Starscream Chronicles

Cybertron, Vos, Golden Age, Cybertronian Great Glaciation
Fledgeling age – Year six hundred and three – Early Winter

Winter on Cybertron was long. In Earth terms it lasted many hundreds of years. In fact a winter on Cybertron would easily be called an ice age on Earth. It would usually last between two and four hundred years. This was the result of the planet's orbit becoming more elliptical over a nearly ten thousand year period. This would plunge Vos and the other southern hemisphere cities into a long chilly winter.

Vos was well equipped to deal with these winters. Large pipes were placed deep into the planet's surface to draw heat out of the planet's crust in order to warm the buildings. The city itself was covered in a large force field dome which encompassed the tallest structures. This protected the city and its citizens from the snow and freezing temperatures. These huge domes would be lowered during the warmer seasons. Out laying towns and villages had to deal with the harsh conditions, this included the southern Vos plains, forests and chasms.

The blue sun hung low in the winter daytime sky, the clouds formed and snow fell. Icy wind blew across the chasm whistling and howling as it entered the sonic caverns. The night skies were often lit by the shimmering dance of the Aurora Borealis. Its greens and blues complimented the violets and pinks of the great nebula.

The air was fairly still as huge flakes of snow gently floated down from the thick clouds and added itself to the slowly thickening blanket on the nearby forest floor amongst the dormant copper-leaf trees. Slowly but surely the layers of snow built up upon each other forming ice which thickened over time.

Ice formed along the ledges of the chasms, with one ledge being oddly clear of snow. Rough scrap metal was piled against one of the cavern openings to block out the breeze and a dim light shone from within.

Inside stood a small Seeker holding a simple oil lamp, made from the shell of an armoured aardvark. A wick of fire-reeds fed the small flame which flickered in the draft. The fledgeling Seeker had reorganised his cavern once it became apparent that the cold weather would last longer than a few weeks. He used scrap to carve out an area just behind one of the great geothermal pipes which ran past his home. He utilised this for warmth. He discovered that during his expansion work that his cavern yielded an ore that, when ignited, would burn for hours producing heat and light. This he decided would be useful to carry with him when he was forced to leave the protection of his to hunt further afield. The small nook became a more protected living area where he rested. He spent a great deal of time resting to conserve energy hoping for warmer days which, to his dismay, did not come.

His hatching came toward the end of the Cybertronian summer, and then the short autumn. He was spoiled by the warm weather and, now, the chilly nights confused and frightened him. The tilt of the planet's axis also meant that the winter would not only be early this season, but extremely long this round.

The light flickered across the tanks he had strung up against the wall. All but two were empty. He had been putting off hunting for a while because of the inclement weather conditions. High winds, below freezing temperatures and heavy snow prevented him from going too far, but he knew if he did not leave the area soon he would face starvation. The pond he had previously discovered on his flight had all but frozen over and was becoming harder to get to during the short days. He was unable to locate a more local source of the liquid energon which he instinctively felt there had to be.

He removed one of the two remaining tanks from its position on the wall, and gathered a small pile of the magnesite ore. He collected a flint and steel from the work table and pondered his slingshot. It would be a good idea to take it, but the volatile nature of his ammunition would make this particular hunt hazardous.

He had been using unstable energon for ages, which he had found in random locations over the fields and forests. The snow made it difficult to locate, however he had learned, more by luck than judgement, that he could create it at home with a blend of spring energon and retro-rat fuel. Crystals would form in the bottom of the tanks which could be collected and dried. He accidentally learned that the larger crystals packed a serious punch when he dropped one which triggered a violent reaction. This also caused his nearby energon stores to explode, and ignite some of the magnesite ore. The whole ordeal shook him to the core, and forced him to respect the power of liquid energon, the unstable crystals as well as the ore. The reaction also forced him to reassess how he stored his supplies, keeping volatile materials well away from each other.

No, he would not take the slingshot this time, he did not need them exploding needlessly. He would take a much heavier weapon, a spear. A solid weapon that he designed tipped with a scrap of sharp hardened steel that he had attached with thin wires coated in the pitch-epoxy made from silver-birch sap. Made for throwing or thrusting actions. The shaft was very solid and could easily be used defensively as well.

