Remnants of a Lost Age - 9

Chapter Nine: Motives

It was certainly the last thing that Perceptor had expected, though he felt that it was only logical for such a thing to occur. Cybertron and Maraxa had, after all, been connected for quite a while.

But his surprise stemmed from two things: first, the rarity of the item to begin with, dating as it did all the way back to the very beginnings of their race, and second, because it was made out of a metal whose properties he found exceedingly fascinating.

“And you say that this substance is resistant to the capabilities of your race to shape metal?” he asked curiously as he held the artifact delicately with a pair of tweezers, using the least amount of pressure as possible, and then powering up his optics to zoom-in so they could take in and record every single detail.

He did not see Meriat nod, merely heard the tone of agreement in her voice in response to his question. “Yes. There are many metals that we can shape simply on the power of our minds, but this metal – prazga, as my people call it – is one of the substances not affected at all by our abilities. It was for that reason we gave this metal to the Risionag for crafting into what you hold now.”

“And you say that this is an ancestral artifact? One handed down through generations?”

The “artifact” in question was a strange cup of sorts, made out of a dark metal that looked as if it had been dusted with starlight. It had been in the chest that Meriat had insisted Jazz and his team bring with them out of Egypt, and now that she considered the Autobots allies, she was willing to show it to him when he asked her about the contents of the chest.

“Yes. It is a treasure of House Tir, which my clan is a part of. The other Houses have their own Treasures, but since the beginning of the Wars of Sorrow, the locations of each one has been lost. I was only made aware that we had carried this one with us when Lady Danara gave it to me via my brother for safekeeping, before I went into the Sleep.”

“I see. Do you know what it was meant for?”

“Not really. It was said that the Eight Treasures could be united in some way or form, and were meant to be used together, but that is all we know. Anything beyond that is only known to the Heads of the Eight Houses.”

But Perceptor barely heard any of what the Maraxan had said. His optics were focused now on a row of tiny letters around the rim of the cup. “By Primus, I do not believe this…” He refocused his optics so that he could look at Meriat properly. “Do you know what this writing is around the edge?”

As he expected, Meriat shook her head. “No. We only know that it is written in the language of the Risionag who made it, but that is all. Again, only the Heads of the Houses know the truth.”

“I may be able to provide you with the answer, even without a Head of the House present in order to tell you.” With that, Perceptor tuned his personal comm. to Skids’, and waited for the theoretician to answer.

+---+---+

“What are you going to do now?”

Naila looked up at Skids, and smiled. “I have to go back to Egypt,” she answered as she held her scarf down over her head as a playful gust of wind threatened to take it off. “My work here with you is done, and there are other things I have to do.”

Skids sighed. “Can’t you stay a little longer?”

“I’m sorry, but my work cannot wait.”

“I know that, I just…” He looked up at her. “I’m going to miss you a lot.”

Her gaze softened then, and she reached out to put a hand on his leg. “That is very sweet, Skids, and I will miss you too.” Her smile widened. “Perhaps, when you have the time, you can come and visit. There was not much time before, but I would like to introduce you to some of my colleagues. I am sure you would have a lot of fun talking to them.”

Skids grinned, feeling his spark lighten at the offer. He had feared that, after this whole situation with Meriat, he would never see Naila again. But the offer to come visit her in Egypt again, as well as a chance to talk to her colleagues, was something that he simply couldn’t-

-+-Skids?-+-

Skids gave Naila a little gesture, asking her to wait a moment, before he responded. -+-Something come up, Perceptor?-+-

The scientist’s cultured voice did nothing to mask the seriousness of his tone. -+-Would you come to my laboratory, if you please? And bring Ms. Naila with you. I find I have need of your expertise.-+-

-+-Uh, sure. We’ll be there in a klik. Skids out.-+- He turned to Naila, who was looking at him inquiringly. “We have to go to the Command Center. Something’s come up with Meriat.”

Naila frowned. “Why? Did something happen?”

