“Take me to the prisoner.”
Skywarp nodded once and vanished.
Starscream followed a fraction of a second later as the teleport field snapped around them. They reappeared near the edge of the wreckage field where several Decepticon soldiers had begun organizing survivors and securing the crash site. The smell of burned metal and energon still hung heavy in the air, carried by the wind moving across the broken remains of Vos.
A small group stood waiting beside a twisted slab of plating.
One soldier held the prisoner with one arm twisted behind his back while another kept a weapon trained on him. Above them, Buzzsaw circled once before landing on a broken piece of plating nearby, his mechanical feet gripping the scorched metal.
Starscream noticed him immediately. “You caught him.”
Buzzsaw tilted his head slightly in confirmation.
Starscream stepped closer to the prisoner.
The mech looked terrified.
“You sabotaged the engines.”
The prisoner shook his head quickly. “I—I was told it would disable the city, not destroy it!”
Starscream’s red optics hardened. “By whom?”
The mech hesitated.
Skywarp’s expression darkened. “Answer him.”
“Sentinel Prime,” the prisoner said, the name tumbling out in fear.
For a moment, the only sound was the distant crackle of fires burning through broken energon lines.
Skywarp folded his arms. “Well. That tracks.”
The prisoner kept talking, desperate now that silence had become worse than accusation. “He promised—” He swallowed hard. “He promised my family would be elevated. Elite caste. I was supposed to move them out of the lower districts.”
Starscream did not move.
Buzzsaw shifted slightly on the plating beside them.
A soldier nearby reported, voice tight but controlled. “Evacuation success estimated at ninety-five percent.”
Skywarp’s red optics flicked toward him. “That’s actually impressive.”
Starscream did not react.
He was still looking at the prisoner.
Sentinel had not attacked Vos in open battle. He had not met the Seekers in the air or struck the city with an army. He had used the same caste rot Megatron had named before the planet and driven it like a blade into the engines of the aerial city.
Elite caste.
The prisoner had traded Vos for a promise of status.
Starscream’s hands slowly clenched into fists.
Skywarp noticed first. “Oh…”
The air around Starscream seemed to go cold, not with any field or signal, but with the sudden sharpness of his posture. Every line of him locked down at once. His wings shifted outward, rigid and tense, and his optics burned bright with fury he was trying very hard to contain.
Thundercracker came down from the sky behind them, transforming as he landed beside Skywarp. “I found Dir—”
He stopped.
Starscream’s posture alone answered the question.
The prisoner tried to speak again. “He promised—”
Starscream moved.
It was fast enough that the soldier holding the prisoner flinched. Starscream stepped forward and seized the front of the prisoner’s armor, lifting him partially from the ground before stopping himself. The motion froze there, one terrible breath away from violence.
The prisoner panicked. “I didn’t know it would—”
“You didn’t know,” Starscream said.
The words were quiet.
That made them worse.
Thundercracker and Skywarp exchanged a quick glance. Neither of them had ever seen Starscream like this. Angry, yes. Sharp, yes. Arrogant, furious, combative, absolutely. But this was different. This was not temper. This was grief and fury compressed so tightly it had become dangerous.
The prisoner struggled in his grip. “He promised my family would rise!”
Starscream’s expression twisted. “That system,” he said, voice low now, “is exactly why Megatron is tearing this world apart.”
The prisoner went still.
Starscream held him there for one moment longer. His fingers tightened once, and for that moment it looked as if he might forget the soldiers, the wreckage, the war, everything except the mech in his hands and the city burning behind him.
Thundercracker spoke carefully. “Starscream.”
Starscream did not answer.
Skywarp’s own wings were tight, his expression stripped of humor. “He dropped Vos for caste rank,” he said, voice edged with disgust. “I’d say Sentinel made this personal, but it already was.”
Starscream slowly lowered the prisoner back to the ground.
The anger in his optics did not fade.
Not even slightly.
“You traded a city for status,” Starscream said.
The prisoner faltered.
Starscream leaned closer, his voice dropping lower.
“My city.”
The soldier tightened his hold on the prisoner, waiting.
Starscream stepped back with visible effort. “Take him to Kaon.”
The soldiers dragged the prisoner away toward the waiting transport. Buzzsaw lifted from the twisted plating and followed overhead, circling once before disappearing into the smoke drifting above the wreckage field.
No one spoke for a moment.
Thundercracker watched the transport leave.
Skywarp watched Starscream.
Starscream was already moving.
He ignited his thrusters and lifted slowly from the ground, rising above the wreckage of the fallen city. Neither Thundercracker nor Skywarp followed at first. They let him go.
Starscream climbed until the full shape of Vos came into view beneath him.
Or what remained of it.
The once-floating city now lay broken across the metallic plains of Cybertron. Sections of its towers had collapsed into each other. Entire districts had crumpled where the southern engines had torn free during the fall. Fires burned along structural seams where energon lines had ruptured during impact.
