Radio Silence

(AN: I know: I write the lamest summaries/teases in the known universe. This starts silly, and, like everything I bloody do, gets really evil. Chapter 6 is E-Vil. You'll hate me. I'm already crying)

(GabrielC is picking up from the end of this. I hope.)

Jennifer was starting to hope her face would fall off. It hurt from smiling so much—that fake, insincere, perky smile she was supposed to display for parents suddenly realizing the magnitude of leaving their little son or daughter in a dorm full of other reckless adolescents. She was tired of saying the same things, over and over, too. “Hi, welcome to Crane!” “The refrigerator rental company is in the east parking lot,” “Can I help you with that?” “No, we’ve had no violent assaults in the last five years at all.” Her heart wasn’t in it. Then again, she couldn’t imagine anyone whose heart really was in being an RA. If she were a robot, she could probably do this job better. At least have a running tape of the same comforting things she was supposed to say.

She collapsed on her bed at the end of the day, peeling her feet out of her sneakers and socks with relief. Tomorrow, more of the same. She groaned. Not as bad, she told herself. Today was freshman move in. Tomorrow, the other students, who knew what they were doing. Who would maybe nod at the RA, try to curry a little favor so she’d turn the other cheek about violating regulations, but that’s about it. Much easier day tomorrow. Only problem being she was still stuck in the damn dorm all day. Oh well, she’d deal with that tomorrow.

She stripped off her purple (really? Purple? Who made that fashion choice) Crane Staff t-shirt, and threw on an old t-shirt. Not an upgrade in fashion, but it was her shirt, it was comfortable, and it was a signal that this RA, at least, was off-freakin’-duty.

Jennifer dug the comm node out of the bag where she hid it during the day. They’d been told that as RAs they should have their rooms open for inspection by new parents. ‘To give them ideas of a proper study space’ was the party line, but…whatever. She just hadn’t felt like explaining what it was. And also, it was private—her one connection she could see and feel and hear—to Starscream. No one’s business.

She tapped it on. She wasn’t going to contact him. Not tonight. That would sound too clingy. Plus, didn’t all those ‘how to date’ manuals insist you didn’t call for three days? She’d push it. She’d contact him tomorrow night. He was an alien—what the hell did he know about how it was supposed to be done? And why was she even thinking like this?

Get a hold of yourself, girl, she said. He’s not your boyfriend. He’s just a…giant…alien…robot. That you’ve had sex with. Three times.

Oh god, what was she even doing? Shut up, she said, listening to the comm.

Silence.

It went on for hours like this. A whole hour of nothing. This was unusual—normally his comm was filled with chatter—something that, judging by the tones of voices, might have been jokes or off hand comments or crisp short statements that sounded like pure business.

She heard, finally, someone call his name. In Cybertronian. Wait for a response. Repeat. Still nothing. An hour later, a bit more, the performance was repeated. His name, and something else—a command? The voice sounded angry this time. Irritated. Still no response. Several more times, the voice came on, asking, demanding a response. Jennifer’s guts clutched. Why wasn’t he answering? Anxiety ate at her. If she contacted him and he didn’t answer, she’d just presume he was busy. Or blowing her off. But this voice—he sounded important. And like he wasn’t used to getting no response.

By dawn, the voice was almost frantic. Maybe she was projecting, but there was definitely something like concern. “Starscream,” it said, and something else. Then a long string of syllables that sounded like a plea. She caught the word ‘worry.’ She knew that one.

She hit the comm, hesitantly. Great, now what, genius? “Uh, hello?” Oh, that was brilliant.

The voice stopped, midstream. Switched to English. “Who is this?” it demanded.

“Who are you?”

“Who am I?” The voice was incensed. “Who the hell are you, and why are you on this freq?”

“None of your business, and, well, none of your business.” Okay, cross ‘negotiator’ off the ever-dwindling list of possible careers.

A pause. “I know: you must be Starscream’s xeno.”

She wasn’t sure how he’d worked that out from what she’d said. “So what if I am?”

“Where the hell is he? Megatron’s about ready to rip his main power core out of his body if he doesn’t respond.”

“I—I don’t know where he is. Is he okay?”

An impatient sigh. “That’s what we’re trying to find out. When did you see him last—you have seen him recently, I suppose?”

“Umm, last night.” She blushed, grateful the comm didn’t have video.

“Last night. Of course. Well, that narrows it down a bit. You know his flight path?”

“I thought he was heading straight back to you guys. Uh, wherever you are.”

A grunt. “Never made it.”

“Oh my god, what’s happened to him? He could be dead, somewhere!” She heard panic in her voice.

“Calm down,” the voice said, impatiently.

“Don’t you tell me to calm down, you idiot,” she snapped, not really taking on board that she was talking to another giant alien robot who could easily kill her. And not have a bit of regret. Starscream would at least feel bad. “Don’t you know that that’s the worst thing you can ever say to someone who is upset?”

“Is it? I’ll remember that one.” He seemed…amused. “I take it this is his secondary comm node?”

“I think so.”

“And he gave it to you?”

“Duh.” She stopped. She really ought to know better than to use non-standard speech with aliens. Starscream would be flummoxed.

Instead, she heard the weird grating sound that passed for their laughter. “Was a dumb question, wasn’t it?”

“Can’t you do something to find him or do you want to do discourse analysis all day with me.”

“Actually, the last bit sounds like fun. Another time, though. First, we need to find him. Then, we can decide which one of us kicks his aft first. Sound fair?”

“Find him? We?”

“Be there in,” (slight pause), “twenty three minutes. I’ll buzz again when I arrive.”