Mace ropes Weathervane and Shrapnel into a drinking contest, because what better way to befriend his quiet crewmates than with a challenge! He didnât expect the idealogical crises, though.
âHey guys!â Mace made entrances, Weathervane had learned. The drone practically burst into the hangar, abandoned by all but the newest recruit and their second-in-command. Shrapnel had been assigned to show him the specifics of the controls first thing, in case there was ever an emergency.
  But Mace didnât seem to notice or care that they were in the middle of something. Mace slammed his servos on the panel in front of him, making just one of the other two planes jump.
  âI bet you both I can hold the most hi-grade!â
  Weathervane blinked. Shrapnel scoffed.
  âYou try this every time, Mace.â
  âBesides, weâre all flyers, so itâs not like you have an advantage? And⌠youâre the smallest.â The biplane gave a skeptical frown.
  âOooh newbie~ Prove it,â Mace smirked.
  âFor the love of Primus...â the SIC muttered.
  âUh, but...Why? Would we?â
  âBecause! Itâll be fun!â
  Shrapnel and Weathervane exchanged glances.
  âCâmon! Fun?â
  Weathervane laughed nervously. Shrapnel stared.
  âUgh, fine. Iâll bet you both my entire personal unit stash.â
  That was how the two had found themselves allowing him to drag them along, down to the mess hall. Shrapnel went to fetch the stash of hi-grade he kept stocked; Mace had teased that it was so well maintained precisely for times like this, but the triple-changer had neither confirmed nor denied. The rec room was empty, which served Maceâs plans wonderfully, because his fellow flyers were far too proud to have fun in front of other bots. Primus forbid anyone know they werenât completely devoid of positive attitudes!
  They sat down with their stack, and each took one cube to start. The larger two swirled theirs hesitantly: Shrapnel out of disinterest and Weathervane looking like he thought his would bite him. Oh, this would be like taking Energon treats from sparklings! Mace, with a wicked grin, slammed his down without warning, sticking his tongue out with his empty cube on display. That earned him a couple of competitive frowns.
  âWell? Iâm winning so far!â
  âWe just started-- donât reach for another. Primus,â Shrapnel grumbled, drinking his own just as quickly. âYour big mouth is cheating!â and moving to keep pace. Mace was already mostly through with his second.
  âWeathervane, are you trying to be slow?â
  âNo,â he snapped defensively, trying to take a big gulp and not making much progress. âShut up, Mace, youâre so going down.â He tried to drink more and scowled.
  âDonât tell me you donât like hi-grade,â Shrapnel said.
  âI do! Iâm just not used to it, okay?â
  âShouldâve been built a Seeker frame,â Mace teased.
  âOh, well gee, thanks Mace, Iâd never considered that,â he huffed, forcing the contents of his drink down with finality. âHand me another damn cube.â
  Mace happily did so, grabbing himself another too. Shrapnel was keeping up, at least.
  âDonât you do this with Bumper all day instead of making yourself useful?â Shrapnel mused, clearly not ready to leave Weathervane alone. âIâd think you an expert solely by keeping his company.â
  âNot more than one, when we do,â he said. âNot like Iâm going to get myself tipsy on the clock.â
  âHe certainly would,â the triple-changer said.
  âWell, Iâm not him. Donât expect it to be a habit, anyways. Iâve only joined him once or twice.â
  Mace gasped. âDo you like him?â
  âUh, I guess? I mean, I think we could be friends.â
  âNo, no, no, like like.â
  â... What?â
  âHeâs asking if you have romantic interest.â
  âOh, what? No! Why would you assume that?â
  âAwww, too bad, you guys would be cute.â
  Weathervane grimaced. âIâm going to need this hi-grade after all.â
  An awkward silence settled. Granted, not for Mace, not ever, and Shrapnel was far too self-assured to let it bother him. So really it was awkward for Weathervane and Weathervane alone.  He worried his lip with fang-like teeth. Not that it was anything new, but he felt intensely out of place with the two Autobots. He found himself fretting privately about how he let himself get roped into this situation and what they might be thinking and if they--
  âOkay, okay, youâre like, three drinks behind. Câmon, Weathervane,â Mace set his cube aside and pushed an armful of them in front of the other plane. âWeâll wait!â
  Shrapnel nodded solemnly from his seat. The biplane blinked at them, a twinge of relief at the silence being broken despite the newest pressures placed so unceremoniously upon him, now. He sighed, looking as terribly put-upon as possible. But he did as asked. He wanted those units, after all.
