Primus Inter Pares

Chapter 4

"Beware when staring unto the Abyss, for the Abyss also stares unto you..."- Friedrich Nietsche, Beyond Good and Evil

Colorado State Border, z- eleven days

"Not long now, guys", Jazz called over the comm-link, his voice sounding relieved. "Not long at all. I can't wait to get, well, the item back to Prime."

For three days, Jazz, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been making careful progress back to the Ark. They had done everything they could to not draw unwanted attention to themselves; the cargo they carried was far too precious to risk losing now. The mysterious third Matrix sat nestled in the trunk of Jazz's Porsche alternate form, partially covered with curved segments of lead plating, in an effort to dampen it's energy signature. That didn't mean, however, that Jazz couldn't feel it there. Far from it, in fact.

It had taken several hours for him to notice the sound, if 'sound' was even the right word for it. At first, it had started as a nagging sensation at the back of his neural processor, like a half forgotten memory. It was fleeting, elusive; every time he came close to working out what it was he was feeling, it changed into something new and he lost the definition. It caressed the recesses of his mind, whispering to him with increasing strength, until finally, as the Autobots crossed the state border, it finally found its voice. And it began to sing.

It was unlike anything Jazz had ever felt. The persistent nagging suddenly broke into a piercing wail, chilling him to his spark and making him wish that he could cover his audio receptors. His whole frame sang with the vibration, and felt as though the sound would shake Jazz's chassis apart. After a few moments, the pitch lessened, and moved into a sweeping set of notes that were all at once dizzying and gentle, emotive and calm. And it was then, as the music calmed to bearable levels, that Jazz came to the realisation that there was no music at all.

There was no identifiable sound, no words or notes, just the perception of them. At first Jazz thought that there was something wrong with him, that the Matrix he held was disrupting his systems. But as he felt the wraith-like plainsong wash over him, felt the emotions it raised within him, he realised that he was hearing something within his spark, something that would only be felt by a rare few. The pride, the power, the elation that it brought, along with the feelings of loss and smallness, were echoes of the Matrix itself; not its thoughts, but rather how his own spark was reacting to the waves of power emanating from the sphere hidden in his trunk.

"Can't wait", Jazz heard Sunstreaker growl. "The sooner this whole thing is over and done with, the better. No offence meant to anyone, but that thing gives me the creeps."

"Here, here!" Sideswipe chimed in, his tones marginally cheerier than his twin's. "I still say we should call for reinforcements. I mean, if we meet them half way, then we can be sure that nothing goes wrong."

"Maybe", Jazz replied. "But we're still too far out. If we call for help now, and the 'Cons pick up on it before our guys, we'll be dead in the water."

"Doesn't matter much anyway", came a surly counterpoint from Sunstreaker. "We'll be hitting that communications black spot soon, so either we call home and take the risk, or we keep going and end up much closer to home anyway."

The point all but covered, the three sports cars accelerated slightly, eager to get home. The communication cut-out was caused by mineral deposits lining a shallow valley that the road followed. Communication wasn't completely impossible, but the frequency gain needed by their comm-systems to punch through the interference would advertise their position like a planet wide flare. At this stage of the journey, that was the last thing the trio needed.

As the Autobots entered the valley, Jazz felt a brief surge in the song of the Matrix. Over the past hour or so, the waves scratching at his mind had lessened, almost to the point where Jazz was no longer aware of them. But suddenly, without warning, the wraithsong came back with a vengeance, not only on a telepathic level but also on an audible frequency. A high pitched scream rent the air, surprising the twins and making Jazz swerve painfully, nearly forcing him from the road. It only lasted a few seconds, but the effect it had was electric. Birds flew startled from the trees that lined the road, wildlife for just over a mile ran for cover from the strange noise, and the Autobots screeched to a halt amidst a hail of gravel and the squeal of tyres.

"What in the pit was that?" Sunstreaker roared, his sleek Dodge Viper body quickly uprighting itself and reshaping into his robot form. He instinctively brought his plasma rifle out of subspace and began searching for targets. A few metres away, his red mirror image transformed as well, also readying his weapon. Jazz transformed last, ejecting the Matrix from his trunk as he did so. He caught it mid-air, and flung it angrily onto the grass at the edge of the road.

