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The atmosphere in the Autobot base was unbearable, an invisible weight pressing down on everyone. They sat in silence together as Ratchet watched the holoscreens intently, waiting for some sign of movement from the Decepticons. There was no doubt in any of their minds that Starscream had gone right back to Megatron with his prize—it was what he always did.
One of the monitors pinged, and all of them twitched in unison at the sharp sound.
"It's a high-frequency transmission," Ratchet said, and his murderous tone told everyone who it was from, "with an embedded message."
Optimus quickly crossed the room, laying a hand on the medic's shoulder to settle him. On the screen were two words and a set of coordinates.
Let's talk.
"Well," Optimus said. "It seems we have little choice."
"We could just kill him," Arcee muttered from near Optimus' elbow.
"I doubt it'll be that easy," Smokescreen said, still sitting beside Bumblebee.
Bumblebee chimed his agreement. ::With him, it never is.::
The coordinates took them to the middle of a vast desert, the sun high and scorching above them. Starscream was waiting for them, leaning casually against a large, sandy rock. Two of the keys were in his hand, and he tapped them idly against his thigh, his optics narrowed and calculating as he watched three of the Autobots step out of the groundbridge. No doubt he was trying to interpret Optimus' choice of company (Bulkhead and Smokescreen), but Optimus had deliberately avoided putting too much thought into the formation of his current squad. Starscream was always looking for an angle, or looking for the angle that others were going for.
But besides not wanting Arcee to get too close to Starscream at this exact point in time, Optimus had no angle. He only had a single goal, and it was an incredibly straightforward one.
"Starscream," Optimus said.
The Seeker smirked, wiggling his claws in a returned greeting. "Looking for these?" he asked, waving the keys.
"You seem to be two short," Optimus replied.
Starscream scoffed. "Please," he said. "This is a negotiation. I'm not going to put all my cards on the table just yet."
"Very well," Optimus said, holding out a hand to still Bulkhead when the Wrecker shifted impatiently. "What is it you want?"
Surprisingly, Starscream fell silent. Just when it seemed like he wasn't going to respond at all, he said, "You're far from the first person to ask me that. In fact, I'm sure that's a question you've had for me several times. I've never answered it honestly." He contemplated the keys, turning them this way and that. They were too dull to reflect the sunlight, but he seemed entranced by them nonetheless. "I want my T-cog replaced."
"We don't have the resources to acquire-" Optimus began.
"I have one," Starscream said, making a dismissive gesture. "That dead clone had more use than just being a decoy. But I can't exactly perform a complex, invasive surgery on myself. Once I've recovered, I'll tell you where the other two are."
Optimus rubbed his chin. "And then what?"
The way Starscream leaned against the rock was suddenly too casual, like he'd gone on high alert but didn't want to let on. "Whatever do you mean?" he asked, sickly syrupy.
Both Bulkhead and Smokescreen tensed. They'd noticed, too.
"One Omega Key would have been enough to secure such a trade," Optimus said. "A key which you already had in your possession, and a trade you already have asked for. Now you have all four, and you have no extra requests at all?"
Starscream chewed the inside of his cheek, and that calculating look returned. After a moment, his optics shifted away. "You, ah… you once agreed to allow me a place among you."
Bulkhead let out a sharp bark of laughter. "You think we'll let you be an Autobot?"
"I don't want to be an Autobot!" Starscream snapped back, his wings bristling as he stepped away from the rock. "But I can be a valuable ally!"
"After everything you've done, you'd have an easier time convincing Megatron to take you back," Bulkhead growled.
"Hold on," Optimus murmured to Bulkhead before returning his attention to Starscream. The Seeker was practically vibrating with tension, halfway between anger and fear, seeming ready to bolt at the first sign of a fight. And if Starscream slipped away, as he was so prone to doing, the restoration of Cybertron would get a lot more complicated. "I must admit, we were surprised to receive a transmission from you. We assumed there would be no better way for you to get back into Megatron's good graces."
Starscream's lip curled, but some of the nervous energy buzzing around him drained away. "You're right," he said. "There would be no better way."
"What're you doing, boss?" Smokescreen hissed out of the corner of his mouth.
Optimus ignored him. "Given that fact, as well as our tumultuous history, you can understand why we're skeptical of you now."
"Yes. Well." Starscream fidgeted with the keys. While he didn't look poised to run anymore, his posture was stiff. "I considered it. But I daresay dear old Megatron has had about enough of my antics. Keys to Cybertron or not, if I return to him, I'll be killed. At best."
"At best?" Smokescreen couldn't help asking, morbid curiosity clearly getting the better of him.