  The smallest of them snickered, not missing the slight sloppiness in his movements. âAre you getting affected already?â
  âShut up, Mace,â he snapped. âWhy are you so eager to win, anyways? You wonât get anything out of it. Canât give yourself your own units.â
  âI can, too!â
  âBragging rights,â Shrapnel said.
  âOh, yeah. That, too. I told you both I could hold more than you!â He pointed dramatically ahead, as if striking a pose.
  âYouâve hardly won, yet.â
  âAh,â Weathervane muttered.
  While the empty air still bothered the newest Autobot, he had a task to complete now: drinking with whatever fervor he could muster. So really, it didnât occur to him that he ought to be feeling awkward again. Shrapnel had seemed to settle on looking and acting bored, perhaps spacing out. Mace, for his part, was watching Weathervane with a twitchy excitement, and had the biplane not been so focused, it would have been making him far more uncomfortable than he already was. The uninitiated may have seen the droneâs energy as a side-effect of the hi-grade, a few weeks ago, but he knew better by now. It was just his constant state of being. The mechsimply  had no off-switch.
  âHurrrryyyyyy,â Mace whined.
  âIâm doing the best I-- listen, youâre going to stress me out and then Iâm just going to⌠to choke or something.â
  âYouâre lllllllame.â
  âStop! I didnât ask for your opinion!â
  Shrapnel sighed deeply and grabbed another cube, despite what Mace had said. This was not his ideal company for drinking.
  âAh, but you like drama like this, donât you, Weathervane?â
  He cocked his head. That had been a sharp turn, hadnât it. Mace was a difficult conversation.
  âDepends,â he answered carefully.
  âHey! Who do you think is the strongest Autobot here? I think itâs Echo because of his guns, but he probably has weaknesses I didnât even think about!â
  âPlenty,â Shrapnel said blankly. Weathervane wondered if the drinks had invigorated their usually stoic and silent Second to say so much. Though, speaking ill of the captain had never required him to be drunk before, so in the end, he still couldnât tell. This was all so stupid, petty, impotent. Yet a hot flash of anger bolted through Weathervaneâs chest at those stupid words.
  âThatâs the problem with your hero complexes,â he growled, before his brain could catch up with him. âYou think being strong is a good thing. Itâs not. It makes you incapable of empathizing with the targets of that strength.â
  â...What?â
  He hesitated, mouth suddenly dry. âOh. S-sorry, that⌠wasnât what you wanted.â
  âThe hi-grade is getting to you,â the largest mech surmised.
  âSays you.â Weathervane sat back upright, trying his best to appear collected and sober. His bashfulness forgotten, his claws curled against the tabletop and he grabbed another cube defiantly. âI wonât give up. Youâll have to kill me.â
  The triple changer only looked at him in response.
  âHey, Shrap.â
  âDonât call me that.â
  âSince youâre second-in-command, do you know any cool Autobot secrets?â Mace leaned in, eyes surely sparkling. The other mech didnât bother turning to him, because really, it was a stupid question, and Mace only ever wanted light, fluffy responses, anyways.
  âAs Iâve said before, if I did, why would I tell you?â
  âAhh, youâre no funnn,â he whined.
  The biplane tuned in silently with a shift of optics. Theyâd had this conversation before, had they?
  âIâm actually kinda curious, now,â he said, eyebrows arched up, body leaned in, expression plainly interested. Normally, Shrapnel wouldnât notice how it suited him.
  âThat is unfortunate.â He sipped his drink. Theyâd amassed a decent pile of empty cubes by then.
  âSurely thereâs something interesting,â Weathervane pushed.
  âWhat do you want from me? The terminal passwords?â Shrapnel didnât budge.
  âWell, I certainly⌠wouldnât complain.â
  âIâm sure. You would use it to download alien music or something, wouldnât you?â
  âW-- would I? Do I strike you as a musical person?â
  âWell, you were telling Bumper all about alien instruments the other day,â Mace added, leaning his head in his hand. Clearly, he thought there was something to say about the two, judging by the teasing look on his face. Jumping to conclusions, as he often did.
  âThatâs because he asked,â the biplane argued.
