Transformers: Renaissance

Part Two: Corona Nox

Chapter 1

"... For I am become Death, destroyer of worlds..."- Excerpt from a Hindu text.

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

As Optimus Prime surveyed the scene in the Ark's medbay, he wondered where it had all gone wrong. The room was full of commotion, assorted warriors rushing to and fro with equipment, replacement parts, or carrying wounded. In the centre of the bay, two support beds had been set up, side by side, so that Ratchet and First Aid could work closely on the two most critically injured warriors. They were at the centre of the storm; both medics were in their element, occasionally swapping patients when a damaged component exceeded First Aid's ability to repair, or Ratchet's hands were just a little too large for a particularly delicate procedure. The pair danced slowly around one another, their faces etched with grim determination, but otherwise apparently untouched by the chaos that surrounded them.

Prime's focus shifted to the rest of the room, taking in the damage that had been done by this latest battle. He watched as the Protectobot leader, Hot Spot, assisted a limping Grimlock over to a support bed, to wait for his turn with Wheeljack, who was working triage somewhere across the bay. In the bed next to Grimlock, Groove sat nursing a mangled left arm, the silver components twisted beyond recognition. Further down the bay, Silverbolt and the other Aerialbots stood surrounding Fireflight, who had suffered severe damage to both wings.

Of all of the injured, however, none felt as much pain as the warrior at the far end of the medbay. Sideswipe sat there, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world. If Prime didn't know better, he would have said that the warrior was some kind of shade or apparition; the patina of grime and dust that covered his battered red frame, and his vacant expression, gave an impression of the otherworldly. He simply sat and stared, his whole focus centred on the yellow form lying on one of the centre tables.

Ratchet was struggling to save Sunstreaker's life, and from across the room Sideswipe willed him on. It was a miracle that Sunstreaker had survived; Prime had briefly asked Sideswipe what had happened when they had been brought back to the Ark, and he had barely been able to believe what he had heard. It was testament to how tough the twins were that they had been able to fight for so long, let alone for one of them to survive a powered dive straight into the ground from two hundred metres up. Now it was just a matter of time, before they knew for certain whether it had been a courageous gambit, or bitter martyrdom.

The Decepticon attack had been too well coordinated. The Seekers and the Combaticons had simply been the first wave. Mere minutes after the Protectobots and Aerialbots had arrived to help Jazz and the twins, the Decepticons had received reinforcements in the form of the Constructicons, Blitzwing and Astrotrain. The fight had quickly escalated, with more warriors quickly arriving from both sides, and several mechs had been lucky to walk away. But in the end, Starscream had simply called a withdrawal; after all, he had what he had come for. With the Matrix of Power in his hands, Starscream would quickly become a much more serious threat. The thought made Optimus feel sick.

Prime had turned up just in time for the close of the battle, and he cursed himself for acting so slowly. He had led the last charge against the Decepticons himself, and there he had met Starscream. Almost immediately, Prime had been able to sense the difference in the Seeker; in the twenty minutes that he had possessed the Matrix of Power, Starscream had begun to change. Already, he was just a little faster, that little bit stronger, and it was just enough to notice. The Matrix had accepted him, and it wouldn't be long before Starscream unlocked its full potential and it consumed him completely.

The Seeker had crowed about how he had taken the Matrix from Jazz, taunting Prime with what had been done to his friend. It had been years since Optimus had met Starscream in single combat, but as he charged toward the Seeker, bellowing in defiance, he was certain that good would overcome evil once more. He had been so wrong. The battle had been short and brutal, leaving Prime with a scar along the left side of his chest plate, and Starscream with several major gashes in his armour, but nothing more. Then Starscream had fled the battle, and his forces had followed him. Breaking from his reverie, Prime noticed Ratchet walking slowly toward him. The medic had a look of dissatisfaction on his face, and Prime was not surprised at what he was told next.

"Well, they're both stable", Ratchet sighed, his usual gruff demeanour absent, replaced with an air of resignation. "But it's going to take a long time, and a lot of work, before their self-repair systems will be able to handle things by themselves. Sunstreaker's gone into full stasis-lock, and Jazz isn't too far behind."

