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Megatron had seen plenty of seekers fly before; they hadn’t been an uncommon sight in the skies above Cybertron by any means. He’d probably glimpsed Starscream himself before, elegant and showy even in silhouette, hundreds of mechanometers above.
He knew, though, that he’d never seen Starscream fly like this.
The Nemesis floated in deep space, conserving fuel while the Decepticons planned their next battle. Everyone had been on orders to conserve their own fuel—minimal activity, careful rationing, and definitely no flying.
That had lasted about a deca-cycle before the seekers were quite literally climbing the walls, and the no-fly order had been lifted for them specifically.
Now he watched his SIC twist and turn in the void just beyond the bridge window, free of the confines of anything, even gravity or an atmosphere. Seekers weren’t designed for longterm spaceflight, true, and a few members of the air force seemed to be having trouble adjusting to flight under these conditions.
Starscream himself had no such trouble—or, more likely, he’d taken the time in the past to work out any problems he had with spaceflight somewhere no one could could see and laugh.
A trine of seekers were drifting away from each other, unable to hold formation without being able to read the air currents usually surrounding them. Starscream flew circles around them, pushing them back into the traditional seeker V.
Megatron couldn’t resist the urge to comm Starscream. “I see your seekers will defend us admirably in a space fight.”
Starscream wheeled away from the trine he’d been bullying into formation, hovering just outside the bridge windows. The disapproval radiated from him, obvious even without him transforming to display traditional body language. His comm came through to Megatron. “They’ll do fine. They’d be doing better if their illustrious leader hadn’t driven them half-mad with sky hunger before allowing them out.”
“I will not apologize—” Megatron started, but Starscream cut him off with a burst of static.
“I wouldn’t expect that from you—”
“But on future expeditions,” Megatron continued over Starscream, “I could be convinced to allow additional fuel for the seeker frametype to take necessary flights. After all, I need my airforce in working order, don’t I?”
At that, Starscream did transform, floating up on his thruster heels until his face was level with Megatron’s. He drummed his claws against the window—he knew Megatron would hear the clicks, even if Starscream himself could only feel vibrations from the drumming in the vast void around him.
“It’s only logical,” he murmured in agreement. There was a smirk on his face, baring sharp silver fangs. “Where would you be without us?” Unspoken, but heard clearly by both of them: Where would you be without me?
“Primus knows,” Megatron said dryly, but he returned Starscream’s smirk anyway. There would be time later for screaming at each other. For now, he simply pressed his hand to the window opposite Starscream’s claws, and after a klik, Starscream flattened his palm to rest against Megatron’s in return.