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Slipstream had preened at being named the heir-elect of Vos, but there was one responsibility she was hesitant about (though she would be loath to admit it).

The fact that Winglord Starscream had named an heir so young had not been altruistic nor progressive for his motivations (it just had the benefits of appearing that way). For now, Slipstream would have to play right into his wants and desires to start fulfilling her own quest for power. Acid Storm was furious that his bonded status had cost him the position of heir-elect, but multiple other city-states had called out Vos for its lack of interest in broader Cybertronian politics. A political bonding was a quick way to silence those criticisms and to get the other polities fighting amongst themselves instead. 

Now, they all wanted one of their own to bond to the heir-elect to gain Vos as a clear ally. It left Slipstream staring down the smoking barrel that was what she was internally referring to as the List.

She would choose a name and they would have to impress her from there.

Her options:

Airachnid of Eukaris

Thrashclaw of Chicxulania

Lugnut of Tarn

Windblade of Caminus

Elita One of Iacon

Ser-Ket of the Predacon Enclave

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“I am Airachnid, Head Researcher and member of the High Council of Eukaris. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Airachnid gave a short bow, her front legs swept before her in what Slipstream assumed to be a grand gesture of respect.

Slipstream stepped up into Airachnid’s private shuttle, which the Eukarian suitor had proudly informed her also functioned as her main laboratory. Easier to bring the lab to the research, rather than the research to the lab.

“The pleasure is all mine, Airachnid,” Slipstream said dryly, a small quirk on the corner of her lips as she glanced around.

The shuttle was clean and orderly, and as Slipstream walked deeper in, she found herself in a sizable lab with pristine walls and shelving lined up with various alien anatomical parts floating in liquids.

Airachnid straightened and adjusted her spider limbs to a relaxed position as she followed Slipstream. “All ethically sourced, of course.” She nodded to a preserved head of an insectoid organic species before studying Slipstream. “You are wary,” Airachnid noted.

Slipstream snorted and raised an optic ridge. ”Straight to the point are we?”

“I am nothing if not direct.” Airachnid said with a small smile, “I’d prefer to get to the spark of the matter.”

Slipstream sighed, “I simply find it odd that anyone from Eukaris would submit themselves as a suitor. Your planet has little to gain from a political bond such as this.”

“Besides the chance to gain a footing in the grander Cybertronian political stage?” Airachnid pointed out with amusement.

Slipstream scoffed, “Eukaris has no interest in that.”

“Perhaps not.” Airachnid replied easily as she leaned on one of the worktables, “But my homeworld would gain much from me getting what I want.”

“And what is it you want?” Slipstream followed up.

“Funding. Resources.” Airachnid responded simply.

Slipstream scoffed, “As does every last polity on Cybertron. Vos is known for its riches.”

“I will admit that my desires are expected,” Airachnid continued smoothly. “However my success would not only benefit Eukaris, but Vos as well.”

Slipstream picked up an empty glass tube and turned it slowly in her servos, watching Airachnid, “Your success being?” She prompted.

“I am creating a T-cog that would allow anyone to transform into multiple alt modes.”

Slipstream nearly dropped the glass as she jerked to attention. “Make anyone a triple changer?”

“More than just a triple changer,” Airachnid smiled, and Slipstream saw that glint of terrifyingly ambitious passion that she felt in herself, in the Eukarian’s optics. “If I succeed, any transformer would be able to transform into any number of alt modes. It would vastly improve the position of not just Eukaris, but Vos as well.”

Slipstream’s smile grew to match Airachnid’s own. “Tell me more.”

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“Let me guess,” Slipstream started dryly, tiredly, “you brought me out here to show me your incredible strength? Going to knock a few crystals down to size?”

They walked through the crystal forests far outside of Vos, the natural crystal towers jutting up into the sky with pointed precision.

“Why would I do that?” Lugnut asked, perplexed. She squinted her single optic past the purple light that filtered from the crystals surrounding them, “This is a date, isn’t it?”

