Sky and Ground 26 Closing the Distance

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

PG-13
Bayverse Sky and Ground AU
Barricade, Starscream, Skywarp, Thundercracker
no real warnings I can think of.  Jab me in a comment if I'm wrong.

 

Barricade mumbled blearily as the berth heaved underneath him. No…it wasn’t the berth. It was Starscream. The last recharge cycle all came back to him in a rush—Starscream, overcharged, deliberately, filling him with horror about Skywarp’s past. And Thundercracker. Starscream could say it and even, as a command line officer, ORDER it, but he couldn’t make Barricade not hate Thundercracker. And the fact that Skywarp was right now…with him? His spark felt like it was guttering for what the black Seeker must be enduring. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, to the air, to Skywarp, to…whoever. He tried, clumsily, to roll off the Seeker’s chassis. They’d fallen into recharge together, the bronze jet clutching him like a toy. 

“Do not apologize, Barricade,” Starscream murmured. “There is still plenty of time before you must awake for shiftcycle. You are welcome to stay here. However, if I am to be of any use at all,” and Barricade could hear the bitter twist in the jet’s voice, “I must fly off this excess charge.” 

Barricade remembered that Skywarp had had to do that—fly off the excess energy. He’d come back frigid cold, but what Barricade remembered most was the feel of his arms around him. And he ached with longing right now, and knew that if he stayed alone—in his recharge or Starscream’s—he would be devoured with worry. “C’n I come with you?” 

Starscream stopped on his way to the door. “But I had heard that you hated flying.” Yes, but he hated lying here wracked with worry even more. Starscream must have seen something like that on his face, because he added, “Of course you may.”  He tilted his head. “If, that is…you think you can keep up.”

****

Skywarp sucked in a deep vent, wishing he had the courage to call Barricade one last time, as the armorer loaded in supplemental rounds. The mission was simple: a high-sky strafing run. Low chance of high altitude intercept, but then, of course, they’d swing under and run harrying engagements with Autobot aerial forces.  Dogfights. He hated to admit he was ready for one. WANTED one: needed some place for his aggression and anger to go. Some place he could safely channel the turgid restless violence inside him.

He hated that he WANTED it so badly. 

He did his job: he was a warrior and a Decepticon. He didn’t regret the violence or the damage he did. He didn’t wake from his recharge haunted by images of shattered mechs, violent fireballs of death he knew he had caused. This was war. The same could happen to him at any time, so it would be foolish and more to get worked up about that. Fate, or destiny, both with lower-case letters. 

What pulled him from recharge was the knowledge he enjoyed it. Wanted it. Could not function without it. 

He grunted as the bots finished speed loading his magazines. He stepped aside. Two other loaders finished installing the extra missile racks to his wing plates. 

Thundercracker grinned at him, lifting his arms to the speed loading racks. “Looking eager,” he observed.

“I want to get it over with.”

“So do I.” Thundercracker had his own reasons. Skywarp was too wrapped up in his own to even begin to figure them out. Thundercracker winced, stopping to glare at a loader bot that had slipped, its sharp loading pincers grasping onto his plating for balance. “Clumsy thing,” he hissed. He looked up, aware of Skywarp’s gaze. He shrugged. “One gets tired of automatons. Such…thoughtless obedience.” 

Skywarp nodded, dully. Obedience. That was what Thundercracker really wanted, only a twisted, abstruse kind. One that knew when he wanted resistance or submission. Both were a kind of obedience, and Skywarp hated that he gave in to them. He wished he had the courage to shout to Thundercracker what he was. What he had made them become. All of them. 

No, that was unfair. They each held some blame. It was puerile to make Thundercracker the sole responsibility. Starscream had told him that, cycles and cycles and cycles repeating it until he’d finally understood Starscream’s point. They bore their own blame. He couldn’t say anything. He hoped the action spoke as loud as the words that he found himself…again…too cowardly to say. What burned in him, unable to escape in words, fueled his darkness.

He walked away, his uparmored limbs clanking heavily against the floor.

 ******

Barricade bore the hooking-in of the propulsion pack with impatience. He didn’t want to be standing here going through the three rounds of functional redundancy checks. He wanted to be…out there, moving around, where his entire attention had to be focused on the four-dimensional HUD navigation display, with no extra processing speed to think about Skywarp. 

“Reason for flight?” Dirge said, listlessly, resettling himself behind the monitor. He was the Flight Watch. 

