Megatron had made it very clear to Starscream that the takeoff had gone too smoothly. This was of great annoyance to the Seeker, because anyone who could complain about things going too well was not going to be pleasant to work for. After all, he had done his job perfectly, calling all of the crew to battlestations and ensuring that battlestations was exactly where everyone was. But this was not good enough for Megatron, no. The ease with which they left Helex meant that there could be a traitor on board- someone who could blow up the ship without a single missile being fired from Shockwave’s great fortress. To that end, he had ordered Starscream to call the crew back from their stations and have them assemble in the hangar bay, so that he could survey them individually. Starscream tried to keep himself positive about the mission. He didn’t have to get shot at… though, after further evaluation, he realized he hadn’t been afraid of being shot for a long time, nullifying that possibility. He could meet new people- there were even a few sharp-looking femmes among the crew… but Decepticon ladies cared more about ideals than mechs. Another option stricken. He would see a new planet, though his time on the colony worlds hadn’t given him the best expectations. This planet was further away, though, maybe it would be nice.

Yes, he told himself as he weaved down the mazelike bulkheads of the ship, checking that no one had remained at their posts. The planet will be nice.

***

Megatron quietly surveyed the Decepticons from the back of the hangar. His soldiers were too busy talking to each other to notice him, which was perfect. The absence of a superior made idle chat all the more illuminating. Megatron could immediately pick out the engineers his first mate had mentioned. They were clad in the protest colors of the Constructicons. They were at the very heart of the movement- laborers forced to dig trenches and build monuments for cruel overlords in Iacon. The work was dangerous and poorly regulated. When the winds of Decepticon change reached them, they exchanged their hazard-yellow for equally visible green, and proceeded to tear down the structures they had built. These Constructicons in particular, Starscream had informed him, were responsible for the demolition of the Vos Superway, which they themselves had designed and built. Their chassis were large, and covered with bulky equipment from their alt-modes. The majority of them seemed to be playing a game with data-slips, but one, a femme, did not participate, and instead paged through a prodigious-looking codex.

One of the mechs held his hand of data-slips close to his chest and turned to her. “Hey, Mixmaster, you gonna play?”

“I’ve more important things to do,” she grunted, continuing to read.

Another engineer dismissed her with a wave of a hand. “Forget her, Long Haul. You know how she is.”

“But we’ve got nothing to do, now,” protested the first mech. “No reason not to play a couple rounds. We’re not on the job.”

“This world we’re traveling to, Glyph theorizes it may have developed life independent of CNA. A completely new genetic code to exploit. I’m preparing my mind for the possibilities.”

“You and your science projects,” sighed Long Haul. “You know we’re going to get there and go right back to building. There’ll be no time for it.”

“I’ll make time for it,” she snapped.

Megatron smiled, pleased by her persistence. Her desire to learn will not remain stifled, though I worry about the tension it creates among them.

Scanning the room again, he recognized a few of the others Starscream had spoken of, including the Seekers he had apparently selected. They stood close together, chuckling at a joke told too softly for Megatron to hear. These were aces, fliers honed in the forges of hundreds of sorties. They were confident, calm, and professional, except for the one who was tuning a laserlute. A few of the others noticed and applauded, as the musician plucked out a far-colony tune.

Now, if only the engineers got along like that. I’d have no trouble out of them.

“It’s a mystery,” said a soft voice to his left. A fembot, her arms folded over her chest, had somehow crept up on him. “How did we all get here?”

Megatron narrowed his optics. “I beg your pardon?”

“How do you convince so many Decepticons to just pack up and leave, and chase a rumor halfway across the galaxy, to a planet that might not exist? To abandon the territory we’ve fought so hard to gain?”

He knew that this was a rhetorical question, and not actually directed at him. If she had known who he was, she would have worded things differently, or perhaps not spoken at all.

“That is an excellent question,” he replied, moving towards one of the hangar’s elevated catapult decks. He vaulted up over the gap and surveyed the crowd from his new vantage point. None of them had noticed him yet. It was time for that to change. He extended his arms forward, opened his hands, and brought his palms together in a slow, steady tempo. A wave rippled across the crowd as each of his unknowing soldiers turned their heads in his direction.

“Applause is in order,” he boomed. “Since you all deserve congratulation.”

A flier zipped through the hangar’s entrance, converted into his robot mode, and skidded to a halt next to a bewildered fembot.

“What’s this guy doing?”

Starscream gave her a cold look.

“One of the two things he’s famous for. Speeches.”

“The Decepticon cause- one of struggle, of sacrifice, of truth. You have proven yourselves to be the noblest soldiers for that cause by bringing yourselves here. After all, it was by your own choice that you gave up your home planets to venture into the great unknown, flinging yourselves toward the stars in hopes of finding the cure our planet so desperately needs. You, the mechs and femmes of the Decepticons, are the last true warriors of Cybertron! I, too, am the planet’s humble servant. You may call me comrade Megatron.”

The crowd whispered and mumbled, exchanging worried looks. Evidently, not all of them had been told who they would be answering to. In the murky chaos of their indecision, a single sound rang out- the clang of a fist against its owner’s chest. Starscream gave the femme a wink before he completed his salute with a roar of “COMRADE MEGATRON!”