From a crude shelf on the wall, he collected a wire-frame fire-cage and a woven plasti-cloth sack. He filled the sack with small bits of the magnesite ore, the flint and steel in separate pockets, as well as a few bits of braided wire cable. He put the fire-cage just inside and slung it across his back, then connected the straps across his chest. It felt odd, but it was secure and everything was easily accessed. He then tucked his thin metal knife into a loop on the braided wire belt he wore around his waist. The tiny Seeker had yet to understand how to access the subspace storage layer.

As soon as he was ready he snuffed out the flame and removed the metal plates that covered his entrance. He stood for a moment looking up at the dimly lit daytime sky. The clouds seemed ominous and he worried that it would be a bad time to hunt. It appeared it would always be a bad time, but if he left it too long he would run out of supplies and find himself in dire trouble. His usual prey, the retro-rats and petrol rabbits, were nowhere to be found, either hiding in deep underground warrens or burrows, or skulking in the protected city. Only the larger beasts dared to venture out into the wilderness during these dark and frigid times. He was targeting larger prey, much larger, something that would sustain him longer with greater storage capacity.

The fledgeling shook his head and climbed up the chasm wall until he reached the top. He stopped again. The nearby city's hum was muffled by the thick snowy blanket. He longed to seek shelter there, but every attempt he made had been met with resistance and he was driven out.

He trudged onward for a few hours, clenching his chattering teeth against the cold. stopping for a short while to light a piece of ore so that he may warm himself up. He placed the glowing stone's ember in the fire-cage and hung it off the end of his spear. He then trudged onward into the forest. He walked until he came across a game trail which passed between some trees. It seemed to be regularly used by large ungulates and led into a nearby clearing. He examined the clearing to note that the snow and ice had been scuffed up to reveal razor grass which some of the tougher beasts consumed. This was a good sign and he was certain that the creature would revisit the area soon. He found himself a large iron-wood tree and climbed up onto a branch that overhung the game trail and there he waited.

His heating stone finally turned to a white ash, but he was hesitant to restart a new one. Fearing that the click of his flint to steel would alert any prey and send them running away. The smell of freshly flaming magnesite might also scare his prey off. Instead he hung onto the branch and shivered, all the while attempting to re-evaluate his plan- began to doubt himself wondering if he had somehow lost his mind. The strategy was sound, or so he thought. He would drop down on his prey and dive the spear into it, killing it quickly. He considered his original plan, to fly and transform to drive the spear into his target, but the use of energy was increased with flight, not to mention his prey's habit of hiding in trees. Flight was impossible with such hazards present.

He had to admit though, flight led him to new levels of joy and confidence, reducing his depressive bouts and motivated him to hunt for a little more than just the barest of essentials to survive. While the weather was still comfortable he made many flights back to his pond to collect fuel. However his storage containers were small. Small prey, small tanks. He needed something larger. He learned that the Iron Hoof Stag had a pair of large tanks. This discovery came when he found a dead doe that had been torn apart by a pack of Steeljaw wolves. Unfortunately the tanks were useless to him as they had been breached by the predators. There was not much useful left on the carcass other than a piece of steel hoof that he used to strike his fires.

After a while, he became groggy from the cold and began to doze off.

His mild power down was disrupted when he became aware of the crunch of snow. The fledgeling raised his head off his fist and glanced in the direction of the sound. It was a smallish stag, walking carefully, its beautiful silvery eyes alert for possible predators. It browsed at anything that was within reach. The cloven steel hooves clicked against the ice as he made his way along to the grazing area. The stag was young, maybe only a few centuries of age. It had antlers, which only had a couple of points. It would grow new points every decade as its antlers enlarged. The tiny flier pursed his lips as he pondered uses for the antlers. A new stronger slingshot, a good hammer, possibly even other weapons. A lot could be made from such resources.

The beast was unaware of the attack from above, his concern was mostly for wolves which ranged in the area at ground level. So he was taken entirely by surprise when the Seeker leapt down from his branch onto its back. The small flier's plan of driving the spear in as he dropped had been forgotten and chaos broke loose.

The small Seeker instantly regretted his decision to hunt this beast in this manner.

The Stag screamed in protest, snorted, then reared. Within a second he then took off at a full gallop attempting to throw the small flier. Redoubling his efforts as the Seeker's legs grasped onto his barrel. The fledgeling Seeker half panicked and nearly dropped his spear as the beast lunged forward. He grabbed at the base of the antlers and hung on for dear life. He knew that the beast would grind him into the snow if he should fall anywhere near the deadly hooves.