Starscream hovered above it.
Not speaking.
Not moving.
Just watching.
His city.
Vos had been more than a command post. More than a strategic position. It had been the home of the aerial caste for millennia, a city built to live in the sky.
He knew the truth of it in his spark.
He had done everything he could. Every engine adjustment. Every thrust correction. Every second stolen for evacuation.
Ninety-five percent.
He repeated the number in his mind.
Ninety-five percent had lived.
Starscream slowly circled the wreckage. He did not allow himself to linger on the damage too long, because the war had not stopped. Sentinel was still out there, and the mech responsible for this was already on his way to Kaon.
Starscream finally turned away from the ruins of Vos and climbed higher into the sky.
At first, he thought the radar contacts were evacuation craft still leaving the crash zone.
Then the scopes filled.
Signals.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Starscream slowed.
They were coming from every direction.
Seekers.
Thundercracker rose beside him. Skywarp flickered into place on the other side.
And ahead, the sky filled with wings.
Rows of tetrajets spread across the horizon, their formations stretching farther than Starscream’s scanners could count at first glance. Patrol wings from Vos. Escort wings that had helped evacuate civilians. Independent flights arriving from distant sectors, some still bearing emergency scorch marks from rescue work, others fresh from long-range flight.
And more were still coming.
Starscream hovered in silence as the nearest formations slowed and arranged themselves before him.
Not randomly.
In order.
As if reporting.
One wing dipped their noses.
Another followed.
Then another.
A silent acknowledgement passed through the formations.
Thundercracker stared. “That’s… a lot.”
Starscream’s scanners updated.
Numbers climbing.
Ten thousand.
Twenty.
More contacts appeared every moment as distant wings altered course and joined the mass gathering before him.
Skywarp gave a low whistle. “Word spreads fast.”
Starscream understood why.
Most of them were survivors first. Flyers from Vos who had seen the city fall, seen the evacuation lanes open, seen Starscream stay in the command tower until the last possible second. Others had come because they wanted to help, because Vos had been a symbol, because a flying city had fallen from the sky and every Seeker on Cybertron had felt the meaning of it even if they had not been there.
They knew who had fought to keep Vos in the sky when the Senate wanted it grounded.
They knew who had stayed when it began to fall.
He had not saved Vos.
But he had saved them.
And now they were here.
The Seeker formations stretched across the sky like a living storm.
Thundercracker watched the numbers continue climbing. “This isn’t a wing anymore.”
Starscream said nothing.
Because he already understood.
The Seekers were not just rallying.
They were choosing.
What had once been thousands was becoming tens of thousands, with more arriving every passing moment. Every one of them waited in the air before him, engines humming, formations holding, optics turned toward the mech who had fought for their city until the city itself could no longer be held.
Starscream hovered at the front of the massed formations, the sky around him filled with wings stretching in every direction.
Thundercracker was still watching the contact numbers climb across his display. “That’s still increasing.”
Skywarp tilted his head slightly as another flight joined the outer edge of the gathering. “They’re coming from everywhere.”
Starscream studied the sky in front of him.
Then he said quietly, “Just wait until Megatron hears about it.”
He pushed forward slightly, rising above the nearest formations so his signal would reach them all.
Thousands of optics turned toward him.
Starscream opened a wide command channel.
“Seekers.”
The word alone quieted the scattered comm chatter across the formations.
“You all saw what happened today.” His gaze moved across the endless wings before him. “You saw who fought to keep Vos in the sky when the Senate demanded it be grounded. You saw who stayed when it began to fall.”
No one spoke.
Starscream continued. “The war is no longer hidden. Cybertron is choosing its future now.”
He looked toward the wreckage below, then back to the sky.
“For now, find shelter. Stay with your trines. Help the wounded. Recover.” His voice hardened slightly. “We are going to need it.”
A ripple moved through the formations as the orders began spreading wing to wing.
Starscream let that settle before speaking again.
“When you are able, those who wish to serve will answer my call. Report to a current wing unit with your identification and flight records. You will be contacted.”
Thundercracker looked over. “You just recruited half the sky.”
Starscream’s red optics remained fixed on the vast assembly before him. “This is only the beginning.”
The ripple of acknowledgements spread farther through the air as wing leaders began relaying his orders down their formations. Flights broke apart in disciplined patterns, trines regrouping and larger wings turning toward the distant horizons of Kaon, Tarn, Polyhex, and safer ground where evacuees could rest. Even as they left, new arrivals still appeared at the edges of Starscream’s scanners.
Skywarp watched them go, unusually quiet. “They’ll come back.”
“Yes,” Starscream said.
There was no uncertainty in it.
Without another word, he angled downward and began to descend toward the surface. Thundercracker and Skywarp followed him as the sky above the fallen city slowly reorganized into purpose.