keaalu

“Jess! Will you stop dawdling? You’re gonna make us late – again.”

Technically, Jess and his friend Teeja were already late. It was the only reason they’d risked the ire of harbour police by sneaking through a hole in the fence, instead of make the long slog through security.

But Jess didn’t need to know that – he’d only end up making them later. The laima’s lackadaisical approach to timekeeping was a regular source of the vulline’s anxiety, and tonight was no different. That she’d managed to drag him away from the town centre festivities at all was a small miracle.

Autumn had finally landed, and the Festival of the Twin Moons was in full swing. The city centre was heaving, with what felt like half the population of the entire continent coming to join the biggest party in the hemisphere. It was the only reason the interstellar shipping harbour was so quiet – cargo-loading had finished early, and crews were either preparing to depart, or taking advantage of the festival for a bit of well-earned downtime.

Jess, naturally, was taking said downtime when they should have been leaving. Never aiming higher than his job as a cargo handler had never instilled any sense of personal responsibility in the spur’s dark head. Teeja still wasn’t sure why their planetary visit had been scheduled for such an inopportune time, because the first officer knew just as well as her that Jess wouldn’t be able to help himself.

She glanced back over her shoulder to find Jess had stopped, again, and now stood looking lost in a dirty pool of light from a half-lit floodlight above.

“Jess-!” she hissed. The early autumn chill made her words emerge in small twinkling clouds. “Pity’s sake! What are you standing around for?”

“Didn’t you hear that?” The spur turned briefly to face her, pointing vaguely off into the distance.

“Hear what?” She folded her arms over her chest in a vain attempt to keep the warmth inside. “The unmistakable sound of the captain docking my wages because you made us late off the berth again?”

He flapped an annoyed hand at her and turned to peer back into the gloomy avenues between the stacks of cargo. “It sounded like someone calling for help.”

“Someone? Like who? Did you forget the port is closed?” For a couple of heartbeats, Teeja just stared at him, her large ears twitching subtly in an effort to pick up the sounds her friend had heard. “There’s no-one here. Come on.”

Jess bared his teeth in an uneasy grin. “Then ain’t it more important that we quickly go check it out? Some poor soul coulda been stuck and yelling since festival started.” He carefully avoided elaborating on the fact that Teeja, whose hearing was infinitely better, had apparently heard nothing. “Let’s just get a quick eyeball.”

The vulline watched him wheel about, and head deeper into the stacked cargo, vanishing into one of the dark avenues. She cursed him softly under her breath. “Jess. It was probably just some poor docker that didn’t manage to get the time off work. We can notify security on departure!”

He didn’t reappear, though. She followed him into the lane, uneasily. With no lights to illuminate them, and only the thinnest rinds of new moon in the sky above, the endless rows of shipping containers stretched up and away until they vanished into the dark. Anything could have been hiding in the gloom.

At least she didn’t have to worry about getting run over by a tractor. Small blessings.

“My cousin in departures control only agreed to waive the fine if we made a half-hearted effort to get back to the ship on time-!” she reminded, in an uneasy half-shout. “We’re already late!”

Jess was already an indistinct figure several dozen gangling strides ahead. “So you head back to Vee-Six, and let ‘em know I’m just behind you? The pilot can start prepping the engines to go, right? I’ll not be long, I think it came from just down here. There’s a light ahead, see?”

The pool of light revealed itself to be at the entrance to a large warehouse. Livestock, the big sign above the door read. The main roller door was partially open, and the soft clicks and squeaks of mostly-slumbering animals echoed from within. Jess paused outside.

Teeja finally caught up with him. “So you heard an animal,” she said, flatly. “Mystery solved. Can we go, now?”

“Maybe, I guess?” Ignoring the Permits Required for Entry sign, Jess headed through the open door. “Gimme the count of one hundred to check, eh? I’ll let you know.”

Teeja loitered in the doorway, short tail twitching subtly, eyeing the rows of crates and cages with dismay. “We don’t have the right credentials to be in this warehouse, anyway.”

Jess glanced back at her. “S’fine. There’s no-one around to see us, remember?” His bluster wasn’t very convincing, though, and his hunched shoulders spoke of discomfort.

“Exactly! What if something falls on your head? There’s also no-one around to hear us yell for help.”

Their speech had disturbed a small flock of domestic venca fowl, who were now climbing the bars of their crate and cawing at them, softly. The little animals often mimicked the sounds around them, and their noise right now sounded suspiciously like sentient voices, shouting nonsense.

“You sure this wasn’t what you heard?” Teeja peered in at them, leery of getting too close; little hands reached out through the bars, determined to grab her jewellery.

“I don’t think so. There was only one, and it felt loud.”

“Felt loud?” Teeja echoed, but before she could challenge him further, her comm began to warble in her pocket. “Gavos – that’s Mara. She’s going to want to know where we are…”

Leaving Teeja to fend off the first officer’s demands to know why in mercy they weren’t back at the ship, yet, Jess edged a little further into the warehouse. The atmosphere in the building had a strange weight to it; he felt like he was being watched, and not by an animal.

Part of him – a very large part of him – wanted to take Teeja’s advice and finish the short journey home. A warehouse full of nothing but livestock shouldn’t leave him feeling like all his nerves were being stretched out like bowstrings.

But that tiny residual portion of his psyche wanted to know why. Something had pulled him here, and he knew he’d feel uneasy for days if he didn’t figure out what.

But it was all just animals.

Right?

“…anyone here?” he called, quietly.

From somewhere close at hand there came a tearing, creaking sound.

Jess jumped harder than he would have liked.

“What was that?” Teeja demanded, in a stage whisper.

Jess didn’t reply. Ignoring the way he could feel his heartbeat echoing subtly into each breath, he pushed deeper into the gloomy building. The rough concrete floor suddenly felt very cold under his toes.

And around the corner, tucked away deep within the warehouse, he found the source of the noise.

In the far corner, lit by a single bald shaft of artificial light spilling in from a high window, stood a large solitary crate. Made of rough wood, battered and filthy and haphazardly bored with an array of small holes for ventilation, it had clearly been subject to a lifetime of use and abuse. One corner had been completely splintered and crudely repaired with a couple of nailed-on slats. The rest looked held together primarily with staples and rope. Broken slats left narrow voids that sucked in the light.

