But there’s no time for me to entertain such delusions. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re all on the edge of starvation. Why do you think Mighty Megatron would even bother with this petty truce in the first place?”
“I know that.” Skyfire snapped. “Everyone knows that. I’m not wasting time, Starscream, I’m trying to make sure that our work is at least half-way respectable.”
“Who cares about respectability in these circumstances?" Starscream shouted.
“You did!” Skyfire shouted back. Starscream reeled back, affronted. “You did. I remember it like it was yesterday. You would’ve taken your own wings off before setting aside your scientific standards. Not for me, not for anyone.”
“You- you- !” Starscream sputtered, wings dipping up and down in sharp, aggressive cants. His nullrays audibly came online, but Skyfire had officially heard enough. Fear pumped through his lines, making him feel off-balance and tired. His mandatory underfueling, long nights in the lab with little recharge, and exposure to Starscream for so long had finally gotten him to his last nerve.
“I can handle the fact that we’re not partners, or friends, or even really acquaintances anymore. I can handle that you’ve changed beyond recognition. I won’t pretend to know you.” Skyfire grit out, optics falling heavy onto the wiring panel. “Even then, I still thought... at the very least...”
“Thought what?” His bitter voice filtered through Skyfire’s audio receptors. He could picture the mean snarl of Starscream’s face perfectly. “Thought that I’d cling to something as stupid and pointless as lab protocol? That I’d still care about scientific accolades in a society that doesn’t exist anymore? Get yourself together, Skyfire. I knew you were a traitorous relic of a bygone era, but I didn’t expect you to still be so unbelievably pathetic!”
“I thought... If your spark was still truly yours, you’d at least still care about this.” Skyfire replied, helm fully turned away. “You loved this work. You loved it more than anything.”
“My spark is mine!” Starscream snapped. He couldn’t imagine his expression, so he didn’t. Instead, Skyfire screwed his optics shut and willed Starscream to leave him alone.
“I will clean this up and leave notes on my findings in your office in a joor. We can work on a rebuild after evening rations.” He said tightly.
“My spark is mine.” Starscream repeated, vocalizer buzzing closer than before. “It’s always been mine. You don’t know anything, and you never did. Don’t you dare pretend otherwise again, or I’ll rip your spark out through your neck cabling.”
“Sorry.” Skyfire managed, spark twisted. He knew his apology didn’t sound remotely sincere, but he didn’t care. This stranger in the shape of his old friend didn’t deserve a real apology. He just wanted to be left alone already.
In a stroke of luck, Starscream backed off. “You’ll give me your findings under a joor if you know what’s best for you.”
Skyfire waited until Starscream’s pede falls were well and truly distant before opening his optics again. He wiped at them quietly, glad to finally be alone.
-
The eighth try had been far more promising. The heating element issue had finally been resolved, and while they still had trouble with proper mixing, they finally produced a material that could be somewhat ingested.
“I’m still against the fact that you tasted it without a medic close by.” Ratchet muttered, working with his back to him. Skyfire had taken their sample to the medic team after doing a rudimentary taste test in the lab. Skyfire fought the urge to remind Ratchet that he and Starscream were both certified four times over in field medicine. It was an old habit, and he knew vocalizing it would make half the medical team flinch, so he refrained. Barely.
Besides, he knew what they’d all think of him considering Starscream a reasonable medic. That was another old habit, he supposed.
“It’s remarkable that you guys have gotten so far in such a short time, though.” First Aid remarked. “No offense, you’re a capable mech and all, but it’s Starscream we’re talking about here.” He was helping Ratchet and Knock Out with a three-way peer review on their new substance. None of the medics were energon specialists by any means, but they could at least help discern if the new substance was lethal or not to a typical Cybertronian system.
“I agree with the little ambulance.” Knock Out said, visibly doing the least amount of work. He’d been against helping them on the grounds that he was “just a surgeon.” Ratchet threatened him with immunization duty, and suddenly he was free and available for whatever silly Autobot task they needed. Still, his efforts were impressively lackadaisical. “Screamer isn’t exactly a team-player.”
“We’re managing.” Skyfire replied. All three medics paused to spare him a glance. He wilted slightly. “It would be a complex process regardless of who I worked with. Starscream is difficult, sure, but he’s still-” brilliant “-very knowledgeable in this field of study. We wouldn’t be half as far along without his insight.”
