Starscream: Rise of the Air Commander

Starscream stepped forward. Megatron looked up immediately. “Report.” Starscream did not soften it. “Vos is down.” Shockwave’s single yellow optic lifted slightly. Megatron said nothing. “Engine Three was hit first,” Starscream continued. “We were still assessing the damage when Engine Five detonated. The saboteur then entered Engine Six and destroyed it from inside.” He paused, keeping his voice level through sheer discipline. “That collapse removed too much lift. Vos could not stay aloft.” “Sequenced sabotage,” Shockwave said evenly. Starscream nodded once. “Yes. One of the saboteurs was captured after the crash.” Megatron’s red optics hardened. “Source.” “Sentinel Prime,” Starscream answered without hesitation. “He promised the mech’s family elevation to elite caste.” Shockwave’s optic narrowed a fraction. Soundwave remained still at the communications array, red visor fixed on the flow of information moving through the system. Nothing in his posture changed, but the nearest console shifted as new data began sorting itself into place. Starscream finished the report. “Ninety-five percent evacuation success before impact.” Megatron gave a slow nod. “That is… acceptable.” From Megatron, Starscream knew, that was as close to commendation as the moment would allow. The number mattered. The saved mattered. The city had fallen, but most of its people had lived. Skywarp pushed off the wall. “You should have seen the sky afterward.” Starscream glanced toward him. Megatron turned slightly. “Explain.” Skywarp shrugged, but there was no humor in it. “All the Seekers started showing up.” Thundercracker nodded once. “Thousands.” “More than that,” Skywarp said. He tilted his head toward Starscream. “They chose him.” Starscream said nothing. Soundwave’s head turned slightly as new information flowed across his consoles. Then he spoke. “Update.” The chamber quieted. “Seeker arrivals continuing.” A moment passed while he processed the numbers. “Two hundred thousand currently registered under Starscream’s command.” Another line of data appeared across the display. “Additional wings en route.” Shockwave looked toward Starscream. Megatron’s expression shifted, not surprise, but recognition. Starscream met his gaze calmly. “They watched Vos fall.” He said it plainly. “And they know who stayed with it.” The tactical displays in the command room updated again as more Seeker signals appeared across Cybertron. Soundwave finished simply, “Numbers increasing.” Inside, the loss sat heavy in Starscream’s spark. Vos was down. The city that had ruled the skies for ages—his city—now lay broken across the surface of Cybertron. Every calculation he had made, every adjustment to the engines, every second he had stolen for evacuation replayed in his processor whether he wanted it to or not. He had held it as long as he could. Ninety-five percent had escaped. But Vos no longer ruled the sky. None of that showed on his face. From the outside, Starscream looked exactly as he always did in the command chamber: composed, controlled, speaking in measured tones while the tactical displays shifted around the room. No hesitation. No grief. No weakness. But inside, the silence left by Vos’s fall had not gone away. He felt it every time he pictures the towers lying broken across the plains. He simply refused to let anyone see it. The war room in Kaon had grown busier with every passing cycle. Projection tables filled the center of the chamber, their light casting shifting maps of Cybertron across the surrounding walls. Supply routes, troop movements, aerial patrol corridors—all of it moved in constant motion across the displays as Soundwave’s network fed the command staff a steady stream of information. Megatron stood at the head of the main table. Shockwave occupied one side of the room, reviewing industrial output projections tied to the territories already under Decepticon control. Soundwave remained near the communications consoles, his cassettes moving between stations as they carried data from one system to another. Starscream stepped forward beside the projection table. The terrain map shifted. Praxis. The city’s industrial sectors glowed across the display, positioned along the eastern approaches to Polyhex. Supply corridors and transit rails connected the two cities like arteries. Shockwave spoke first. “Praxis remains a significant production center.” His optic moved across the map. “If secured, it would stabilize the Polyhex sector.” Megatron nodded once. “Then we take it.” The display shifted again as Soundwave highlighted Sentinel’s defensive lines around the city. Starscream studied them carefully. Praxis sat in a basin of heavy industry: refineries, smelting towers, processing plants. The ground approaches were narrow, and the surrounding terrain created natural corridors where defenders could concentrate fire. Not ideal for a frontal assault. “Ground forces advance from Polyhex,” Megatron said, gesturing toward the industrial corridors feeding into the city. “Once the perimeter collapses, we secure the central production sectors.” Shockwave adjusted the projection. “Autobot resistance expected to be moderate.” Starscream finally spoke. “The