At first, the soldiers in the crowd were unsure, and that uncertainty brought an eerie quiet with it. Starscream stood perfectly still, as if him moving and breaking the silence would rupture some invisible dam and drown them all. He did, however, allow for the smallest twitch- another wink in the direction of the fembot. As if on cue, the crowd burst forth in their own triumphant salutes, belting out their leader’s name. Megatron smiled from his perch above them. Whether it was genuine respect or mob mentality did not bother him, he was certain he could find a way to use either. But it was what he needed at that very moment, it was the momentum necessary to carry his speech forward. With raised open hands he calmed them, and spoke again.

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“As much as I appreciate your praise, I must remind you that we are all equals in our struggle against the chains of the oppressor. Now, I must clarify the objective of our righteous mission. This ship, the Nemesis, has been graciously saved from scrap and refitted for our use. It is now speeding towards our destination, a world far from Iacon’s sphere of influence, farther than any Cybertronian has ever traveled before. Ancient Primitive texts knew of this planet before even our most advanced sensors could detect it- and they spoke of a great power hidden there. The power to create life. An Allspark.”

The crowd let hushed ooooh slip out. Megatron had total control.

“This Allspark once had a brother, one that gave life to our very own world. But it died long ago, snuffed out by greedy corporations and their drillers, Cybertron’s life-blood, Energon, depleted. For that reason those schemers turned their eyes to the stars and subjugated the colony worlds, but soon their resources will run dry, as well. The Allspark will change all of that. Cybertron will be a young world again, and we, the Decepticons, its saviors, will expunge the filth that has collected in her canyons and in her cities and across her vast seas!”

They didn’t bother restraining their enthusiasm now, as they roared in approval. Starscream shook his head. “He went to all this trouble to find a spy, and he has to grandstand.” He looked back to the femme, hoping for agreement, but her focus was entirely on Megatron.

Figures, he thought.

“It has come to my attention that there may be some among you that do not agree with my methods. This, I can understand. There are things that I have done that I truly regret. But every action I have taken has been to bring peace and harmony to our people once again. Some of you may not believe that. So allow me to prove to you my honor. If you want me dead,” he paused, and held his hands out to his side. “Shoot me now.”

Starscream’s jaw nearly dropped off. “He’s… he’s insane,” he whispered.

“No,” whispered the femme. “He’s a genius.”

“No one would blame you. In fact, I will ask your comrades to let you leave in the escape pods. There will be no shame in it. Go ahead.”

The engineers looked at each other suspiciously, before deciding the one to look at suspiciously was actually Mixmaster, who was still reading. The Seekers laughed it off as a joke. But the reality of Megatron’s words quickly reached the crowd. He was waiting for someone to shoot him.

“Go on,” he urged, his voice unwavering.

The tension built, cycle after cycle, but no one raised a hand against Megatron. Finally, he decided that the test had been passed.

“Very well, then, no takers. My comrades, I thank you for your forgiveness. But when the day of reckoning for Iacon comes… I expect from you no mercy.”

The Decepticons shouted to celebrate the triumph of their inaction, and after realizing that Megatron had no more to say, they slowly began to depart.

“Unbelievable,” muttered Starscream. “No one even tried. And- I mean, he’s got a, er, reputation.”

“He’s everything I thought he would be, and more,” cooed the femme, captivated.

Starscream decided to leave before she irritated him further. It would be just his luck that the one femme on the ship looking for a mech would fall for a bad boy like Megatron. He had spent stellar cycles playing by the book, keeping himself clean-cut and upright, a model Decepticon. But Megatron could blow up a city full of innocents, and the fembots swoon. He was going to remind himself that the planet would be nice, when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Megatron standing over him.

“Good work, Air Commander Starscream. My concern was misplaced.”

“Misplaced, but understandable, comrade Megatron. But, if I may ask…”

“Go on,” replied Megatron, the same words he used to cajole the hypothetical shooter.

“Why did you do that? Why would you throw away your life so recklessly?”

Megatron smiled, even laughing quietly. “That is a question we must all ask ourselves.”

He trudged away, leaving the Seeker alone.

I’d like to think I had my reasons.

He arrived at his quarters, which had belonged to a Destron officer hundreds of stellar cycles ago. They were only modestly spacious by the standards of the Destrons, but to Starscream, they were cavernous. In the time it took to cross the room, he was able to begin tuning his long-range communicator by remote. He took an extra glance back to assure that the door was closed before the call went through. The communicator’s screen buzzed on, as a huge dark shape began to move out from its fuzzy shadows. A mountain of armor, weapons, and servos, topped with a single, sinister optic. Megatron’s reputation may have preceded him, but for Shockwave, it was his appearance.

“Comrade Starscream. Report.”

“We’ve safely left Cybertron’s sector. Within a mega-cycle we should arrive at the warp point.”

“Everything seems to be going smoothly?”

“Yes, comrade Shockwave. Megatron seems to have quite the hypnotic effect on his followers.”

“He is merely a good speaker, a powerful personality. Sometimes, that is all one needs to gain a following."

“If only reason such as yours prevailed more often, comrade Shockwave.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, comrade Starscream. Report back to me once the warp is complete.”

“Of course, comrade Shockwave.”

The transmission flickered out, and so did the last ounce of Starscream’s tolerance. He opened the hatch of the oversized stasis chamber and clambered inside. Perhaps some sleep would improve his mood.

He dreamed of a planet, vast and untamed, with a playful topography. He would swoop and dive and roll through forests and canyons, across deserts and down gullies. Maybe there would be a femme, maybe not- she faded into and out of the dream. But there was one thing he knew he had, what he had wanted all along: peace.