“No one said you had to compliment him, big bot.” Knock Out snickered. “No need to be so humble either.”
Skyfire wasn’t sure what to say to that. He knew that Starscream was notoriously difficult. He’d known it longer than any mech there. He considered that he was being too generous to Starscream’s work, but that wasn’t really the issue. Skyfire was aware that he was the type of mech to overlook a lot when genuine effort and brilliance was at the epicenter of a mech’s work. It was what had drawn him and Starscream together in the first place.
In fact, it was that very recognition that Skyfire held for Starscream that clouded most of his reason. Starscream was bitter, unyielding, angry, and messy, and none of those traits had smoothed since the start of their truce. In every conceivable way, he was unrecognizable. There was hardly a shadow of the passionate partner he’d once held in similar regard. The tension between them now was dense enough to cut up and inspect for base qualities in energon reproduction, and after Skyfire’s emotional outburst in their last attempt, Starscream had practically become a ghost. There should be no reason for Skyfire to cling to the past, but with every passing cycle that they worked together, his blinded spark continued to ache.
There were too many moments where Skyfire would glance to see Starscream act the way he used to. They are too fleeting to properly record or recount, but they occurred so often that Skyfire’s memory defrags in recharge often felt glitched. It didn’t help that the time stamps on his HUD reflected the difference while his processor did not. The past was now and now was the past. It isn’t something he discussed freely, and especially not with other Autobots, but the longer the war played on, the more alien he felt. His civilian identity, his grip on pacifism, and his continued respect for their fallen society only caused mechs to mourn, and thus it remained within. To have something so familiar and so achingly important just on his periphery was causing all the old pain to cycle back forward.
He wondered if it was the same for Starscream.
-
The ninth try is their very first tentative success. Their new machine produced something that vaguely resembled energon, and with the medical team’s stamp of approval, they could finally move onto proper trials.
“We really should have a control group.” Starscream grumbled, preparing samples alongside him. Their separate offices had become harder to justify when there was only one energon synthesizer between them. Completing work on it, at least the immediate kind that project demanded, meant relocating their equipment closer and working in stale silence. For the most part.
“I agree.” Skyfire replied, measuring the grams of the samples Starscream made and adjusting as needed. “How do you propose we assign them?”
A nanoklik of silence passed. For all of Starscream’s intense talkative brashness everywhere else, he’d always been a fairly silent lab partner. However, the recent bouts of quiet were probably for different reasons.
“Well, we should have an equal split of Decepticons and Autobots for testing. We wouldn’t want an unequal number of either lest it upset your delicate Autobot sensitivities on the matter.” Starscream said tersely.
“Of course.” Skyfire agreed. A misplaced spark of amusement coursed through him and he quickly stuffed it down. “How about we do a 50/50 split in the separate faction test groups?”
Starscream opened his intake to rebuke him, but paused before sound could exit his vocalizer. He turned, optic ridge creased with consideration. A klik later, “Yes, that should work.”
Skyfire smiled at that and returned to his work with full focus. They already knew that this energon was safe for consumption, but in order to make the synthetics of specific varieties, they needed more information. Additionally, just because it was safe didn’t mean it was efficient, healthy, or all that potent. Starscream’s current prediction suggested their substance would only provide enough energy to fuel a jet for barely three joors.
“What should we call this, by the way?” Skyfire asked distractedly, moving to take his batch of prepared samples to the temperature-stable holding cabinet. Starscream gave his retreating rocket pack a look of confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” Skyfire loaded the tray with a delicate nudge, “In your notes you’ve been classifying them as ‘Energon Synthetic 1’ and so on, but I think that will get confusing now that we’re at the trials stage of this project. Wouldn’t it be better to give these compounds proper titles?”
Starscream considered it. “That would be best, yes.”
“How about energythnol?” Skyfire offered, returning back to his workbench. Starscream looked at him with a face of pure disgust.
“You can’t possibly be serious. That’s horrid!” Starscream cried, “No matter. I’m the one who discovered this mixture, so I should be the one who names it anyway.”
“I suppose that’s fair.” Skyfire shrugged. Noting their specific merits had always been a point of great importance for Starscream. Back in university, several professors commented on how thoroughly they’d sectioned off their specific findings with an air of concern. Skyfire never cared, but Starscream had always been meticulous.