The remains of a dirty blue tarpaulin shrouded the rear of the crate, but the occupant had evidently shredded the parts it could reach - scraps of torn blue fabric lay scattered across the floor, fragments of it still protruding from the holes in the container.

Whatever was inside the crate didn’t appear to have got through unscathed, either. Dark brown spots and smudges of what looked like it might be blood discoloured the outside, and a thin trickle had puddled ominously under one front corner.

Not entirely sure why he felt the urge to do so, Jess approached it. He stood an arm’s length away, and stared down at it for several seconds, not sure what to do next.

Teeja put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a little tug. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here,” she whispered. “Mara’s having a litter already.”

Jess gave her a glance; her thin gingery pelt had all bristled up around her face, leaving her looking like an alarmed thistledown. “All right. Just gimme one moment…” He inched as close as he dared, and peered inside. “There’s someone in here.”

“It’s a livestock shipping container, in a livestock holding block. Were you expecting it to be empty?”

“I didn’t say an animal. I think it’s a person? Kind of?”

Teeja hesitated. “…a person?”

As though in answer, a large, bloodshot blue eye pressed as close as it could against the gap in the crate, making Jess jump back and collide with Teeja, startled. She gave a squeak of alarm and would have bolted if not for having him cling to her.

The creature managed to squeeze out a dry, painful sound that could have been anything from a groan to a cough to an attempt to speak. It slotted a set of large, blunt fingers out through one of the gaps and curved them over the broken wood, tugging backwards. The wood creaked, but in spite of the crate’s overall damage, it had little impact. The creature coughed again, a fracturing bark through a sore throat.

Jess examined the broad digits without getting too close. They looked big; definitely bigger than his slim fingers, tipped with blunt claws that could have done some serious damage if they managed to get hold of his softer bits. It was easy to assume their owner might be likewise on the large side. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

Its meaning was obvious. Get me out. It looked like it had been battling the crate on its own for some considerable time already. Blood and splinters clung around the ragged claws.

“She’s tearing herself to pieces, trying to get out of there,” he said, quietly.

“She?” Teeja echoed.

Jess gave her a funny look. “Figure of speech?” He didn’t sound too certain, though. “I think it was her that I heard shout.”

“Except we just heard it bark. That didn’t sound anything even like words.”

After several seconds of staring at him, Teeja finally realised Jess had already picked up a convenient crowbar, and was examining the crate as though working out which was the best point to attack it.  

“Wait- what are you doing?!” Alarmed, she grabbed the other end of the tool. “You can’t be thinking of letting it out-…?! That could be anything in there! It could be a people-eating-monster, for all we know-!”

“I think she’s hurt?” Jess glanced towards the congealed black puddle on the floor. “She’s been bleeding.”

“You have no idea where that blood came from, if it even is blood. It could be from whatever the thing last ate!” Teeja tightened her trembling fingers on the crowbar. “And that might have been the last poor idiot that came snooping in a warehouse he shouldn’t even have been in!”

“And what, she somehow locked herself back up in a crate for the fun of it?”

“That might be why it’s in the crate, Jess-!” Teeja snapped, frustrated. She yanked on the crowbar but Jess refused to let go of it. “Because it’s dangerous!”

He stared her out. “Then there’d be a sign, Teej. Maybe a fence. Do not approach, dangerous animal?”

“Why are you suddenly so obsessed with this, anyway? We’re late as [shit] already, Jess.” Teeja steered him into an about-face, so he was facing the warehouse door. “I can’t lose this job, and I can’t absorb any more of your fines. We can tell security on the way out if you’re that worried.” She gave him a little shove, to get him moving.

Behind them, in the crate, the whatever-it-was gave a long, beaten sigh, and slumped out of view, fingers slipping away from the cracks it had managed to tear in the wood.

Something weird tickled at the back of Jess’s brain.

It… wasn’t strictly words. Not as he understood them. But it was definitely a plea for help.

“It’ll be too late, then.”

“…What?”

Teeja turned to see Jess pick the pry-bar back up, and before she could make an alarmed leap to stop him, apply it to the crushed corner of the crate, close to where it had been nailed closed.

With Jess wielding his crowbar on the outside, and the animal shoving with a renewed enthusiasm from within, it didn’t take many seconds to defeat the badly-driven nails holding the box together.

Together, they made enough of a hole for the prisoner to squeeze through. It thrashed clumsily out of the box, spilling through the gap like a desperate newborn, and landing in a painful tangle of limbs on the concrete.

It… didn’t look much like a person at all.

It looked more like an animal. A half-starved one.

Jess found himself suddenly doubting his chosen course of action.

Teeja put Jess between herself and the creature. “Well done. Now we’re gonna get eaten.” Her voice sounded as thin and brittle as Jess’s nerves.

The animal managed to get its forelegs underneath itself, and pushed itself unsteadily to its feet, leaning against the crate while it found its balance. It was big, the top of its back level with Jess’s armpits – it would never have been able to stand upright inside that tiny box. It stood shakily on four long, bandy limbs, with what could have been small arms or undersized wings furled tightly against its back. Its body was slender and elastic, as thought it had been either bred or evolved to run, with a long slim neck that would have probably made it taller than Jess, had it been standing fully upright… but its head sagged low, as though it was too exhausted to hold it up properly.

Unsurprising, considering how heavy that head looked, with a large skull to hold a big brain, and bright, forward-facing predator’s eyes that gave it a look of alien intelligence… and long, slender jaws that no doubt contained far too many sharp, serrated teeth.

Although right now? It looked too tired and hurt to pose that much of a threat. A filthy ghost in the gloom of the unlit warehouse, its pale hide covered in dirt and blood and god-only-knew what else. A collar dangled loosely around the base of its neck.

It took a single uncertain step towards them, flinching when its paw touched the ground.

Both Jess and Teeja took a big reflexive step backwards.

The animal stilled, halfway into making a second step.

For several seconds, they just stared at each other.

“All right. Let’s just back away from it,” Teeja whispered, in as low a voice as she could manage, tightening her fingers around Jess’s arm and pulling. “Before it decides to eat us, yeah?”

Jess finally allowed himself to be led. “…right.”

They backed up the entire length of the warehouse, trying not to bump against the other crates. Even the chattering venca in the entrance had gone spookily quiet.

