Chapter Four: Whispers of the Past

'Please, I beg you, have mercy on them!'

'Tell me: why should I give them mercy? You do not know what they are capable of. You do not know what they can do. I do not know what promises they made to you, but understand this: if they have come here, then they mean nothing but harm to you and your race. They carry weapons of war; they are nothing more than destroyers!'

'They carry weapons because they are at war themselves! They are protectors! They have defended this planet from the destruction brought on by others like them.'

'There now, you see?'

'These are different! They mean no harm to humans!'

'… We shall see about that.'

-+-…And that's what I found out in my files.-+-

Jazz stared, first at Skids, then at Naila. -+-Lemme get this straight: you're sayin' that Naila over there isn't really Naila, but that one of those…Maraxans, did you call 'em…? One of those has actually taken control of her body?-+-

Skids nodded. -+-Exactly. They're an organic race with psionic powers – apparently strong enough to use those powers offensively, according to the memoirs I read in Iacon. I'm just making some conjectures at the moment, since none of the memoirs state that possession of another body was something they could do, but those records date all the way back to the first few vorns of the Golden Age. Who knows what the Maraxans could have accomplished since that time?-+-

-+-And those statues?-+-

-+-I was getting to that. Apparently, the Quintessons conquered the planet Maraxa at a time when the Maraxans hadn't developed a complex civilization, which made them easy pickings. It was one of the first times that the Quintessons used Cybertronians to conquer a planet, using a combination of war- and civilian-types. Something happened along the way, though, and the Maraxans' psionic abilities got really, really strong, and on top of that, they allied themselves with some of the Cybertronians. I don't know what the statues are called, but the reason why they look so much like us is because their design was based on us – or rather, those Cybertronians who were on Maraxa and on their side. The green crystal is the energy source, one that the Maraxans produce themselves. The memoirs mentioned that they were powerful enough to power a ship that the Maraxans and Cybertronians built to help get the Cybertronians home.-+-

-+-Wait a nano-klik,-+- Sideswipe interrupted then. -+-You're saying that the crystals we just smashed were strong enough to a power a ship all the way to Cybertron?-+-

-+-Well, maybe not in the sizes that were found in the statues, but it's possible that larger ones could have been used.-+-

Jazz was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed by the information that Skids had presented. There was a lot of information missing there, but Skids had offered them some very crucial information: whoever was controlling Naila would probably listen to them if they reminded him – or her – about the history that they shared.

-+-Hey Skids, you know anythin' I could possibly say to this Maraxan to show we're on her side, and that there's no need to keep us pinned 'gainst this wall?-+-

-+-Give me a klik.-+- Skids went silent for a while, and then answered: -+-This is the only phrase I could find. I don't know what the heck it means, but try it anyway.-+-

Jazz listened carefully as Skids gave him the phrase, and after rehearsing it a few times in his processors, he looked at Naila, and said, very clearly: "Mai sadun tu arasel nou ouros miet."

Pit, had he even said that right?

Naila jerked visibly, and when she looked at Jazz, her eyes wide and confused. "What…?"

Unsure if he had gotten it right – maybe the language had a tonal component like Chinese? – Jazz decided to say the phrase again, but this time choosing to make it sound a little less stiff and formal: "Mai sadun tu arasel nou ouros miet."

"How do you know that?" Naila (or whoever was controlling Naila) demanded as she seemed to levitate higher, and drifted closer so that she was only two feet away from Jazz's face. "How is it that you know the language of my people?"

Jazz smiled slightly. "You can say we know who your people are. It's a bit fuzzy right now, but we know what happened to your planet." He tilted his head. "Don't you remember your history no more?"

She blinked, and seemed to be thinking hard about something. At length, she frowned, and shook her head. "That is long in the past. Those whom we remember no longer exist." Her eyes narrowed in what Jazz assumed were the beginnings of anger. "Now tell me: where did you learn to speak the language of my people?"

That was not the answer Jazz had been hoping for. -+-Skids, I could really use your help, buddy!-+-

Skids did not respond to him over the radio, and instead, spoke directly to Naila: "But we didn't forget." When she turned to look at him, he smiled at her gently, almost sadly. "Not all of us, at any rate. It's been a long time since our two races worked alongside one another, but there are still those among us who remember something of Maraxa and the struggle against the Quintessons."

