Chapter Eight: Alliances

He did not know what he had been expecting. He had heard from Jazz about how this Maraxan named Meriat fought, but what he saw, what they all saw, through Teletraan-1's screens was not what he had anticipated. First of all, it had all the appearance of being completely, utterly illogical. It was impossible for any entity, as far as he knew, to manipulate air the way the trespasser had, or, for that matter, for someone to manipulate metal the way Meriat had.

But when he took into consideration the fact that they were dealing with a race that none of their kind had dealt with in millions of years, his logic processors allowed him room for the chance that such things were indeed possible. It had simply been so long since the Cybertronians had ever come in contact with a species that possessed such unusual talents.

It was not that Prowl was unaware of the existence of psionically-capable species: it was simply that he had never encountered a member of such a species before. Even if he had, he was well-aware that such talents could be faked by the one who supposedly possessed them. Humans, after all, did such things, and the rarity of such a species on the whole made the odds of meeting "the real thing," as it were, almost nil. Even then, Prowl believed that the feats that could be accomplished by such a species were probably fairly limited in scope – something that he felt was confirmed by the "achievements" of humans (the ones who could claim any genuine talent, at any rate) were really minuscule in scope.

The battle between Meriat and the interloper was not what he had expected. It was one thing to pin three Autobots to a wall; it was another thing entirely to manipulate air and metal with such ease.

He turned to look at Jazz, who was looking at him with a knowing smirk on his face. "Now do ya believe me?" the Porsche asked, to which Prowl sighed.

"Yes, I believe you." He hadn't wanted to believe what Jazz had told him – told them: how it felt like to be held against a wall by a force he could not identify, a force he could not fight against or break. Most Cybertronians were capable of identifying whatever was holding them down, be it actual physical restraints or invisible magnetic force. To be unable to identify what was holding one down in such a situation must have been an eerie experience – or at least, that was how Jazz described it.

"Never thought they were that strong, though," Jazz remarked as he walked over to Teletraan-1, playing back the entire battle – if it could be called that – while another screen followed Meriat as she carried the intruder's body with her out of the Ark. "Primus, just look at that."

Prowl approached so that he was standing next to Jazz, watching the playback as well. "It is almost amazing to know that, long ago, our race was allied with theirs against a common enemy."

Jazz nodded slowly, thoughtfully, and Prowl wondered what he was thinking. He and the saboteur had been friends, good friends, for a very long time, and they understood each other very well, but there was something inscrutable in his friend's gaze at that moment. He wondered what he was thinking about, what was going through his processors as he watched the fight between Meriat and the intruder.

He turned around then, and noticed that Skids was standing off to one side, quietly conversing with Naila. Whatever it was, though, their talk was quickly concluded, because Skids nodded, and exited the Command Center, leaving Naila alone where she sat on the edge of one of the larger consoles. The woman sighed, and put a hand to her face, rubbing her forehead in a gesture that Prowl had seen often Spike and Carly do, though Sparkplug used to do it more often.

Jazz must have seen her then, because the Porsche smiled, and walked up to her. "Hey there li'l lady. Where'd Skids go off to?"

Naila looked up at him, and blinked once before answering: "I asked him to go and find the chest we took back with us from Egypt. Meriat said she needed it."

"Did she say why?" Prowl asked, curious. Preliminary investigation of the box (with Naila present, of course) had told them very little about it. Naila was able to infer that the designs on the box were not like anything she had ever seen before, and that there was writing on it as well, but apart from that, they could find out nothing. They could not even open it, since there were no visible seams to show where the lid was or where one could possibly pry it open.

"She only said that she needed it." Naila shifted slightly, straightening, and then she looked to the door. "She's coming."

Prowl glanced at the door just as it opened, and true to Naila's words, Meriat walked – or rather, floated – in, at shoulder-height with Skids. Her face looked grim and set, and her eyes – which, he had noticed earlier on, were rather odd in that she seemed to have two irises instead of just one – stared almost blankly, as if at something none of them could see.

But those eyes seemed to regain their focus the moment they landed on Naila, and with a smile Meriat came over to embrace Naila.

"I am so sorry," Prowl heard the Maraxan murmur, her voice low and contrite. "It was not my intention to hurt you, young one."

"It…it is not a problem," Naila responded, obviously surprised by this outpouring of emotion.

Meriat nodded, and pulled back, gently stroking Naila's cheek. "You will sleep easier tonight, I promise you. Those nightmares were never yours, but my own."

Naila frowned. "If they were your own, what would you have to do with the massacre of so many children?"

