Chapter 1 – Secret Trade

"I will trade a secret for a secret," Solspark offered, starting it all. Inside the Ark's command area, her soprano vocals clearly transmitted over the miles back to Mt St Hilary.

"Femme, you do not want to play that game with me. You do not know what you ask," Jazz teased, tapping out another time entry. The white armored mech lounged in a chair before the main console of Teletran One, her silver blue Bugatti Veyron image remote and with no Decepticon activity nearby he relaxed watching. Catching up on reports after a long field mission he had received her signal, adding it to the log as more of a boredom breaker until they began talking. A quick peek at her personnel file triggered no flags. Classified a general worker, joining the Autobot Alliance halfway in the war, transfers here and there across Cybertron before her arrival to earth. No unusual skills or modifications listed he could find. In short, no expected problems or overt significance.

"Neither do you."

"You first," he challenged, having long developed the skill set to gain information, often without the bot realizing how much they were giving away. Not everything worth knowing sat in a data file.

"I want to see your face. Without the visor, in front of mine. No hiding, your raw optical color." On screen her tires spun for traction, dust kicking up as she switched roads to the new one rutted and narrower weaving towards OR – 35 N. Teletran logged another sensor passed, the energon signal strong as she tested the range with her driving.

Sputtering static met Solspark's request then sounds of him chuckling. "My optics are blue, always have been. That's not a secret. Only thing I change is my taste in music, forever adding new. No need to see under my visor, tactical tool so no bot knows which direction my optics are looking. And you so do not know what I want," Jazz teased.

"Try me."

"I want the char mark down your shoulder and across the spark armor. The whole story, not just a name or some vague it is to remember some bot like you told others. Why you still wear it on new armor. I want the deep dark secret behind it. Or maybe I could tell you why Wheelajck always wears his lower face shield," he challenged, using a rule of interrogation to pose questions that are misleading to elicit information.

Soft laughter echoed back over the console speakers. "I already traded him for that. I've seen the damage the crystals did and their energy colors. I traded him the design for my power relays around my spark, a special and unique pattern. "

"Dang girl, you are learning the game. How about why Bumblebee and Cliffjumper have horns on their helms. " The reason not a secret but an indicator of how close she might come to his team and their skills.

"Too easy. Traded shifting circuity designs for armor upgrades for emergency field work."

"You always trade your parts for information? Might run out of good stuff that way," he teased, interested. No, not interested, craving to know the information behind her char mark. Femme could find out information, so could he. "Why Ironhide's two cannons are different?"

"Pass on that one," she declared. "I heard rumors that it involved anger and Ratchet's repair to undo and weapons are not my style. I do know the stories of how he got his childhood and later frame nicknames before becoming Ironhide. "

Bartering went back and forth, each secret already known.

"It's the char mark in full or nothing sweet spark."

Silence met his demand at first, her alt mode immobile on the rural road making him check the line remained open and active.

"Encrypted line and nothing on official records or data bursts. Only if I tell it to the room you are in," she answered finally. He glanced around seeing Prime, Prowl and Ratchet standing there reviewing budget proposals. All mechs with higher security clearance than him, world destroying and building level secrets. Nothing the femme could say would surprise them, not even to admitting being a Decepticon at some point. And Jazz wanted the information, so technically only the room would hear it. Two keystrokes on the console and the doors locked, overrides in place to guarantee privacy.

"Deal. This room and no half answers or lies Chica."

"Autobots do not lie," Solspark's tone frosty on the line.

"Now see, you're going all noble on me. Make a lousy spy that way femme. After impressing me with ya skill set for finding out. And you are stalling," he chuckled, admiring the way her alt mode wove in and out of the dirt tracks before pulling back onto pavement. Most mechs couldn't carry a conversation and drive complicated paths, her route smooth as any scout level tech while they continued bargaining.

"When I return the only stalling will be your engines. I want private time in your quarters."

"Road bump! That is," Jazz temporized protective of his own secrets.

"To see your optics in private. And what I am about to tell you is known only to a few."

"A secret ain't a secret if the whole galaxy knows. How few?"

"Me. Rest are offlined or forgotten in time. Now you. I was a Prime once."

