Decisions

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

PG
Bayverse
Blackout, Barricade, Starscream
genfic, mid Defiance

 

2. Decisions.

“Whose side are you on?” Blackout said. He’d pushed Barricade back against the wall of the spaceport’s  ramp. 

“I serve the cause. Why?”  Barricade tilted his head up, optics blazing, defiant. He hated mechs who tried to intimidate by size alone. The copter was easily twice his height, and trying to use it. 

“Serve the cause,” Blackout scoffed. “Covers a lot of ground, most of it dirty.”

“So what’s the right answer, huh?” Barricade wasn’t in the mood. Starscream could leave without them, abandoning them on the rusting, hollowed hulk of Cybertron.  He would not miss that ship.  That way was life and hope. Maybe he…didn’t simply serve the cause. Maybe he served that part of him that wanted those things, that wanted to imagine a world without war.  He shifted, uncomfortably. 

“The right answer,” Blackout muttered, “is Megatron.” His face was buried in shadow.  Behind him, the lights of the ship flared, running through functions tests.

“That’s a cult,” Barricade said. As if blindly following an ideal, or a vision, or fantasy, like he was, was somehow superior. “And Megatron has gone…,” he pointed skyward, “that way.”

“Whose side?” Blackout insisted, steamrollering over Barricade’s point. “Mine, or Starscream’s?”

“My own,” Barricade said, letting his voice ring with honesty.  “Don’t have time for petty power games.”

“Is that what you think this is?” Blackout snarled.

“Isn’t it?” Barricade said, coolly.  “Neither of you are mind-readers for Megatron.”

“I have served him more closely than Starscream.  Starscream’s command has always been problematic.”

“Starscream is the Air Commander. Until a few megas ago, that made him nearly Megatron’s equal.” It didn’t explain…everything. Barricade would be the first to admit—under normal circumstances—that Starscream’s grasp went a bit far.  “But, neither of you predicted that Megatron would leave, did you?”

Blackout frowned, the angle of his mouth snapping almost vertical. “We still do not know if he wants us to follow,” he said.

“Have an idea,” Barricade said. “You can stay.  We’ll go.”

“Leaving no check on Starscream’s ambition,” Blackout said. 

“Is that your role, then?” Barricade retorted.  He tried to duck under the larger mech’s arm.  Blackout stopped him, pressing in. 

“Someone must oversee him.”

“Oversee,” Barricade said, wryly.  “I don’t think he’ll like that.”

Blackout’s cheek plating curled into a sneer. “And you, poor wretch, have to worry about what he likes, don’t you?”

Barricade bristled. He had been picked as the Science Officer, but then again, the crew had been hastily assembled from the mechs at Tyger Pax and whoever else answered the hail.  It meant…some favor from Starscream, the kind that Barricade would be expected to work off. It wasn’t nepotism.  It was an advance of obligation.  He was under no illusions.  But he didn’t care to be reminded of them.

“And you’ll be any better?” he snapped, “Crawling into the ship on sufferance?”

“He needs me,” Blackout said. “One of the best warriors we have.” The engines cycled restlessly, as if trying to cover the thinness of the excuse.

“Cute justification,” Barricade said. “First, you need to be there to keep him in check. Then he needs you because you’re a fearsome warrior.” He hissed. “Admit it, will you? You want to stay here as little as anyone here. Even you see that this is a dead place. Dying. Even you want the chance to live, even a little bit, instead of being sucked down into death and decay here.” Admit it, Blackout, he added, silently. Admit you’re just like the rest of us. Your desire to live is just enough to question your own loyalties. You want to live even if it means rationalization, bending your rigid ideals.  “Megatron left us. Abandoned us, if you want to look at it that way. We do nothing wrong in following. Admit it.”

“He did not abandon us!” Blackout insisted, optics blazing. Barricade shrugged.  “I…cannot serve Megatron from so far away,” Blackout said, carefully, his optics narrowing, mouth pinching in distaste.  “And I cannot trust either you or Starscream to follow his will.”

“We follow him. Physically. Literally. What more do you want?”

“I want to serve Megatron.” 

Barricade snorted. Another rationalization.  Beyond them, the Nemesis’s engines cycled on, the deck of the launch pad beginning to vibrate under their feet.  Barricade’s anxiety ticked up a notch.  Starscream would not hold the ship for him.  His loyalty did not buy that much. He shoved roughly against the arm blocking his path. “Make up your own mind,” he said, curtly. “I’ve made up mine.” 

He strode toward the ship, the boarding ramp leading to a warm glow, like a welcoming cave. Life. Salvation. A chance. 

He grinned tightly as he heard the heavier strides of Blackout behind him. Starscream stood in the doorway, watching, knowing.  And he, too, was making his decision.