Immediately, the song in his head disappeared. Distraught and defeated, Jazz dropped to his knees, slumping forward slightly. The twins looked at one another briefly, real concern mingling with the desire to make fun of Jazz's uncharacteristic outburst, and the fact he had just thrown an item that could be described as 'holy' away like it was nothing. Sideswipe walked over to Jazz, something approaching a sardonic smile starting to cross his lips. The younger mech began to say something along the lines of 'Temper, temper', but stopped when he saw Jazz's visor. Jazz looked up at Sideswipe with haunted optics, the green light the red twin had seen there beginning to fade.

"We seriously need to get rid of that thing", he gasped. "Right now."

O o O o O

The Ark, Colorado

Optimus Prime hadn't known what had hit him. It had been a quiet morning. The usual drills and scans had been performed early on, Red Alert had organised a security briefing for that afternoon, and business had been all but concluded. There was no recorded Decepticon activity, there had been no local disasters; the world was spinning as it should, and all was well. After a few hours, Prime had sent Ironhide and Prowl for a short break. As silence descended, save for the whispering mechanisms of Teletran-one, Optimus Prime breathed a sigh of relief and sat back in his chair, and began to wonder when Jazz and the twins would be back from their important mission.

Without warning, a searing pain stabbed through Prime's chest and abdomen, forcing him to double over. The pain stopped for a moment, then returned with greater intensity. A hammering discord of noise flooded his audio receptors, his optics swam before blanking out all together, and Prime slumped forward out of the chair and onto his knees. His air intakes struggling to cool his internal systems, and his mind reeling, Prime tried calling for help. All that he could muster was a strangled whisper.

He had felt something like this before, he began to remember, just with much less veracity. As the sound began to dissipate, and the pain began to fade, the memory of the previous incident began to flood back. It had been thousands of years ago, on Cybertron, when Prime had helped the Cybertronian High Council to relocate the Matrix of Combination. Generally regarded as the weakest of the three Teardrops of Primus, the reaction his own Matrix had given to the presence of its sibling had left Prime feeling shaken, to say the least.

In that moment, he had felt both the voice of the Matrix of Life and that of the Matrix of Combination, singing in tandem. He had held the Matrix of Life for so long that its plainsong had become almost a memory. When the two matrices had begun responding to one another, the effect had been both painful and elating for Prime; he could feel the two ancient devices communing, and while it caused him discomfort, it awed him to behold the event. This was the same, and yet drastically different.

The sheer power that he felt coursing through the sound, as the Matrix of Power reached out to its brethren, had been unreal. As Prime's optics came back on-line, his thoughts instantly went out to Jazz. After carrying the Matrix for this length of time, he had no doubt that he would have become attuned to its presence. If the reaction from Prime's Matrix had been this strong, he could only imagine how the saboteur was holding up after the experience. Jazz was strong, Prime knew that; it was the reason he had trusted him with the mission in the first place. But he hadn't known the reaction would be this strong, and Prime now worried about his colleagues. Slowly getting to his feet, Prime opened a comm-link to Ironhide.

"What's up, Prime?" came the veteran warrior's familiar drawl. "You okay? You sound shook up."

"I'm fine", Prime managed. "But Jazz and the twins may not be. I need you to arrange every available Autobot into patrols, get every road covered and find them as quickly as possible. I'll contact the Aerialbots and Powerglide and get them to help. We need to move fast on this Ironhide. If the Decepticons realise we're mobilising, we'll be in for a world of trouble."

"Yes, sir", came Ironhide's reply. "I'll spread the word."

O o O o O

Decepticon Lunar Outpost, Mere Crisium

"Welcome, friends. A new age is dawning; a new age for the Decepticons!"

Megatron spread his arms wide, addressing the Lunar outpost's modest conference chamber from the platform at one end of the room. His voice carried easily, echoing around the small space. He felt the optics of the gathered Decepticons upon him, and knew that if he didn't convince them to join him soon, his chance of taking back control of his forces from Starscream would be all but lost. This thought in mind, he continued with his speech.

