Work Text:
Jetfire hummed in contentment. His experiment on the densities of various grades of energon was going well. Now to move onto the next step, figuring out the maximum extractable energy from each grade. This data was crucial to the long-range missions being planned, and Jetfire relished the challenge.
His partner, Starscream, was working on his own experiments. His own knack was re-working energon, compressing it in such a way that more fuel was available from a lesser amount of space. Good for long-range missions, except…
"I can't get the density down!" snarled Starscream, flinging the beaker across the lab.
Jetfire merely raised his brow ridge, "And this surprises you…why?"
"Getting the size down doesn't matter as much as lightening the load!" Starscream replied.
"Are you sure of your hypothesis?"
"What do you mean?" Starscream looked puzzled.
"Look, you're a jet. Yes, you can work in the near reaches of space, as long as you have an atmosphere to work against, but I'm a shuttle. I'm built for space, and I can tell you, having more room to put more fuel matters to me far more than having a lighter load. Once I'm in space, the load doesn't matter, but how far I can go before I have to restock? That's what's important to me," Jetfire told him, "so I'm pretty sure that, if you re-read the specs, you'll find that trying to lower the density will lower the possible energy, and that will be unacceptable."
Starscream glared at him for a moment, then grabbed a datapad from his desk, flipping briskly through the document. Then he flung it back on the desk and crossed his arms.
Jetfire, with effort, maintained his placid face and said, "And they agree with me, perhaps?"
"Yes, they do," Starscream answered.
"So, while I think lowering the density is a worthwhile pursuit, it is, perhaps, not appropriate for this time?" Jetfire prompted gently.
Starscream uncrossed his arms and vented, "I suppose so."
Jetfire turned back to his experiments, and after a few long moments, Starscream returned to his work table, scribbling notes on his write-up and moving his equipment around. They settled back into their work, comfortable with each other. At the end of the orn, they settled their experiments and headed out to the local pub, where they met up with various other scientists and engineers. As was becoming the normal, the conversation soon turned to politics.
"…and this gladiator is going against the Council. He'd best be careful," one said.
Starscream spoke up, "Megatron. His name is Megatron, and he's asking good questions. Why is it so easy to attend the gladiatorial combats? We can have time off, the entry fee is small or sometimes, non-existent. Whenever something comes up the Council doesn't want us to question, a new, grand battle is announced, and mechs forget their questions and talk about the various gladiators instead. We're scientists. We're supposed to ask questions, and the whole lot of you are behaving as stupidly as the masses!"
"Starscream," murmured Jetfire, putting his hand on Starscream's arm.
Starscream shook it off, "You don't ask questions, either, Jetfire!"
Jetfire replied calmly, "I ask questions in the lab, where I know the parameters and how to create an experiment that answers my questions, be it in the negative or the positive. I have nothing to do with this…messy political stuff."
"This messy political stuff is what will keep us going," Starscream fired back, "If you don't ask questions, if you don't have input in the way our world is going, you won't have a job. You'll become one of the masses, a cog in the great wheel of grinding obscurity. The Council of Ancients is exactly that – clinging to a Golden Age that is long past, and refusing to change to meet the challenges of the future!"
With that, Starscream stormed out. Jetfire apologized for his partner and left soon after, sinking deep into though as he wound his way to his bunk. Starscream did have good points. As he thought about it, Jetfire realized he had to agree with many of the points Starscream had raised. The Council did seem to avoid any new programs that would change the lives of the majority of the population. Rationing had been in place for vorns, but nothing was getting better. Instead, more work was asked of the lower classes of mech, the miners, the dock workers, the laborers that kept their planet going. Jetfire felt shame. He was one of the elite, a mech considered necessary for society's functioning, so he had plenty of fuel every day. He worked in a large, clean lab, and every orn his trash was emptied, his lab dusted without disturbing his experiments, his needs taken care of without any input from him. It just happened, and Jetfire had long ago tuned out the workers that kept his life running so smoothly. He had access to medical care, the tools he needed, the supplies he needed. He had large stocks of energon sitting in his supply room, waiting for him and Starscream to run their experiments. How many mechs could be fed from just his stockpile? Could it be that many of the lower class mechs attended the gladiatorial contests simply because energon was provided to the spectators?
Jetfire gave up on recharge and headed back to his lab.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
When Starscream entered the lab, Jetfire was already deep into his work. Starscream sent him a puzzled look, but Jetfire ignored him. He was working on a new experiment, trying to see how to extract more fuel from the waste supplies of their planet. He'd justified it to their overseer by pointing out that pure energon stocks were not necessarily an expected resource on many of the planets long-range missions encountered, and being able to extract energon from other, lesser sources was actually a really good idea.
When Jetfire broke his fast, he took a stool and settled across from Starscream at his table. Starscream finished his titration and made a note, then looked at Jetfire.
"You're right," Jetfire admitted, "I've been blind."
Starscream didn't answer immediately.
"I have been fortunate, and I haven't considered how difficult it would be for someone who is not in the same position I am," Jetfire continued.
"Did you know that I was once a gladiator?" Starscream asked.
"No! No, how could you…?" Jetfire snapped his mouthplates shut.