“Overcharge flight,” Starscream said, coolly. Dirge logged it into the console. 

“And him?” He tilted his headcone at Barricade.

“Overcharge flight,” Starscream repeated, pointedly. 

Dirge looked up, looked over at Barricade, and then dropped his optics to his monitor. Not worth making a fuss over. He waved them into the takeoff hangar. Yellow lights flared warning as the spaceside door slowly moved aside. The hangar’s atmosphere and gravity dissipated like vapor, the air suddenly full of tiny crystals rushing outward in the sudden breeze caused by the change in pressure, the sound muffled. 

//Are you prepared?//Starscream asked, politely. //I can guide you out of the hangar.//

//Can do it.// Barricade winced, hoping that didn’t sound as snappish over internal comm as it probably did. Starscream was only being polite. It’s just that…he wasn’t used to Starscream being polite. Wasn’t used to ANYONE being nice to him. 

Well, have to actually put deeds to words, now. He clicked the throttle of the pro-pack, the thrusters pushing against the thin atmosphere, moving him slowly, and a little awkwardly, toward the door. Starscream waited until he had cleared the way before leaping out the door himself, into the black velvet of space, folding effortlessly into his jet mode. The markings he had etched onto himself joined together in an intricate design that Barricade wished he could read.

Starscream raced through the darkness, his thrusters quickly diminishing to tiny dots, indistinguishable from the stars. Barricade, by contrast, puttered at medium speed, doing visual checks of his six to see the comforting bulk of the Nemesis hung behind him, a long massive shape cut out of the stars. He wasn’t afraid, but it was just…comforting to know it was there. 

Starscream whipped past him, carving an elegant series of maneuvers against the darkness. Barricade thought of Skywarp—he’d never seen the black jet fly. He felt a rush of guilt—that something so big, so important, so OBVIOUS to a Seeker like flying? He’d never even seen Skywarp do it. He determined to get better at pro-pack flying. He’d never be anywhere near as good as an airframe, but he wanted to do it. To NOT be left out. 

Starscream appeared in front of him, flipping into his bipedal mode, his jets keeping him at an easy hover. //Enjoying?//the bronze jet asked. 

//Good to get out.// He really wanted to ask Starscream if he’d help him learn to fly. Close the distance he was feeling between Skywarp and himself. Let him know, really KNOW, one thing to make up for all he didn’t, and couldn’t know. But he didn’t dare. This was…his problem. His insecurity.

//Shall I take you farther out?// 

Barricade’s fear clenched at his spark. Too many memories of terror, laughed at, left floating, or caromed with such circuit-stressing bravado, dragging him less than a hand-span above the surface of the ship.  No. That would not happen now. That was what he had to get over. Did Skywarp matter that much to him? Yes. Unreservedly.

//Yes.// He tried not to make a complete fool of himself, clutching onto the jet’s forearms as Starscream gently wrapped them around him, watching the ship recede further behind him with a determination not to worry. Did he trust Starscream? Not as much as he trusted Skywarp, but more than he trusted himself.

****

Skywarp pulled out of his last bombing run, activating the locks that bound the bomb racks under his wings. Empty now, the racks dropped off his armor, sailing toward the battlefield below. A field expedient weapon, stabbing at terminal velocity with lethal force. The Decepticon way was to let nothing go to waste. Everything was a weapon. Even junk metal. 

He waited for the signal. He and Thundercracker, as the heaviest, the largest, of the air support, were to engage first. He fell behind Thundercracker, letting the blue jet, with his unmistakable engine roar, zip a one sided flat-scissor over the battlefield, aiming on drawing out Autobot anti-aircraft positions as much as engaging Autobot fliers. He was impossible not to take notice of, and several Autobots took to the air in pursuit. 

Skywarp’s cue, and he tried to suppress the fierce thrill that throttled up with his thrusters as he dove into pursuit. He opened with his main guns, rounds spattering across the sky, tracers sketching a blazing purple line toward the plane nearest to Thundercracker’s tail. His HUD blazed triumphantly as the Autobot’s main engine burst into sparking flames. It shouldn’t feel this good. But right now was not the time to think about that. 