  âThatâs not the point,â Shrapnel said, tapping a finger on the table. âThe fact that you knew any of that means you must have studied it.â
  âI read one book on it,â he said, looking far more affronted than necessary. âIt was just for the one planet, too. Itâs just because the history of different tools and how each civilization created them is interesting. Itâs how you fill the time. What are you going to do otherwise, walk down the hall? Or-- or sit and stare into space? So that then, when you think back to that moment, youâll think, âoh, why didnât I do something with that time? Now I just have memories of staring at a wall.â But instead, I have memories of learning the conceptualization and evolution of a viola and how to use it and what each string sounds like. Even if you never use that knowledge, itâs stimulating and new and worth learning because at the very least, itâs better than nothingâ
  The other two, for the first time that night, turned to each other.
  âIâm lost,â said Mace.
  âHe is much more talkative now, isnât he?â Shrapnel almost sounded teasing.
  âYou asked! Donât complain when you asked me!â
  In his defense, he wasnât completely sober, himself, but Shrapnel felt himself intrigued that Weathervane would ramble in such a way. It almost felt like some secret he was bearing witness to. The newbie could speak more than two sentences, who knew?
  âWhat kind of frame are you, anyways, Weathervane?â Mace jumped without warning to a new subject again.
  âHm? Why does it matter?â
  âWell youâre probably not a Seeker like me, and youâre definitely not like Shrap. Are you Vosian?â
  âOf course Iâm Vosian, Iâm just made for mining.â
  âThat explains the weapons,â Shrapnel said.
  âAw man, I wonder if we ever met before, then? Since weâre all Vosian!â
  He almost seemed to snarl. âNot a chance. You upper castes wouldnât even know where to find the mines.â
  âNo, I mean like, out in the skies!â
  âMilitary is hardly that upper,â Shrapnel added.
  âArenât you Seekers super regulated on where you can and canât go? We certainly were. We were expected to live in the mines working forever, so those damn upper castes didnât have to do any work.â
  âIf you didnât do the work, someone else would have had to,â Shrapnel said.
  âOhh, well now that you say that I feel so much better, Shrapnel. Even if we were never built and others took our place wouldnât make it any more just. To say that ignores a perfectly viable third option, wherein energon miners regardless of construction are treated fairly, given freedom and compensation for their time. I know the politicians and scientists get those things. Why only them?â
  âPoliticians and scientists have more to offer. Even a Disposable could pick up a tool and dig up some crystals. Those who present a unique contribution to society donât have to justify their existence. The rest do.â
  âIs that really what you believe? That the system was functional?â Weathervaneâs expression darkened. The larger mech huffed.
  âNo system is perfect. And of course, only the lowest castes complained, rather than accepting their role. They shouldâve been proud. They were crucial to the balance, afterall.â
    At that, Weathervaneâs eyes sparked like fire.
  âWell, I think the revolution was inevitable. I think the people at the top got what was coming to them. They deserved it for being ignorant-- for being okay with how things were.â
  âUhh, Iâm not really sure whatâs going on right now,â Mace interjected nervously. âIsnât that something a... Decepticon would say?â
  âYou would know.â
  Mace started like heâd been burned.
  âMore like something Iâd have heard in a neutral camp,â Shrapnel said.
  âYou... raided?â Weathervane tensed.
  âNo, idiot, I lived in one.â
  âO-oh. Oh.â He tilted his head, seemed to get dizzy for a moment. âThat sounds nice.â
  âIt wasnât.â
  âA-anyway, naturally the energon drought pushed everyone to get more aggressive in obtaining it. And neutrals, generally, arenât so aggressive. But isnât that simply fair, by your philosophy? That those who wonât contribute arenât worthy of basic rights?â
  âMy philosophy is that those who donât work as hard shouldnât expect the same benefits as those who do. That is not a denial of basic rights, itâs a rejection of the weakest link. Besides, now weâre discussing the entirely different issue of idealism, which is pointless now even with your best arguments.â
  Mace looked between the two with a nervous smile. All of this was going way over his head.
---
  âWhere the hell is Shrapnel...â Echo hissed, to no one in particular. His second-in-command was supposed to be helping set the scanners and it was hours past when theyâd started. Most of the crew was resting by now, and Echo wanted to do nothing more than follow suit and take his mind off this tedious piece of scrap, Shrapnel be damned.
  âDunno, Capân,â Bumper said, looking up from where heâd been helping in the triple-changerâs stead. âYâdonât think he actually went off with Mace all this time, after all?â
  Bumper had noted when heâd approached Echo earlier that heâd seen the two with Weathervane, but he didnât expect theyâd have been getting along. Even if, by some miracle, Weathervane had gotten on the SICâs good side, he sincerely doubted that would be enough to make him spend quality time with the drone.