“You suppose right. We are not using measly earth names either.” Starscream declared, shifting on the stool to face Skyfire properly. He had fire in his optics. “Wait, I’ve got it. Polygon.”
Skyfire let out a laugh that startled them both. He cut it short with a cough. “That’s already an earth term.”
“Do you take me for a fool? I know that.” Starscream’s plating puffed up in indignation, a clear sign that he most certainly had not known. There was something softer about his expression though, despite the clear distaste. It was disarming.
“How about petrenergothylate?” Skyfire suggested, considering him carefully. At Starscream’s sharp frown, he took the hint. “Oh, right, that’s still too clunky. Hm.”
“As I have already said, we are not using earth terms. They’re too limiting for the work we’ve completed here. The work I’ve completed.” He amended, rubbing at his cheek guard. “Give me the night cycle to consider. I’ll have one ready by the time those medics finally clear our test groups. Primus knows they’ll drag their pedes long enough to give me ample time to deliberate.”
Skyfire stood and took his next batch of completed samples to the cabinet, hiding his smile in his own shadow. “Fair enough. I’m certain you’ll pick a good one.”
“Lying doesn’t suit you, Skyfire.” Starscream chided. There was something playful under the thick veneer of condescension in his tone. Skyfire reset his intake.
“I meant it,” He opened the cabinet and shuffled the next tray in as gently as the last, “You always were decent with that kind of thing.”
His statement was met with silence. Skyfire couldn’t blame him for the lack of words; he’d gotten worse with his open nostalgia in the last few cycles. The more he let slip, the harder reality hit him. There was no grounds for his musings to remain so earnest and he knew it. Starscream knew it. Everyone knew it, and yet.
He turned back to his workstation to see Starscream pointedly turned away, wings flared in a way that completely covered himself and his work from view. He was writing furiously enough for Skyfire to hear the clack of his digits against his datapad. Skyfire sighed internally. It looked like that was that. They’d managed to have these little conversations more and more, but every time Skyfire got a little too wistful or sincere, Starscream backed off. Though, admittedly, that was probably for the best. Soon enough they’d be done, and these horrible little moments could finally stop clutching at his tired spark.
-
Their first trial of synthex 1.0 was nothing short of a disaster, but that was to be expected. Skyfire had braced himself for it just as he did every other time he had to explain science to mechs who knew more about guns than they did about basic nuclear fission. The only way they’d all really understand was for the project to be finished, perfect, and simple. In the privacy of the lab, Skyfire rolled his optics. If only it was that easy.
Starscream was beside himself with rage. He destroyed his old office and nearly destroyed his notes, stopped only by Skyfire physically removing him from their lab. Megatron threatened his life, Optimus stepped in to mediate, Jazz stepped in to mediate them, and by the end, nothing was solved. Starscream’s mood was at an all time low and he made sure anyone standing too close knew it. The only tangible result was Starscream getting his nullrays disabled for the duration of his mandatory high command meetings.
While all that was occurring, Skyfire dissected exactly what went wrong. Their first issue was that at least half the participants- if you can call them that- did not actually drink their portion. Decepticons believed that Skyfire (and Starscream) was intending to poison them, while a surprising chunk of Autobots doubted Skyfire would be able to stop Starscream from poisoning them as well. The five or so bots that did actually ingest synthex 1.0 reported unreliably and without a lot of detail. Ironhide wrote that it was “as bad as the engex Maccadams had on tap” and Hook noted that it “tasted like organic waste and forge run-off mixed with stale energon.” Bumblebee simply wrote “BLEH!”
None of the reports detailed anything about energy levels, bodily functions, system failures, or tank indigestion, so Skyfire figured that was all nominal. Expectedly, none of the control testers (that participated) noted anything out of the ordinary. The only comment of slight amusement was Skywarp’s delight at the fact it tasted “like the regular slag does.” None of the notes constituted usable data, but Skyfire still managed to write up a half-decent conclusion with extensive notes for their next trial.
Starscream returned to work that night cycle well after evening rations were passed out. Skyfire wondered if he’d bothered to collect his portion at all. He knew that Autobot high command was in talks with humans to get more energon, but with them openly working with Decepticons now, they were too skeptical to offer more than the bare minimum. Starscream looked every bit run down, exhausted, and underfed. Even his wings were misaligned. If there was anything he knew about the Seeker, it was that looks were at least half of his active concerns at any given moment.
