Starscream: Rise of the Air Commander

The wind swept across the landing platform, carrying the distant roar of aerial traffic through the towers of Vos. Starscream stood alone on the platform, wings angled high behind him in the sharp triangular shape common to the aerial caste of Vos. The pointed nose of his tetrahedral flight frame rested between those wings along his back, its white and red armor scorched dark along one edge where atmospheric friction had nearly burned through the plating. A thin line of energon crept from a fracture across his shoulder and fell slowly to the metal beneath his feet. The damage made the normally clean lines of the Seeker frame look uneven. One wing stabilizer sat slightly lower than the other, forced out of alignment during the violent atmospheric turbulence he had fought through on the return flight. Internal gyros compensated constantly to keep his balance steady, quietly burning through the last of his remaining energon reserves. There should have been another frame standing beside him. Skyfire’s platform remained empty. Vos was not built like most Cybertronian cities. It rose upward rather than outward, a forest of razor-edged towers and elevated platforms designed for those who lived as much in the air as on the ground. The city belonged to the aerial caste—Seekers, pilots, explorers, atmospheric researchers, and military fliers. Launch rails stretched between towers like metallic bridges, while landing platforms protruded from the structures at different heights, allowing flight frames to move through the city in organized layers. For those built to fly, Vos was efficient. For those who could not, it was nearly impossible to navigate. Yet even those towers did not truly belong to the surface of Cybertron. Vos did not stand upon the planet like the industrial cities of Kaon or the fortified strongholds of Tarn. Massive anti-gravitic engines buried deep within its structure kept the entire city suspended high above the metallic plains below. The lower atmosphere belonged to Vos, its platforms drifting within controlled altitude bands while stabilizers constantly adjusted against planetary winds. From a distance, the city resembled a cluster of metallic spears hanging in the sky. For the aerial caste, it was ideal. No mountains, no terrain, no ground traffic to obstruct flight. Seekers could launch directly into open sky the moment they transformed. To Starscream, it had always felt natural. To anyone bound to the ground, Vos could feel like a city that had abandoned the planet entirely. Starscream had grown up among these towers, learning the strict aerial traffic patterns and launch protocols long before he ever left Cybertron’s orbit. To the Senate, Vos represented advancement—research, exploration, the outward reach of Cybertronian science. To Starscream, it was simply home. The maintenance drone continued its inspection of his damaged frame, small scanning beams sliding over scorched plating and strained seams. One of the scans passed over him as well, briefly highlighting the condition of his root mode before dismissing the readings as secondary to the mission equipment. His armor told the story plainly enough. Scorching ran along the edges of his wings where atmospheric friction had burned through the outer plating. One stabilizer sat slightly out of alignment, forcing the internal gyros to compensate every time he shifted his weight. A thin fracture line ran across the armor of his shoulder where violent turbulence had slammed stress through his frame during the return. A thin line of dark energon slowly formed along that fracture, gathering at the seam of the plating before sliding down his arm and dripping quietly onto the platform beneath him. More concerning were the internal warnings still flickering quietly in the corner of his systems. Energon reserves: critically low. He had pushed himself too hard on the return flight. Most of his reserves had been diverted into propulsion and atmospheric shielding. The long ascent from the alien planet’s chaotic atmosphere had drained more power than any controlled departure should have required. Stabilizers, thermal shielding, and navigation corrections had all drawn from the same shrinking supply. What remained now was barely enough to keep his systems comfortably active. He could still walk. But not quickly. Of course. Inspect the data. Inspect the equipment. The mech who nearly burned through his own frame bringing it home was irrelevant. The drone paused briefly over the empty platform space beside Starscream’s landing position, the place Skyfire should have occupied. There should be two of us standing here. Then the drone simply moved on. Starscream’s gaze followed it before drifting upward again. The sky above Vos was crowded with traffic lanes, dozens of aerial frames and vehicles moving in precise formations between the city’s towering spires. Couriers. Patrol craft. Research transports. Military flights returning from routine exercises. Everything moved with the effortless certainty of a system that had been running for millennia. Perfect order. Perfect indifference. As if nothing had happened. As if one missing explorer meant nothing at all. His hands closed slowly at his sides, the