It stood silently and watched them back away until they vanished from view around a corner.

The instant they were out of sight, Teeja flattened herself against the closest container, and peered cautiously back around it. “Fantastic.” She pursed her thin lips and shot him a glare, although the effect was ruined by the way she trembled. “It’s following us.”

Jess peered around the cargo; sure enough, it was making slow, steady progress down the centre of the aisle, limping clumsily and trying not to put pressure on its right forefoot. It reminded Jess of a pet that had been beaten into obedience, following them because that was the only option open to it.

He had the sudden horrible thought that maybe it had somehow imprinted on him.

Skeida.

He eyed the stacked crates. “Should we let something else out as a distraction?”

“Yeah, let’s just compound the problem. Good plan.”

Jess gave Teeja a little shove. “Fine. it’s limping, right? It won’t be able to keep up with us if it can’t walk, and we can just lose it in the cargo.”

The vulline stared at him for a second or two. “You just let it out, and now you’re going to abandon it?”

Jess stared back. “I… uh.”

Why had he felt so compelled to let it out, anyway?

He staggered his way to what he hoped was a passable excuse. “I figured maybe it could go to a doctor? Or-or… someone would find it. Take it to a vet. Maybe?”

Teeja’s expression didn’t change. “Seriously?”

“Well I didn’t think it was gonna follow us, did I?”

“Most of the time, you don’t think, end of story.” She found his hand and gave him a tug to get him moving, and together they made a hasty retreat to the warehouse door. “I told you to leave it alone. How are we gonna get rid of it?”

Jess took the lead, trotting out of the puddle of dirty white halogens at the warehouse entrance and ducking into the void between the stacks of cargo. “We just have to get back to Venture. We can lose it when we get aboard. It can’t exactly follow us into outer space.”

The animal drifted into view behind them, like a persistent ghost, albeit now silhouetted between the neat lines of containers.

“Fine. It’s limping, we can outrun it.” Teeja broke into a jog, overtaking him. “Then when we get back, you can pay my share of the fine, for this jolly timewaste you’ve dragged me into.”

“I-… sure.” Jess fell into an ungainly trot behind her.

The animal moved to follow suit, but staggered and stumbled over its own sore feet, tripping against the cargo. It gave another weirdly-pleading cough of protest-

And Jess felt that same weird tickle at the back of his brain. Something that could have been words, or a feeling, or a mixture of both, and neither belonged to him. His stride faltered. He knew for definite that it needed help.

…Or perhaps this was how it caught its prey.

Jess pushed the thoughts away and lengthened his stride from an uneasy jog to a flat run.

Teeja swore softly – something about only having to run faster than the other person, if chased by a hungry monster – and struggled to match his pace. Her breath came in sharp, frightened pants.

They both heard the animal lurch into a stumbling canter – listened as the slap of its paws on the road surface evened as it somehow managed to hit both momentum and rhythm.

“S’fine. Ship’s just around the corner,” Jess reassured, although his own words were punctuated with irregular gasps. “Mara’ll be there. Door open. All ready to yell at me, I bet!”

Teeja managed a noise that sounded halfway between a curse and a sob. “This thing eats me,” she choked. “An’ I’ll haunt you f’rever!”

Jess squeezed out a laugh, although he wasn’t completely sure what he was laughing at. He didn’t dare turn to see the predator closing the gap between them.

Their ship, a small merchant freighter, came into view around the corner. Venture Six squatted like a huge beetle in a circle of spotlights, waiting impatiently to depart at the head of a wide avenue that had once been bustling with vehicles transferring cargo on and off. Her huge main hatch was closed, her running lights were all lit, and her engines already glowed with the nascent ultraviolet of her ion drive.

Only the small crew gangway was still open on the port side. First officer Mara stood silhouetted in the open doorway, arms folded across her broad chest, drumming her claws against the deck.

“There’s no point running now,” she yelled, spotting her missing crew sprinting for safety. “We’re already late as [shit]! Tempted to leave you behind, next time!”

Then the animal skidded around the corner behind them. The unexpected jink to the left had bought the fleeing crew a few seconds but their pursuer was unbelievably fast, even on wounded paws. It scrambled for purchase, and after somehow avoiding colliding with a parked tractor, hurled itself into the avenue.

Teeja gave a breathless half-wail of fear and reflexively covered the back of her neck with both hands. Jess flung himself to one side, prepared to make a last-ditch attempt to climb on top of the cargo.

It was only when it overtook them that the pair realised it wasn’t interested in them at all.

It wanted the ship.

Mara stepped back, alarmed, realising the big, fast, hungry predator was aiming squarely at her. “Paksha-!” She slapped the controls for the entry ramp, and it immediately began to close.

Seeing the hatch begin to close, the front lip lifting from the ground, the animal put on a sudden desperate burst of speed, determined to somehow make it aboard.

Mara’s nerve failed her. She fled deeper into the vessel.

With one almighty thrust from its hind legs, it hurled itself at the narrowing gap – its front paws hit the closing hatch and momentum carried it successfully inside-

It was moving too fast to do anything to save itself from the impact. It skidded across the deck on feet made slick with blood, and collided side-on with the far wall with an almighty crunch that made the wall rattle.

For several seconds, it sat where it had ended up, slowly teetering sideways and staring at nothing.

Then its wobbly limbs finally gave up, its joints going to water, unable to support its bulk any more. It collapsed on the deck, gave one last shuddering wheeze, and passed out.

After a day spent locked in battle with the most wilfully obtuse bunch of self-serving councillors on his side of the planet – and coming within a wing-width of feeding Waveguide all his carefully-drafted budget assessments – Starscream had been looking forwards to a quiet night to himself.

The building was already empty when he dragged his tired pedes over the threshold. Thundercracker had taken Celerity out to New Vos, to see their growing tribe of younger sparks. Skywarp had made plans to see some inane sports thing half a planet away with friends from work. And Skyfire had been asked back to Earth for some science project involving altogether too much mud to be healthy, which the red seeker had, ah, “politely” declined.

So things had all looked on-schedule for a pleasant, private evening of relaxation. Possibly spending a little quality time alone with all those lovely polishing tools in the washracks. (And the insulated step-stool the bikes were always raving about.)

…then Skywarp had come home early.