Thundercracker did a fast Kulbit, whipping up in a loop and coming down behind his next pursuer. Skywarp sliced through the flustered mass, before they could regroup after Thundercracker. Two of the scattered flyers zipped after him in a double scissors, zigzagging through the air behind him, attempting to box him in. Amateurs, for one thing. For another, they lacked the dark hunger that right now Skywarp was struggling to keep down. 

He waited until the two planes zipped into close-targeting range. He could hear the pings of their systems trying to lock on him. Lock on this, he thought, and slammed his thrust direction upward to near stall, his nose going vertical for a few kliks before the drag on his tail dropped the nose forward again. Their shots winged uselessly by him, overcalculating his flight path. And he was now several lengths behind where they thought he was. Classic overshoot. A tactical mistake, one that a flight-pair should know better than to fall into. Their loss. A heavy loss. 

He picked the larger plane—more of a threat, more heavily armed—and accelerated after it. A missile, this time, he thought. Just for variety. He clicked on his autotarget: a game he liked to play. Outguess his own shell’s targeting solutions. The reticles were still blinking their way to a target lock when he fired, the missile slicing through the sky. He pulled a vectored turn without even waiting to see it hit home. He knew it would: the dark tide in him fed him that much. He barely registered the explosion on his audio and 360, searching for another target. 

His HUD scanned, and his processor suddenly thought of Barricade. What would the little grounder think of him, if he were watching? Would he worry? There was no need to worry. Skywarp certainly never wasted any of that on himself. War was war, and warriors took their chances. 

And, in a way, it would be a relief if he did die. Barricade would never have to know who he truly was, never have to see this for himself. Thundercracker would make sure he was remembered as a hero, a valiant warrior, untainted. Pure. And he…he would finally be free of himself. 

His HUD fed him a flock of Autobots clumsily mobbing up on another Decepticon jet. Too easy. He should be ashamed to take advantage of their lack of skill, their inexperience. But he wasn’t. War was war.

And Skywarp was Skywarp.

****

//The difficulty of the barrel roll,// Starscream explained, //is coming out of it on your initial plane. That being said, it is one of the most basic maneuvers for flight. First I shall demonstrate it. Then I shall take you on a flight so that you may feel the equilibrium shift. Then you shall try.//

//Don’t need to talk down to me. Pro-packed before,// Barricade muttered.

//I am not talking down to you, Barricade. This is how we learned. If anything I am being dreadfully unoriginal in pedagogy.// 

Barricade shrank back. Starscream was right. And if nothing else he should shut up and at least appreciate the fact that the Air Commander was stooping so low as to giving him any sort of flying lessons at all. 

Starscream smiled. //You should have seen how Skywarp struggled with this. He had the hardest time adjusting his yaw. For a decacycle we called him ‘Wobbles’.//

Barricade knew that the bronze jet had said that deliberately—he could have dredged up a thousand memories of learning to fly, but instead he called up the one that linked Barricade with Skywarp. And made it okay to struggle with this. He nodded. 

//Watch.// Starscream headed directly away from him, his thrusters two bright, level dots that suddenly twisted in a tight, even helix before returning to level. //That was the maneuver. This is an application of it.// The thrusters changed angle, as the jet pulled into a vertical arc, doing another tight roll at the top to right himself as he flew back to where Barricade hovered. //Ready?//

Barricade nodded, cutting the thrusters of his pro-pack, letting the jet clamp his long forearms around him. 

//Feel safe?//

//Fine,//he said, testily. //Sorry. Yes. Thank you for asking.//

Starscream laughed—Barricade could feel the vibration against his back. //During the maneuver, look toward the angle of thrust. If you look ‘down’ you will get ill. Especially on ground-based applications.// Barricade felt the thrusters power up steadily, their acceleration picking up. He couldn’t see it—there was nothing close enough he could gauge his speed against—but he could feel the speed like a pressure against his dermal plating. He looked up into their direction of travel. 

His insides suddenly lurched as the jet initiated the maneuver. It was precise and clean even with the added drag of Barricade’s non-aerodynamic mass. It felt exhilarating—not at all like his own clumsy attempts to turn in a pro-pack. 

//I shall let you feel a wobble. It is of no significance now without a present level horizon, but it is good practice. Your flight HUD should have a horizon indication leveler to adjust to.// Starscream initiated another barrel roll, this time coming out deliberately sloppy, his shoulders wobbling along the flight path. //It is not a fatal error, but one you should strive to avoid.// He then flipped up into the same Immelmann turn to return them back to that particular point of nothing and no place they had started.