The stag launched himself over a fallen tree, landing on his forelegs. The Seeker, unused to riding anything, was nearly thrown from his seat. His weight shifted enough to cause him to pull on the antlers to the left, as he did the beast changed his direction. The small Seeker did not miss that observation. He wondered if he could turn the beast's head enough that it would fall over.

The Stag drove onward and leapt over a large pit in the ground. The Seeker lost his grip on the antlers and flailed for a moment before he wrapped his arms tightly around the beast's neck. Unable to use his spear now he attempted to generate a pulse through his finger tips, hoping that he might bring the animal down. But the power he could generate was hardly enough to do little more than annoy the already furious ungulate.

As they ran he noticed that the beast's body was heating up significantly. Its breath was hot, nearly fiery. The antlers warmed and appeared to act as radiators. The small flier was chilled on his back and was overheated on his front. However he decided to try to lower himself in order to keep warm as best as he could.

The Seeker was unsure where they were, he knew that the stag drove them into the thick of the forest, an area he had not travelled before they had run for quite a long time before the creature attempted to buck and slam his back against a tree. Fearing being smashed the small flier swung himself off the stag's back and clung onto his throat. This caused the stag to panic and once more it bolted. The small flier clung on, and shuttered his optics. Branches, and shrubs whipped at his back each strike eliciting a whimper of pain.

Unsure of how much more he could take, with the understanding that he was now in grave peril should he fall, the Seeker decided to risk attempting to end the conflict. His spear was too big a weapon to use at this range and it was awkwardly out of reach. He clung on to the neck with his legs and one arm and then with his right hand he reached into his braided wire belt to retrieve his dagger.

He stared at the small, nearly useless weapon for a moment. Its rough hewn edge, barely sharp, barely straight, barely pointed and the uttered a pitiful laugh realising how truly ill prepared he was. It would take a miracle for the small dagger to actually damage the raging stag. And anything he did would further annoy his prey which would put him into greater peril. His idea was futile, so unless he had something stronger, he would have to try to wait until the beast tired itself out or he fell to his demise. The latter seemed more likely. He swallowed hard and forced himself to accept the likelihood that he would be soon killed. For the moment, he was at peace and unafraid.

Once more the beast leaped over a log and at this point the small flier no longer had the strength to hang on. He found himself falling to the ground as the bright steel hooves flew past his head. The toe of the left hind leg clipped his brow and he felt the searing hot flash of pain just moments before falling offline.

He awoke, shivering, cold and surprised to be alive. The forest spun around him as he was gripped with dizzying nausea. He rolled to his side and heaved, his tanks were empty and nothing was ejected. He sat for a moment. His vision was blurry and he wiped his optics, his fingers were covered in a thick sticky liquid. He could see clearly once more he got to his feet and untied his spear from his back. He used it to balance himself for a moment.

A pathetic bleat followed by a scraping sound drew his attention to a thicket. He glanced in and spotted the stag, laying on its side gravely wounded. The metal-wood of a silver-birch sapling protruded from the beast's side. It appeared that the beast had lost its footing as he leapt which caused him to topple onto the thin, broken, jagged trunk.

The small Seeker stepped up to the creature and observed it. It was no longer a threat, the beast in turn watched him with fear filled, pain glazed eyes. The small Seeker felt a twinge of empathy; it was suffering and he never intended for it to suffer needlessly. He hunted for survival, not for joy. He placed his hands near the wound and the creature snorted a puff of smoke in protest. A spray of energon exited its mouth as it kicked feebly. The young flier emitted a pulse that managed to numb the pain receptors in the area. The beast lowered its head in exhaustion and relief.

Now he had to do the job he had come here for. He studied the creature for a moment in order to decide how to end it fast. His dagger would be useless, but the spear was stronger, sharper and more leveraged. He did not want to risk damaging the fuel tanks, and was already concerned for them worried that the beast's encounter with the sapling would have compromised their usability. It seemed to him that the only place he could attack for a swift kill was the head. There were a few vulnerable spots he could see.

He stood over the stag and he looked deep into its optics as he drove the spear into an area at the throat, near the jaw hinge. The thrust pushed the sharp point upward into the brain unit, severing the main fuel lines. The optics flared for a nano second. After a few moments the beast's fuel pump beat out the last of its energon. But before that happened the small Seeker withdrew the spear and latched his mouth to the wound and drank all that he could. As he did he gently caressed his prey's face as it died, as if asking it to forgive him.