Prowl noticed the way that Meriat stiffened, the way her shoulders seemed to sag. "It is…it is a long story. We left Maraxa hoping to avoid war, but…it followed us here."

"Now wait a minute," Skids interrupted then. "Isn't the war against the Quintessons over? Didn't you win that?"

Meriat turned to him, and the blue edges of her irises seemed to spiral closed a little bit, before they swirled back open a little more again. "That war is indeed over. My ancestors and some of your own kind fought side-by-side to cast out the Ma Waj Resha from our planet."

"Ma Waj… I am sorry, but to whom are you referring to? The Quintessons?" Prowl asked, a little confused by the reference.

Meriat tilted her head. "The name means 'Five Faces of Evil' in our language, for that is what they were. 'Quintessons' is what they called themselves."

So he was right. "But what do you mean? Are you fighting another war?"

"…Yes." Meriat glanced over his shoulder then. "Your leader approaches."

Prowl turned, and nodded as Optimus came up to them. The Autobot Commander nodded in acknowledgement of the others, before focusing his attentions on Meriat. "I hope you're all right, Miss Meriat."

Meriat nodded, and bowed, a sad smile playing on her lips. "Uninjured physically, yes: my heart, however, is another matter." She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again Prowl noted a hint of ice in them, as if she had shuttered away some part of herself that, up until that moment, had been all too clear for them to see. "You wished to speak with me?"

Optimus gazed at her for a while with measuring optics, before he replied: "Yes, we do. We have plenty of questions, as you may imagine."

"I have promised to answer all your questions, and I will keep my promise. Ask what you will."

"Why are you here?"

Prowl noted that she did not respond for a while, her eyes lowered as she seemed to consider her words. In the meantime, others joined them: Bumblebee with Spike and Carly on his shoulder, Ironhide, and – somewhat surprisingly – Ratchet.

At last, Meriat looked up, and Prowl noticed how the blue fringe seemed to have all but disappeared, remaining only as small sapphire points around a dark brown iris. "We came here seeking a sanctuary from war. And the greatest tragedy is that we fight not some foreign entity from another planet, but ourselves.

"My people are deeply embroiled in a civil war, one which we have called the Dranas Huzni, the Wars of Sorrow." Meriat straightened slightly, and her voice grew a little stronger as well. "It began several generations ago, at the height of our civilization…"

Prowl listened as she spoke to them of a slow, gradual split in their society, which was based on one choice: whether or not they approved of planetary conquest. She told how gradually, two factions emerged. One was the Ixmal, those who believed that it was within their rights to go forth and conquer planets whose inhabitants were weaker than they or possessed no psionic abilities at all. The other was the Kaimet, those who believed that such ideals made them no better than the Quintessons who had taken over their world in the first place.

Even more chilling was the fact that the first planet the Ixmal had set their sights on was Cybertron.

"Cybertron?!" Ironhide demanded, his accent growing more pronounced as emotion bubbled through. "Whyever would you want t' conquer Cybertron?!"

"Revenge," Meriat replied simply, "and also because we had kept a close eye on what was happening on your planet. We do not know the fine details, but when our Watchers finally grew powerful enough to see what was going on, we learned that you had all armed yourselves, and become what we had feared and hated the most: Maishunin, Harbingers of Doom."

"Watchers?" Skids queried. He had slipped into the Command Center once again, and had discreetly taken up one of the empty spaces around Meriat.

Meriat looked at him, a small smile on her face. "They are those amongst us who have mastered the skill of astral projection. The most skilled are capable of projecting themselves far beyond the confines of our planet, and seek other worlds, without ever having to leave Maraxa. We have explored many galaxies, seen numerous planets, without once having ever left our home."

"Is that why you came to Earth?" Ratchet asked then. "Because you knew we were here?"

"Yes and no. We knew about Earth because our Watchers saw what happened to your ships, as well as where they had landed. They did not investigate further beyond the crash, and assumed that you were dead. But the reason we came to Earth was because we were fleeing." She seemed to stop short then, clutching her stomach for some odd reason, and Prowl wondered if she was ill.

"Fleein' from what, li'l lady?" Jazz's voice was concerned, gentle and coaxing.

Meriat blinked once, twice, and then let go of her stomach, her hand hanging at her side instead, and explained what had happened: how they, the Kaimet, were cornered in a city called Matkare, and how their primary energy source, something she called karyt aksha, or soul crystals, were nearly gone. They only had enough to power ships they had built in the eventuality they needed to escape from Maraxa itself, and so they put all their resources into the ships, and left, fleeing to Earth and arriving just when human civilization was beginning to emerge.