  Echo stewed for a few moments.
  âAt this point, I donât care where he is or what his excuse might be. He canât just skip out on jobs, now. Meetings was one thing, but this-- Heâs going to finish this by himself,â he stalked off, his direction being the only indication heâd actually heard Bumper at all.
  Bumper frowned at the unfinished job, but shrugged and followed after, anyways. Where to look for them, that was the big question. The three Autobot flyers didnât have many interests in common, from what he knew. Assuming Shrapnel was still with them, what could they possibly be doing?
  ---
  âWhat youâre proposing is mass suicide, you understand that,â Shrapnel was saying. He sounded slightly off. Too relaxed, and not-angry.
  Echo stood in the doorway, watching the scene before him, somewhere between furious and downright incredulous. There sat the unlikeliest of trios, a notable stack of empty cubes between them (Bumper made a distressed noise from behind him.) Mace seemed perfectly normal, but the same could not be said for the other two.
  âThis trajectory is just going to end with all us dead anyways,â Weathervane was arguing. He was clearly inebriated, his words unsteady and his optics burning brighter than they should. A passion-- something Echo hadnât seen from him yet-- clouded his expression. âWe should at least be able to die trying to fix this Primus-forsaken hellhole weâve made.â
  âWeâre doing that. It is called surviving.â
  âNo, by⌠Ugh. I just want to save a shred of morality for myself. That would be so niceâŚâ
  âAre you always so depressing when youâre drunk?â
  âOkay,â Echo interjected sharply, and only the biplane jumped, âWhat the hell is going on here? Explain, Shrapnel.â
  âCompetition. Whoever lasts the longest gets all of Maceâs units.â
  âAnd Iâm winning!â
  âThat sure ainât healthyâŚâ Bumper murmured, eyeing the aforementioned stack of empty cubes. âYou even leave any for the rest oâ us?â He seemed a little downtrodden at the thought of the supply being low. Weathervane seemed to draw back, at that. He looked way more guilty than he needed to be.
  âIt was my idea, Captain! Donât get mad at Shrapnel! Besides, we still have a lot of hi-grade left, itâs not that big of a deal!â Mace beamed.
  âThatâs not what Iâm mad about, Mace,â Echo said curtly, âBut thank you for confessing, we will discuss that later.â
  âIâm not very pleased about it,â Bumper added. âBut, uh,â he turned back to the biplane, who looked upset- and more than a little frightened. If he was a paranoid drunk, this situation was only going to exacerbate his condition. He could practically see the steam coming off of Echo.  âWe should take care oâ you, first, buddy. Youâre not going to get back to your quarters in that state.â
  âWho wonâŚ?â His voice was oddly hollow, for the question. Though all things considered, it made sense that he wouldnât make sense.
  âClearly Mace did,â Echo said.
  âWhat?!â Shrapnel exclaimed.
  âAhh, risk not reward, hmm,â Weathervane seemed to grow sad.
  âWoohoo! Told you guys! I was right!â
  Shrapnel drew his shoulders up, as if to argue, but was cut off.
  âClearly youâre even more of a joy than usual, Shrapnel. Youâre not acting like yourself, and you missed tonightâs job.â
  âWhat of it, Echo,â he turned slowly back to the Captain. âIt got done without me.â
  âNo, it didnât.â
  âUh, well Iâm gonna help Vane here back, but Iâll come back help with the rest oâ that, after,â Bumper interrupted. Heâd already slung one of the otherâs arms around his shoulders and supported his heavy leaning. Weathervane seemed to be getting more nervous.
  âThank you, Bumper.â Echo didnât look at him as he effectively dismissed him, focused on Shrapnel. He regarded him silently. Shrapnel stared back. â... Weâll discuss this when you can think straight.â
  âCan you say you deserve to be alive?â Weathervane blurted, turning around at the door to figure out where Shrapnel was and nearly knocking both himself and Bumper over in the process.
  â... Weathervane?â
  âWhat do you mean?â The largest mech tilted his head.
  âYou⌠your arguments fall apart if you canât tell me, guilt-free, that you deserve to be alive more than everyone whoâs ever died,â he managed. âYouâre wrong.â
  His intensity was tangible. A momentary hush fell over the room, as if theyâd all been blindsided by his words. Echo had to admit he was... surprised, his spark both twisted and impressed by the biplaneâs sentiment. Perhaps his first impression of Weathervane had been⌠wrong.