The fledgeling Seeker never felt guilt about a kill before. Perhaps it was because the creature was as young as he was, struggling to find its way in a world that changed from wonderful to a frozen nightmare. Perhaps it was because the creature was so strong and beautiful in his optic. He was determined not to let it go to waste.

He then set himself to working on removing the fuel tanks. It took a while to cut with his soft dagger, and the spear tip. Eventually he was able to remove it. He had what he needed, the tanks and spark chamber. But the sky was darkening, soon it would be night so he strung the tanks together and lashed the other end to a large rock and flung it over a branch in the tree. He climbed up after it and pulled on the weight until the tanks rose into the branches. He used the rock to wrap around a branch, securing his prize. Once that was set, he ignited a small piece of ore and wrapped copper leaves around him to protect him from the chill and to hide himself from view.

Although he could use a larger fire, He did not want to be on the ground for it. He knew that predators would come out looking for the remains. He glanced at his hands and body as best he could, he was covered in the sticky energon that had spilled from his prey he also touched his forehead. It was sore and he could feel the crusting of nanites around his wound. He dipped his finger into one of his reserve tanks and dabbed it on the gouge, hoping to speed up his healing process.

He was awakened by the sounds of barking, growling and snapping. Through a gap in the copper leaves he could see a group of five Steeljaw wolves tearing at the stag, trying to find what little nourishment remained. They tore the head off and ripped open the brain unit which they devoured. Their powerful teeth and claws tore the antlers from its head in the process. The small Seeker hoped that those would be left behind, he really wanted to use them, but he lacked the ability to separate them from the beast's' head himself. The wolves finished with their prey and loped off into trees. The small flier hoped that he had not been noticed, that his scent had been masked by the scent of the stag. He was not sure. The stag would not have been enough to sustain the five great wolves and he worried they would hunt him down.

Once he was sure they were gone, he released the two tanks and leapt from the tree into the snow. He stood before what remained of the once majestic beast with a small pang of regret. Fortunately for him the antlers had been left behind. He gathered those up and then followed the chaotic path he and the animal had taken the day before. It was not too hard to follow, but the snow was deep and he was heavily burdened. There was no way for him to fly out of the forest, now if he wished to carry his trophies. He was not too far from his home when he decided it would be necessary to stop for the night. The sky was darkening and he was sure he had heard the howling of wolves. Fearfully, he climbed high up into the branches once more and this time he did not have the benefit of copper leaves to hide him.

His fingers were numb from the cold when he tried to strike a fire with magnesite. The flint dropped into the snow below and he sighed. It was too dark and he swore the howl was closer. He leaned into the branches in order to try to hide himself and sat there all night. The next morning he was unsure if he had slept or not. In spite of the warming of the dim winter sun, he still felt ice cold and he was not sure if he could move. He forced his head around and then glanced at the base of the tree.

The ground below him had been trampled, it seemed as if the pack had caught up with him and then moved off. Maybe he did sleep after all he wasn't sure. Surely he would have noticed the wolves if he had been awake. Then fear crept over him, did he sleep so heavily that he missed the potential attack? Did he freeze solid during the night only reviving when the sun warmed his wings enough to liquefy his chilled lines. He knew if he did not get to properly warm up, he would soon freeze to death.

Once more he untied his tanks and climbed down, feeling stiff and awkward. He tilted his wings to the sun in order to absorb as much heat as he could. He groped around in the snow until he found the dropped flint then hurried off along the trail.

He was exhausted after a short while it was then he decided to risk a ground level stop. He needed to warm himself thoroughly and a proper magnesite fire would be necessary. He piled three stones on a patch of ground then lit them with his steel. He added three more regular stones to use as heat sinks. They glowed red then bright yellow casting warmth and light around. Nearby snow melted and began to steam. Again he tilted his wings to get the most out of the fire. And he could feel the warmth course through his body. He shivered slightly as his back was still icy cold. But in the end, it felt pleasant, and revitalised him. Unfortunately his stop was cut short. Not too far away was a bark followed by a howl. The wolves were nearby and he knew for sure they were indeed following him. He had to leave immediately. But before he did, he rolled one of the burning magnesite stones into the fire-cage and attached it to his spear, abandoning the rest.