motion slower than it should have been. The power draw from even that small movement sent another quiet warning through his internal systems. He ignored it. Skyfire had believed the expedition would change everything for them. New discoveries. New energy phenomena. New worlds beyond Cybertron’s reach. The kind of discoveries that would place their names in the central archives for ages. Instead, Skyfire had vanished into a storm on an alien world known only to Starscream’s processor by coordinates and sensor fragments, and Starscream had returned alone with damaged systems and a stack of data that no one seemed particularly interested in hearing about beyond its measurable value. Cycles of preparation. Years of work. For a line in a report. He exhaled slowly through his vents. The action produced a faint sputter in one of the cooling ducts where ice from the storm had once formed and then melted during the long return journey. A failure. That was how the Senate would record it. Starscream turned away from the drone and began walking toward the transport corridor that led into the city. Each step echoed against the metal platform. The movement made the damage in his frame painfully obvious. The fractured plating along his wing root shifted slightly with each step, and the strained actuators in his leg assemblies compensated unevenly as they tried to maintain proper balance. For a moment, the platform beneath him seemed farther away than it should have been. His internal systems recalibrated quickly, adjusting his balance as the low energon reserves forced slower response times from several subsystems. Repairs would take time. Time no one had bothered to offer. They wanted the data. That was all. Not the storm. Not the loss. Not Starscream, who had nearly torn himself apart bringing their precious information home. Starscream stopped near the edge of the platform and looked once more toward the distant sky. For a moment, the memory returned. White clouds tearing apart under violent winds. Ice flashing across sensors. Skyfire’s signal flaring bright through the storm. Then vanishing completely. Starscream had searched until the storm began tearing pieces from his own frame. He had pushed his engines past safe limits. He had scanned every square kilometer of frozen terrain his sensors could penetrate. But eventually, the storm had won. And his own fuel reserves had decided what pride could not. Return. Not because the search was complete. Not because Skyfire was confirmed gone. Because Starscream had been too damaged and too low on fuel to continue. He lowered his gaze. If Skyfire still existed somewhere beneath that endless ice, Cybertron had already decided it was not worth the effort to find him. Starscream stood in silence for a moment longer. The quiet hum of his internal systems dipped again as his energon reserves continued their slow decline. Another drop of energon struck the metal beneath him. The maintenance drone rolled slightly closer, sensors focusing briefly on the fracture in his shoulder. “Warning,” the drone stated in a flat tone. “Energon leakage detected. Maintenance is recommended.” Starscream did not respond. Then something in his posture changed. The grief was still there. But it hardened. If the expedition had failed to make his name known, then he would find another way. Cybertron rewarded achievement. Discovery. Power. Recognition. Very well. He would give it something it could not ignore. Starscream turned fully toward the towers of Vos and began walking again, his pace steady despite the damage to his frame and the quiet warnings from his energon reserves. The Senate might not remember the explorer who returned from the edge of mapped space. They would remember Starscream. One way or another. “Starscream?” The voice came from across the platform. Starscream slowed and turned. Thundercracker was approaching from the corridor leading into the city, blue armor catching the pale light of Vos as he crossed the platform quickly. The drone shifted its sensor toward the newcomer. “Additional presence detected,” it stated. “Subject Starscream remains distracted despite maintenance advisory.” Thundercracker stopped a short distance away, optics scanning the obvious damage along Starscream’s frame and the dark energon that had begun to stain the platform beneath him. “By the Primes,” Thundercracker muttered. “What happened to you?” Starscream straightened slightly despite the strain running through his damaged systems. “The expedition,” he said simply. Thundercracker’s gaze flicked briefly toward the empty space on the platform beside Starscream. Then back to him. “…Skyfire?” Starscream did not answer immediately. The wind moved through the towers again, carrying the distant roar of aerial traffic above them. Finally, he spoke. “Lost.” The word hung between them. Behind them, the maintenance drone spoke again without emotion. “Energon leakage continues. Immediate repair is recommended.” Thundercracker looked at the drone, then back at Starscream. “You should listen to it for once,” he said quietly. Starscream’s wings shifted slightly as he straightened. “I am functional.” Thundercracker studied him for a moment. Then he gave a faint, familiar half-smirk. “Barely.”