"You look as though you want to say something else", Prime prompted the medic gently.

"It's going to take a Pit-load of work to repair Jazz", Ratchet continued after a moment, "and even more luck if his spark is going to hold out until then. It would be a lot easier if we could, say, transfer him into a new body..." Ratchet trailed off, hoping that he had managed to get his point across.

"And you just so happen to have such a body?"

"Yes, sir. The Alternator prototype. It can be de-bugged and made ready enough to take Jazz's spark inside of three hours." Ratchet looked up at Optimus with hopeful optics; he didn't want to say it, but this procedure would be the best hope for Jazz.

"We know the technology works", he pushed on, "the twins are living proof of that. In fact, I'm willing to bet that it's because of the new armour and systems that Sunstreaker's only in stasis-lock, and not off-line completely. And if something isn't done for Jazz soon, well..."

"He isn't going to make it", Prime finished. The giant red and blue mech looked upward and heaved a great sigh, the sudden influx of cool air soothing his processors. After a second, he looked back down to Ratchet. "Do it. Take any help you need. If it will save him, then using the new technology is worth the risk. Contact me when it's done."

Ratchet gave Prime a curt nod, and turned back into the med-bay. Prime watched him go, then checked his internal chronometer. The local time read as two twenty seven in the morning. Prime knew that he should be recharging, but he had one last thing to do. The Autobot's problems had been two-fold in the last few hours. Not only had there been a major battle, but they had also received a visitor that claimed to be from the twenty-ninth century. More than that, he claimed to be a Prime, a leader, and that he was carrying a grave message for Optimus. The timing was too close to be coincidence; it all had to be connected to the Matrix of Power.

O o O o O

The observation room adjacent to the brig was empty, a fact that Prime was thankful for. He wanted to be able to observe the newcomer by himself for a while. He hadn't had a chance to visit the brig, and was surprised at what he saw. On the far side of the one-way glass, sitting cross-legged on the rust orange floor of his cell, was a mech that bore more than a passing resemblance to himself. The colouring was different, dull white replacing the segments that would have been red on Optimus, and the chassis was obviously different. But the face and eyes; there was a definite likeness. The strangers optics were off-line, and his battle mask was retracted. But Prowl had shown Prime a picture of the large mech's arrival, and with the mask in place the likeness became even more uncanny.

As Optimus watched this Artemis Prime, the blue and white mech slowly powered up his optics. He sat still for a moment, then slowly turned his head until he was staring directly at Optimus. It was impossible to see through the glass, and the room Optimus was standing in was supposedly shielded against standard scanning equipment. Nonetheless, Artemis was staring straight at him. Unconsciously, Prime shuffled sideways, changing his position. The gaze of his opposite number followed him, accurate as a laser beam, golden optics unwavering.

Prime would have to speak to the newcomer, but he realised that to do so now, undercharged, he would not be doing anyone any favours. He turned away from the security glass, and exited the room. From the cell in the neighbouring chamber, Artemis Prime watched him leave. His sensors were unable to tell who had been in the observation room, but he had a feeling as to who it might be. He knew that his timing had been poor, that he had been a little too late to stop the initial disaster. But he was here now; things were already beginning to change.

Unnamed Island, Atlantic Ocean, ten miles south of Decepticon Warship 'Nemesis'

"Megatron! You'll pay for this!"

Starscream's cry of fury rent the dawn air, quickly followed by a hail of null energy as the Seeker opened fire on his former master. Starscream and his forces, weighed down by their injured and the deceased form of his younger brother Skywarp, had known that they would need to recharge before reaching the Nemesis. A small depot of energon cubes had been waiting for them on a small, uninhabited island, along with some equipment for makeshift repairs. Mere minutes after they had landed, Megatron sprung his trap.

