The water outside Deceptibase was a deep, midnight blue. It reflected his mood nicely, Thundercracker observed as he stared glumly out the window. He shifted his position slightly on the window ledge and took a sip from his energon cube.

He was supposed to be doing something, somewhere, he remembered vaguely. Monitor duty, maybe? Perhaps he should return to it. Frenzy had promised to cover for him, but. . . . Well, Frenzy was a sweet kid, but not the most reliable of Decepticons. Easily distracted, was the nicest way of putting it. Still, with Thundercracker in his current state, the little red cassette would probably do a better job than he would.

Thundercracker chuckled inwardly at his mental phrasing. "Current state," indeed. It wasn't a bad description, but he had always preferred to be a bit more direct, even with himself. The fact was, he was losing it. Ever since their last battle with the Autobots, Thundercracker had been plagued by a sort of nagging disquiet, that refused to go away. Although he was normally the most responsible and diligent of Decepticons, he hadn't been able to concentrate on his duties at all, recently. Not since that last battle. Not since . . . Skywarp.

That was the thing that was really bothering him, if he forced himself to put a finger on it. Skywarp. Or rather, Skywarp wasn't bothering him, and it seemed unlikely he would be able to do so again for quite some time, because he was still in the repair bay, off-line. Not because of the Autobots, but because the few humans that remained free seemed unable to distinguish between cars and fighter jets.

The Decepticons could handle the Autobots, for the most part. But good as they were, they could not handle the Autobots and antiaircraft fire from their own supposed allies. At least, not simultaneously. So Skywarp, in teleporting away from the Autobots' laser fire, had landed smack in the middle of a volley of missiles fired by the humans. And had been shot down. By the humans.

Thundercracker did not like to see his best friend hurt. At the time, he had been seriously tempted to fire on the humans. He never got the chance, because Megatron had called a retreat almost immediately afterwards, and he had needed to pick up Skywarp instead. He was glad, now, that he had been called away, for he was not sure what he would have done if left to his own devices. He thought, he hoped, that he would have held his fire. But he couldn't be sure. And now all that frustrated anger had left behind it a confused dissatisfaction, which Thundercracker was unable to dispel.

Skywarp's accident had opened his eyes, in a way. It had finally occurred to him to wonder who the Decepticons were really helping, here, by devoting all their energy to protecting the humans. Certainly not themselves; Thundercracker was no master strategist, but even he could see that this was no way to fight a war. The Autobots could do whatever was necessary to win, but the Decepticons' choices were limited by their promise to protect humanity. Obviously, the Autobots had more options open to them, and they were exploiting their advantage to the fullest. If the Decepticons wanted to play on their level, they would have to throw all this honor stuff out the window, and start fighting the war like they meant to win.

Not that Thundercracker wanted to hurt the little organics, just the opposite. He wanted to get their home back for them, so that the Decepticons could return to Cybertron, where they belonged. But that wasn't what seemed to be happening. Instead, most of the humans were already slaves to the Autobots, and even when the Decepticons supposedly "won" a battle, the place that they had been fighting for was usually left in ruins. Fighting like this, there was no way they could win. Their forces were spread too thin by protecting the humans for them to have any serious impact on the Autobots. If the Decepticons really wanted to help the humans, they would take the war seriously and kick the Autobots off the planet. Sure, a few humans might die in the process, since the Decepticons would no longer be devoting their full energy to protecting them, but the species as a whole would be much better off. And the Decepticons would be much better off, as well. Or at least, that was what Thundercracker was starting to believe.

Was he crazy? He wasn't sure. Maybe if he had someone to talk some sense into him. . . .  But the fact was, he didn't. Skywarp was still off-line, and even if he had been fully repaired, well . . . Skywarp was a great friend, but he wasn't exactly easy to talk to. Not about serious stuff like this. Even aside from the fact that the black and lavender Seeker had probably never experienced a moment of doubt in his life, he was not really a one for deep discussions.

Starscream would listen, and take him seriously. But Starscream had enough on his plate these days. The war was not going well, and while the Decepticon air commander had kept up his cheerful, smile-and-a-joke-for-everyone facade, Thundercracker knew it was just that: a facade. The other Decepticons might be fooled by it, but Thundercracker had known Starscream far too long to fall for his little tricks. Starscream made it his personal goal to keep up morale, and would doubtless maintain a cheery exterior while Darkmount fell around his ears. Underneath, however, Thundercracker knew he was deeply worried.

Although Megatron took full responsibility for all the Decepticons' failures, as second-in-command Starscream blamed himself. It sometimes seemed to Thundercracker as if he took every defeat to heart. Which is why lately, when "Decepticons, retreat!" seemed to be their battle cry, Starscream seemed to be working 24/7. Thundercracker was unsure when the silver seeker had last taken a recharge cycle. It made him feel awfully guilty about slipping off like this to do something as useless as stare out windows. No, he wouldn't bother Starscream with his little problem. The last thing the air commander needed was to think that his own flight team was falling to pieces. Even if it was.

Thundercracker's musings were interrupted by an overly enthusiastic "Hiya, TC!" from somewhere behind him. He jumped guiltily and spun around, spilling some energon on himself in the process. His arm crackled and sparked alarmingly as it absorbed the energy.

It was Dead End. It would be Dead End. The excessively happy Stunticon seemed to have a unique knack for turning up exactly when and where he wasn't wanted. Was it too much to ask that a 'Con have a nice, quite sulk in some out of the way corner without being interrupted? Thundercracker considered the notion of sharing his problem with Dead End, and immediately discarded it. He wanted to have a serious discussion about this, not a pep talk.

"Hi, Dead," he said without enthusiasm. Dead End didn't seem to notice.

"Watching for fish?" He asked. "Did you see any?"

"There are never any fish, Dead. You know that."

The Stunticon contemplated this for a moment, then grinned again.

"But there could be! You never know."

Thundercracker emitted a non-committal grunt. Dead End finally seemed to notice that he was not fully involved in the conversation

"Wow, you don't seem like a happy camper," he said, examining Thundercracker with concern. "Turn that frown upside down, Thundercracker! What's the matter, buddy? You can tell your old pal Dead End!"

Thundercracker stared at him, realizing with a sudden jolt of comprehension the depth of the gulf that now separated him from his compatriots. Sure, Dead End was an extreme case, but most of the other Decepticons were not unlike him. They went through life in a mellow daze. None of them ever doubted their cause, or thought about it, or ran into a problem that they couldn't solve by talking it out. It was as if they were living in some other world. How could they possibly understand what was going through his head? Some of them would listen, maybe, but they would never understand. Thundercracker was lost in some strange, foreign place, and he would have to find his way alone.

"No, Dead, nothing's the matter. Nothing at all. . . ."