“Are you alright?” The question was out of his intake before he could stop it. Stupid, stupid. He winced as Starscream’s expression folded into similar disbelief.
“Am I- You must be joking. How could I possibly be alright?” He snapped. His uneven wings canted up as his anger rose back to its recent fever pitch, “After that catastrophic disaster of a first trial, everyone has been looking at us like failures. You’re lucky you don’t have any real responsibility. Those idiot Autobots and that fool Megatron keep talking down to me in these ridiculous meetings, acting like we’re wasting precious time and resources- as if they are doing a damn thing to help!”
Skyfire resolved himself to listening duty, quietly resuming his type-up of his trial recommendations. Now that Starscream had gotten started, there was no stopping him.
“They all act like I’m working with you of all mechs to plot some kind of hysterical cross-faction massacre. How completely ridiculous is that?” He spat, pacing the length of their lab, “I’m not naive enough to think I’m operating without doubt, but at least I’m operating with you, and you’re, well. You.”
“An Autobot?” Skyfire withheld his snort.
“Here I was, thinking that Autobots were all supposed to be bleeding hearts for pity cases such as yours!” He snapped, “I had no idea that these Auto-dolts still continued to doubt you, even after your traitorous defection to their ranks. They hardly appreciate the asset they’ve been hoarding.”
You didn’t either. Skyfire almost physically recoiled, revolted by his own pointless thought.
“They do trust me.” He replied a beat later, awkward and voice thick with static. That wasn’t completely true- he knew of several bots with open reservations about him- but he wasn’t about to give into Starscream’s obvious manipulation attempt. “They just don’t trust...” He couldn’t say it.
There was a lot about their relationship that was worth doubting. They fought often and could barely withstand being in the same room at the very start of the project, and even now, Starscream was still as volatile as ever. The concern wasn’t for that though, not really. If the issue was just fighting and aggression, then at least it would be simple. The complexity lied in their past and the softness that Skyfire continued to show the bitter Seeker, even when he didn’t deserve it. There was something tender in those subconscious choices that could be twisted, and Starscream had a reputation for such indulgences.
“You really believe that, don’t you? For someone so accomplished, you really are so blind.” Starscream replied meanly. He continued to pace. He scrubbed at his cheek plating with a rogue servo, gripping his elbow joint tightly with the other. “If we can just get this blasted synthetic to be effective, then they all won’t have a choice but to recognize their mistake. They think they can afford to doubt us and belittle us while we work tirelessly to save their afts- ha!”
“You need to recharge, Starscream.” Skyfire cut him off before he could dig himself deeper into whatever paranoid vision of high command he was projecting. “At least a few joors. You’ve been through a lot today.”
It was a blatant attempt at a redirection, done without any grace whatsoever. Starscream no doubt saw it for what it was. Skyfire didn’t care if he did, or if the request was the exact kind of tenderness he was supposed to avoid. He just wanted peace.
“You know as well as I that we have a mountain of work to do in fixing today’s failures.” Starscream said, crossing his arms and narrowing his optics. “I see. You’re just trying to get me out of the way so you can take credit for finding a solution by yourself.”
“What- no!” Primus above. “I’m just saying you need to rest!”
“Like you’re in a place to tell me what to do.” Starscream sneered. He marched closer to where Skyfire had paused working, arms locked across his cockpit. “I’ll work for as long and as often as I see fit. You’ve lost your processor if you think I’ll let you take all the credit.”
This mech was impossible. “What if we both went and got some recharge? Would you consider taking a break then?” Skyfire hedged. Starscream’s suspicious expression remained.
“How do I know you’ll keep that flimsy promise? For all I know, you could sneak back in here the instant I slip into recharge and be none-the-wiser. You must think me a fool.”
Skyfire sighed, and this time time, he didn’t bother to keep it internal. Instead of gracing Starscream’s paranoia with a response, he stood up, startling Starscream into backing up a few feet. It was crossing the invisible line they’d set to be so insistent on Starscream getting rest, but working with him in such a poor state was far more dangerous. An irritable, reckless, disheveled Starscream always spelt disaster when paired with explosive raw material.
