shadow_vector | Sky and Ground 9 Tribunal

Verse: bayverse
Characters: Skywarp/Barricade, Starscream, Soundwave
Rating: NC-17
Sticky

Barricade’s whole frame shook with rage as the priority message scrolled across his HUD. He was being called up for a tribunal. By Soundwave. That was bad enough, but the charges…! Gross incompetence. Misfiled reports. Altered data. Barricade was far from the perfect soldier, but he knew his job and did it well. And knowing what this was really about only made him madder. He felt as if someone had poured battery acid on his spark chamber. This was about Skywarp. A chance to get to the Seeker through Barricade.

“What’s up, little spike?” Skywarp asked. He wriggled down the berth, rolling off onto one side, propping himself on an elbow. “You got all tense all of a sudden.”

“’M fine,” he mumbled. He was not going to let Soundwave win. He’d find a way. And the last thing he wanted to do was upset Skywarp. He could handle himself. He could try. He didn’t want Skywarp to have to run to his rescue.

“I know you’re fine, little spike,” Skywarp said, his voice sultry. He ran his long talons down Barricade’s side. “Finer, even.” His optics spiraled wide with pleasure. That reaction—that simple, entirely involuntary response to looking at Barricade—did more for the smaller mech than Skywarp would ever realize. Barricade had no delusion that he was attractive, and someone who wanted to look at him, who was pleased by his…anything, was something he’d never had before. Skywarp’s lids lowered briefly in concern. “Didn’t squish you or anything, did I?”

Barricade hooked his talons under Skywarp’s rib struts, pulling him back over, a little surprised at his own temerity. His rage at Soundwave was making him bold and protective. “No,” he said, firmly. He loved feeling the weight of the larger mech on top of him, loved the light vibration of the jet’s engine through his dermal plating, loved feeling somehow…surrounded by Skywarp’s larger frame. Skywarp laughed, sending another river of vibration across the metal of their bodies, as he settled himself back on top of the smaller mech.

“I can’t believe you like this,” he said. “Not that I’m complaining. Just that even Starscream complains about, you know, getting poked in awkward places.”

“Not Starscream,” Barricade said, wriggling his shoulders against the berth.

Skywarp pushed off his upper body, looking down, grinning. “I know that, little spike. Trust me.” He scooped Barricade up and against him, pulling him into a kiss. “I know you’re not Starscream.”

Barricade wrapped his arms around Skywarp’s shoulders, opening his mouth, inviting Skywarp’s glossa. He only partially shuttered his optics, watching Skywarp surreptitiously, the way the light from his optics seeped through his lids, highlighting his cheekflares, casting a subdued warmth on Barricade’s dermal plating. He pushed aside the yellow message and all of its baggage and surrendered to this moment, shifting his body as if trying to press himself into Skywarp. He felt his interface systems cycle on, his spike lubricate in its housing. He’d already interfaced with the black jet earlier, but he wanted to, again. As if he could never get enough.

Skywarp read, or intuited, the meaning behind Barricade’s squirm, the soft whimper. He broke the kiss gently. “You want me?”

“Always,” Barricade said, wincing at how corny it sounded, and how true it was. He waited for Skywarp’s smile to take on a teasing edge, but the black jet simply pushed his way down Barricade’s body, trailing kisses along his ventral line, his red optics fixed on Barricade’s face. Barricade thought that he had never seen anything so amazingly hot.

Skywarp flicked open Barricade’s interface hatch, licking the inside of the hatch’s panel as he moved it aside. Barricade squirmed, squeezing down on his spike cover, trying not to appear as desperately eager as he was. Skywarp’s warm mouth—his glossa and the exvents from his air-cooling system, sent tingles of raw sensation over Barricade’s system, as he licked the rim of the spike cover and then the valve cover, and back.

Barricade’s talons clawed at the berth. Skywarp flattened his hips with one hand, as his mouth moved, his lips brushing the valve cover. Barricade gasped as his valve cover retracted, the room’s air striking the protected lining and rim. He quivered as Skywarp licked the rim, circling around and dipping in the lining, seeking out the sensor nodes. He felt his valve mechanism shift, trying to cinch down on a spike that wasn’t there. Skywarp laughed, softly, stabbing his glossa into the valve’s depths, then flicking around the rim, while Barricade writhed, his vents coming in ragged bursts as an overload lunged closer.