//Are you ready to try, Barricade?//

The mech shrunk back. //Never be that good.//

Starscream laughed again. //Flattery?// Then more seriously, //No one is very good the first time they try this. Even those who are born to it. If you let fear of not doing it well hold you back…will you ever be able to do it well?//

//Just that….// He keyed the controls awkwardly. Trying to run his command line through the sequence of actions.

//Silence. And try. It is all you can do. Fear, like hatred, only serves to hold you back.// Barricade felt the jet’s arms tighten around him briefly, before releasing him. //Let nothing hold you back.//

*****

The mission was a success.  The ground forces, routed, scurried back to their little hideyholes, demoralized as piece after piece of their airborne comrades clattered down around them, their own flyer’s shattered frames turned into blunt weapons against them. Thundercracker had had to call Skywarp away—twice—the black jet had sunken into his darkness so deeply that he almost didn’t hear, so intent he was on inflicting damage to the enemy. He still had rounds and they still had lives. 

He snarled at the second summons, tearing himself away with one last salvo at the retreating enemy. 

//Magnificent,// Thundercracker said as they rocketed out of the atmosphere and toward the station. //You are beautiful when you are…so fully engaged.//

Skywarp growled, his processor still running over the battle. Half for improved tactical solutions, but half for a pure dark enjoyment of the destruction he had caused. He had, for his measure, a handful of hits on his undercarriage, one of which had offlined one of his pitch rudders, but he had flown in far worse condition. And against his dull black, the damage barely showed. 

He wondered, again, what Barricade would think. Would he be horrified? In awe? Would he find him ‘magnificent’? 

The aggression from the battle kicked over abruptly into his other systems. He wanted Barricade right now. WANTED him. Wanted to feel the smaller mech squirming underneath him, hear the metal of Barricade’s grille against his cockpit, feel the firm push of the wrist tires under his hands as he pinned him down, smell the grounder’s exterior joint lubricant. As he adjusted his path, muttering at having to correct for his damaged rudder, he let that idea take hold of him. A reward, for pulling himself out. For at the very least, staying off the ground, where he was…truly terrifying.

Yes. Barricade, under him, his wrists struggling under Skywarp’s larger hands, his doorwings flattened onto the berth, his optics open and trusting. 

And more than a little afraid. Skywarp had to ease his throttle as it wanted to rev at the thought of fear in the little mech’s optics—the four red lenses spiraled wide, beginning to question his trust; the squirming becoming more frantic, not just play but a real attempt to get away; and he wasn’t on the grounder’s spike but driving into him with his own, feeling the metal of his body clang against Barricade, driving aside the mech’s desperately thrashing legs; a strangled squeak as Skywarp sank his talons into the wrist tires hard enough that pneumatic fluid welled out. Hrrrrrngh. He wanted that. No reason he could not have that: unstoppable, even if Barricade did try to fight. He could force him to do anything, physically or mentally. Barricade would let him. And forgive him. What was stopping him, anyway? Take what you want. You want to hear him beg? You can. He will beg and cry and plead all you want. 

You know he wants it. You saw him with Onslaught. He liked it. He needs it. You hold back because you think you can’t stop yourself.

Maybe he doesn’t want you to stop yourself.

No.

Skywarp jammed his throttle so far back he felt the pull of gravity try to hook into him. And for a nano-klik, he hung, suspended in his own inertia, hung in horror. No. He couldn’t do that, even in fantasy. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to want to. 

Thundercracker slowed. //Everything all right?//

Skywarp found a fast, smooth lie. //Rudder damage. Just wanted to disable the system before hitting the tropopause.//  He moved forward again. Hating himself even more for the lie. 

//Good thinking.// Thundercracker waited for Skywarp to catch up to him. //I’m so glad they sent you. I knew you were perfect for this mission.  Let’s get back and celebrate. And rest up for our return flight.//

Skywarp felt a bitter burn in his core. Skywarp had no choice. He was returning with Thundercracker to the Nemesis. The distance which had kept him safe, had kept Barricade safe in his swathing of illusion, would be closed.

 //And Skywarp? It’s good to see you acting like your old self again.//



 

Comments

[ithilgwath.livejournal.com]

tee hee... "Wobbles." Starscream and Barricade were very cute in teacher-student mode there.

And... I ... plead the 5th on my opinions of Thundercracker and Skywarp in this one... o_o