Starscream knew he was taking a risk. He didn't care; he never did. He was too caught up in the ache of his Spark, too tired of feeling that pull. He stormed out of the Nemesis, going above the water despite Soundwave's warning that Megatron had not expressed permission for departure.
He flew, far and free, heading for enemy territory. The moon was large and more than half-full, the stars not quite out as the sun wended its way below the horizon just as Starscream breached Autobot air-space.
The Aerialbots were scrambled in quick response, but Starscream had what he wanted which was Skyfire in his sights. None of those war-Sparked mechs could hope to catch him, Starscream knew. He spiraled through a roll just as he crossed the path between the orbiting moon and his Spark-mate, a clear display of skill and aesthetics that Skyfire could see and treasure, a reminder of what he had lost in his stupid choice.
That was all he needed, and then he streaked up and away, on target to take to space, hating that the reformat he had received from Teletraan-1's repair beam had locked him into a non-innately space-worthy form. He climbed nearly to the point of escaping the atmosphere, that moon beckoning, mocking him. From there, aware the Aerialbots had stopped short of chasing him beyond Autobot territory, he turned his course to go harass the humans who thought they too could fly like he did.
That would ease some of the ache, as did the knowledge that Skyfire was longing for him even as he flew.