“Please,” he squirmed, “want you!”

Skywarp paused. “Always,” he said, only half-teasing. Instead of giving Barricade what his sensor net was screaming out for, he shifted his attention to the spike cover. It didn’t take much attention for the spike cover to snap back, the pressurizing spike slicking itself with lubricant. Skywarp licked his way up the spike, pausing at the top to make eye contact with Barricade.

Barricade reached for him, desperately, his eyes begging.

Skywarp relented, moving forward, locking himself in a kiss with the smaller mech as he gathered himself up, releasing his own interface panel before he broke the kiss and settled himself down across Barricade’s narrow hips.

Skywarp groaned, tipping his head back into the sensation, feeling Barricade tremble, almost vibrate, beneath him, inside him. “So good,” he murmured, hanging for a long moment before beginning to shift his hips, slowly, against Barricade’s body. “Secret,” he whispered, leaning down over Barricade, one arm braced by the smaller mech’s head. “I want you, too. Always.”

Barricade whimpered at his words as much as the delicious sensation of his valve squeezing and sliding against his spike. He held his hands up, reaching for Skywarp’s face, inviting him to pin his wrists. Skywarp paused, kissing his talons, before pushing Barricade’s arms to the sides, pressing his weight upon Barricade’s wrist-tires. Barricade’s dorsal line arched off the berth, his head tossing side to side as the overload built in him again, the stimulus slowly switching over from his valve systems to his spike.

The systems switched over all at once and the overload tore through him like a thunderstorm, his sensornet flaring and crackling. His body went rigid, arched off the berth. Above him, Skywarp panted, the three quick, sharp pants he always gave as he overloaded, his valve clamping down on Barricade’s spike as though it would never let go.

Skywarp collapsed on top of him, his dermal plating hot to the touch. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Should move.”

“No,” Barricade said, fiercely, turning his hands to clutch at Skywarp’s. He could feel last, latent thrums of the overload against his spike. The yellow message indicator still blinked in the corner of his HUD, but that was a worry for later. Right now, he had everything he wanted.

*****

“This tribunal,” Soundwave said, officiously, “Is for gross negligence. Further charges, such as deliberate sedition or sabotage, may follow.”

Barricade felt his capacitor stall. His talons shook with repressed fury as he forced himself to stand, stolidly, in front of the table. The tribunal itself had yet to be embodied: any mech with rank was gathered in the crowd behind him.

He knew he didn’t deserve this, and they knew it too. But how many would challenge Soundwave’s obvious plan for him? He did not, pragmatically speaking, have much hope. He’d spotted Starscream in the crowd, frowning, his arms folded over his chassis. Skywarp had been called away to a nearby orbital platform: oh yes, Soundwave had planned things well. By the time Skywarp returned, Barricade would be buried in the brig. Skywarp’s diplomatic immunity extended only to himself, and only so far.

Just as well, Barricade thought, that he disappear. Skywarp could do without him. Easily. Just go cleanly, he told himself. Without taking him down with you.

“The accused has been summoned here to answer charges of misfiled reports, falsified information, blank reports, and other gross negligence including not being at his post during dutycycle.”

Barricade felt a white heat in his central core. He was alone in this. Was there even a point in trying to fight? Soundwave had to have in mind who he wanted on the tribunal itself, so the chances of a fair hearing were…zero. Starscream might rage, but he wasn’t on that list. Soundwave would pick mechs he knew would be afraid to do anything other than convict him.

Soundwave turned to him. “Before we read the detailed charges, does the accused have anything he wishes to say for himself?”

Trick question. Barricade had been here before, how many times? Not in tribunals—one thing no one had ever dared question was his performance. But he knew this set up from other scenarios: he could hear the echoes already in his audio—‘like this, don’t you?’ ‘Tell me you like it and I’ll stop’. Those had only been after him, though—using his frame or his pain and fear to get off. This was…about Skywarp and about a different kind of power.