"But who was that woman who attacked you?" Prowl asked, trying to keep the conversation on-topic. "You said she was your…" he hesitated momentarily, wondering what to call the strange intruder, and then decided to simply call it as his logic processors dictated, "friend."

Meriat seemed to stand straighter then, and Prowl thought she had the air of one who was used to command, like some of the human military leaders. "She came here for two reasons. The first was because I had broken our childhood promises, and she felt such merited nothing less than my death. The second is because she was ordered to."

"What are you saying?" Optimus asked. "That there is a higher power behind her?"

"Yes. If my count is correct, then it has been almost six thousand Terran years since I went into the Youma Orsomo, the Sleep of Ages Before that, the Ixmal came here, determined to destroy us, and they came close to succeeding. They did not, however, leave."

"Wait." Prowl fixed Meriat with an intense stare. "Are you saying that these Ixmal are still here, on Earth?"

The blue fringe had all but disappeared from Meriat's eyes when she looked up at him. "They did not leave. And now that they know I am awake, it will not be long until it starts again."

"What do you mean by 'it'?" Bumblebee asked, and Prowl did not miss the hint of nervousness in his voice.

And Meriat answered, her voice steady, but deep with trepidation and worry: "War."


If there was one word in the entire universe that Optimus Prime hated the most, it was that one. He knew, far too intimately, all the implications of that one word: the thousands of lives lost over the vorns, the crushing defeats from which they had never really recovered, and even the victories that they so cherished and celebrated were ephemeral, because while they gained one thing, they were apt to lose something else.

He knew the price, and the pain, of war. The only reason why he fought one was because to do otherwise would mean to let so many others die. In comparison to the destruction Megatron and the Decepticons would wreak not only on Cybertron, but on the rest of the galaxy, to fight this war was the better option. It did not mean he had to like it, but it was for the best.

And now…this.

He spoke, breaking the silence that had settled in after Meriat had said that one dreaded word. "The war followed you here."

It was a statement, not a question, and Meriat looked up at him. She held his gaze steadily, never once looking away, never flinching.

"I know that you have your own war," she said at length, "and you need not be involved in ours. I am grateful for your kindness and your aid, but when I am well enough, I will leave. You need not dig yourself deeper into this."

Optimus considered that answer. As a commander, he knew that the best thing to do would be to let her do as she asked, to let her go away and to let her people fight their own war on their own terms. It was enough to fight one war; he did not need to fight another one. His people did not need it.

But the Autobots had promised to defend not only themselves, but the humans as well. He also knew that if he did not step in somehow, it would not be long until the Decepticons found out about the soul crystals, and Megatron figured out a way to use them to his advantage. This war would endanger not only the humans, but the Autobots as well.

That was not something Optimus would allow.

"You do not have to fight alone." Optimus allowed his optics to glow a bit more, ignoring the way that the others looked at him. He would speak to them later. For now, he needed to speak to Meriat, and only to her. "Your war is ours as well, because we share the same battlefield. Moreover, I am certain that our enemies will try to take advantage of what your people can bring forth, and I am not going to allow that."

Meriat stared, eyes going wide as the ring of blue all but disappeared. "Are you proposing an alliance?"

There was something in the tone of her voice that indicated something more, that to her, this was no casual unification of forces. This was serious, and carried far greater weight, far more implications than what it appeared on the surface. Optimus wondered at that, and he intended to ask about it, but later. Right now, it was more important to get Meriat on their side. "If you will accept, yes. We shall be stronger united than divided."

She continued to look at him, as if carefully gauging his words. "You must understand: once I agree, I cannot go back on my word. Amongst my people, promises that are spoken are promises that may never be broken. It also means that we shall throw our lot in with you, completely and totally, and that you must do the same. I must know, right now, that you will not betray us. If you cannot fulfill everything that the alliance between us implies, then speak no more of it."

Optimus did not hesitate. He sensed he could trust Meriat, that once she had given her promise, she would not go back on her word. And he knew that he would not, either. "I promise."

Meriat considered for a while, and then nodded. "Very well then. Henceforth, we are allies in a shared war, as it was in the distant past." She bowed: a deep, formal one – a gesture, Optimus would later learn, that was used to seal important agreements, whether on a personal level or on a much grander scale. "May Vedra, Laksma, and Toth, and all your gods, watch and guide us henceforth."


TRANSLATION NOTES:

Ma Waj Resha – Five Faces of Evil