Starscream was quite disappointed when his dream ended, and he became aware of a gentle rapping on the outside of his stasis chamber. At first, he pretended that he had not actually been roused from his slumber, keeping his optics shuttered and putting extra effort into keeping his face blissful. The knock only grew in intensity, so he was forced to respond. He cracked his eyelids apart and was met with an unexpected sight. It was the femme from Megatron’s speech. Starscream scrambled for canopy release, and after much trial and error, located the button.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to tell you to wake up,” she smirked.

“That doesn’t seem like a good reason to invade my quarters.” Starscream tried his hardest not to smile back.

“Oh, I’ve got a good reason. I want to show you something.”

Starscream feigned a yawn to hide the massive grin that would have overtaken his face. “Oh, yeah? What exactly did you have in mind?”

“You’ll have to come with me if you want to know,” she said with a wink, before converting into a utility hauler and screeching out the door.

“Oh, this just keeps getting better,” giggled the flier. He transformed, and tried his hardest to not apply his afterburners. To him, her altmode was painfully slow. But it did give him a chance to observe her with closer scrutiny. What had definitely occurred to him through their earlier encounters was that she was pretty; what he noticed now was that she was a very different sort of pretty. All of her chassis’ angles ran off in odd ways, but somehow formed a perfect silhouette. Her alt mode was the explanation. All of those strange shapes compacted themselves together into a simple, rounded lump of a hauler. There was something very Decepticon about such utilitarian beauty, something that certainly made him proud to be Megatron’s second-in-command.

Oh, yes, he sighed internally. Megatron. I had nearly forgotten.

She had been making googly-eyes at Megatron, not him. But now she was creeping into his room and leading him off who-knows-where. Was he being played? At this point, he almost didn’t care. The femme veered sharply at an intersection ahead, forcing Starscream into a higher-G turn than he had been expecting. One of his wingtips scraped against the wall, spitting out a shower of sparks.

“Scrap,” he cursed.

“Be careful back there,” she cooed gleefully.

“Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Storage Bay G5,” she replied, skidding to a halt. “We’re here.”

Starscream forced himself into a stall, killing his momentum. From there, he transformed into robot mode and executed a picturesque three-point landing, making sure his servos were fully flexed in view of the fembot. He returned her earlier wink, and looked up at the storage bay’s huge, looming door. “What’s in there?”

“That’s the secret,” she said, changing into her own robot mode, in all of its strangely perfect glory. She fiddled with the door’s keypad, and soon the entire assembly began to open. She slipped underneath as the gap between door and deck grew wide enough for her to pass, and Starscream followed suit. The room was dimly lit, and nearly empty. The only contents Starscream could identify was some sort of gigantic, ancient-looking statue, resting against the far wall.

“Well, this certainly sets an… interesting mood,” muttered the Seeker, looking around for anything he might have missed. Was the statue the point? Was it some sort of Primitive fertility idol?

“Mood? Oh, that’s- that’s funny! That’s really funny! Ha-ha! That’s a good one! You… you do know what you’re looking at, right?”

“Um… no.”

“Did… did you pay any attention in school? Any at all?”

“I grew up on Caminus,” he shrugged. “Once you can walk, roll, or fly, they put you to work in the Forges. Doesn’t take a lot of data-smarts to carry boxes of adhesive from the depot to the assembly line.”

“Oh, I- I didn’t know. You had it really rough, then?”

Starscream increased the magnitude of his shrug. “It could have been worse. I could have been one of the poor kids who got whipped to death.”

“Primus, I’m so sorry, I- I just didn’t- scrap, I- I’m from Helex, and I- I mean, I heard about how bad it was in the Far Colonies, but I just-“

“It’s all right,” said Starscream, laying a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes quickly locked onto the manipulator, and the Seeker pulled it back to his side before she could make a comment.

“Y-you can just tell me what the statue is. That’s okay.”

Gone were the echoes of embarrassment or annoyance from her face, replaced by giddy joy. “Oh, but it’s not a statue! It’s not even an it!”