Apparently, the game had been called off because half of one team had come down with a virus – and the disappointed, slightly-cranky teleport had brought with him the packet of fulminating candies he’d been planning on taking to the match. It wasn’t the candies that were a problem, as much as the type of candies. In fuel terms, they were next to worthless, but folk liked them because they had a pleasant crunch.

The teleport was most definitely making the most of that part, and it was all making Starscream’s helm hurt. Skywarp had been throwing the confectionery into the air and trying to catch them in his mouth for most of the evening – without great success, if all the residue scattered across the floor was anything to go by.

Starscream had sat and watched his plans for a nice, quiet, relaxing evening trickle off down the drain. He sat and glared at the news, until he couldn’t stand the incessant noise any more. “Are you going to share those, or what?”

Skywarp looked at him, hesitating mid-crunch. “…I hadn’t been planning to?”

“Says the mech who’s already shared half the packet with the floor, and was probably going to pelt the opposing team with them anyway?”

Skywarp narrowed his optics and pouted, but finally relented and held out the packet. “Fine. But don’t eat all of ‘em,” he warned, with a little finger waggle. “I was gonna save a few for when the Squeakster comes home.”

Starscream carefully tipped a handful into his palm, and flicked the packet back at his wingmate. “Doesn’t she get tired of all the permutations on ‘squeak’ that you come up with?”

Skywarp gave him a brief suspicious look – presumably cross-referencing the meaning of ‘permutation’ – before wrinkling his nose. “Nah. It’s her name, isn’t it?”

“One of these days you’re going to find a variation on Squeak that she doesn’t like, and she’s going to slug you round the face for it.” Starscream wriggled more comfortably into his chair. “I only hope I’m here to get to see it.”

Skywarp offered a dismissive pfft. “What are you watching, anyway?”

“The news. It figures that you wouldn’t know what that is.”

Skywarp snorted. “I know what the news is, dude. I was expecting you to be watching it while you waited for something more interesting to come on.”

“No, I am in fact watching the news just because I want to watch the news? Some of us like to know what’s going on around the world before they blunder into it.”

“Get you, Winglord Grumpy. Who shoved a spanner up your exhaust?”

Starscream fixed him on a glare, although it didn’t have quite the same effect on Skywarp as it might have on one of the junior councillors. “I was looking forwards to a relaxing evening to myself,” he growled, frustrated. “Then you came home with slagging exploding candies and I haven’t had a breem’s peace since.”

Skywarp gave him a small, sly smile. “You could go see Skyfire. I know he’d love your, ah, help. Washing all that mud off.”

Starscream’s glare turned into a pout and he sacrificed one of his candies in favour of throwing it at his wingmate; it exploded like a whipcrack in the teleport’s audio vent and almost made him jump out of his chair. “Why don’t you go find someone else to harass, you obnoxious glitch.”

The dark seeker rubbed his helm and sulked, but finally went (blissfully) silent.

-----------

Pulsar finally crawled in at some ungodly time of the dark cycle, and flopped in Skywarp’s lap with her chassis-lights still lit.

“Hi?” Skywarp propped his thrusters against the low table, so she could relax a little more comfortably against his chassis. “You’re back late.”

She snorted. “Whatever would we do without your keen powers of observation.”

“And you’re dented.”

“Again with the skills. I have my lights on, too, in case you hadn’t seen them.” She proper herself just enough that her headlights shone straight into his optics; Skywarp snerk!ed and covered her chassis with both palms. The bike vented a subtle sigh and leaned into his hands. “I’m going to have to go to the paintshop again. I only went two orns ago!”

He smiled and flicked her aerials. “You’re only worried the staff are gonna think you’ve got pink optics for them, or something.”

“Huh.” Something finally clicked, and she gave him a long, suspicious look. “What are you doing at home, anyway? You’re not even meant to be here.”

“Now who’s got the amazing powers of observation?”

She snorted softly, pressing into his hand as he skimmed his big fingers around the back of her helm and across her antennae. “Guilty as charged, especially if you keep doing that. What happened? Did it get cancelled?”

“Yeah. Sucks slag, right?” Skywarp grunted and shifted his wings into a more comfortable sprawl, continuing to draw little loopy fingertip doodles on the back of the bike’s helm and listening as her purr deepened. “Captain of the enemy team is purge-for-brains who didn’t keep his firewall up to date and passed it on to half his team. Match is postponed until… I don’t even know. Whenever the doctors sign ’em off as fit, I guess?” He squinted at her. “Are you even listening to me?”

Pulsar didn’t reply; still just purring gently. Sounded like she’d already slipped into idle. Not a great surprise, given her rash of new dents and paint flecks – obviously had a hard day.

He tried to lean down, so he could be closer to her audios. “I saved you some candies, but I figure you’re too tired for them, too, and I should just eat ‘em for you, right?”

She stirred, onlined her optics – although they were a muggy, dim shade of blue instead of her usual turquoise – and opened her mouth at him, like a small bird begging to be fed.

“Ugh! I’m not feeding you, femme, I mean Primus. What do you think I am?” But he posted one of the candies into her mouth anyway.

She snrk-ed softly. “Thank you. …I think? Because ow-!” Her voice skated briefly up the scale, and she had to cover her mouth with a palm to avoid egesting crumbs of explosive blue confectionery all over her seeker. “Those are properly zingy! Where in Pit did you get them from?”

Across the room, a semi-dormant Starscream muttered something about don’t people know what the fragging time is.

Skywarp shrugged. “Mighta swiped ‘em out of the evidence store.” He watched her dissolve in a fit of alarmed spluttering, and grinned. “Nah, seriously. There’s a new shop out on the main street. I figured I’d see if they were as good as folk were saying they were. Not bad, huh.”

It took her a moment to regain control of her vocaliser, and even then her words came out watery. “If you like feeling like your helm’s exploding, I guess? I think they’re designed for bigger machines than me.”

Skywarp picked a slightly smaller blue crystal out of the packet. “Want another?”

Pulsar actually recoiled a little. “Thank you, but no. I’d prefer my intake components stayed where they were installed.”

Skywarp snickered, and crunched on the candy. “Aw. I was hoping to see what other noises I could get you to make.”

“…don’t you use me as a way to aggravate your poor wingleader.”

