Transformers: Renaissance

Part One: Primus Inter Pares

Chapter 1

"...The nascent desire to be named 'First Amongst Equals' speaks louder than any word in declaring the inequality of Man..."- Anon.

South America, z-minus eighteen days

Lucas Holt stopped digging for a moment, reaching up and wiping the sweat from his forehead for the hundredth time in as many minutes. His dust and soil caked fingers left grimy streaks across his tanned face, adding to his dishevelled appearance. He let out a deep sigh, the nagging pain in his lower back beginning to burn and his muscles begging him to stretch out for a minute. He ignored them; he was too close, far too close to stop now.

The mid-day sun beat down upon him, bathing the dense, South American jungle foliage around him in golden light. Holt was kneeling in a fair sized clearing, not twenty metres from the base of an ancient pyramid of Mayan design. But the vast artefact was not the centre of his interest. He and his team of archaeologists were here for a much more important find, one that could revolutionise the way mankind viewed the universe.

Six weeks previously, a survey team passing through the area had discovered something in the deep Amazon basin that should not have been there: an energy source the likes of which had never been seen. A team had been assembled immediately by the United States government, under the guise of a standard archaeological dig. And now, after a week and a half of trekking through impossible terrain and another week of digging, they were almost there.

Holt shifted away a handful of reddish soil, wondering how much further he would have to dig. Ultrasonic scans of the area had shown a large, metallic object buried almost ten metres below the earth, and Holt and his team had been taking shifts to dig down to find it. They were taking their time, not willing to risk the chance that the energy source was a crashed Soviet or American nuclear warhead. Whilst no radiation had been detected, there was no point in taking risks.

Holt shifted another handful of dirt, and stopped. He wasn't sure if he was there, and tapped the ground experimentally. There was definitely something just below the soil. Holt looked up and locked eyes with his long-time partner, Eduardo Gomez. This was it. He began to scrabble the soil away from the object, slowly uncovering the device. Another few minutes of digging revealed a large, elliptical frame around a spherical core, both made of a light blue metal. The central core was hollow, open at two small apertures at it's front and back, and contained an unidentified material that emitted a faint green glow.

The device was huge, at least three metres wide, and weighed too much for six men to lift. It's surface was studded with Mayan pictographs, scratched into the surface. The team poured as much water as they could spare over it, cleaning away thousands of years of dirt and leaving the device to dry in the sun. No-one had a clue as to what it may have been, let alone how it was working. There were no obvious signs of instrumentation, no tool marks or even obvious moving parts. Holt sidled over to Gomez, nudging his old friend in the ribs.

"What do you think, Ed," he whispered. Gomez shrugged, then turned to his friend.

"Not the first clue, boss," he said, his voice awed. "You?"

"I'll tell you one thing for sure," Holt replied, "I know what it isn't. And that's 'possible'. This is like finding a Concorde that's been buried since two thousand years before we landed on the moon for the first time. This doesn't look like something we could produce now, let alone when the scans said it had to have been buried."

"Luke," sighed Gomez, rubbing the back of his head with his left hand, "I don't think this thing is even just 'not possible'. I don't think it's even from around here."

"I know what you mean," Holt said, nodding to himself. "Its definitely not from around here..."

O o O o O

The Ark, Colorado, USA, z-minus sixteen days

Optimus Prime stood in front of Teletran One, a look of concern crossing his features. The vast computer screen in front of him displayed reports and pictures from around the world, as well as feeds from Cybertron. Scrolling streams of text gave him information on his own forces' movements, worldwide newscasts from the humans, and any reported signs of Decepticon activity. To many, the constant tide of information was overwhelming, but Prime was so used to the tactical display that reading it had become second nature. Only now, most of it went by the wayside, as his attention was drawn to one report in particular, the source of his concern.

Behind Prime, a shorter mech entered the control room. His armour was made up of black or charcoal grey plating, overlaid with large sections of gloss white, curved plating. With light blue, sunshade shaped optics, and a blue racing stripe and stylised 'four' on his chest plate, Jazz had a permanent air of what Spike Witwicky had described as 'coolness'. The saboteur and master spy was one of the most capable Autobots that Optimus Prime knew, not to mention one of his closest friends.

"What's up, Prime," Jazz asked, his usual laid-back tones betraying only the tiniest hint of concern. The shorter mech stopped just a few feet behind his commander-in-chief, looking up at him as he awaited a reply. After a few sparkbeats, Prime turned to face him.

"I have a job for you, Jazz," Prime said, taking a step forward. "One of the utmost importance. According to Teletran One, a group within the United States government has made a discovery that could push their technology ahead by three hundred years, maybe more. They found a device, of alien origin, buried in South America."

"Wow," Jazz managed, completely taken aback. "I thought we were the only race to have made contact with the humans."

"We are, to the best of my knowledge," Prime answered noncommittally. "But this artefact has been buried on Earth for some time. It could have fallen from the Ark as we crash landed, but... well, I think you should see this."