Just like all those times, pinned down, gasping in pain, he kept his silence, his optics hard on Soundwave. He would not give him the satisfaction of playing along. The only reason he was even here was that he knew the regulations: refusal to show up for a tribunal carried an automatic deactivation penalty. He was not going to go out that easily.

Soundwave smirked as though that were just the answer he was hoping for.

“Fine. We shall read the charges and then assemble the panel.” He raised his optics. “Every command-mech in the room is eligible for the panel. It is your duty to listen attentively to the charges. And then the evidence.”

“Will the accused have a chance to answer these outrageous charges?” Starscream asked, acidly.

“We shall follow protocol,” Soundwave replied, blandly. “Though I believe the evidence speaks for itself.”

“I rather suspect you shall speak for the evidence,” Starscream retorted. “Since you have fabrica—I am sorry, discovered it.” Barricade risked a look over his shoulder. The bronze jet leaned insolently against the wall, arms folded, talons flicking the barrels of his chain guns, optic shutters half-lowered. Deliberately insolent. Deliberately riling up Soundwave. Barricade tried to shake his head. Starscream didn’t need any more trouble with Soundwave. And not for Barricade’s sake.

“The accused will have a chance to present a defense,” Soundwave said, dismissively, as if to say ‘what did it matter?’ He would allow a few cycles of so-called ‘defense’, knowing that the end result was not in question. He would probably, Barricade thought, enjoy the spectacle of Barricade’s pitiful, desperate dancing for his life. Barricade was not sure he was willing to give Soundwave that much pleasure. Humiliate himself for no purpose or go out with some pride?

“And how much time will the accused have to prepare his defense?” Starscream continued.

“He has had enough time to prepare his defense. He was notified of this hearing six cycles ago.” A murmur among the mechs behind Barricade. Some of them, slowly, reaching the awareness that what Soundwave was doing to him he could just as easily do to them in the future. None of them (well, not many of them) were stupid—they saw the danger. How easily they could be next. Even the mechs not known for tactical smarts felt twinges along their survival instincts. But none, yet, dared say anything.

“Now,” Soundwave said. “Any more needless delays?”

“I cannot imagine,” Starscream drawled, “that informing potential tribunal members of the procedure is a ‘needless’ delay.”

“You have made your point quite clear, Air Commander,” Soundwave said. “I should like to begin the reading of the evidence into record.” He glared at Barricade, who stood immobile. He was refusing to play his proper role of scared-little-mech. He could fight this, at least this much. Right now, though, all he could think through his anger was not to give in to the role Soundwave wanted him to play. He did have his pride. Not with Skywarp, but with Soundwave, he did.

Soundwave began a recitation of his ‘evidence’, which was, as Barricade had suspected, completely falsified. He’d be able to refute every last charge if he were allowed to go to his work cube and pull his secured backups. But he knew that was…not likely to happen. So he did all he could to simply stand there, trying to feign calmness, while inside he vibrated with outrage and frustration. He should have seen this coming. Should have known, somehow, that this was likely. Skywarp was vulnerable through him—they both knew that—and Barricade should have taken precautions. Stored backups offsite. Triple logged. Used better encryption. A thousand ideas of what he should have done flooded his processor, drowning out the tedious litany of self-blame a hundred times worse than these ridiculous charges.

Soundwave had really stacked up a wall of charges against him. If he really were this incompetent, Barricade mused, it would probably reflect badly on Soundwave that he’d gotten away with it for this long. Soundwave wasn’t thinking of that, but he could tell from the shuffling of the mechs behind him that some of them were.

“Now,” Soundwave finally said, ruffling his solar panels. “You have heard the charges against the mech, personal designation: Barricade. We shall empanel the tribunal and then give him a chance to summon some sort of defense.” He nodded condescendingly at Starscream, “Since some of you feel he needs more time to prepare himself.”

“As Air Commander,” Starscream said, “I have a right to be on this panel.”

Soundwave’s supraorbital ridges raised. “Always grasping after power, aren’t you, Starscream?”