aerial lanes are restricted.” Megatron looked toward him. Starscream pointed to the industrial towers surrounding the city. “Those structures limit maneuverability. Large wing formations will struggle to operate inside the basin.” Shockwave considered that. “Noted.” “Then the wings remain above the city,” Megatron said. Starscream watched the projection for another moment. Praxis was not Vos. It was not built for flight. It was built for production. Which meant whoever controlled it controlled supply. Megatron looked around the room. “We strike within the next cycle.” The room fell quiet as the command staff absorbed the plan. Starscream continued studying the map. Praxis would be a hard fight, but the real question was not whether they could take it. It was whether Sentinel would try to stop them. Even as the war table shifted toward Praxis, Starscream’s thoughts were already moving ahead of the conversation. Two hundred thousand Seekers did not organize themselves. Trines had to be verified. Wings had to be rebuilt. Patrol corridors had to be mapped across half the planet. New arrivals had to be sorted into units that could actually fight together instead of colliding with each other in the sky. Every flight record had to be checked. Every wing needed a commander. Every one of them was looking to him for direction. Starscream handled it the same way he handled everything else. Methodically. One decision at a time. The tactical projections shifted again as Shockwave adjusted the ground approach routes toward Praxis. Megatron continued outlining the assault, but Starscream’s processor was already tracking aerial patrol rotations over Kaon and Polyhex. Movement approached his side of the table. Soundwave. He extended a data slate toward Starscream. Starscream took it without looking up from the Praxis projection. “Seeker reports?” “Mixed.” Starscream finally glanced at the display. Incoming flight records. Wing assignments. Registration signals from newly arriving Seekers reporting to Kaon’s command network. Good. That was something he could actually use. Starscream returned the slate after a quick scan. “If it concerns the Seekers, bring it to me.” His optics returned to the battlefield projection. “If it does not, handle it.” Soundwave did not object. “Understood.” The war room had mostly emptied by the time Starscream returned to the main table. The tactical projections still hovered over the central surface, Praxis glowing in pale light while troop movements updated across the surrounding sectors. Kaon’s command staff had dispersed to their assignments, leaving only the core command structure to continue working through the coming operation. Megatron remained at the table. Shockwave had stepped away to review production reports tied to Polyhex’s factories. Soundwave stood near the communications array, monitoring the constant stream of incoming data. Starscream approached the table again. Megatron looked up. “You have something further.” Starscream did not waste time. “The aerial rotations for the Praxis operation.” He gestured to the projection. “Once the ground assault begins, Sentinel will attempt to force a corridor through the industrial basin.” Shockwave glanced toward the map. “Logical.” Starscream pointed to a narrow transit corridor running between refinery towers. “The Seekers will not maneuver well here. The structures are too dense.” Megatron said nothing yet. Starscream continued, “That corridor is where Sentinel will push.” He shifted the projection slightly. “Which is why Devastator should hold it.” Shockwave’s optic brightened faintly. “Effective.” “If Sentinel commits ground forces through this corridor, Devastator blocks the advance while the wings control the sky above the basin.” Starscream finished simply, “The Seekers do not need to be in that space.” Megatron studied the projection. Then he shook his head. "No.” Starscream looked up. Megatron moved the projection with one hand, shifting the position of Devastator toward the main assault route. “Devastator leads the advance.” Shockwave did not react. Starscream spoke evenly. “That places him in the open approaches.” Megatron met his gaze. “Exactly.” His hand closed slightly over the projection of the massive gestalt. “Sentinel will see him.” Starscream understood the implication immediately. Megatron continued, “He will respond to him.” “A focal point,” Shockwave said calmly. Megatron nodded. “The battle will center there.” Starscream considered the map again. Devastator at the front meant the entire Autobot defense would orient toward him. It meant Sentinel would not merely respond to the battle; he would be drawn to the symbol of Decepticon force he could not ignore. It was not the move Starscream would have made. But it was not illogical. It was Megatron. Starscream finally inclined his head slightly. “Understood.” He did not argue further. The point had been made, answered, and absorbed. Command did not require every disagreement to become a contest, not when the decision was clear and the battlefield could be adjusted around it. Megatron looked back to the map. “Coordinate the wings accordingly.” Starscream turned from the table. In his mind, the battlefield was already moving.