He refused to acknowledge the similarities to the way Starscream used to get the night before a big project was due. He couldn’t bring himself to face it, even if every behavior, from cheek-rubbing to frantic pacing, was identical. In those days, if Skyfire couldn’t verbally reason with him, he resorted to a somewhat cheap tactic instead.
Skyfire sat down against the wall and spread his wings out as wide as they went, delicately nudging a cabinet over with his wingspan. Rumbling with a large ex-vent, he relaxed and settled down, letting his plating flare slightly for maximum comfort. Recharging off-slab wasn’t exactly great for one’s struts, but Skyfire had done it enough to know his limits. Thoroughly nestled against the wall, he offlined his optics and sent the ping to his systems to start recharge protocols.
Just before his audials automatically muffled, he heard Starscream’s disgruntled scoff of disbelief.
-
His internal timer woke him up three joors later. He onlined his optics to see Starscream sprawled on the floor next to him, pedes just barely brushing his own. A quick glance around their lab revealed some clues on all that occurred while he was recharging. The door had been barricaded by a desk and all of Skyfire’s notes from the day had been rifled through. It seemed that Starscream had attempted to do some work, gave up, blocked the door for either safety or potential homicidal reasons, and then fell into recharge beside him for reasons Skyfire didn’t dare contemplate.
His slight shifting woke Starscream from his delicate recharge. He was a notoriously light sleeper, another thing that Skyfire could add to the pile of things about him that remained frightfully the same. Though, instead of launching into an immediate frenzy, he curled in tighter and mumbled “Ten more kliks.”
-
“That was reckless.”
Skyfire was currently attending a meeting about the energon required for the space bridge. Perceptor was flitting around, looking almost as haggard as Starscream had. Skyfire kept that in mind as he addressed him properly.
“What was?” He asked plainly, feigning ignorance. Perceptor slid a datapad on top of the stack already in his lap.
“Your little nap beside the Decepticon Second in Command.” He clarified.
It was Wheeljack that found both Starscream and Skyfire fast asleep in their lab a full five joors after Starscream’s request. Embarrassed and panicked by their oversleeping, Starscream screamed at Wheeljack until the sports car gave up with the niceties and fled to the med bay. The following cycle included Starscream more or less strapping them both down to their workdesks, insisting they get something testable for another trial before attending to anything else. No breaks allowed- no recharging or refueling either. It was grueling, painful, and unfortunately, deeply productive.
Perceptor and Wheeljack had been sent by Ratchet to do a safety inspection of their work environment after the incident. With some adjustments and the promise to recharge on proper slabs, Skyfire was finally able to get them off of their case. Or, so he thought.
“What makes you say that?” Skyfire was openly humoring him now. Wheeljack raised his optic ridges and Perceptor’s gaze sharpened. Maybe he really was spending too much time with Starscream.
“I’m glad you asked. For starters, he barricaded both of you inside for the duration of your recharge. We’ve given you both an abundance of trust with this project, and while you’ve made commendable progress, there is no reason for you to overwork yourselves.” He cast a sharper look over to Skyfire, olfactory ridge crinkled with concern. “You both know better than to rush when dealing with substances so new and volatile. It’s unsafe and unprofessional at the very least.”
“I agree. That set up was merely the result of a compromise between me and Starscream.” He replied, noting again how run-down the Autobot science lead looked. Besides, Perceptor and Wheeljack already knew why he’d done what he did. He had given them the full report a joor after their initial inspection.
“Yes. You both work together exceedingly well despite your history.” Perceptor commented. He floundered for a moment, struggling to phrase whatever he was thinking. Skyfire usually appreciated that Perceptor was so direct, and now more than ever, he wished the mech would just get it over with.
“We know you and him used to be lab partners back on Cybertron, Sky.” Wheeljack cut in, leaning closer. “Not that- not that we know a whole lot about it, of course. You’re private about it and that’s alright, it’s just-”
“It’s Starscream.” Perceptor finished. “He could have killed you. He has killed for less.”
“You think I trust him too much.” Skyfire stated. They both shared a quick glance.
“No, ‘course not-”
“Yes, you obviously-”
They shared another, slightly more annoyed look. Skyfire waved them off.
“It’s alright. I understand.” Skyfire said quietly. “I’ve been keeping myself in check with that. I might not be a soldier like you both, but I’m not naive enough to think he’s incapable of killing me. My guard isn’t down. It’s just- well.”
“He was your friend.” Wheeljack offered. Skyfire shook his head.