  âYouâre naive,â Shrapnel answered, unaffected, voice still cold and precise. âEveryone who has offlined has made their sacrifice. They werenât strong enough to survive, and their deaths decided their worth.â
  Weathervaneâs mouth clicked shut. He glared, unfocused, for a silent few moments. An insurmountable rage seemed to flare up in the spare moments. Shrapnel scoffed, had to have one last remark.
  âThis is a war youâre in. Not everyone matters.â
  The otherâs silence grew angrier, he almost seemed to regain a focus, something sharp and cutting heâd never displayed before. In moments he deflated, suddenly looking defeated and burdened.
  âCâmon buddy,â Bumper interrupted gently. âLet it be.â The flyer was already too distraught for him to allow it to get worse. And Shrapnel was gasoline to a flame. The grounder coaxed him forward on wobbling legs and managed them both out of the room towards the suites.
  The captain and his second-in-command watched them go in silence; a silence that even Mace respected, clearly uncomfortable as he was.
  âYouâre a fucking idiot,â Echo finally spat, turning on the largest mech. âYou should be ashamed of your conduct.â
  âIâm not.â
  âI fucking know youâre not. Get to your quarters and rust for all I care. I want you on deck at cycle break and you are fixing the Primus-forsaken scanners on your own. If youâre not there, Iâm throwing you out of the airlock myself.â
  The triple changer didnât immediately move, challenging the optics glaring at him. Echo was only intimidating if one believed him, afterall. Nonetheless, the captainâs words impacted him enough to slowly stand. He didnât sway like Weathervane had, but his steps were uncertain all the same, leaving behind Echo and Mace without another word.  Echo wished he believed there was some regret in his silence. But he wasnât that stupid.
  âSoooooo I guess Iâll just--â Mace was slinking out of his chair.
  âClean up this mess? I agree.â
  The droneâs wings drooped and his mouth opened to protest, but after a moment, he thought better of it. He began collecting the empty cubes scattered on the floor, the containers quietly clinking together the only noise until the little mech started humming to his work.
  âSo, uh, Captain? I--â
  âMace, you still have the courtesy of my patience, but itâs thin.â
  The drone looked wounded, but got the hint.
  Echo left after the first two armfuls were disposed of, confident that the work would be done without issue. Mace was a chatterbox, but he pulled his weight, if nothing else.
  He went back to the main deck, staring absently at the mess laid out on the panels, and spent the rest of the cycle awake.
---
  âYou gonna be okay?â
  Weathervane nodded groggily. It seemed that the crash had hit him hard now that the challenge factor had been removed. Bumper chuckled, in both humor and relief, âWell, good. Anâ I hope you learned somethinâ tonight. If Mace challenges you, itâs prolly âcause he knows he can win.â He chuckled to himself. The flyer graced him with a little smirk at that, if tinged with what he could only assume was disappointment, optics darkened and losing focus quickly.
  The purple mech stayed just long enough to make sure the newbie was settled, already in hi-grade induced recharge by the time he left the hab suite, and made his way back to the rec room as heâd promised.  Mace was still picking up; and by Primus there were a lot of cubes. He didnât seem particularly upset by how things had ended, but he was alone all the same.
  âNeed help?â
  The drone perked up immediately, spinning on his heel with an arm full of cubes.
  âPhew, absolutely! I was getting lonely!â The grounder smiled-- it was hard to stay mad at the tiny crewmate-- before grabbing an armful himself. It was tempting, but it was too late in the cycle to have some himself. He was almost hurt he hadnât been invited.
  âSo⌠Whatâd you start this whole mess for, anyway?â He prodded, dumping out his armful into the receptacle against the counter, âWeathervane, sure, but Shrap? You had tâ know thatâd be bad news.â
  Mace almost looked hurt by his wording, but seemed to brush over it just as quickly.
  âWell, I really did just think itâd be fun. Flyers have to stick together, you know. Besides, those two are so wound up all the time. Theyâre gonna get stuck that way!â
  Bumper laughed at that. âGuess so. Just might not be somethinâ worth messinâ with. Yer gonna end up on Echoâs scrap-list.â
  âYea, maybe not. But hey, I tried! Never say I didnât try!
  â... I did win, though.â