Naila blinked, and her anger seemed to bleed out of her – much to Jazz' relief – as she drifted over to Skids. "The Watchers said that your people had all become machines of war."

Skids seemed a bit thrown by that, but Jazz had to congratulate the theoretician for his subsequent save: "And that's true, but you have to understand: my people are fighting against each other now. It's either we arm ourselves, or die."

Naila was quiet, unmoving, and then a fleetingly sad smile emerged on her face even as she lowered herself to the ground. "So the human was telling the truth," she murmured, and she closed her eyes. "How strange to find out that our races, so different in form and ability, are both caught in the same struggle."

Jazz frowned. "What d'you mean?"

But she ignored his question, and instead looked up at Skids. "This human has given me her word that you shall bring no harm to me, and moreover, you may even help me. Shall you do this? Do you give me your word that what she says is true?"

-+-Jazz?-+- Skids queried, and Jazz gave him a nod to signal a go-ahead. It was a fair deal, after all, and at that moment, helping whoever they were speaking to at the moment was a small price to pay for being let go.

Having thus received approval from his superior officer, Skids focused on Naila, and replied: "Of course, but will you answer our questions about you and your people?"

Jazz smiled wryly. He had to give Skids props for that little stipulation. It would ensure that they got to ask questions, and – should they receive an agreement to the terms – a measure of certainty that they would get answers.

Silence for a while, and then she answered: "I suppose it is only fair. Very well, I shall answer your questions as best as I may. Thus I have spoken, thus I have promised." With that, she closed her eyes, and suddenly, Naila collapsed, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. At the same time, whatever had been holding Jazz and his comrades against the wall suddenly released them as well, and they all landed on their feet at the same time.

Jazz knelt down over Naila, but it was Skids who had gone to her side first, his relatively smaller hands helping to keep Naila steady.

"Are you okay, Naila?" the theoretician asked, very much concerned over the archaeologist's condition.

Naila coughed a few times, and slowly rose, holding onto Skids' hand for support as she got onto her feet, and stood, albeit a little shakily. "Yes… Yes, I am fine, thank you." She was speaking normally now, with her Arabic-accented English, and not in that strange accent earlier. She looked around. "Where is my scarf?"

Jazz spotted it lying near his feet. He picked it up, and, smiling wryly, handed it to her. "Looks like you had a rough time there, li'l lady. You sure you okay?"

"I had a difficult time convincing her that you were friends, that the last thing you would do was harm humans." She shook the grit out of her scarf, put it back over her hair, and then looked up at him. "She has left me…instructions."

"She?"

"The one who took spoke to you through me." Jazz noticed that Naila seemed careful not to mention the fact that they had also been held against the wall. "Her name is Meriat la Telescos mat Tir."

"So where is she?" Sideswipe cut in then as he checked himself for damage. "I've got a lot of things I'd like to say to this Meriat what's-her-name."

Naila straightened, and pushed away from Skids. On gradually-strengthening legs, she moved towards the pedestal, and climbed the short flight of steps to the black stone sarcophagus. She laid a hand on the lid, and looked up at the three Autobots, her expression solemn. "She is in here."

Sideswipe seemed to choke in disbelief. "You mean she's dead?!"

Naila shook her head. "No." Her brow furrowed, and she touched the side of her head, as if trying to ward off an impeding headache. "She says that she will explain, but not now. She asks that you take out the coffin inside this sarcophagus, and take that with us."

Jazz' optics flickered once – the Cybertronian equivalent of a human blink. "Us?" he queried.

Naila smiled wearily. "Yes. She requests that I come with you. She needs…" She swallowed, as if her throat had suddenly gone dry, then continued: "She needs me at the moment, so she can continue to communicate with you. She cannot speak with you directly while she is in her current state."

Jazz was quiet, trying to come up with a plan of action. Transportation, he knew, wouldn't be a problem, nor would it be too difficult to put Naila up for a while. But confronting the humans with what they had found and what they were taking away with them…that was going to be a very big problem. With a grimace, he thought of the statues that they had only recently destroyed.

Jazz glanced at their human companion. "Naila, could you ask Meriat if she's fine with leavin' this place just the way it is? 'Cause, honestly, I'm not really comfy with the idea. I don't think the other archaeologists are gonna be happy when they find out how badly we trashed the place, or that we're runnin' off with what they'd consider an important discovery."