“No, I know down to my spark that our friendship is gone.” Skyfire corrected gently. He rubbed mindlessly at the glass of his torso. “I suppose to a lesser extent the trust I have for him is similar to the trust you all offered me when I first defected from the Decepticons. The pursuit of knowledge is a noble one, and while it cannot exist in a vacuum, I know Starscream needs me for this project to reach completion. That, at very least, can be trusted.”
Perceptor relented a little. “I see. Though, I will remind you that you are by no means comparable to the likes of Starscream.” he said sternly, as if Skyfire genuinely believed that. “Leaving yourself vulnerable to his whims is ill-advised regardless of your trust in his use for you.”
“Noted, thank you.”
“Of course. Now, where were we?”
-
Synthex 3.0 was, by all means, a proper energon synthetic. The testing for 2.0 had been extremely conclusive, especially after putting all of the recommendations to work. Skyfire had to admit that Starscream’s idea of appealing to both factions' collective starvation in order to recruit willing participants was wildly effective. They’d also gotten Wheeljack to help build a bigger, stronger synthesizing machine, which helped with the onslaught of volunteers they had. They all filled out their required questionnaires before receiving a second helping, another suggestion that worked extremely well in guaranteeing responses. With all the feedback they received, refining their work further was a breeze.
The only issue now was the fact that they’d finally finished.
Well, as finished as they needed to be. Despite solving the biggest issue of the entire war in a mere few months, there was still a mountain of work left to do. Fiddling around with the energon synthesis project was no longer a main concern. Synthex 3.0 was drinkable (even if the taste still left something to be desired), functional, and most importantly, easy to reproduce. It provided about the same energy as raw energon did, and if properly refined further, it showed promising signs of replicating decent transport and jet-grade. Miracuously, none of the mechs of either faction showed any allergies or plate-dulling even after a few cycles of consuming exclusively synthex. Skyfire added that to the list of things to investigate later.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working on the space bridge?” Starscream asked, tone clipped. They were in the middle of breaking down their shared lab space. That’s what the schedule said, at least. Every time Skyfire picked up a new stack of notes to shove into a storage crate, he couldn’t resist reviewing them. There were just too many things they left open and unstudied for his spark to truly feel settled.
The achievement of making synthetic energon would’ve won them endless accolades back in university. It would have launched their careers sky high, no doubt. Over time, with prolonged, intensive study, the future for both them and Cybertron could have been so much brighter. It was the sort of thing that Skyfire used to lay awake dreaming of. Not about the awards, but the excitement of discovery and the thrill of progress. They’d replicated the very material that sustained their very planet. Without all the fancy instruments, proper lab methodology, and an insane schedule, they’d still managed the impossible.
Now, all they’d received for such a feat was praise from Optimus Prime, a compliment from Megatron that felt more like an insult, and two new assignments. Skyfire was reassigned to the space bridge project full-time, and Starscream was to take his Air Commander position back from Thundercracker, who’d been the temporary in his place.
“Not that it means anything anymore,” Starscream complained. “What good is being Air Commander when there’s no longer a use for an Air Force?”
It was good for a lot of things, evidently. He’d been drawn to high command meetings the following week after synthex was deemed ready, operating as Air Commander by name but functioning as faction leader candidate in practice. Between First Aid’s gossip and the Aerialbots’ endless yammering, Skyfire gathered that several Decepticons had their faith in Megatron weakened significantly. With Megatron’s unpopular truce holding strong, and the Decepticon faction beginning to fracture and split, Starscream was careful to catch those who were slipping through the cracks. As it turns out, being the mech who helped fix their largest resource issue was handy in swaying opinion.
It was in line with Skyfire’s updated idea of Starscream; fighting with a warrior’s grit and tactically inserting himself in politics. Skyfire had no desire to watch, even if he was impressed by Starscream’s sharp pivot. For all the effort it took to get him back into a scientific mindset, he’d returned to his position of power with almost no hesitation at all.
Skyfire knew he shouldn’t be so bothered. It wasn’t his business what sort of things Starscream got up to. It hadn’t been for millenia.
“There’s so much we haven’t worked out yet.” He muttered, mostly to himself. His side of the lab was still messy with datapads and piled up equipment, most in various states of disassembly. “Allergens, the long-term projections of effects on frames, waste calculations for both mech and manufacturing- the basics. We haven’t considered any of it outside of immediate calculations.”