Skids was about to say that she should know by now, but them he remembered that Meriat had severed all telepathic ties to Naila. “I don’t know. Perceptor didn’t tell me, but I don’t think he’d call you or me in unless we were needed.” He transformed into his alt-mode and swung the door open. “Hop in. We’ll get there quicker if I drive.”

+---+---+

“Amazing…”

Meriat looked on as Skids looked at the Cup, or the Kijaithos, at it was called in Maraxan, and felt anticipation – and fear – prickle equally up and down her spine. There was a story about the Eight Treasures that all Maraxans knew from childhood: how the first Heads of the Houses gave a quantity of prazga to the Risionag, and who, in their turn, crafted the Eight Treasures which were given as parting gifts to her people before the Risionag left their planet. They did so with but one injunction: to never use the Eight Treasures together unless their planet was in the direst of straits. The promise had been given, and as was the way of her people, had never been broken.

But what the Heads of the Houses had never told those who served them was the true purpose of the Treasures – and it was a question no one had chosen to ask. All were aware that the words exchanged between the Heads of the Houses and the Risionag were private, and to have their leaders betray that trust for the sake of curiosity was the height of rudeness in their society.

The current circumstances, however, were different now.

“Well?” Perceptor prompted. “What do you make of those symbols? They seem Cybertronian to me, but I cannot be certain. Such matters are not within my line of expertise.”

“That’s because they are Cybertronian.” Skids leaned back, and Meriat thought he looked rather dazed. “It’s a very ancient form of Cybertronian, and very difficult to translate since the symbols we use now are radically different from these.”

“But I had assumed you would be able to read these, since you did say you were able to read the memoirs that deal with the time period from which the artifact comes from,” Perceptor said, frowning.

Skids put the Cup down with a sigh. “I know I did, but those were already updated records, and made use of a less archaic script.”

Meriat tilted her head as she picked up the Cup. “So that means you cannot read what is written there?” She did not know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

Skids smiled as he glanced at her. “I can’t read all the symbols, but I do know some of them. The ones that I could read translate to ‘security’ and ‘energon.’ Do those words make any sense when you link them up with the Cup?”

They did not, and Meriat shook her head. “No. I do not even know what this ‘energon’ is.”

“It is our energy source, our fuel, to put it in layman’s terms,” Perceptor explained, “however, it is far more complex than mere fuel, for we are capable of using it for various applications – the creation of energon weapons, for example. Take Grimlock, for instance-”

“Forgive me for interrupting,” Naila cut in then, her voice soft and polite, “but I was wondering: why was this put in your care, Meriat?”

“It was requested that I should do so,” Meriat replied, sensing something in the human woman’s surface thoughts that indicated her questions ran deeper, linked to a series of thoughts far more complex than Naila herself could explain, but which humans simply called “intuition.” “It was given to me by my brother, who said that Lady Danara herself said that I should keep it with me.”

“But why? Should it not have been safer with your Lady Danara? After all, she is the only one who knows its secrets.”

Meriat made to speak, but then stopped, her thoughts considering Naila’s words. The human had a point: why indeed had Lady Danara given her the Cup for safekeeping? Lady Danara was a powerful Shaper, and was certainly capable of looking after the Cup. Why send it all the way to Meriat?

And then a thought so chilling occurred to Meriat, that the moment it flashed into her mind she pushed it away, holding it at arms’ length lest it consume all other thoughts.

Perhaps the Ixmal had come after them for some other reason, not merely to slaughter them all…?

“-not able to look after it herself?” Skids suggested, causing Meriat to look up at him.

“No,” she stated, figuring out immediately what they had been talking about while she wasn’t paying attention. “Lady Danara was fully capable of ensuring the Cup’s safety. If anything, it surprises me now to think that she had it sent to me when she could have found more creative and ingenious means of safeguarding it. The only reason she would have sent it away from her, to be hidden somewhere else, was if she was expecting someone to come after her, knowing that the Cup would be in her possession. By having it sent to me, she thereby ensures its safety.”