Slipstream leaned back, thrown off by the earnest look in Tarn’s large, imposing suitor. “Well…yes I suppose-“

“You can already see that I’m strong.” Lugnut shrugged before placing a claw on a particularly stunning pink quartz. “Besides, why would I want to hurt something as beautiful as this?”

She turned back to Slipstream and gave a simple, small smile, “I thought we’d eat some treats instead. I brought us rust sticks!”

Cute. Cute. Cute. Cute.

Why was Lugnut cute?!

Slipstream resisted the urge to coo over her suitor. She does not coo.

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“Think you can keep up?” Windblade challenged as she transformed into her jet alt mode.

Slipstream barked out an incredulous laugh, “You really think you can beat the next Winglord of Vos?”

If Windblade was in root mode, Slipstream was sure she would have given her a cheeky wink as she said, “Guess we’ll just have to find out.”

Slipstream grinned, her competitive nature drawn out by the rev of the Camien suitor’s turbines. “Fine. First one past the Calcite Cliffs has to take the blame for ditching our escorts.”

“It’s a deal.”

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“I’m surprised the Primacy would deign to consider Vos a worthy city-state to align themselves with,” Slipstream said sarcastically as she walked up to Iacon’s suitor, the Commander of the Elite Guard.

Elita One turned from her balcony view to smile confidently at Slipstream, “Vos has always been worthy of Iacon’s respect and candor. I only hope to be worthy of yours.”

“Smooth,” Slipstream smirked in dry amusement and leaned against the balcony railing. Her wings twitched as the wind swirled around the pair, cocooning them in cool air as they stood before a broad night sky.

Elita One chuckled, her pink plating practically glittered in the starlight. “I am being sincere. Iacon and Vos may not have gotten along in the past, but that is history now. A union between our two nations would prove that it is so. A new dawn is coming, and I hope you’ll help me make it a reality.”

“Pretty words coming from a commander,” Slipstream said coolly, resisting the Iaconian’s confident charm. “Does your Prime believe the same?”

“Optimus Prime was the one to inspire me to believe such flowery sentiments.” Elita One grinned and leaned into Slipstream’s space. “Perhaps I will inspire you too.”

Slipstream resisted the urge to blush.

Chapter Text

Okay, so maybe there was an element of rebellion to her decision. 

As Slipstream said the words “Ser-Ket of the Predacon Enclave” to Winglord Starscream, she got the special joy of watching his face screw up like Skywarp had just pranked him with sour energon. It was a particular expression in that only a handful of mechs were close enough to the Winglord to cause it; for others, he would have gone straight to a threat of nigh murderous loathing. 

Instead, Starscream sighed. “Organize a discreet meeting between the two of you with your assistants then. Prove you won’t kill each other in private first before we formally extend a beginning to negotiations.” His wing tips flicked in annoyance. Unfortunately, Slipstream hadn’t been able to find out if Starscream had had any particular plans around her potential suitors, other than the fact that no one wanted to work with the city-state of Helex as a new wave of fanaticism was overtaking it, their newest leader being renamed after the city-state (and so causing the biggest clerical clusterfuck the planet had seen in millennia because filing systems hated this change).

Still. Slipstream smiled wide. Surprising Starscream was a win when he held so many of the cards at the moment. 

Her surprise came in the form of Ser-Ket herself. 

Technically, Ser-Ket did not lead a city-state. The Manganese Mountain Range was simply too vast for such nomenclature. The Predacons were spread throughout it, enjoying the freedoms of their beast forms in such an environment while protecting it and controlling one of the largest energon springs on the planet. Their governance had long been so prickly to other regions that not Starscream or even the last rustcog of a Prime, Sentinel, tried to dig their influence into the spring. 

But Ser-Ket was their new leader, and evidently was interested in playing politics. 

Aggressively. 

“So, what do you want?” Ser-Ket’s beastly wings were held high and proud, her tail slightly off the ground though it would be long enough to rest upon it. 