“When I see it is being mishandled, yes.” Naked aggression in his voice. Barricade wanted to warn Starscream, tell him to back down. But he couldn’t think of a way that wouldn’t get the jet dragged into this: Barricade could so easily see Soundwave trumping up the Air Commander as an accomplice or co-conspirator to the crimes of which Barricade stood accused.

“We shall discuss your…misaligned attitude towards my leadership at a later date, Starscream,” Soundwave said, breezily.

Starscream laughed. “Certainly. I have taken up…just enough of your time today.”

Barricade heard the door cycle open behind him. “A tribunal? And you didn’t invite me?” Skywarp’s baritone voice sent a tremor of recognition through Barricade. He was torn between surprise and worry—now Skywarp himself was within Soundwave’s sights. “I demand, as the agent of the Inspector General, to serve on this tribunal.”

Soundwave gawped for a long moment. Skywarp used the time to sweep into the front of the room, bringing with him a blast of cold air, approaching close enough to Soundwave for the satellite mech to truly feel the difference in their size.

Soundwave’s solar panels riffled, belying his tension. “You of all mechs must recuse yourself from this matter, Skywarp.”

“On what grounds?” Skywarp edged closer, looking down the length of his chassis at Soundwave. Soundwave craned his neck up, frowning.

“On the grounds that you are engaged in an improperly intimate relationship with the accused.” Soundwave jutted forth his lower mandible.

Barricade flinched. That was the dart to get at Skywarp. He should have known—Soundwave didn’t really care about hurting him to hurt Skywarp. Not when he could directly attack Skywarp’s own credibility. Take down the IG’s agent directly by undermining him. He waited for Skywarp to break, to show some sign of distress or frustration at least.

Skywarp grinned. “Clarify the point for me, please?”

“It should not need clarifying. You have interfaced with Barricade. Your objectivity has been compromised.”

Everything Barricade had worried about raced through his mind—that he’d be seen as more than just a little diversion, but a perversion, a liability. Skywarp would hate him for this. For ruining his mission. For ruining his reputation. He ached for what Skywarp must be feeling, what he was losing here in front of every command mech on the Nemesis. He lowered his optics to his talons, knotted together in front of him.

“Commander Soundwave,” Skywarp said, his tone taking on a knife-keen edge. Barricade looked up. “I am, of course, not well-versed in the protocols practiced on such a…parochial ship. You mean that anyone who has interfaced with Barricade is unfit to serve on this tribunal?”

“Yes,” Soundwave said, triumphantly. “Precisely. Which eliminates your Trine mate’s candidacy as well.”

“Interface only?” Starscream said. “Hypothetically, what if I had merely performed, say, frottage? Onanism?” Barricade felt his cheek plates heat. Starscream and ‘shame’ really did not coexist in the same plane.

Soundwave smirked. “I should go so far as to say any sexual contact with Barricade.”

“Count me out, then,” Onslaught’s voice was confident. Barricade’s head drooped lower. Onslaught cleared his vocalizer.

“Any sexual contact?” Vortex said, unhappily. “Me, too, then.” Barricade’s cortex flashed him an image from what he’d started thinking of as his Old Life—pre-Skywarp. Vortex and Brawl together in the hallway outside the refectory. He’d howled until they’d knocked him off line.

“Yeah,” Brawl said. “Guess I can’t do your thingie.” He did not sound sorry at all.

After Brawl, the chorus of voices rose, every mech claiming to have had some sexual contact with him. Even Bombshock, who had never so much as given Barricade a greasy optic in the washracks. Which was, Barricade slowly realized, Skywarp’s whole point. They knew that if they played along with Soundwave now, it was a matter of time before the same game was played against them. Skywarp had given them a way out. And like the true opportunists Decepticons were, they snatched at it.

Regardless what it did to Barricade’s dignity.

“I have taken a tally,” Starscream said, coolly. “There appears to be no one qualified to sit on your august panel. Protocol requires that all charges be dismissed.”

Onslaught muttered darkly—but loudly—about having better uses of his time and clomped to the door, signaling a general exodus.