Optics shuttering rapidly, he put the faint sound of suspicion into his vocal tones, prodding for the truth. "Prime as in?"

"Yeah, that kind of Prime." The last word spoke in ancient Cybertronian, the full title of Prime condensed into one word with nearly a hundred meanings. Life giver, leader, and carrier of a matrix that chose them to continue the lineage of the original thirteen Primes.

"Uh huh," Jazz hesitated, leaning way back into the console chair to see the others, their perplexed expressions matching his. Optimus strode forward, careful to tread lightly and not reveal his presence over the open line. The budget proposals could wait until later.

::Switch to internal comms. Do not let her know we are listening:: Optimus Prime ordered, moving to stand alongside.

::You don't really believe that she?:: Ratchet began, gesturing towards her alt mode rolling on the OR-35 N route.

::We shall see:: Optimus Prime. ::Let her continue. Find out what you can please Jazz::

::Ain't I the best spy you got?:: Jazz sent, before switching back to spoken words to continue negotiation with Solspark. "And once? Being a Prime is spark long. And what Matrix? They were destroyed with the Primes that carried them until we one got left. Optimus acquired his from Alpha Trion and I know you ain't that ancient to have been the predecessor."

"What do you know about Irenic? On Cybertron?" her alt mode waiting at a traffic light in Hood River on Teletran One, the left side displaying six of twenty energon markers tracked with her route.

"The little spaceport way past Iacon, not much," Jazz admitted, staying focused on the conversation and not the rapid venting behind him as one of them recognized it. "History tells it was blown to bits by Megatron, lost Prime Axial there. Mech made a last stand, seeing waves of Decepticon forces coming and faced them anyways. The battle didn't last long. Decepticon forces overran the whole area, wiped it flat. Mech became a martyr and rallying cry. Matrix shows up later without explanation and is lost again… ah… wait."

"Yes. When he offlined, the Matrix of Peace was processed destroyed with him. Not entirely true. Before the wave appeared," a bitter tone wrapped around her words. "He knew. Irenic would be wiped off the grid and join a growing list of lost battles as Decepticon forces marched on Iacon. He stayed with a few Autobots too damaged to evacuate, mostly automated weaponry when the wave hit."

"You were there." More of a statement than a question.

"Yes but not as a combatant. I was fresh in my final frame and completing training as medical combat support. My task was to slip through enemy lines, grab our wounded and evac out. I made three rescue runs, fighting 'Cons all the way inbound last trip. I don't know why but Axial pulled me aside. The next and final trip out," she trailed off.

"You carried the Matrix of Peace."

"Yes. My frame enhanced, power charging and I fled protecting it from capture and leaving them behind to offline. I never felt so ashamed of running nor fierce at protecting our greatest hope. A young medical assistant."

"Battle gave you the scar?" Jazz guessed, calculating her age. She was about half his age yet older than Bumblebee or others on his operations team.

"No, tale is just beginning. Hmm, at this rate you will owe me energon and that visor look spy bot."

"Keep providing details and you can stay the night on the recharge berth."

"Stop sign! Only if I am alone on that berth, with you guarding nearby," she laughed. "Ain't had a joor of restful recharge that I can even remember. From your reputation, nothing could get past you to hurt me in that room."

"Deal. Keep talking, story getting good." Jazz typed rapidly, pulling all the Teletran files on battle history and Irenic to cross reference as Optimus checked his personal files next console over, keyword search Matrix. Ratchet next to him, pulling medical records on her and known Matrix carriers. Prowl silent but watching, ensuring the conversation stayed encrypted and uninterrupted.

"On my spark you would be safe. And?" Jazz prompted when Solspark remained quiet. On screen her alt mode moved in and out of traffic by the Cascade Locks, an expensive car otherwise unremarkable.

"I fled to the outer regions, keeping it a secret. The tale spread, of Irenic's loss and how the last known Prime was being hunted. Optimus Prime. I was not him. He gave us hope, I replaced broken battle armor, retrieving the wounded right out of the fighting. I couldn't lead an army. Face what he faced. Then a scout from the Allspark Temple crossed my paths and I revealed it. I got dragged back to Iacon to trade it to a mech. Only he was chosen by the Grand Council, not me nor the Matrix. It rejected him."