“But you’re such a nice way to aggravate him, too.” He cupped his hand gently around her blinker and pinged at her antennae. “Especially when you use this…” His fingers drifted around towards her siren.

“…I feel a little used.” She purred and leaned into his hand, anyway, and lowered her voice; “How about you give me a better reason to visit the paintshop tomorrow.”

“Now who’s the aggravating glitch?”

“What can I say. You rub off on me.”

He snickered softly and added his purr to hers – a deeper, throatier sound that made his chassis vibrate subtly. Pulsar made a funny noise against him, elbows buckling.  

On the opposite side of the room, Starscream sighed loudly enough to make the maple’s nearby leaves flutter, put up his hands in defeat, and retired to his private quarters.

-----------

The approaching dawn had begun to spread smudges of deep blue onto the horizon when Pulsar began to stir from the comfortable tangle of limbs and charging cables on the couch with Skywarp.

She managed to extract an arm, propped her chin in one palm, and for a while just listened to the subtle purr of his fans. For a former warmech, he looked surprisingly non-threatening, with his features slack in recharge – although at least part of that was probably down to the fact he wasn’t awake and being belligerent.

“…Warp?”

Her voice nudged Skywarp out of idle. “Uh?” He struggled to get his optics to reboot. “What.”

“It’s officially been 10 vorns, as of this morning.”

“Has it?” He thought about it for a few astroseconds. “…what has?”

She gave a little huff of amusement. “Since we crashed into each other’s lives.”

“Technically it’s been more like forty-seven vorns.” He pursed his lips and looked askance at her. “You’ve been timing it?”

She snorted. “Of course not.” But she’d answered so quickly, she knew she’d betrayed her own confidence, and hastily revised; “Okay, maybe a little. It’s a nice milestone. Hadn’t you even noticed it coming up on your chronometer?”

“I-… was I meant to?” He sounded wary, as though trying to gauge how big a faux pas this might have been.

“I guess maybe I assumed you would have?” She folded her arms under her chin. “Because some days, it feels like you’re the most brilliantly observant mech I’ve ever known. You spot things none of the rest of us notice.” She vented a little sigh of warm air. “But then equally, on other days, you’re the most wilfully, intentionally unobservant individual on our side of the district rift, so I don’t know why I’m surprised.” Seeing him grin, she thumped his chassis. “That’s not something you should be proud of.”

Skywarp blew out a dismissive raspberry. “What, I’m not allowed to feel proud of myself when someone calls me brilliant and observant instead of a brainless quantum browser?”

Pulsar glanced away. “…All right. Nice save.”

“Ten vorns, huh.” He laced his fingers behind his head. “I never thought I’d survive that long, out of the ’Cons.” He pondered on the thought for a moment. “Honestly, never figured I was gonna get out alive in the first place, so the extra vorns are a nice bonus.”

She propped her elbow against his chassis and rested her chin on her hand. “How did you think it’d end? Or don’t I want to know.”

He gazed up at the dwindling stars still visible through the crystal ceiling, thoughtfully. “I’unno, really. A glorious death on the battlefield, I guess? Didn’t figure I was much good for anything else.”

“Pff!”

“Seriously.” He shrugged awkwardly against the chair. “I was sparked for war, right? Maybe not civil war, but. You know. I’d not known anything else, so I suppose… it never occurred to me that I could be anything else?” He grimaced. “Didn’t help having a boss who always told you that you were an idiot, that you were only any good at following instructions – sometimes – and who’d punch you in the head or worse if you got on his bad side.”

Pulsar was silent for a beat. “…what makes him different to Starscream, who also calls you an idiot and punches you in the head if you get on his bad side?”

The grimace relaxed into a comfortable smile. “Yeah, but he doesn’t only call me an idiot – not all the time, anyway – and I’m not scared to punch back if I disagree with him.”

She felt oddly prickly, at the reminder of his old life.

“You’re not gonna get wibbly on me now, are you, femme?” Skywarp let her wriggle a little further up his chassis and tuck her head up under his chin. “It’s not like they tricked me into joining up. I signed up for it knowing what my prospects were, and… yeah, I guess I enjoyed it? Was nice to feel like I was doing something important, for a while.”

“And it’s not like you’d have objected greatly to the need to fight other machines, either.” Pulsar vented a little sigh. “Couldn’t comment on the rest. Until your trine showed up, I don’t think I did anything important.”

He made a little snrk noise. “Yeah, you’re such a martyr. Is self-pity programmed into all bikes, or just you?”

She made an aggravated noise and flattened a hand over his mouth, but he just licked her palm in response. “Should have expected a lack of sympathy from you,” she griped, ineffectually trying to wipe her hand dry against his chassis. “Glitch.”

He grinned and waited while she got comfortable again. “S’funny, isn’t it. One orn, you’re the most feared warrior to ever take to Cybertron’s airspace-”

Pulsar offered a snort! So he poked her in a ticklish spot. She almost lurched right out of his lap.

“The next, the whole world’s changed, war’s over, and you’re snuggling with a mortal enemy, in the house you share, in a district you never knew existed until you wound up there by accident one time, mulling over how long you’ve managed to stay together and not kill each other.” He closed his arms possessively around her, making her snicker against him. “I’m glad we crashed into each other. It’s kinda nice to have someone to do horrible things to, who’ll let you do horrible things to them because they actually like it. Weirdo.”

“…I still have no idea why I love you, you objectionable airhead.”

He pressed his cheek against the smooth top of her helm and purred. “…let’s call in sick, and sneak off somewhere exciting. What better way to celebrate ten vorns than to relive the glory days?”

“I’m not sure getting hooked on dangerous illegal drugs counts as glorious, but sneaking off work sounds like a very good idea.”

Offices weren’t precisely Skywarp’s natural habitat.

The way he worked could probably have been politely called “hands-on”, although most people recognised a euphemism when they saw one; he liked to be out there, collecting paint scrapings. If there was ever a question of “good cop, bad cop”? Skywarp was absolutely bad cop, absolutely all the time. It was a brave machine that chose to riot when he was on duty.

But, his ‘style’ (if you could call it that) tended to get results, too, and taming the unashamedly aggressive ex-’Con never seemed to be on the cards. His friends and colleagues just learned to live with the fallout. And the noise.

So being cooped up in an office with Thundercracker’s highly distracted deputy was starting to grate at his patience.