"That traitor, Starscream, has offered us a unique opportunity", he continued. "We have a chance to weed out those who would betray the Decepticon cause, and then strike down the Autobots. United, we can win this war once and for all!"

A derisive snort cut through the silence left by Megatron's proclamation. Moments later, the same source let out a low, menacing laugh. The deep, rich laughter filled the room, and Megatron searched to find the one disrespectful enough to make fun of him. Whoever it was would pay dearly for the insult. When his optics settled on the source of the laughter, however, he stopped short. The infamous "Butcher of the Bogs" was not a mech to be trifled with.

Snaptrap's reputation was well deserved, and Megatron knew it. A warrior and swordsman without peer, the fearsome mech had earned his title by single-handedly wiping out an entire Autobot regiment whilst based in Cybertron's southern rust-swamps. Now, his pearlescent-green and purple paintwork glinting in the conference chamber lights, he leaned against one of the support columns without an apparent care in the world. Around him, his team, the Seacons, tensed slightly, sensing a possible confrontation. Snaptrap showed no outward sign of readying for a fight, but a warrior of his calibre rarely showed that he was ready to attack. Not until it was too late, at least.

"Cut to the chase, Megatron", the Seacon commander rumbled from behind his battle mask. "It's a long journey from Cybertron, and I didn't make the trip to hear grand speeches of opportunity. Tell us what you want, and what's in it for us. We'll do the rest."

"Here, here!" chimed Tantrum and Razorclaw, two members of the Predacons, another specialist combat group that Megatron had contacted. Feeling control of the situation slipping from his grasp, Megatron gave a curt nod to Soundwave, who had stationed himself at the back of the room. Silently, the dark blue communications officer slipped from the room. Watching him go, Megatron answered the question with as much frankness as he felt prudent.

"Starscream has usurped my position as commander", he began. "I want it back. To make matters worse, Starscream has found out a very important piece of information." Soundwave walked back into the room, and nodded to Megatron. Everything was in place. Megatron nodded his ascension, and Soundwave began to manipulate one of the controls on his chest plate. Moments later, a holographic image shimmered into life above the heads of the assembled Decepticons. Most of them recognized it at once as the Autobot's Matrix of Leadership.

"I know what you're thinking", Megatron said, unable to keep a smug tone from his voice, "and you would be wrong. This is not the Matrix of Leadership. That infernal device, which has cost us more battles over the years than I care to recount, still resides with my nemesis, Prime. This", and here, he gestured grandly, in the fashion of a magician who has his audience enthralled, "is the lost Matrix of Power."

"Which means?" Dirge cut in. The rest of the gathered mechs looked at Megatron, the same question evident in their optics.

"Which means that we have a chance at finally winning the war", Megatron all but whispered. A slow smile crossed his features as he warmed to his theme. "Sadly, the traitor has the advantage of time. This device is currently in the hands of a small Autobot convoy, making its way back to the Ark. In less than an hour, Starscream and his lackeys are going to ambush that convoy. If we can intercept his forces just after they deal with the Autobots, then we have a chance of taking this Matrix for ourselves; after our esteemed colleagues have done all of the work, of course."

"Good idea", a voice from the crowd murmured, just loudly enough to be heard. When everyone looked to it's source, Rotorswitch, he looked around for a few moments in an embarrassed fashion, then decided to continue his thought. "I was just thinking, out loud apparently, that Starscream is unlikely to take a large force on an ambush mission such as this. Like any other paranoid personality, he'll keep a mission like that to a minimum of warriors, mechs that he'll trust. Barring any damage that the Autobots will do to him and his team, Starscream will be at his weakest just after the attack." The tactical assault specialist sat back in his chair, and looked to Megatron with an apologetic expression. "Sorry to interrupt", he finished.

"Not at all", Megatron replied grimly, his tone explaining that better than words his annoyance. "As I was about to say, our window of opportunity will be small. I will lead the attack personally, accompanied by Dirge, Ramjet, Soundwave and the Seacons. The rest of you will stay in reserve until needed, just in case Starscream has anticipated this kind of move. Any more questions?"

The room was silent for a few sparkbeats, while the crowd considered Megatron's words. Every mind present was whirring with the possibilities; a Matrix of their own would give them a chance to finally vanquish the Autobots. Several questions remained that many felt needed to be asked, but for a moment no-one seemed willing. After the pause had passed the point of being 'comfortable', Snaptrap once again rose to the occasion.