Prime turned back to the control console of Teletran One, and punched in a quick series of commands. The streaming news feeds flickered away, replaced by a slowly rotating, wire-frame image. The image consisted of a thin, elliptical frame, surrounding a roughly spherical core. Jazz optics widened in shock, as he instantly recognised the object for what it was. But it couldn't be, it just simply couldn't be...

"I know how you feel," Prime said, his voice low. Jazz's face had said everything he could ever say out loud. Prime smiled at his old friend, before continuing. "This shouldn't be possible, but it is happening. So far as I know, however, before we crashed on Earth no other transformers had set foot here, and none of our kind came looking for us here while we were dormant."

"But... But that's the Matrix... Isn't it?" Jazz stuttered, obvious awe colouring his voice.

"It looks like one of them, yes," Prime replied, without meeting Jazz's optics.

"What do you mean by 'one of them'?" Jazz asked, regaining a measure of his composure. Seeing the Matrix, an object that nearly every transformer recognised instantly, that many viewed as a kind of holy object, had stunned him. Prime's comment raised several questions for Jazz, the first of which he had just asked. Prime waited a moment, carefully gauging his response.

"I mean precisely that," Prime began, deciding on the straightforward route. He pulled up two chairs from beneath the console, taking one and motioning that Jazz should take the other. "There are at least two Matrices. One, at least, you will know of. The Matrix of Leadership, also known as the Matrix of Life. All transformers know of that device. The image you see on the screen is an almost exact likeness of that artefact, but I can assure you that it isn't. The Matrix of Life has been passed down from Autobot leader to Autobot leader for generations. One day, I will pass it on to the one who will replace me. But until then..."

Prime reached up to his chest plate with both hands, his blue-black plated fingers easily finding the hidden catches that would open up the cover to his chest cavity. He gave a sharp tug, and the two halves of his chest swung open. Inside, a series of mechanisms began to remove, bringing the all-too-familiar shape of the Matrix into view. Prime heard Jazz's reverential gasp, and smiled gently. After a moment, he closed his chest once more, feeling the strengthening warmth of the Matrix as it nestled against his spark. Jazz simply stared at his old friend, unsure of what to say; he had just looked upon the very source of his life, and the sight had left him dumbstruck.

"What you are about to hear," Prime continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "must stay between us. There is at least one other Matrix. The second, known as the Matrix of Combination, has been kept in a hidden location, known only to the High Cybertronian Council, for millennia."

"Hidden?" Jazz asked. "Why?"

"Because of a prophecy, said to have been written at the very founding of our race. It is said that one of the first transformers, upon seeing the glory of the collected Matrices, was imbued with a small measure of their power, and was granted a vision of the distant future. The name of the prophet has since been lost to antiquity, but the near-religious following that sprang up in his wake has survived to this day, and as such, so has the following text:

Our race shall be sundered,

Our world's wealth plundered,

And Cybertron undone.

'Til Matrices combine,

And powers align,

In unity, 'til All are One.

That passage is part of a much larger piece known as the 'Tear-drops of Primus'. How much of it is to be believed, well, that's not for me to say. But since then, the Matrices have been revered as these 'tear-drops'. If this is indeed one of them, a third Matrix, then we need to find it, and make sure the Decepticons don't get hold of it. If they do, then they will have access to a power that may make them unstoppable."

"And this is the mission that you wanted me for?" Jazz asked, confusion crossing his features. "Just me? Shouldn't we all be going? I mean, this is important, Prime. Real important. I'll do my best, you know that, but if the 'Cep's show up, I'm not gonna be able to stop them on my own..."

"I picked you, Jazz, because of your attention to detail," Prime said calmly, smiling reassuringly. "If this artefact is a fake, then I trust no-one more to find out. And to answer your questions, Megatron has been keeping an eye on our movements. If he sees a large convoy leaving for New York, with me at the head..."

"Then we'll lead him straight to it," finished Jazz, the pieces falling into place.

"Precisely," Prime said. "Besides, you won't be going alone. I'm sending the twins with you. You'll need the muscle."

"Those two?" Jazz asked, as his hopes for success hitched up their skirts and ran for the hills. "You think they can be trusted not to louse this up?"

"They'll do as they are told," Prime said, sounding a little too convinced, making the gesture sound forced. Jazz nodded, then rose and headed for the exit. As Jazz left the control room, Prime muttered to himself "They had better do, for all our sakes."

O o O o O

"Shut the slag up, 'Swipe!"

"But you do, I swear..."

"Swear? I'll give you swear, you little frakker..."

Jazz had been told that the twins were in the med-bay. What he hadn't been told was that he would be able to hear them two corridors away. The brothers had been trying out their new transformations, and there had been an accident of some variety. As the noise they were causing resolved itself into words, Jazz heaved a deep sigh. This was going to be hell, and he knew it.