Naila blinked, and when she glanced up at Jazz, it looked as if her eyes had changed a little bit in quality. Her gaze seemed far away, as if she could see someone that they could not.

Her eyes widened slightly. "Must we? Truly?" She did not speak again for a while, and then she sighed, her head bowed. "Very well then, you have made a very good point." She looked up at Jazz again, and her eyes were back to normal. "She says that we must bury all of this again, and ensure that nothing and no one can find their way in."

"What?!" Skids choked.

Naila turned to Skids with a sad smile. "Believe me, to do such a thing grieves me as much as it does you, Skids, but she has a very good point. There is no need for others to find out about the existence of her kind – not right now, at any rate." She turned once more to Jazz. "She does request, however, that you take her coffin in the sarcophagus, as well as something else underneath it. She also asks that you recover a stone chest that is hidden under the center pedestal where the statues attacked you."

Sideswipe narrowed his optics. "Hold on there. How'd she know they attacked us if she wasn't even there?"

"I do not know." Naila gave Sideswipe a weary glance. "There is much that I do not know, and she does not wish to say anything at this point in time. She knows that for me to speak to her is…very tiring, on my part."

Jazz nodded, wanting to just get all of this over and done with. If it was as Naila said, and talking to Meriat was hard on her, then for Naila's sake he didn't want her communicating with Meriat unless absolutely necessary. "Right: a deal's a deal." He turned to Sideswipe and Skids. "'Swipe, you go and get that chest. Skids and I'll stay here and get what's under the sarcophagus."

Sideswipe frowned. "Why me?"

"'Cause you're the only one with the pile-drivers," Jazz answered, his voice once again taking a more cheerful tone now that it seemed any imminent danger had passed.

Sideswipe sighed, and as soon as Jazz was sure that he was well on his way, he turned back to Naila, only to find her and Skids standing beside the sarcophagus, seemingly discussing something about it.

"-diorite," he heard Naila say just as he came closer. "A hard and very durable stone, very difficult to carve."

"A pity that it's going to have to be buried under so much dirt and rock, never to be seen again," Skids said; his expression mournful as he ran a hand over the sarcophagus. "Just look at that craftsmanship!"

Jazz smiled, and patted Skids on the shoulder. "It's not too bad Skids. After all, Meriat's gonna be comin' with us, and I think it's better that we have someone to actually talk to than to try an' figure out what all this means through theories and guesswork. Now c'mon, let's get to work. I'll take off the lid, and you take out the coffin."

Very carefully, Jazz lifted the elaborately decorated lid of the sarcophagus, taking care not to crush it. In his turn, Skids reached into the sarcophagus, and lifted out a very fragile-looking wooden casket. In sharp contrast to the sarcophagus that contained it, the coffin was very plain, with no decoration whatsoever.

"It feels like it will just crumble in my hands," the theoretician muttered as he set it aside, well away from where they were working.

"Let me look at it," Naila said as she moved towards the coffin. "I may be able to determine how fragile it is so we can take appropriate measures when we transport it."

"We hear ya, li'l lady. And thanks." Jazz returned Naila's smile with one of his own, and then turned once more to the sarcophagus. This time, he had to move it aside, since according to Meriat, there was something underneath it. When he tried to push it, however, it wouldn't budge an inch.

Skids frowned. "It looks like the bottom of the sarcophagus was melded with the ground."

Jazz sighed. "We got no choice but to smash it then." He pulled his hand back, made a fist, and brought it down with all his might. As he had hoped, the rock shattered into large pieces, revealing a slightly smaller compartment underneath. When he reached into it, he felt something smooth and angular – and pulsing with energy. When he pulled it out, his optics widened at what he was holding in his hand. "Primus…"

It was a crystal: a large, light green crystal, very similar to the ones that they found in the statues' chests. This one was shaped a little like a many-faceted teardrop, and was only a little smaller than the sarcophagus. Where the metal of his hands made contact with it, his sensors picked up a steady stream of energy – somewhat faint, but still palpable.

"Hey, I found the- What the Pit is that?"

Jazz glanced up at Sideswipe, who had just come in then, carrying what appeared to be a stone box in one hand. He smiled slightly as he straightened. "That other thing Meriat wants us to bring, along with her chest and her body."