Slipstream had barely entered the room, a small study in a government property on the edge of Vos; the Predacon delegation hadn’t needed to come far into the city for this meeting. She let the door close behind herself before trying to smile sweetly. “Well, a bondmate is the point of all of this.”

For her size, Ser-Ket moved fast. Slipstream found herself suddenly retreating against the door, Ser-Ket leaning over her (Slipstream’s processor trying to ignore how much she liked being crowded in such a fashion—no other bot had attempted it before). Ser-Ket’s mouth was a crooked snarl, as if she was partly amused. “Now, now, let’s be honest here, in that I know there’s no way that Starscream of all people chose an honest mecha to follow him.”

Slipstream snarled up at her in return. “Wouldn’t an honest successor be a good choice? Given his reputation, maybe we’re going after a cleaner look for the future.”

Optics narrowed and Ser-Ket didn’t leave Slipstream’s personal space, but the tension she held in arm that was braced against the wall released. “He’s not that stupid and neither are you. Stop expecting me to be. What do you want?”

“To sit and talk like civilized beings, to start with.”

Ser-Ket’s engines revved, but she stepped back, stalking her way to the small meeting table that had been prepared for them. There was energon and mixings to be added in, rust sticks and oil cakes, and if needed, Slipstream knew there was a decanter of high grade hidden in the datapad shelves. 

If they got along well enough. 

The two of them settled. Ser-Ket glowered at Slipstream as she took the time to prepare her energon the way she liked it. 

“Well?”

Slipstream took a sip. “The bondmate thing isn’t a lie. That’s a quite serious part of the deal. Now,” she smirked, “it is a deal, in that you need to truly be worth my time for this to go any farther.”

“You mean the spring is worth your bonding.”

Slipstream’s optics narrowed. “And what else do you think you can give me?”

“You chose to accept my offer.”

“I chose to consider it.”

Ser-Ket’s engines revved again. One servo rested on the table between them and it was clenched in a fist. “Remember what I said about you not being stupid? I take that back.”

Slipstream sighed and took another drink. “Oh, have some energon. Tell me, what other reasons can you imagine me picking you over the other offers that were made. No matter what, I hold the cards here. It is that everyone wants a stronger relationship with Vos, not the other way around. The Enclave isn’t the only polity interested in my servo.”

Ser-Ket’s mouth was a hard line. Slipstream decided that grumpiness was a good look on her faceplates; it complimented her strong features. The Predacon leader didn’t add anything to her energon before taking a drink and then speaking. “All mecha want the spring, but they don’t want to deal with us beastformers.”

And that was plainly true. Even Vos was selected of what beastformer frame-types got to move into the city and where, but Vos was picky with many immigrants, mostly because the infrastructure was so old and built solely with flyer considerations in mind. Many frame-types just struggled to literally move around Vos. 

Slipstream sure hoped Ser-Ket’s alt could actually use those wings.  

“Yes, well, we would have to change immigration laws for your collective if things move forward.”

“Just like that?”

“Not stupid, remember. Of course, you’ll ask for that. And of course, we’ll give it.”

Ser-Ket’s optics narrowed again. “Then what’s the larger play?”

“See? Now you’re catching on.” Slipstream leaned forward. “First, we want access to the spring, after what I assume will be an extremely lengthy negotiation. That will earn me my stripes because as I am the one bonding to you, Starscream can’t keep me out of those negotiations. Second, Vosnians also get to travel and live in your territories, the new skies will be a hit for both leisure and for further military training. Third, the Senate doesn’t like either of our political groups. The enemy of my enemy is now my hot girlfriend and all of that.”

Ser-Ket sputtered around the drink of energon she had been taking, 

“Now, do you want to go forward and have some real discussions about the terms of our bonding now or should I go with my second choice? I really do think I could consistently see myself underneath you.”

Ser-Ket’s claws pinched the bridge of her nose. “I think I need some high grade before we discuss terms.”

“Funny you should say that…” Slipstream stood up and sauntered to the datapad shelves. When she glanced behind her before grabbing the decanter, she noticed Ser-Ket checking out her wings. 

Oh yes, she was sure she made the right choice.