"So, mighty Megatron", Snaptrap growled. "Would you be so kind as to answer my original question? What's in it for us? I am under no illusion that you will claim this prize for yourself, and neither is anyone else here. What will you offer us that will stop one of us claiming this Matrix? More to the point, how do you intend to take it for yourself?"

"Simply put, the Matrix will not answer to anyone but me", Megatron hissed. "It may not have known my touch for millennia, but it will remember. Starscream will not be able to unlock its power immediately, I'm sure of it. If he can even unlock it at all. Therein lies our window of opportunity. To the matter of trust, well, Snaptrap, I asked you all here for two reasons. Firstly, you all know a good deal when you see one. Secondly, most of you hate Starscream as much as I do. As for your payment, well, you will all be paid well. Soundwave has the details for you. But we have to act quickly, or all of this will be for nothing. Now who is with me?!"

There was another pause, then the group broke into a roar of ascension, led by Razorclaw and the Predacons. It was all the answer Megatron needed. He watched as his Decepticons began to make preparations for the coming attack, or accosted Soundwave for the details of their payment. All, that is, save for Snaptrap. The ancient commander was aiming a level stare at Megatron from his corner of the room. The gaze, whilst apparently emotionless, carried volumes of information for anyone who knew the Seacon. He was ruthless to the point of being dangerous to his own forces, and would stop at nothing to win.

I'm going to have to watch that one, Megatron thought to himself, as he stepped down from the platform and joined the crowd. Everything may depend upon it...

O o O o O

Colorado, USA, thirty miles from The Ark

At first, the sound was barely noticeable. As Jazz, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe tore along the road, the low rumble was lost amongst the growl of engines and the sound of tyres on the road. Having recovered from the strange events of earlier, Jazz had decided that getting back to the Ark was more important than avoiding the attention of police patrols. The three Autobots had picked up the pace considerably, pushing themselves and their alternate forms to the limit.

Sideswipe was the first to notice it. The red Viper cut the rev's to his engine for a moment, in an effort to make hearing a little easier. Grinning inwardly at how daft the inclination was, the young warrior re-accelerated and switched his sensor arrays to full. At first, he found nothing, then a set of blips showed up on the very edge of sensor range. Whatever they were, Sideswipe remarked to himself, they were moving fast. At first, he figured that they might be human fighter jets on patrol. But then, as the jets resolved themselves onto his long-range visual scans, 'Swipe realised something else. They were travelling far too fast to be humans...

"Guys, we've got a problem", he all but yelled over the comm-link.

"What kind of problem?" Sunstreaker growled in reply, his twin's concern making him tense.

"The Seeker kind!" Jazz said before Sideswipe could reply. "Three inbound. Looks like Starscream brought his entire family. And I'm picking up more signals coming from the south, energon signiatures read as five more Decepticons. Looks like we're in deep trouble guys."

"Ah, Pit!" Sunstreaker swore. "Jazz, you gotta run for it. Me and Sides will keep 'em busy. Get as far as you can get away with, then start calling for help."

"Guys, I can't just...", Jazz began to protest, but Sideswipe cut him off.

"Sunny's right Jazz. Your cargo is more important than anything else. Get it to Prime. We'll handle things here. Go, now!"

To emphasize their point, the twins began to brake sharply, throwing themselves into an impressive synchronized drift as they did so. Before they came to a complete halt, the pair transformed and brought their weapons out of subspace. Their armour glinting in the light, Jazz briefly mused that if anyone could pull off a stunt like this and survive, it was them. They gave him identical, grim smiles, and he knew then that they were right. It was now up to him to make sure that their sacrifice wouldn't be in vain.

"Good luck", Jazz whispered as he sped away from his friends, his every instinct screaming at him to stay. "Primus be between you and harm, in all the dark places through which you must walk..."

Authors Notes: This is getting ridiculous now. I finished this chapter, and realized that I need at least one more! Typical. Still, here goes...

Transformers and all affiliated characters are the property of Hasbro/Hastak and not myself. Mores the pity.