"Oh, I'm sure he could come up with some horrible tactic to ensure my continued loyalty," Starscream said airily, with an absent wave of a hand. His tone soured. "He's creative like that." He glowered into the middle distance for a moment before turning his simmering gaze on the Autobots. "But I'm done. I've grown too used to roaming free to be put back on a leash."
This was troubling. Even if Starscream did hand over all four Omega Keys without a single trick, Optimus would want to keep a close watch on him. No doubt, Starscream would view Optimus' restrictions as yet another leash. Additionally, once Starscream relinquished the remaining two keys, he would be out of bartering chips—and at the mercy of those he certainly still considered to be foes. Optimus had met Starscream on the battlefield countless times, and he knew from experience that the Seeker was at his most dangerous (and, not coincidentally, most unpredictable) when he felt cornered.
"Starscream," Optimus said carefully. "You do know that if you ally yourself with us, we will need to take precautions. Ones that may feel restrictive to you."
Starscream tensed again, one heel shifting back over the dusty ground. "I won't be a prisoner," he said, voice low in warning.
"No," Optimus replied. "We won't make you a prisoner. But you will have to make concessions until you've proven that we can fully trust you."
Immediately, Optimus realized his mistake in being too vague when Starscream tightened his claws in preparation, baring his teeth. "I think you forget who has the Omega Keys right now," he snarled. "I could still go to Megatron. Maybe he'll take me back, after all."
"You just finished telling us why you didn't want to do that," Smokescreen blurted.
Starscream lifted his chin. "Maybe I'm spiteful enough to risk it."
Optimus resisted the urge to drag his hand down his face. Starscream ran on spite first and energon second—there was real weight behind that threat. "There will be concessions on both of our parts," he said, once he was sure the frustration wouldn't show in his tone. "Together, we can make this a mutually beneficial arrangement."
"Right, working peacefully with each other towards a brighter future," Starscream sneered, oozing disdain. "The usual rhetoric won't work on me, Prime."
Of course. Starscream was still trying to figure out Optimus' angle, trying to stay three steps ahead. What an exhausting way to live. Optimus wondered if, after all this time, Starscream was finally just… tired.
But that was probably too much to hope for.
Optimus glanced at Bulkhead and Smokescreen. "I want you two to head back to base," he said. "I can handle it from here."
They both protested, but Optimus gave them a stern, silent look. Grudgingly, Bulkhead called for the groundbridge and trudged through, Smokescreen trailing after him with one last dubious glance at Starscream.
Starscream watched them go with quiet suspicion. The groundbridge closed, and for a few moments, the only sound was the occasional breeze rustling the scattered sage bushes.
Finally, Optimus sighed and sat down, folding his legs in a way the kids called 'crisscross applesauce.'
"What are you doing?" Starscream snapped.
"Sitting," Optimus replied. "It's quite relaxing. You should try it some time."
"I've sat before."
Optimus allowed a small smile to quirk his lips. "I meant relaxing."
Starscream made a derisive sound, crossing his arms and hunching his shoulders. "What now?" he asked, when Optimus didn't do anything else.
"That's up to you, I suppose," Optimus replied. "You hold Cybertron's fate in your grasp. I might be able to take those two keys from you, if I can catch you, but I doubt I'd be able to find the other two without your assistance. There could be a way to extract that information from you, but I have no wish to treat you cruelly. It's best for everyone if we willingly cooperate with each other."
Starscream didn't respond, drumming his claws on his upper arm. Optimus could practically hear the gears whirring in his processor.
"Say we replace your T-cog in exchange for the remaining keys," Optimus said. "What do you plan to do next?"
"What would you let me do?" Starscream asked. His wings twitched.
"Anything you want, within reason," Optimus replied.
Starscream narrowed his optics. "I don't believe you."
Optimus folded his hands in his lap. "Alright," he said. "How about this. Once all four keys are in the possession of the Autobots, you're free to go. Wherever you like, to do whatever you like. You will have no further obligation to us." When Starscream still looked doubtful, Optimus added, "Our priority is the Omega Keys, and, by extension, the restoration of Cybertron. How large a part you play in that is up to you. All you have to do is give us the tools we need, and you can continue to live independently. Unless you cross our paths as an enemy once more, we will leave you be. Does that seem reasonable?"
"A little too reasonable," Starscream said. His whole body was wound taut, like a rubber band about to snap. "What's the catch?"
"No catch," Optimus replied. "Only, I don't think that's what you're after." He let his voice soften from its usually commanding timbre. "Be honest, Starscream. What do you want?"
Starscream's jaw clenched. The tightness in his frame didn't fade, but he slowly sat, mirroring Optimus' posture. "Only if you're honest first," he said. "Once you have what you want, what will you do with me?"