She turned to face the huge, still figure, as a pair of flat panels came to rest on her shoulders.

“You might want to plug your audio receptors,” she warned. Starscream took her advice.

The blast of sound that followed was barely intelligible from such a short distance, but Starscream could make out the sounds in the echoes that came just after. “THEOD-CYNING HRONRADE! AEWECEN!”

Starscream delicately uncovered his audio receptors, wincing. “What was that for?”

“I was asking him to wake up.”

“Him?”

The storage bay was once again filled to the brim with noise, this time a shallow whine, rising in pitch and intensity. Harmonizing underneath was a deep gurgle, which chugged along at a steady rate. A dull yellow light began to fill the statue’s eye-visor.

“What in the name of Primus is-“

The statue fell forward in a way particularly unique to living things, catching itself with its hands As palm reached deck, Starscream swore he could feel the ship rolling off-course, as if a mountain had been toppled in the storage bay. Above them loomed the not-statue’s face, looking very much like an ancient burial mask chiseled into some great living monument.

“WES HAAL, SUNDWAFF,” it spoke, its voice just as earth-shaking as its movements.

“Wes haal, Theod-cyning Hronrade,” replied the femme.

Starscream involuntarily took a step backwards. “Wh-what is going on? You’re talking- and it’s- what?!”

“This is Whaleroad,” explained the femme. “A Destron king! Not a descendant, but the real deal. He was built into this ship so he could impart his wisdom on another generation of Destrons, so he’s still alive! It’s just incredible.”

Whaleroad extended a titanic index finger towards Starscream.

“HU HAATEST THU?”

“He wants to know your name,” she translated.

The Seeker did his best to swallow his fear. “Starscream! Sir!”

“WES HAAL, STAARSCRIIM.”

“He speaks Old Destron,” the femme elaborated. “It’s a dead language, but here it is, in the vernacular, even! This is the stuff I live for! I’m a linguist- did I… did I tell you that?”

“I’m pretty sure you haven’t even told me your name.”

“I didn’t? I guess I didn’t. Wow, yeah, I really didn’t. Soundwave. It’s Soundwave. And you’re Starscream? I mean, I figured that out so I could find you, but… you’re a hero of the revolution!”

“Yeah, that’s what they say,” he conceded, massaging the back of his neck.

“That must be amazing. To know you’ve really helped someone…”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“HWE DESTRONA, IN GEAR-DAGUM-“

“Yeah, hold that thought, Whaleroad,” snapped Soundwave, returning her attention to the Seeker. “I’ve lived in Helex my whole life. Played in the streets, got an education. But am I really going to sit around with a degree in ancient Destron dialects while the planet is dying and say, ‘Yeah, I’m helping’? I heard about this mission and decided it was time to leave the big city behind. But I’m here, on this ship, with mechs and femmes that have names on plaques- like you and Megatron- and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“So you snuck into my room and brought me to visit this Whaleroad guy-“

“HRONRADE,” corrected Whaleroad.

“We know, buddy,” groaned Starscream, before continuing. “… you did all of that, because you want some advice?”

“Well, when you refine it like that, yes.”

Starscream turned away from her, staring down at the plating of the deck. “There’s nothing I can give to you. It took a leap of faith for me to discover my purpose. If this is your first step, then it won’t be long before you figure it out.”

“That’s… something, I guess.”

“I’m a flier, not a talker.”

Whaleroad, tired of being ignored, slumped back against the wall, muttering incomprehensibly. Soundwave took it as a sign, and slowly made her way to the storage bay’s door.

“Thanks for humoring me,” she said, with a hint of resignation.

“Look- I’m sorry if I don’t have anything better to say. It’s just because there isn’t. This is a crazy, mixed-up world we live in. One day, up is up, and down is down, and the next day it’s all backwards. The only truth in it is the truth you make yourself, not what somebody else gives you.”

She looked up from the interior keypad, and their eyes locked. A trickle of optical lubricant rolled down her cheek.

“I think I like that better,” she smiled.