“You always were a stickler for the boring details, weren’t you?” Starscream replied, voice deceptively contemplative. Skyfire was momentarily taken aback. The whole time they’d worked alongside one another, he hadn’t once brought up the past so... wistfully. Not like Skyfire had.
“Boring details often save lives.” Skyfire replied. It was accompanied by a wave of distant familiarity, like he’d said that before. He probably had.
“Saving lives... is that what you think we’re doing here?” Starscream’s forlorn tone became bitter. “Do you really think our work is going to- oh, I wish I could be as blind as you, Skyfire. This was a means to an end. Now that we’re all not starving and falling to pieces, it’s only a matter of time before someone takes the first swing.”
“I know that.” Skyfire spat.
Starscream blinked. “And you still-?”
“I’m not deluded into thinking our work was enough to stop a war that I had nothing to do with. That’s not why I’m here.” Skyfire continued, electing to hurry his packing up at last. Prolonging it was stupid, and entertaining Starscream’s questions was even stupider. He’d waited so long to get the project over with so that he could finally be away from the Seeker, and that desire came back to him ten-fold.
“Then why are you here at all?” Starscream was closer now, his voice rough with angry static. “For all that you say that you don’t care about this war, you still picked a side!”
“You decided that, not me!” Skyfire turned around to face him properly. In the dim lighting of their half-broken down lab, Starscream’s fury was clear. It only made Skyfire angrier. “Imagine what would have happened if we had just done this-” He gestured broadly “-in the first place! All those years of starving, fighting, and killing each other when we had the answer right here all along! You had the answer and you still chose war over it. You chose power and carnage over something that you once pioneered. I won’t- no, I refuse to do that. I refuse. I know that what we did here will save lives, because that’s what our work is for. That’s what it always should have been for.”
“You speak about it all so simplistically,” Starscream’s voice was shaking with anger, “You couldn’t possibly understand what I had to do to survive. What I had to sacrifice. All because you got lost. Our work meant nothing to a planet that was about to go to war. We- I meant nothing, until I did what I had to do to matter.”
Skyfire scoffed and looked away. His risk awareness center blared warnings; an upset Starscream was not a mech to lose sight of. He didn’t care. He couldn’t look at his trembling wings or arched claws. The past months had given him a small vignette into what could’ve been, and the idea of ruining it now was almost as painful as the words themselves.
“Our work matters now more than ever. You know that better than I do. It’s been the backbone of this dying war for months, so why don’t you stay and work on it with me further?” Skyfire asked suddenly, plating pulled tight against his chassis.
Starscream’s silence hurt more than he anticipated.
-
By the time that Skyfire had set up a temporary workstation in his designated corner of the project’s sprawling construction site, the bridge was already over half completed. Initially, he’d been skeptical of his role for the project- he suspected Perceptor and Wheeljack had ulterior motives- but one look at their hamfisted code explained it all.
Starscream kept his distance. Skyfire knew that was for the best. He did all he could to ignore the feelings that had been stirred up during the duration of their project together and removing the looming, familiar presence of Starscream at his side helped. Throwing himself into the tedium of wiring advanced warp-drive technology and coding functional UI had helped as well. Listening to Perceptor and Wheeljack argue with Scapper and Hook was also a decent distraction, even if he admittedly lowered his audials for most of it.
He worked until well into the night before the pop-up request for recharge on his HUD stopped being dismissable. Waving goodnight to Wheeljack, he headed toward his accommodations. He opened the garage door of his hangar slowly, pausing when he saw a small note written on paper left for him on his desk. Thinking it was Chip, or maybe Carly, he smiled as he scooped it up. Then, he frowned.
Mid-night cycle, top of the ridge shaped like Goldenrod’s helmet. Meet me there or else. I hate these blasted organics and their primitive, fragile writing tools, but this was the only way to guarantee Soundwave wouldn’t interfere. Come alone.
Skyfire frowned deeper. Following the instructions on the note was a recipe for disaster, but Skyfire’s curiosity was an unbridled force. Before he knew it, he’d stepped outside, aimed skyward, engaged his thrusters and transformed midair.