The sky began to darken early with thick storm clouds. A new blizzard was on the horizon and he was not far from his home. He glanced behind him and noticed five dark forms standing at the edge of the forest watching his progress. He realised that the beasts were nearly on him. The small Seeker took off at a run, it was unwise, but instinctive. He had to flee. He was barely ten minutes away from his home. As he took off, the wolves also began to run after him.

By the time he had arrived at his chasm they were only a few metres behind him, barking and lunging at his feet. He feared falling the most. If he did, his game was over. It was one thing to be trampled by a stag, it was an entirely different thing to be torn to pieces, while still living, by their powerful jaws.

He stopped at the chasm rim and turned around. He dropped his packs over the edge and they hit the lip of his lair. He hissed and flared his wings, swinging the magnesite torch in their faces as he backed away. The wolves drew back as the flaming stone was shoved in their faces. They felt that they had the advantage. The small prey was trapped, in their view with nowhere to run. The wolves stepped forward, ears laid back, growling, displaying their silvery teeth. They did not realise that the small Seeker was on home ground and had the advantage.

With a nervous smile, the small Seeker stepped over the edge and vanished from their view. For a moment they barked in confusion, giving him a few precious moments to get himself in order.

Once he was below he shoved the metal door plate inward and dragged his supplies after him. He threw the plates up against the wall and then piled everything he could get his hands on against it. Tables, benches, rocks. He knew that if they broke in, they would make short work of him. He did have plans for fortifying his location before. He had built brackets into the wall that would take metal bars which he used to hold the plates in place. Rocks and magnesite was placed around the plates to enhance that fortification. He dropped his lit ore ember into the pile and the other stones quickly ignited. He usually had no need for the heating stones inside, but was glad he had them, hoping that the wolves may find it a deterrent.

He lit his oil lamp and then moved into the back chamber of his cavern and barred the way once more. Another plated scrap door and metal bar. It was his last resort and his only hope for survival. He kept his weapons nearby, sat on his haunches shaking, back pressed against the cool, rough stone wall. In spite of the thermal pipes, the flaming ore in the other room, he was frozen in terror.

A thud then a bark met his audios. The beasts had located his lair's ledge. He could hear one of them pushing against the makeshift door, and another trying to dig under it. He hoped the ore would present the deterrent he had planned. He could hear the creature snuffling under the door and then dig more. He slowly rose to his feet and grasped his spear tightly in both hands. So tight that his knuckles sparked. He tried to swallow his terror as he took a deep breath and braced himself to make a final stand.

Suddenly, unexpectedly there was a series of small explosions that shook his cavern. He wondered if the stag's tanks had ignited. Rocks, large and small were dislodged from the ceiling and fell around him as the ground shuddered. The small Seeker teetered and he pressed his hands to the wall to balance himself. Outside the cave he heard a surprised yelp followed by a desperate howl that grew fainter until it vanished from his hearing. Did one of the wolves slip and fall off his ledge? It was icy. Another wolf barked incessantly for a few moments before it uttered a stifled yelp and fell silent. The other wolves, which had remained above, could be heard yelping into the distance.

He remained standing where he was, wings flicked back holding his breath for what seemed like hours. He remained that way until the magnesite ore had burned itself out and he could finally move forward. He remained fearful that something was waiting for him outside. It seemed too quiet, something had intervened, something had saved him from the attack. It appeared that another creature was watching him; was it friend or foe?

Slowly, cautiously, he moved the still warm rocks away from the entrance and pulled the heated metal door-plates back from the entrance. He held his spear ready and looked around. He held his breath, and listened. Only the hammer of his fuel pump and the whistle of wind greeted him. The ledge had a new layer of snow forming on its lip, which partly concealed the body of one of the Steeljaw wolves.

It lay on its side, dead, but virtually undamaged. Next to it, against the wall was a lidded metal box with a handle and latch. It was large, nearly as big as he was. He pulled it and the wolf inside and re-barred the cavern. He never had the opportunity to take a large creature into his home, it would give him time to fully explore what the beast had to offer. But that aside, he was very interested in the metal box. He opened it up and was surprised to find a sheathed knife. A sharp weapon, well forged and very hard. It had a steel with it, and a number of other objects that were unfamiliar to him. He would ponder the items after he processed the wolf. Which he could do now with the new knife. He smiled, and felt at ease, for the first time his survival seemed like it would be assured.

In the distance, across the chasm in the darkest and deepest recesses of the rocks, a pair of red optics watched the small Seeker's cavern ledge.