“But there is a problem with that thread of reasoning,” Perceptor remarked after a moment of silence. “Who would have access to such information – since you did mention earlier that the location of the other eight artifacts was supposed to be unknown – aside from the Heads of the Houses, or perhaps someone who knew this Lady Danara intimately enough that she would have confided to this person or persons that she had the Cup in her possession.”

Meriat nodded, a plan rapidly taking shape in her mind. “That is precisely it. I have an idea about who it could be, but I do not wish to act upon mere suspicion. I will need to find Lady Danara, but to do so I need to find my brother.”

“Do you know where he is?” Skids asked. “It’s going to be hard if we don’t know his location. I mean, Naila and her colleagues pretty much found you by accident.”

Meriat smiled slightly at the blue-and-red mech. “Do not worry, I know where he sleeps.”

“Then where?”

“In the temple of Enki, in Eridu.”

Both Skids and Perceptor seemed to frown, but Meriat sensed a wave of surprise emanate from Naila, who said: “The place that was once known as Eridu is near Nasiriyah, in Iraq. Your brother is located in the middle of a war zone.”

+---+---+

Ironhide’s optics widened at what he had just heard. “By Primus… You ain’t kiddin’ are you?”

But it was clear, from Meriat’s expression, that this was no joke. “I have been apprised of the situation in Iraq, of the war that is going on there.”

Prowl looked at the Maraxan with a scrutinizing optic. “Is finding your brother really that important? Can’t you find your leader without him?”

“Unfortunately, that is not possible. If I was looking for someone who was awake and aware, then it would be possible to locate him or her as long as I had some idea as to their identity. However, when we enter the Sleep of Ages, we become invisible, even to those whom we are closest to. I only know of Nikitu’s location because he told me he would be there.”

“There’s no guarantee that he will still be there,” Prowl stated. “He might have moved on, moved elsewhere for some other reason. What then?”

Meriat shook her head, and Ironhide had to admire the female’s determination. He always liked anyone with gumption, and he could tell this early on that Meriat was no pushover. “I am certain he is still there. It will take some time to get to his exact location, but I know where he is, and I know he is still there.”

Ironhide glanced at Prowl, who looked back at him before turning to their leader. “Optimus? What do you think?”

Optimus Prime’s optics were a little darker than usual, a clear indication that he was thinking this over carefully. Ironhide had known Prime for vorns, and was pretty good at reading the Autobot Commander’s moods. Though there were times when Prime could be downright inscrutable, most of the time, he wasn’t.

This was one of those times, and Ironhide could tell that Prime was really thinking hard about what he ought to do, after Meriat requested for their help to find her brother, who also happened to be “sleeping,” as she had called it, in the deserts outside of Nasiriyah, Iraq – a military hot zone, where American and British troops still clashed with Iraqi resistance forces.

Already Ironhide could see the dangers the destination presented. Although the Autobots had made their position as a neutral group very clear, their connection to the United States would likely make them tempting targets to Iraqi resistance forces. Up until this point the Autobots had managed not to set foot in any areas where the humans were waging war, lest they get caught up in it. If Optimus agreed to Meriat’s request, it would be the first time they would do so, and Primus help them if something went horribly wrong.

But if there was one thing that Ironhide understood about the Autobot Commander, it was that he kept his word. It was also one of the main reasons why he was proud to call Optimus Prime his commander – as well as his friend.

When Optimus lifted his head, Ironhide already knew what decision he had reached. He smiled somewhere between weariness and resignation, and tapped into Optimus’ private comm. link with his own. -+-You’re goin’ to help her, ain’t ya?-+-

He noted the brightening of Optimus’ optics, a sure sign of amusement. -+-You know me well, old friend.-+- Cutting the link then, Optimus focused on Meriat again. “We will help you, then. Just give us some time to organize a team to send with you, and then Skyfire will take you to Basra, and from there, Nasiriyah.”

Meriat nodded, and bowed her thanks. “I hope that the Ixmal have not found my brother yet.”

Optimus nodded solemnly, gravely. “I hope so too, for the sake of both your race, and mine.”


TRANSLATION NOTES

"prazga" - void metal

"Kijaithos" - The Cup