An opening shot from his fusion cannon had ignited the energon stockpile, just seconds after Starscream's forces had begun their much-needed recharge. They had been too close to the stockpile as it exploded, much too close. For an instant, the island was lit with the brilliance of a new-born sun, and then the world came crashing down around them. As the sky once more became dark, and Starscream began to pick himself up, something caught his immediate attention. Some distance away, slowly moving toward him, were a pair of glowing crimson optics.

Starscream's reaction was immediate and brutal. Howling curses at his attacker, the jet opened fire, his warriors quickly following suit. The air was filled with laser and plasma fire from both sides, and battle was joined. Starscream charged forward, the voice of the Matrix howling in his mind, echoing it with a roaring battle-cry of his own. Around him, Thundercracker and the Combaticons charged towards their attackers, heartened by the fact that there were so few.

Megatron was flanked by Soundwave on one side, and a jet that was easily identifiable as Dirge on the other. As Starscream and his forces charged, Megatron raised his cannon and fired, before running forward and to his left, firing as he went. Soundwave opened his chest compartment and sent six cassettes hurtling toward the enemy. Issuing terse commands, the dark blue mech raised his rifle and returned fire, assuming a defensive stance. Rumble and Frenzy took up positions either side of their creator, while Ravage joined Ratbat, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw in a more direct assault. Dirge, meanwhile, snapped off a handful of shots at the enemy, before converting to his jet form and taking to the air.

Starscream ran forward to intercept Megatron, noting as he did so that the flight capable members of the Combaticons had taken off to engage Dirge, while the other members had joined his brother in attacking Soundwave and his cassettes. Ahead of him, the large, chrome-white form of Megatron had stopped just short of the tree-line that edged the beach they were fighting over. Starscream checked his charge, slowing to a brisk march. Despite his lack of respect for Megatron as a leader, Starscream had every respect for his commander as a fighter, especially when the larger mech was cornered. As Starscream approached, Megatron spread his arms wide and issued a challenge.

"What do you say, Starscream?" Megatron purred mockingly. "I challenge you to a duel, leader to leader. Just like old times."

"I would remind you, Megatron", Starscream countered, "that last the time I challenged you, I won. What makes you think this time will be any different?"

"Because this time", Megatron snarled, his features twisting into a vicious sneer, "you'll have no choice but to face me yourself. There won't be anyone to do your dirty work. This time, it's you and me."

"That's what you think", Starscream countered, starting to walk slowly to his left. Megatron mirrored the movement, and the two began to circle one another in a dance-like motion. "I just sent for reinforcements. You think that Soundwave and Dirge will be able to hold off the Combaticons and Thundercracker, and you're probably right. But the Constructicons will be here in mere moments, and then this whole sorry affair will be over. And this time, I won't make the mistake of leaving you alive to trouble me ever again!"

At this last statement, Megatron began to laugh, the sound quickly rising from a low, soft chuckle to a full, mirthless rumble. It was entirely unnerving, and sent shivers down Starscream's dorsal processors. The unearthly noise made the Seeker stop in his tracks, a moments panic threatening to wipe the cocky expression from his face. Megatron stopped laughing, grinning sardonically, and for a second Starscream's world contracted. He was only vaguely aware of the sounds of a fierce pitched battle being fought further down the beach, of the sound of his own air intakes, of the ocean. He couldn't even hear the Matrix...

With that thought, Starscream suddenly took heart, and the device nestled deep in his chest responded. He could feel it's strength filling his limbs, hear its song pulsing through his conduits, and suddenly Megatron was no longer something he feared. As the sun rose over the combatants, it's first rays struck Megatron and made his armour blaze a hellish red, matching his optics. He was the epitome of terror incarnate, but for Starscream, he no longer amounted to anything. The mech that had haunted Starscream's every waking moment stood before the Seeker, and for the first time in millennia, Megatron held no control over his former subordinate.

The Ark, Colorado, USA

Artemis powered up his optics with a start, and sat upright with a jolt. For a few moments the small cell in which he had slept swam about in his vision, and he instinctively shut his optics down then re-started them. At first, he was unsure as to why he felt so panicked; his left hand was trembling, and his air intakes were working overtime to cool his agitated systems. Then, unbidden, the nightmare returned to him in full clarity, and he remembered. With a sigh, he fell back against the recharge couch, hoping and praying that if what he had planned worked, there would be no more need for nightmares.