"I told you," Optimus said. "You will be free to go. Or you can stay. I think you have a lot to offer, and your talents will not go unappreciated. It will be difficult in the beginning—you have personally wronged quite a few of us. But we have wronged you in the past as well. This war has been long and gruesome, and we all have energon on our hands. The only way we can ever hope to truly repair our planet, let alone our people, is to learn to live together."
Starscream let out a soft, humorless laugh. "You really do believe in all that peace-and-love slag."
An automatic of course was on the tip of Optimus' tongue, but… this was Starscream. He didn't hold the same values or perspective as an Autobot, and he probably never would. So he'd understand what Optimus meant when he said, "I have to." And then, again, the words feeling sharp in his throat, "I have to."
Any of the Autobots, with the possible exception of Ratchet, would have interpreted these as the words of Optimus Prime, shouldering the weight of the war. But even with the Matrix, his base coding was still that of Orion Pax, and Orion needed something to hold onto.
And Starscream knew self-interest when he saw it.
The corner of Starscream's mouth twisted up in a bitter smile. "You're still noble even when you're being selfish. How revolting."
"Starscream," Optimus said, not bothering to hide the weariness in his voice. "I answered your question."
"Right, right," Starscream sighed. He traced one claw over the patterns in the keys. "I want to kill Megatron. And I think you lot are the best way to make that happen." There was ice in his tone that Optimus had never heard before. It was common knowledge that Starscream was far from Megatron's number one fan, but this bottomless chasm of hate… it was something else. Something that made Optimus feel cold in spite of the desert sun.
Starscream stood, like a butterfly knife unfolding, and closed the ground between them with stalking, deliberate steps. "You won't kill him, because you think Megatronus is still in there somewhere," he said, stopping barely a yard from where Optimus was sitting. "But I know better. I watched Megatronus crumble away. There's nothing of him left."
Optimus tilted his head back. It was strange to see Starscream from this angle, all his sharp edges cutting into the blue sky above. "I have to believe he has a chance," he said.
"Please, feel free to," Starscream replied, purring and sweet. "Give him every opportunity. Let the war drag on and on because you can't bring yourself to pull the plug on a dead friend." He displayed his claws inches from Optimus' face, a promise and a threat. His next words were barbed and poison-tipped. "Just don't get in my way when the time comes."
Optimus closed his optics and vented deeply. "I can't condone that," he said. "But…" He heaved himself onto his feet. "I can't stop you, either."
"Oh, I'm sure you could figure out something," Starscream said, taking a wary step back.
Optimus considered Starscream—the way he'd put distance between them now that Optimus had the height advantage once more, the way his wings lowered obsequiously, the way he always had one foot towards the exit. Did he even realize he was doing it? Or was it so deeply ingrained in his processor by now that it came automatically?
"I can't stop you," Optimus repeated. "Not in good conscience."
Starscream gave him a long, hard look. "Then, I suppose," he said eventually, holding out the keys, "that we've come to an understanding."
"Yes," Optimus said. "I believe we have."
He reached for the keys, but Starscream yanked them back at the last second. "One thing," Starscream said.
Optimus kept his hand outstretched. "Just one?"
"Ha, ha." Starscream's wings lifted, and he squared his shoulders—the very picture of stubborn defiance. "Don't expect me to be a good guy. I'll help you, but only for my own gain. Once Megatron's dead, I'm gone."
"I can work with that," Optimus replied.
Starscream's optics flicked up and down with suspicion, but he slapped the keys into Optimus' waiting palm. "Let's get this over with," he muttered.
"That's the spirit," Optimus said, and called for a groundbridge back to base.
In his spark, Optimus knew there was still something Starscream wasn't telling him. Whether through outright lies or cunning omissions, Starscream avoided sharing the whole truth like a scraplet hive. It was very possible Optimus was essentially bringing a live grenade into the heart of the Autobot operations by allowing Starscream entrance.
And yet… Optimus kept thinking about the way Starscream declared his intention to kill Megatron. There had been honesty in that hatred, and something both deeply personal and utterly implacable. Optimus was sure that whatever duplicity Starscream had planned, it would come after Megatron's ultimate fate. For now, they could—if not trust him—at least count on him to be corkscrewing in the same general direction as the Autobot cause.
It wouldn't be easy, any of it. He needed to convince the rest of the Autobots to tolerate Starscream's presence, and Starscream, a contrarian to the core, would make sure Optimus had his work cut out for him.
It would be worth it, though. With the Omega Keys, the end of the war might just finally be in sight, and Optimus had to believe—Orion had to believe that there was a way out.
For all of them.