Starscream approached Barricade, laying one hand on his shoulder, talons splayed around his tire fairing. “It was necessary, Barricade,” he said, softly, over the last of the departing footsteps.

“Ho-how did he get back here?” Skywarp continued to stare down at Soundwave, his mouth tight, optics small. Soundwave’s panels and nodes twitched, betraying his agitation at his plan fallen apart in front of him. Barricade ached—Skywarp would not even look at him. Couldn’t bear to—why would he, after hearing the declarations of just about every mech on the ship? Barricade felt filthy all over again. Skywarp would never want to touch him.

“Trine link. As soon as I heard, I contacted him.” A small reproach in his voice—that Barricade didn’t tell him himself.

“You stalled Soundwave until he could get back.” He kept his processor working, trying to push aside the feeling of uncleanness—a mountain of smudged memories crashing down upon him.

“I had to…improvise. Fortunately, it is not difficult for me to find ways to irk Soundwave.” He could hear the jet’s smile. The talons rubbed over his shoulder, soothingly.

“He hates me,” Barricade whispered.

“He does not.”

Barricade’s shoulder twitched, trying to dislodge the bronze jet’s talons. “’M disgusting.”

“A word of advice for you,” Starscream squatted down, his mouth near Barricade’s audio. “It is generally unwise to tell Skywarp how he feels about anything. He feels completely competent making such judgments himself.” Starscream pushed back to his feet. “Skywarp,” he said. “I suspect that Onslaught had the correct sentiment: we have much better uses of our time.” He nodded cordially at Soundwave, and headed toward the door, guiding Barricade in front of him in an obvious show of protection.

With one final, dark glare at Soundwave, Skywarp joined them. As soon as the door coded closed, he dropped to his knees, throwing his arms around Barricade. “Should have told me, little spike.”

“Didn’t want you to know.” Barricade wasn’t sure if he meant tell him about the tribunal or that he’d been the transfluid-receptacle of choice for the Nemesis. Didn’t matter: his response would be the same. He was rigid in Skywarp’s arms.

Skywarp pushed back, tilting his head. “Mad at me?” Barricade shook his head, dropping his main optics, though his smaller set he kept focused on the black jet. Mad at myself. Didn’t try harder—should have tried harder. Both in there and earlier. No. Once again, I was just going to let it happen. Not fight, not even for Skywarp.

“I had to work fast. I’m sorry, little spike. It was ugly, but I couldn’t think of any other way.”

“If you would have told us sooner,” Starscream admonished. He had dropped back, blocking the door in case Soundwave exited. “We might have strategized something more subtle.”

“Not the time, Starscream,” Skywarp tossed over his shoulder. His hands reached for Barricade’s shoulders, his thumbs brushing the upper tires. “I’m sorry, little spike. I couldn’t think of another way to shut him down. He was trying to hurt you.”

Not true. He was trying to hurt Skywarp, not Barricade. Why couldn't Skywarp see that? “It's all right,” Barricade muttered. “Not your fault it’s true.”

The talons tightened around his shoulders. “Not yours, either. There’s no shame in this, little spike. Not for you. Not from me.” Skywarp leaned forward, his long talons reaching to tilt Barricade’s face toward his as he kissed him. Barricade stayed rigid for a long moment, the burning heat of his humiliation racing through his system, but the fire from that cooled at the gentleness of Skywarp’s lips, still chilled from his flight.

How far had he gotten before Starscream had recalled him? How fast had he flown? To return, for you? You have no right to be upset—he was doing his best to save you. That is what matters. That he cared at all, but more than that, that he cared enough to face off with Soundwave for you. No one has ever done that for you, Barricade. No one. And he doesn't see that he was really the target. He did it for you.

Barricade softened in Skywarp’s arms, his own hands coming up to cup Skywarp’s elbows.

“Secret,” Skywarp whispered, breaking the kiss. “I want you.” A teasing lick down one of Barricade’s chromed facial plates. “You want me?”

Barricade’s hands tightened, his talons slipping between the armor plates of the larger mech. “Always,” he said.

Next: Vulnus

Sky and Ground 9 Tribunal

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