The dream had been about an incident that had happened three years previously, from his point of view. He and his few friends and colleagues had just set up a new listening post, hoping to keep an eye on a nearby Decepticon fuel depot. It had been like this for far longer than he cared to recount, a guerilla war of attrition that the Autobots had little hope of winning. But they fought anyway, using every hit-and-fade tactic they knew, always on the run from the Decepticon hunter teams, always wondering when they would hear that last, fatal shell before the end came and the darkness finally took them.

His second in command, Bulkhead, had just finished setting up the station's sensor network. His weapons specialist, Feedback, had started arranging their weapons stores, and the field medic, Downshift, had just reported that a small cavern further into the asteroid they were hiding on would make an ideal triage centre. Everything had been going well; so far as they could tell, they had crept into the system without triggering any proximity alarms, and they were just about ready to start monitoring operations.

Ten minutes later, everything had gone straight to the deepest pits of the Inferno. The Decepticon's forces had attacked without warning; they had swept the perimeter defences aside with little or no effort, and the few warriors that stood in their way had barely slowed them down. Automated weapons drones, set up by Feedback, slowed them down as they reached the tunnel network, but Artemis knew they wouldn't hold the Decepticons forever. Not willing to risk any more lives, he ordered a full retreat.

And then he came.

He had walked through the last defences like they weren't even there. He strode, god-like, through the corridors of the base, destroying everyone and everything that crossed his path. Artemis had heard the energon freezing screams as Downshift and his team had been butchered. As he had led his own team toward the emergency escape craft, he had watched, horror stricken, as the enemy leader had simply walked though the reinforced wall as though it was made of paper. And he had watched helplessly as Bulkhead, his oldest friend and comrade, had roughly shoved Artemis into the escape pod and sealed the door. The massive mech was a fearsome warrior in his own right, utterly fearless, but compared to him... he might just as well have been a sparkling in the face of a storm.

Artemis was snapped out of his reverie by the sudden realisation that he was not alone. He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the couch and turning to face the cell entrance. What he saw made his spark skip a cycle; a red and blue mirror image of himself was standing there, silently watching him. He so badly wanted to hear his voice, the familiar warming baritone that Artemis hadn't heard in what seemed like forever. Artemis stood, unsteady on his feet, and walked to the energy field that separated him from his visitor.

"My name is Optimus Prime", the towering mech said, whilst staring straight into Artemis' optics. His voice was stern yet kind, everything that Artemis had hoped. "My second in command tells me you also go by the title of Prime. Who are you, stranger, and why are you here?"

Artemis simply stood there, staring straight back at the ice blue optics in front of him. His mouth moved, working to form words, but nothing seemed to want to come out. Visibly shaking now, the white and blue mech stepped backward, his intense gaze roving over Optimus' form. He looked like he was trying to burn every last detail into his memory, clinging to the image like someone drowning clings to anything nearby, trying to stay afloat.

"What's wrong?" Optimus asked him, concern filling his voice. "If you truly are an Autobot, you have nothing to fear from anyone here, least of all me."

"It's not that I'm afraid", Artemis finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... I... you have no idea. No idea at all, how long its been... how many nights I've wished I could hear your voice just one last time."

"You know me?" Optimus watched as Artemis nodded at his question, then took a few steps closer to him, until he was mere inches from the security field.

"I would hope so", Artemis replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But you don't know me yet. I'm your son, Artemis."

Author's Notes: Well here it is, part two of Transformers: Renaissance. As a side note, you may like to know that the title loosely translates as "Crown of Night". You'll find out why later!

Transformers and all associated characters are the property of Hasbro/HasTak Inc. Except for Artemis, that is; he belongs to Prime Revolver, and is used with very kind permission. Thanks again!

Bulkhead, Downshift and Feedback are mine, though if the names have been used before I apologise.

All reviews will be very much appreciated. Thanks for reading!