The ridge wasn’t far off from his edge of the Autobot base. He landed shortly after it had entered his sights, opting to move as quietly as his bulky frame could allow, which wasn’t much. It probably didn’t matter either way. He knew that handwriting like the back of his servo. Whatever Starscream wanted with him, he was sure to find out regardless of his approach.
As expected, he found the Seeker perched on the cliff’s edge that faced the glittering base in the distance. It was a buzzing line of lights dotted across an even bigger sprawl than usual, thanks to the new chunk of Decepticons that had taken up residence there. Skyfire didn’t know much about the particulars, but a significant chunk of the metal they were using for the space bridge had been recycled off of the Nemesis’ hull. Most Autobots had detested their new neighbors, but as complex compromises brought their factions together, they had little choice.
“Look at us.” Starscream stated, not turning around. His wings flicked with annoyance. “All of us down there, pretending the situation we’re in isn’t a complete farce. Acting like none of it ever mattered. Like fools.”
Skyfire approached slowly and sat down beside him, distance wide enough to dodge a claw-swipe or an engaged nullray if need be.
“Did you think it would ever get to this point?” Skyfire asked a moment later, pointedly fixing his gaze on the distant base. Starscream released a deep vent.
“Of course not. The goal was always to win. Autobot ideology needed to be destroyed and a new order was supposed to replace it.” He said sharply, the words rehearsed and stale in his intake. “To see us now, all these stellarcycles on, weak and fragile and pathetic- what was the point of it all?”
That was the million shanix question, he supposed. “You know how I feel about that.”
“Yes, yes, I already know that you think it’s all pointless.” Starscream laughed bitterly, pulling his legs up closer to his cockpit. “You always struggled to see the bigger picture, even back when we were mere students. You never cared when professors sneered at you, or threw your proposals away, or disregarded your intellect. You thought yourself above it all, but I refuse to be treated so poorly. A society built like that- with us at the bottom and them on the top- deserved to burn.”
His spark stung and his lines went cold. To hear him speak of those times so casually, with a biting protectiveness he thought had long dissolved, almost physically hurt.
“I did care. I always cared. It just never mattered as much as working with you did.” Skyfire confessed, shuttering his optics in shame. “I believed that with you there, we could do anything. It didn’t matter how stupid our society was. I knew we’d be fine as long as I had your brilliance with me.” It was worse knowing that on some level, he’d been right.
Starscream shuttered, plating rattling with the force. “If I was so important to you, then why did you leave me?”
“You know that already too.” Skyfire replied, bracing for the resulting frenzy of screaming and threats that this old argument always brought. A klik passed, and then another. He finally opened his optics and tilted his helm slightly toward the Seeker, just enough to catch him in his periphery.
He was still looking out toward the base, face screwed up with a complex emotion. It looked somewhere between angry, sad, and tired.
“I want,” Starscream stopped, teeth gritting. “I want to work with you again.”
Skyfire opened his intake to reply, only to be cut off.
“I want your brilliance. With me.” He choked out, helm turned away. “This war is tiresome and our broken society will need mechs with half-decent processors making decisions. Megatron is an idiot and Prime is no better. With our work so unquestionably vital, I know that we’re the ones who must make headway with progress. I need...” You.
“You have me as long as you promise to uphold your own standards.” Skyfire replied, soft and tense. “My terms remain as they always have. I won’t compromise them. I won’t be dragged into another war.”
Starscream’s wings flicked and he balled his servos up tightly before loosening them in a big release of tension. “Fine.”
Skyfire was momentarily met with a strange numbness in his chest that he recognized as shock. The promise was a delicate, fragile thing, and the longer it sat between them in the chilled night air, the more he allowed himself to believe in it. Cautious, uncertain hope filled his exhausted spark.
He knew it wasn’t that simple. Starscream was a generous liar, a vain cheat, and a vicious killer. His promise could very well be another self-serving lie, as many mechs would no-doubt tell him it was. Trusting him was advisable as mixing destronium with magnesium. He knew that all. He’d seen first hand the comical way that this version of Starscream turned on his closest friends.
Even then, his traitorous spark held strong to the memory of what was. The soft look in his face plating when he was fascinated, the real joy he expressed in discovery, the intense focus he held for the pursuit of progress; Skyfire could hardly look away. It was foolish and he knew it. That knowledge did nothing to stifle his overwhelming desire to work with him again. It overrode all logic and reason. It always did.
They sat there, side by side, for a few joors longer.