Superintendent Thundercracker had visitors – a bright, sweet-natured councillor from the next district over, and their acting chief constable. They were (ostensibly) trying to hash out a deal of some sort – Deixar Constabulary would provide officers on secondment to Tysta’s overstretched police force, and in return Tysta would provide closer support to the neighbouring New Vos.

However, if the laughter coming from behind the door was anything to go by, at least a little high-grade was involved.

And Celerity had been watching his door for a good proportion of the meeting, with an odd, wistful expression on her broad features. (Not that Skywarp had started keeping a tally, or anything, after the fifth time she’d sighed and mumbled something to herself. He felt like throwing something at her.)

“Grounders,” Skywarp snorted, deliberately baiting for a response. “Never can handle their high-octane fuels.” He knew (from somewhat embarrassing experience) that she had very big tanks to go along with the very big frame, and she usually took cool pleasure in reminding him how she could drink him under the table.

She didn’t take the bait this time, though. Must be even more distracted than she looked.

When the femme vented a little sigh of warm air and looked wistfully over at Thundercracker’s door for what must have been the ninetieth time, Skywarp finally ran out of patience. “Lara.”

Celerity jumped a tiny bit and jerked around to look at him. “S-sky-what?”

“Will you just go talk to him, already?” The ex-Con glared at her from his corner and gestured at the closed door with a dramatic sweep of one whole arm. “Instead of keep puffing and sighing and being melodramatic about it?”

Her lips moved silently for a second before she managed to get a disjointed string of words out; “He but I mean in a meeting?”

“He’s not gonna be in a meeting all orn-” Skywarp covered his optics briefly with one hand, then rocked forwards to rest his elbows on the desk. “Okay, so. Bit of advice for you.” He forced a syrupy smile. “Guys like me and TC aren’t that good at noticing subtle hints. We’ve spent most of a lifetime fighting Autobots whose idea of ‘subtle’ was ‘shoot the fraggers out of the sky’. Right?”

She gave him a small, puzzled nod. “…right?”

“So, if you wanna get us to notice something, you’ve gotta beat it into our heads with a mallet.” After a beat, he shrugged, and added; “some of us with a bigger mallet than others, granted. But all this, this…” He waved his hands aimlessly for a second. “Wistful looks behind his wings and super-subtle clues? Forget it. Either come out and say it, or fraggin’ quit it. You’re doing my helm in.”

Celerity’s brows came down in a hurt little glare and her lips parted as though to protest, but she evidently couldn’t think of a good retort because no words came out for several seconds. “I don’t think I asked you for an opinion,” she managed, at last.

The teleport spread his hands in mock despair. “No? You’re sitting there puffing and sighing, practically screaming notice me, and now you don’t want an opinion?” He leaned a little closer and gave Thundercracker’s door a meaningful glance. “Or is it just that my opinion isn’t good enough?”

Her expression darkened. Glitch, she mouthed at him.

Skywarp half-smirked and was thinking up a new extra-witty snipe when he noticed the femme straighten and fix her attention back on her workstation, apparently sensing movement towards the door some seconds before it finally clicked and hushed open. One advantage to the huge sensory bouton on the back of her head, the teleport figured, hastily trying to look equally busy.

“…and we’ll see about getting something hard-coded to that effect.” Thundercracker ushered his two visitors out into the office. “It’s good to have your support on this, gentlemechs; I know New Vos will appreciate it.”

“No no, the pleasure is ours, superintendent,” the councillor gushed, shaking hands for far longer than necessary. “We look forwards to finally getting crime in the district down to a manageable level. I really don’t know how we’ve survived this long without someone as competent as you providing us with a little support.”

Standing to one side and waiting quietly for his fellow delegate to finish talking, Tysta’s senior police officer grimaced and looked away, rattling his rotors very slightly in annoyance.

All three Deixar staff watched silently as the councillor wobbled his giggly way to the far door, clinging tighter to the chief constable’s arm than the helicopter looked particularly comfortable with. The officer shot Skywarp an odd look of mixed apology and embarrassment, before successfully navigating the pair of them out into the corridor and away.

Thundercracker waited until they were out of audio range before blowing a long sigh of exhaust through his pursed lips and casting his gaze to the heavens. He rolled his shoulders, trying to stretch his wings a little.

“Hard work, huh?”

Thundercracker turned and gave Skywarp a long, suspicious look, as if to ask why exactly he was lurking in the office.

“It’s been raining.” Skywarp answered the unspoken question. “I was waiting for Governor Giggles to finally clear out so I could drag you off for a proper drink. Figured you’d need it.” Then he shrugged. “Sounds like you might have survived okay without my help, though.”

The blue mech thought about it for a second or two. “You know what? I think it actually was a fairly productive meeting.” He hesitated, and added; “If not the most… conventional.”

“Yeah, we heard all the ‘unconventional’ through your door.”

Thundercracker put his hands up. “In my defence, it was his high grade. And he drank most of it.”

“If you ever need my help, you only have to holler, you know?”

“Unless you mean help drinking all that spare energon he brought with him, Warp, your ‘help’ almost invariably involves your fists, and this is the sort of delicate situation that really wouldn’t be aided by someone punching it.”

“You never know. Might help people keep focused?”

“Yeah, well. Guess I’ll let you know, on the off chance I some day need you and your violence in my office?”

Skywarp snickered, pleased with himself.

Thundercracker only got as far as his doorway. He stared in at the muddle of data-wafers and empty cubes for a few moments before letting his arms dangle with a sigh. “Actually, you know what? I am gonna take you up on that drink. Lemme just save what I was working on…” His words faded into indecipherable mutterings as he passed into his office.

“Sure; I ain’t going anywhere yet.” Skywarp rocked his chair comfortably back onto two legs against the wall. He gave Celerity a sly glance; she’d begun to rustle around and looked like she was gearing up to slip away while their attention was elsewhere.

Oh no you don’t.

“Celerity needed to talk to you,” he said, intentionally loudly.

“Oh?” Thundercracker peered back at her with a curious smile and arched brows. “You know my door’s always open, Lara.”

Her optics had already brightened to an alarmed cyan. She spluttered something incomprehensible and shook her head. “It’s nothing. It can wait.”

Skywarp kicked her under the table. “That’s not what you said to me a breem ago.”