Sideswipe frowned. "Don't you two find carrying a dead body a bit freaky? And what'd she want with her old body anyway?"

"It makes perfect sense," Skids murmured then, his gaze trained on the wooden coffin that Naila was checking. "When you consider just who we're dealing with, there's nothing illogical about it."

Naila straightened, and turned to look up at Jazz. "She says that you should keep the coffin and the crystal close to one another. Transportation will be somewhat tricky, I told her, but she says that as long as the coffin and the crystal are close enough to each other, then it should be fine. She will warn me if they are too far apart."

"Right." Jazz turned to Skids. "Think you can handle transportin' the coffin?"

Skids nodded. "It's fairly well-preserved, so it can handle being jostled around a little bit."

"But I would like to stop by the camp," Naila added. "I believe that we have a wooden crate large enough to hold the coffin, and then we can cushion that with straw and foam. We can do the same for the crystal."

Jazz sighed, but nodded all the same. "We had to talk to your colleagues anyway, li'l lady. I guess this is as good a time as any to do it." He nodded at Skids. "Skids, would you be okay with transportin' the chest? I need ya to come with me anyway, to talk to Naila's friends. 'Swipe, stay here and bury this place nice and good. You'll need to stay here with the crystal and the coffin, since Meriat said that they can't be too far apart. We'll come back round for you when we're through."

Sideswipe grinned, and Jazz knew that he was looking forward to this chance to vent his frustration at what had turned out to be a long and very unusual day. "Hey, as long as none of those pillars come to life and start wailing on me, I'll be fine."

Jazz nodded, smiling in satisfaction. "Great! So then, let's get these outta here and start movin'. Got lots to do and not nearly enough time to do it."

The night hung thick over the desert when they finally left the camp, two of their hard-won (or so Skids believed, considering how much they had to argue with Naila's colleagues) prizes stored securely in the back of his alt-mode: a large wooden crate containing the coffin, and another one containing the crystal that Jazz had pulled up from underneath the sarcophagus. By necessity, they both had to be kept together, and hence he was the one tasked to transport them, while Jazz transported the stone chest that Meriat had asked them to bring for her.

After a moment of silence, he asked softly via his radio: -+-Naila, are you okay?-+-

The archaeologist, who had been seated behind his steering wheel, making a show of driving, sighed wearily. "Yes, I am all right. I am just tired." It showed in the way she spoke, and even on her face and posture too, as far as Skids could tell from his internal cameras.

Skids could understand why. After the events in the cave, she and Jazz had spent a great deal of time talking with the other archaeologists who had been working with Naila at the excavation site. The two of them had to spin a story about how an earthquake and the subsequent cave-in had caused the entrances of the cavern to collapse, thus rendering the whole interior of it inaccessible whether via the large back entrance or through the smaller one at the back of the temple that they had found. They also had to come up with a valid reason as to why they were taking away the three surviving artifacts, and why Naila had to go with the Autobots – all the while trying not to reveal too much about what had really happened.

All of that, as it turned out, had been hard on Naila, who wanted nothing more than to share her discovery with her friends, but could not, due to Meriat's desire to keep it all a secret.

In the end, though, Naila exerted her authority over them all as the head of the project, and hence here they were, on the road back to Cairo International, heading towards the tarmac where Skyfire was waiting to transport all of them back to Oregon.

-+-Say, why don't you go ahead and take a nap?-+- Skids suggested, not really sure if that was what he was supposed to say during moments like this. All he knew was that he didn't like seeing Naila the way she was right now: deep in thought, her eyes strangely haunted, as if she could see or hear something that he couldn't.

Naila chuckled, and ran her fingers around the edge of his steering wheel in a reassuring caress. "Yes, that sounds like a very good idea. Thank you for the concern, Skids." Her eyes slowly slid shut, even as a few more words tumbled from her lips, but they were soft, garbled, and Skids did not understand them. A few minutes later a quick scan of her vital systems told him that she had fallen into a deep sleep.

Had he been in his primary mode, he would have smiled. It had been a long day for all of them, after all, and truth be told, he could not wait to get back to Base, have some energon, and climb into his berth for some nice, long recharge.

But that could wait. In the meantime, he followed Jazz and Sideswipe's tail lights as they drove down the dark road that led back to Cairo, the twinkling stars a field of glittering pinpricks overhead.