He rounded a corner, entering the med-bay proper, and was greeted by the one sight he had been dreading. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe stood at opposite sides of the main bay, Ratchet standing between them with a panic-stricken expression on his face. The red and yellow mechs were glaring at each other over the chief medical officer's head, fists raised. Sideswipe wore an expression of mildly sardonic humour, the polar opposite of his twin's look of unbridled aggression. Whilst Jazz was in no doubt that the pair loved each other, that either would kill or die for the other, he also knew that the pair spent more time at loggerheads than not. Jazz was acutely aware of being glad that he was an only child.

The twins had been amongst the first Autobots to take on a new breed of alternate forms. These 'Alternator' transformations were of a higher level of detail, in that they were virtually indistinguishable from the real Earth vehicles of which they were copies. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had taken on identical sports car forms, both Dodge Vipers. The only difference between them, other than their colour and facial features, was that Sideswipe had a convertible roof in vehicle form. Personality-wise, however, the pair could be very different from one another.

"What in Primus' name is going on here?" Jazz demanded. The twins jumped slightly at his entrance, backing down slightly from one another. When no-one answered, Jazz asked again.

"There was an accident," Sunstreaker growled. "We were testing the new forms, getting a good run so that Ratchet and Wheeljack could find any bugs and fine tune them out. Some jerk had left a tree blocking the mountain path, and I ran into it." The large warrior squared his shoulders, as though daring Jazz to make something more of it.

"And screamed like a girl-bot," grinned Sideswipe, half a second later.

"I. Did. NOT," Sunny roared, hurling the contents of a medical tray at his younger twin's head. 'Swipe ducked easily, laughing to himself.

"Missed me," he jeered.

"Will you two cut it out!" Jazz demanded, as Sunny began trying to swing for his brother over Ratchet's head. "I've got orders from Optimus Prime. You may or may not have heard, but we're heading out on a mission, as soon as you two are fit to travel."

The twins visibly relaxed their stances, both mechs raising their brows in identical questioning expressions.

"Where to?" they chimed in unison.

"The Holt Institute, in New York," Jazz replied. The twins gave each other knowing glances, then grinned mischievously.

"Road trip!" they yelled, knowing full well that it would grate on Jazz.

"Now guys, this 'aint no sight-seeing expedition," Jazz began. "This is an important mission..."

"But its the Big Apple!" gasped Sideswipe in mock awe.

"The big city lights!" added Sunstreaker, matching his brother's tone, only with marginally more sarcasm.

"Central Park!"

"The Empire State building!"

"King Kong!"

"ROAD TRIP!" the pair finished in unison.

"Aww, c'mon guys, give me a break..." Jazz cut in. The twins' maniacal grins were the only answer. After a moment, Jazz gave in, shrugging and turning for the exit. He called over his shoulder as he left, "Just let me know when you're finished here, okay? I'll meet you out front." And then he was gone. Sunstreaker waited for him to round the corner, before turning to his brother with a quizzical expression.

"King Kong?" he asked.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Sideswipe shrugged. "Too much, ya think?"

"Maybe...", Sunny muttered, before changing his mind and muttering "Nah!" to himself. "Now, where were we?"

"Ummm... Girl-bot?"

"So we were. Now COME HERE!!"

O o O o O

Two hours later, Jazz, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe left the Ark. Prime watched them leave, standing outside the Ark, shielding his optics from the glare of the human sun. He watched until the dust trails kicked up by the sports cars had faded over the horizon, and then he simply stood, deep in thought. As the sun set, its light reflected from his polished armour, turning it from a deep red to the colour of molten gold, and shone from the glass sections of his chest plate. He looked every inch the noble warrior given form.

Inside, he felt far different. He was worried about this mission, and not because he didn't trust the abilities of his colleagues. He just felt, deep down, that he should have been the one to lead the mission. If this artefact was indeed a Matrix, then he should be the one to bring it home. But these thoughts were not the main reason for his disquiet. At the end of the day, he had never liked being forced to lie to his men...

He had had no choice, but that did nothing to lift the burden he felt. It was ancient law, far older than himself, and he could do nothing about it. He hadn't been able to warn Jazz that if the prophecy was true in its entirety, that this artefact was in fact the Decepticon Matrix of Power, then the universe at large was in grave danger. The thought of sending one of his closest friends into that kind of situation made Prime feel sick to the pit of his fuel pump. He looked down at the Autobot insignia emblazoned upon his arm, and for the first time in his life felt a pang of revulsion.

For now, Optimus Prime would have to hope that the translation of the prophecy was wrong or incomplete.

For now, he would just have to have faith...

For Karen.

Authors Notes: Transformers and all associated characters are the property of Hasbro/HasTak and their associates.

The title, Primus Inter Pares, loosely translates as 'First Amongst Equals'. Figured that as the series title is Renaissance, then it would fit to have Latin titles. Probably not one of my brightest ideas, but there we go.

If anyone has any thoughts or suggestions for opening quotes for chapters two and three, please let me know. Also, please read and review, it always means a great deal. Hope you enjoyed, more coming soon.