“I did not-… I didn’t say anything of the sort! I-I said he was in a meeting.”

“And he was too busy to talk, right, I get that. Well, now he’s not, so what’s stopping you?” Skywarp turned on his best, most-practiced look of innocence, optics wide and guileless. “I’m only trying to help you, here.”

“Which I never asked-” Celerity’s flustered denials were just boxing her deeper into her corner. “That’s not the point! He’s busy and it’s not important.”

Thundercracker watched the exchange with an increasingly bemused smile. “Well, seeing as I’m ditching the office to go for a drink with Warp any time soon, how about we talk now? Take advantage of the fact we all now know you have something on your mind.”

The big femme just stood and stared at him with her mouth open for a second or two.

He gestured both hands at his open door, encouragingly.

“All right. I suppose-… I can… all right.” She covered her optics briefly with one hand and vented a little noise of frustration, before finally emerging from behind her desk. “All right.”

Behind Thundercracker’s wings, she gave Skywarp the blackest of glowers; he grinned back, totally unapologetic, wearing a huge innocent smile that made his nose crinkle, and wiggled the fingers of one hand in a wave.

Satisfied – for now, at least – Skywarp laced his fingers across his chassis and let his brain slip into idle, lulled into a pleasant light doze by the murmur of indistinct speech through the wall.

The sounds that re-emerged not even a full breem later didn’t quite have the light, carefree cadence he’d been sorta half-hoping half-anticipating. Not quite fully alert, but awake enough to be aware that something hadn’t quite followed his little mental plan, he onlined a single optic and watched a grim-faced Celerity appear in the doorway.

Thundercracker emerged from his office behind her, looking concerned and disappointed. “Well, um. Let me know if you need a reference?”

Skywarp sat straighter, inviting himself back into the conversation. “Hey, what?”

Celerity was already making for the door, arms stiff at her sides, not looking at him. Her lips were pursed and a frustrated frown dug deep furrows into her brow.

Thundercracker didn’t move to follow. “Celerity was just explaining to me that she was considering taking a post over on Quayside, to work closer with her twin. Obviously that wouldn’t be my preference, but.” He folded his arms and forced a disappointed smile. “Not my decision to make, I guess. I’m not going to force anyone to stay where they’re not comfortable.”

Skywarp was up on his thrusters surprisingly quickly for the lackadaisical slouch he’d adopted around the office. “Oh no you don’t.” He grabbed Celerity firmly by the arm, and ducked when she made an aggravated noise and swung a fist at his head. “Would you excuse us a moment, TC? Thanks.”

Before Thundercracker could voice a challenge, both the teleport and his unwilling passenger disappeared in a slap of collapsing air molecules.

0o0o0o0o0

Skywarp returned in less than half a breem, immediately making a reach for his wingmate’s arm.

Thundercracker backed off, just out of grabbing range. “Want to tell me exactly what’s going on?”

“You’re gonna go talk to Lara because she is seriously upping the pressure in my helm right now.” Skywarp pursued him across the office.

Thundercracker put a desk between them. “We just did-?”

“No, I mean properly talk to her. Not... accept her stupid excuses at face value. She ain’t that good at lying. Will you stand still, already?”

Thundercracker put his hands up in defeat and allowed Skywarp to take his arm.

There was the immediate chill of displacement and the weird sensation of being in two places at once, then an astro-second of freefall before they landed with a thump on a rooftop out in the old industrial zone, close to the District Rift.

“Right. So.” Skywarp stood just a little behind Thundercracker, as though to impress visually how he was going to back up his wingmate, and addressed Celerity; “If you want down, you’re gonna have to talk. So get talking.” And with one last aggressive finger-point for emphasis, he was gone.

Thundercracker quirked a brow at her. “I won’t pretend I have the first idea what this is all about. Have you two argued?”

“Not… precisely.” She shuffled her large feet against the dirty roof and vented a little sigh. “We’ve had a differing opinion on how to proceed with something.”

“And that’s involved us ending up on a roof… how, exactly?”

“I’m not sure. I imagine I can’t just claim I have something else to do and hide until you’re gone, if we’re up here.”

For several seconds, he just stared at her. “…why would you need to hide from me?”

She half-smiled, embarrassed, and shrugged, but still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Because some situations are easier dealt with by avoiding them.”

“That’s probably not the healthiest of mindsets.”

“Maybe not? But it’d worked for me for vorns. Probably would have continued working, as well, if it hadn’t annoyed Skywarp. Who shouldn’t even have been in the slagging office, but there we go.” She folded her arms and glared at her dusty pedes. “Some mechs just have a knack for being incorrigible fragheads, I suppose.”

The rainclouds finally loosened their grip on their cargo. The drizzle was no longer as catastrophically acidic as it had once been, but it was still strong enough that both could feel it sizzling against their autorepair nanites.

“Come on.” Thundercracker held out his hands. “We can’t stay out in this. Let me fly you down. Whatever you wanted to talk to me about can’t be important enough to risk taking our lacquer off over.”

“Eh. Perhaps? Except Skywarp picked this roof, and this rainstorm, to force my hand. We don’t have the luxury of taking forever talking about it.” The big femme fidgeted her feet, awkwardly, and cast a suspicious glance into the sky, but couldn’t spot the black-winged target of her ire. “Besides. I know he’s watching, and if we don’t talk, he’s going to fly me straight back up here when your back is turned, so. I’d rather… get it out of the way, and get off the roof.”

The blue seeker smiled and spread his hands. “You have my undivided attention. Not that you should need such drastic measures to get it.”

She took a hesitant step closer. “I’m just not really sure how to explain. I've spent long enough avoiding the question that I neglected to think about what I'd do if anyone ever actually asked-..." She swallowed the rest of the statement. “Please don’t be offended.”

The space between them was less than an arm’s length. Her proximity forced him to look up to meet her gaze.

“Why would I be offended?” he asked.

She made some noises that didn’t seem to match any words Thundercracker was familiar with, then leaned down a tiny fraction closer, and brushed a kiss over his lips. Then stepped back, looking like she’d have appreciated it if the roof had opened to swallow her, staring fixedly at her feet.

For several seconds, he just stared at her. “Is-… that…” He waved his hands, but the words refused to be magicked up. “…what you wanted to… ‘talk’ about?”