"Bet that went over like a collapsed intake filter."

"You have no idea. Other applicants tried to handle it, each rejected. Then it allowed one. The Matrix did not open nor react but allowed the transfer. The warrior mech took it, never so much as a thank you for my service and left. I continued as medical support. Battles later, it returned to me. The Matrix appearing broken with the containment case badly damaged and the core energy barely pulsing. The temple guard looking anywhere but in my optics as he knelt, offering what was left of it to my safekeeping. I again carried it without announcing who or what. I became a communications expert. Easier for me to filter messages and lock down information, sending codes and routing equipment than see the spark I just saved come back through extinguished in endless fighting. Time passed and the council again found me, demanding I release the Matrix back to them."

"Why?"

"They believed a femme and non-fighter should not carry it, damaged or not."

"Of all the inane, logic twisted," he sputtered, confirming what he could of her tale with historical records. The data matched.

"Don't start. They saw it as a controllable asset, a symbol. They could make a leader to match Optimus Prime but of their choosing. He was half the planet away sending the Allspark into space against their wishes. The mech that was the council choice only allowed to carry it in a subspace pocket, added to other Prime relics to inspire and be a symbol. Then he offlined in his first battle, a complete failure. Next choice by the council was completely refused, the Matrix melted his hand off for daring to touch it." Her tone had sobered, a mixture of sadness and pain long worn. Her alt mode pulled into Ainsworth State Park, sliding to a stop by the hiking trail markers.

"Is that your scar?" Jazz asked, no emotion in his voice. He had fought alongside Optimus to secure the Allspark and remembered the resistance, both the Council and the Decepticons determined to control it. The bitterness of seeing it sent beyond Cybertron to save it.

"No. It knew me, always carried next to my spark. The Council admitted defeat in choosing handlers and I carried it again, the core energy nearly dark after their meddling. No armor shifts, no grand changes, before it soaked energy draining my spark down. Smaller, weaker and a Matrix of legend in name only."

"Did the council ever?"

"No. They were gone by then; the explosion at the grand hall wiping them out. The records forgotten as the war raged across Cybertron. And how I got my scar is still coming. The next mech that tried to take it couldn't. He was a transport medic, and unknown to me at the time, a former researcher at the Sciences Division who recognized the it during a field repair. He attempted to steal it from me but was rejected, the Matrix nearly offlining him. His brother, another researcher turned carrier flight medic, somehow processed the reason for rejection as me. Not they were unworthy or power-hungry but me. As long as I remained online and processing it would choose no other."

"What!" Jazz snapped to his feet pads, the chair slammed back. His anger driving for need for action even as her image tracked far away, the story from the distant past. "He didn't!" Echoes of rage flowed through the comm lines, the harshest swearing of Ratchet. Prime's angry engine rumbling vibrated the floor. He had been head of the Science Division and knowing his staff had been involved in such an act a personal affront.

"For a mech who does impossible missions you like the word 'didn't' a lot you know that? A repair torch cracked my casing all the way to my spark spires, melting my armor and charring the rest. Other damage," Solspark vented deeply, her energy pattern on Teletran cycling off beat for a second, "left me too damaged to fight back."

"Darkened spark pit spawn!" Jazz swore softly, the heavy venting of the others multiple times over transmitting as static on the line.

"My last memory before stasis lock is his screaming. The agony of it still haunts my recharge. I came back online later at the nearest retreat outpost, a surprise I still functioned. A familiar warmth wrapped and hidden in my closed hand, ignored as medics fought to save my spark." Moving slowly, her alt mode left the park and rolled back onto the road, heading west.

"It rejected him?"

"Not completely. It showed him a vision, a warning. Cybertron destroyed, the war won quickly because there would be no bot left. His dark desires no different than the enemy he wanted to defeat. I believe he fought the Matrix trying to control it as his spark drained. My scar repaint is to remind me what happened. A healer tried to offline me for power to end a war so he could win a barren hulk. A council deciding to make a Prime in their lust for power, not peace. Warriors craving its power to battle not to prevent fighting with wisdom. They all wanted to desecrate a Matrix designed for life with death. Both of us broken, the Matrix and I by those who swore to protect our race."