Starscream smirked, "Yes, isn't it funny how one orn's worth of contemplation can be dismissed by inherent prejudices? Or did you think every gladiator was an idiot? I fought my way here, Jetfire, both literally and figuratively. I was partnered with you because you're the shining beacon of the Science Division, the one who can do no wrong, and it was hoped that your influence over me would save me from the infamy of my past."
"Starscream, I'm sorry," Jetfire said.
"Really. I'm sure you are, but if I raise such good points, is that lessened by the fact that I know so many of these gladiators asking these questions? Or is my knowledge of them a bonus? Which is it, Jetfire?"
"I don't know," Jetfire confessed.
Starscream told him, "Decide, and soon. You may not like what Megatron is saying, but the Council likes it even less and they will take steps to erase him."
With that, Starscream left the lab. Jetfire waited for him before returning to his work, but Starscream did not return that orn.
After that, things were prickly between them. Jetfire completed his new work and shared the information with Starscream, who acknowledged it but didn't comment. Jetfire went back to his extractable energy work, but without the same enthusiasm he'd had before. One orn, he went to the gladiatorial games and watched as mechs pounded on each other. He was bewildered by the violence in the arena and by the enthusiasm of the crowd. He left with more questions than answers.
Things had changed between him and Starscream, too. Where they had once had an easy work relationship, now it was filled with charged moments, bitten off questions, and prickly silences. Jetfire finally resolved to try and smooth things between them.
"Starscream?"
"Yes, Jetfire?"
"Can we talk?" Jetfire wrung his servos.
Starscream laughed, "Oh, nothing good ever comes of those words, but sure, we can talk."
Jetfire took his stool over to Starscream's table and sat down. "I just…I want to remain friends with you, Starscream, and I don't know how."
Starscream tossed his datapad toward his desk, and said simply, "Join us."
"Join us? Who's us?" Jetfire asked.
"I know you went to an arena, what did you learn?" Starscream responded.
"I…learned that it's brutal, and violent, and the crowd seems to really get into each fight."
"Why? Why does the crowd do that?" Starscream wanted to know.
"Because…" Jetfire trailed off and really thought about why. Starscream waited patiently.
"Because then they don't have to think about their lives, and the violence is a stand-in for the violence with which they'd like to dismantle their own lives," Jetfire concluded.
"Very good," Starscream replied, "and what is the solution?"
"The Council will want to keep the populace sated with artificial violence so there isn't actual violence," Jetfire promptly answered.
"Allow me to assure you, from experience, that the violence in the arena is very real," Starscream told him, "but yes, the Council doesn't want the violence to escape the arena and involve them in a manner that would be detrimental to their health and well-being."
"So, the 'us' you spoke of is, what? A group that wants to overthrow the Council?" Jetfire's voice dropped halfway through his sentence.
"Yes," Starscream answered simply.
Jetfire abruptly stood up, pacing the length of the lab several times before regaining his seat.
"I can't," he said.
"Can't? Or won't?" Starscream asked him.
"I don't know," Jetfire admitted.
Starscream leaned forward, and Jetfire leaned to meet him, "You need to decide, and soon. This situation is volatile, and Megatron is fast running out of patience for the Council's nonsense."
With that, Starscream left him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jetfire took the rest of the orn off and stumbled to his living quarters, his processor spinning with all the questions and thoughts. If he opposed Megatron, it was very clear he would also end up opposing Starscream, who was his friend and comrade. But if he joined Megatron, he would be betraying not only the oaths he'd sworn as a member of the Science Division, but his personal values, the beliefs that made him the mech he was.
Friendship? Or values? Was there a way to reconcile the two? How could Jetfire choose? Most of the mechs he worked with were only acquaintances, comrades of the same laboratory. Friends were few, and Starscream was the best of them. However, his values had been how he'd chosen his path in life, the ideal that all mechs were equal and if a mech worked hard enough, they'd be successful. Was that a realistic ideal, in an age where a group of leaders was deliberately manipulating events to keep certain classes of mech suppressed and hungry? Was the distribution of resources actually optimal, as the Council claimed?
By the next orn, Jetfire had come no closer to a decision. He started his work, and was deep in thought when the lab door burst open and a scientist with whom he had a passing acquaintance yelled, "The Prime is dead!"
"What?" Starscream and Jetfire asked simultaneously.
"Sentinel Prime is dead, killed by a rogue group of those gladiators you like so much, Starscream," the mech said.
Starscream looked at Jetfire, then ran from the lab.
"Good riddance," the other mech muttered.
"Out," Jetfire ordered, "get out of my lab."
Grumbling the other did so, and Jetfire dropped into his seat, covering his optics and grieving for the loss of the Prime. When he could finally move, he cleaned up and stowed away Starscream's equipment, noticing without surprise that their stock of energon had been depleted.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
As Jetfire made his way to his living quarters, he was not surprised when he was pulled into an alley by Starscream.
"It's begun, Jetfire. Join me!" Starscream hissed at him.
Jetfire felt the pull deep in his chassis. Yes, this moment, right here, this was the decision. He could no longer ponder his options, no longer take time to thoughtfully lay out each path. He had to choose.
"I can't, Starscream. I'm sorry."
End