“I think so.” Celerity’s lips curved up into a grimacing half-smile on just one side. She seemed to be focusing mostly on his knees, now. “Sorry to be a disappointment. I wish I had something more profound.”

For several seconds, both seemed stuck for a response. The intensifying drizzle slanted down in uncomfortable curtains, beading against their plating and creeping like cold fingers through joints in their armour.

Celerity finally looked up and shot him a bared-teeth sort of grin. “Can we get down now? I have enough trouble with paint-transfers, I don’t need acid-spots to polish out as well.”

Thundercracker gave himself a little shake out of his stupor, and opened his arms to her. “Come on, then.”

She froze, apparently only just recognising what getting back to the ground involved.

He gave her a friendly glare, gently reprimanding. “How else were you planning on getting down, Lara? We’ve flown together before, and you can hardly climb down the exterior of the building.”

“Yes, but you didn’t know, back then, either.” She stepped cautiously closer, and let him put his arms around her. “Pit. This feels so weird.” They were almost touching cheeks. Her voice had gone oddly thin. “May-maybe I should get some-someone else to give me a lift.”

“…Before you say it, you’re not that heavy. And I’m not going to drop you.” He stepped out over the edge of the building and fell for an instant, before the wind caught his wings and he soared back up into the rain-drenched sky, little vortices of drizzle curling in his wake.

She rebooted her vocaliser with a little khuff. “For the record, that’s not what I was worried about-!”

“Also for the record, I know. I think we ought to find somewhere private to talk. Agreed?”

She made a small glum noise before replying; “Good idea. I’d rather not have spectators.”

A conveniently derelict skyscraper on the Rustig side of the district rift loomed up in front of them. The decorative glass walls had long since been blown out and most of the bare concrete floors were saturated, except for a narrow access corridor close to the top, just deep enough for two machines to take shelter from the elements.

It wasn’t really big enough for either of them. Celerity settled awkwardly under the ledge, cross-legged, just out of the gusting rain. Thundercracker joined her after a second or two, slotting his wings in behind her.

For a breem or two, they just sat, watching the fine curtains of drizzle misting down over the district. The horizon had already vanished behind the soft grey clouds.

Neither seemed to really know what to say – or even if saying anything was the right thing to do.

It… probably shouldn’t have come as such a surprise.

Thundercracker knew there’d been friendly jokes about it, but he’d assumed that was all it was. The big femme would smile politely, field going prickly, clearly embarrassed, but mostly would just wave it off.

There’d been plenty of signs that should have clued him in, if he’d been paying attention. When Siphon had launched his campaign of torture, Celerity hadn’t even hesitated to volunteer her help, going all the way to a whole different planet, one she’d never visited even once before, to help look for him. He wasn’t sure if she’d ever gone up against a genuine Decepticon in her life, either, but she’d still used her own shielding as a shelter when Dirge had fired on them.

But she was always ready with the justifications to avoid discussing it – she was big, she was physically strong, she had inbuilt protective forcefields. It was logical. She was just doing her job.

And after that, he’d been distracted, he told himself. Getting his trine back to full health had been a priority, then Skywarp had vanished, then he’d just… got so habituated to having her around, quietly making sure the work was getting done, the officers were happy, keeping reports filed and off his desk, that he stopped noticing it, really.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he wondered, at last. There was a subtle hint of challenge in his voice.

She laced her fingers over her ankles, and shrugged. “I thought it’d probably go away.”

“…and how long have you been annoying Skywarp by sighing?”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze, and he could feel a little frisson of embarrassment shimmer up through her field. “Not long.”

“You sure?”

“Well he’s not been back for that long-”

“Lara.”

“All right. I suppose I’ve had slightly… mostly?... pink optics since you helped us deal with the Blue problem, that time.”

Thundercracker was silent for several seconds. “That’s nearly forty vorns, Celerity.”

“Like I said.”

“…you’re defining that as not long?”

“Pff.” She wafted a hand, with an artfully casual manner. “Barely long enough to notice.”

He jabbed her carefully with a gentle elbow. “Stop that.”

She finally smiled at him, sadly. “It made sense. I like working with you. We’re a good team; all of us. We work well together. Why would I want to force a change in all of that, just so I could be selfish?”

“I don’t think that precisely counts as selfish?”

“…mm. Maybe not? But there’s got to be a rule somewhere about not having a romantic liaison with your direct superior. Risks conflict of interest, or something. Bad practice to work in the same office. Plus it would make life awkward for both of us. One of us would have to leave.” She shook her head. “Some things just don’t need thinking about.”

He vented a little huff of amusement. “I’m pretty sure unrequited pink optics are just as distracting.”

She sighed and glared out into the drizzle. “I’d got used to ignoring it.” She lowered her voice to a mutter. “Fragging… Skywarp.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. You’ll upset Squeaky, if nothing else.”

She spluttered, straightening in alarm. “That wasn’t what I meant-!”

He laughed. “Relax, Lara. I’m teasing.” He bumped her with a wing. “It’s got to be better for you, now you’re not avoiding the subject.”

She managed to regain her composure, rebooting her vocaliser with a little khuff. “I suppose it’s a weight off my shoulders,” she admitted, at last. “There’s just a different sort of weight there, now.”

He watched her for several seconds, waiting for her to elaborate, but she didn’t seem inclined to volunteer the information.

“Joking aside, I guess this means I’m going to need that reference, after all.” She gave him a little elbow. “I’ll swap with Vecks. You’ll never notice the difference, and I can guarantee she won’t be interested in pursuing anything.”

“Hey! I… all right, I might not have noticed forty vorns of pink optics, but I’m not that unobservant.” He gave her an instant of intense scrutiny. “Your heads are different shapes, to start with.”

Celerity found a laugh. She sounded… almost relieved. “I’m glad you’re not upset.”

“I’m still not sure why you thought I would be. Am I really that feroci – actually don’t answer that.” He punctuated the sentence with a little finger-waggle. “I feel… somewhat blindsided, maybe. And confused. And… not completely sure where this is going to take us?” He drew in a long, cooling draught of damp air and stared out over their rain-slick home district. “But we’ll figure something out.” He covered her hand with his, and squeezed her fingers, lightly. “Something that doesn’t involve dismantling the office.”