"I got nothing. I can't even."

"Say nothing and keep our trade to show me your optics. And yes, I will show you the Matrix." Across the screen, the silver blue Bugatti Veyron slowed down the ramp, merging into I - 205 traffic smoothly heading out of the city.

"Speed limit! Isn't it uh, that is," Jazz felt out of his league. Anything that dangerous meant hands off and a need to protect her more important than any level of information obtained.

"Under my chest plates next to my spark yes. But I can remove it without your optics watching spy bot. I need a new holding case made. The one I made is wearing down with the continual power of it. And if you can't make a better containment, you know who could. Quietly and without revealing its existence."

::Jazz accept. Ask how she kept it hidden:: Optimus instructed, his temper reigned in and the need to know more information on a possible fellow Prime a foremost concern.

"Wouldn't be a saboteur if not quiet in my actions femme. How come boss bot don't know?" he quizzed.

"Not sure. He may suspect," Solspark admitted.

Optimus shook his head side to side a negative. He had not known its existence, now or on Cybertron.

"The Matrix I carry flares to life, first time I met him and twice in fights with the Decepticons. Figured his recognizes I carry a broken one. No threat and I have never used it on earth in its weakened state, I'm not important enough for him to notice personally. My lack of combat specialties keeps me off Elita One's femme team. They are commanders, I am communications and not about to draw attention to my past asking Prime related questions," she guessed.

::Ask her about medical. I need trained help and I never seen it:: Ratchet added, a medical image of the Peace Matrix alongside her frame design on his console screen, the space requirement confirmed.

"How about med bay? Flare to life there? Old grumpy don't miss much," Jazz joked, ignoring Ratchet's snort at his nickname use.

"Locked it in my quarters for my one exam. He noticed my unique chest outlay and power coupling systems but never asked. He did about the scar overlay and accepted it to remember the past. He didn't press, more concerned with my spotty internal functioning reports. First Aid wanted to reconfigure the empty space on a follow up visit, and I refused. Never said why and I do have field repair training and experience allowing me to avoid medics like rust rot for everything else. No major injuries in the time I have been here. I know you trust Ratchet and his team. It's just that I can't. Not yet."

"You remember a Doc trying to fry your spark."

::I would never harm her, and she could endanger herself delaying care:: Ratchet snapped.

::Call her back Jazz. We have much to discuss:: Optimus instructed.

"Look there femme. Shift change time. Get back here to some cool energon and hot secret trading."

"On my way. Solspark clear."

Jazz's hands flew over the console keys, clicking commands. Teletran One locking onto her signal, tracking her route as high priority as she returned. The outer doors unlocked lest any other bot wonder why they were inside without an explanation.

"And if her story is true?"

"Then Ratchet, I am no longer the last Prime. My Matrix places me in the direct lineage of the thirteen Primes, my destiny to destroy Unicron and end the Cybertron war."

"He's a myth. A tale told to frighten sparklings," Ratchet commented.

"To every tale there is a truth. I know not her destiny, but we will help her fulfill it. Perhaps the Matrix is disabled and a symbol only. Perhaps it holds the Wisdom of Primus and all who have held it. It also puts her in grave danger. Megatron would stop at nothing to destroy her if he discovers her existence. Prowl, I need your input on this situation," Optimus stated, glancing down at his strategist.

"We need to verify Its existence and any functioning of the Matrix within her systems. Medically is not an option with her past negative experiences."

"Negative? Pit terror! I want to slag that medic. He betrayed our most sacred oath to help the injured and do no further harm!" Ratchet growled, his anger clear.

"Jazz?"

"Is time of the essence? She will show me, but I need to gain her trust. Wouldn't feel right using our friendship for a power check," he answered.

"Wait. Power check is the answer. Red Alert requested additional sensors that could be adapted to a specific frequency. The Matrix is energy that can be transformed from her systems and it. She specifically referenced a damaged casing, indicating leakage. We have the unique identifier for Prime's Matrix as a baseline," Prowl explained.

"Approved then," Prime nodded. "Reconfigure the sensors with Wheeljack's help. He will need the data to create a new casing. Jazz will be the lead contact. For now, let us resume our budget discussion."

To be continued…