In which the Matrix proves itself a chatterbox, Optimus starts to come into his own, and Prowl manages not to show up at all.

Ok, so I am seriously getting tired of FF deleting my formatting. First it took out all the underlining in the first part of chapter 4 and now it deleted all the underlining in this entire chapter. I had to rework it 5 times to get it to behave. Seriously FF, get your act together.

Warnings: brief, non-graphic mentionings of past: rape, prostitution, arranged marriages, torture, and torture of children. You have been warned.

Enjoy, rate, review, and point out mistakes. Thanks!

Chapter 5:

Optimus came out of recharge to the decidedly uncomfortable reality of the floor. His very struts were aching thanks to the awkward position in which he had fallen. Other than stiff joints and a sore frame though, he felt quite nice. He had recharged deeply, just like… last dark-cycle. Oh no, he had done it again! Optimus was distraught; the Matrix would never forgive him and he would go down in history as the only Prime to ever annoy the Great Artifact to the point of having it ignore his very existence.

Just as the mech's panic attack was reaching epic proportions of imagined ignominy he felt something curl through his spark. It felt like the servo of his creator when he was comforting the sparkling Orion after a recharge terror.

Be calm youngling. Tell me, what is it that has your spark in such turmoil?

This was it, the Matrix was giving him an opportunity to apologize. He could not afford to mess it up. *I am conscience-stricken Lord Matrix. I passed into a defragmentation cycle inadvertently during your narrative two orns previous. It is my most sincere entreaty that you would forgive this most penitent transgressor.*

There was a very long pregnant pause as Optimus prayed his words would be accepted. Then the Matrix started laughing.

It was a deep, rolling laugh, the kind that starts in the midriff and shakes the whole frame. Optimus wilted, he was not going to be excused. The Artifact's mirth tapered off and it addressed him. There is nothing to forgive, little one. I knew your energy levels were low and took great pleasure in guarding your recharge.

*But, you ignored me all orn!* Optimus replied, now more confused than ever.

Yes I did, though it was not my intent. It does not happen often, but there are times when even I must recharge. This past light-cycle just happened to be the end of one of my cycles.

*Oh.* Now the young Prime felt ashamed for having jumped to such extreme conclusions. He considered that the Matrix must think so little of him after his panicked groveling.

The Artifact sensed his rising shame and refused to let it fester into permanence. Now, now. None of that. I did not laugh because you apologized, I actually found it rather sweet. No, it was the archaic language and terrible accent in which you spoke. I have not heard that particular dialect of High Iaconian spoken in nearly six generations. Where did you learn it?

Optimus mentally blushed. *I used to collect bookfiles before… Before. Any that I could get my servos on. There was an old bookstore in midlevel Iacon whose owner passed away. His creations did not want the store and sold it. The new owners threw everything out, including all the bookfiles. A friend of mine saw them and gathered all the books up as a gift for my creationdate. Among the collected pads were many old texts written in ancient Iaconian. It was a rather enjoyable hobby to decode and learn the nearly dead languages.*

Impressive, young one. This gift could serve useful in eventual dealings with certain council members, at least, once I have corrected your inflections.

Before Optimus could ask which counselors, a knock at the door broke into their conversation. He arose and opened it, optics bright in concern, for no one ever disturbed him in his quarters unless it was an emergency. On the other side stood a trembling under-secretary. "L-Lord P-Prime, sir, th-the council requests y-your presence in their chamber at-at once."

Optimus acknowledged the summons and told the under-secretary that he would be along as soon as he had cleansed for the orn. The terrified little mech was only too happy to return to the council with the reply and scampered off.

The young Prime sighed and walked into his washrack. He knew why mecha were afraid of him, but he had still hoped that his obviously kinder persona would allow everymech else to see him differently. He sighed again, it was probably a false hope, but what more did he have?

Peace youngling. Their sparks cannot be swayed in a decacycle. It will take many vorns for them to realize the truth, but rest assured it will not always be as this.

Optimus froze halfway through his lathering. While the Matrix's words were a great comfort, he had never heard it speak outside of meditation before, and honestly did know that it was possible to commune with it without being in a focused trance. *I can hear you. How?*

The Artifact radiated smugness. You can hear me because I spoke to you. The Priimas that came before you were not of my choosing and I, therefore, ignored them. I admit to a smidgen of stubbornness in that I would wait until they had performed lengthy meditation rituals before I deigned to acknowledge them. Sadly, the two of them functioned for so long that the knowledge of how I communicate was almost entirely comprised of their experiences. The true Primes that cam before them were either terminated early in their reigns or too busy to record an account.

*Oh! So, I can speak to you at anytime?*

Yes. We are bonded, you and I, and although the bond is specific to myself, it most closely resembles a brother bond. You can converse with me and I to you; if I am removed from your frame before your demise you will always know where I am; and it will not prevent you from obtaining a romantic bond.

Optimus considered this revelation as he finished his shower and decided it was a nice thought to have a sort of older brother to help him along, although the Matrix was old enough to have been the grandtor of his grandtor's grandtor. He stepped under the dryers and asked one final question. *If I speak to you during my functioning joors when I am out and about, will I be able to hide it like regular bonded mecha or will I look zoned out as when I am meditating?*

The Matrix wrapped itself around the Iaconian's spark in the mental equivalent of a hug. You will not appear entranced, but you will also not be able to hide it without much practice.

Optimus sighed. *Well, I suppose that eliminates the possibility of you finishing your story while I am in the council meeting, they are so long and boring.*

They do that on purpose youngling. This orn I want you to listen to their speeches and try to pick out the true messages behind their garrulousness.

Optimus slumped and tried to sound as pitiful as possible. *But all they do is repeat themselves over and over again in as many ways as they can think of.*

The Matrix thumped him on his mental forehead. They do that on purpose. They make long speeches and repeat themselves so that you will stop listening. Then when it is time to ratify the new laws you will have no idea of what exactly is in those edicts. That is how they maintain their power; through unheard phrases and obscure references.

*I can not simply read the proposals before signing them?*

No my mechling, you cannot. The shortest proposals typically number over one hundred thousand pages and the norm is an average of half a million. They never present them singly either; always in sets of ten or more. They purposely inundate you to prevent the possibility of a proper reading. For if you were to discover the self-serving clauses you would surely not authorize the laws.

The Great Artifact sighed and released his ages old frustration. It was not right to vent it on the young Prime regardless of how much he needed to learn. The only way to stop the corruption before it starts is to parse the verbal statements and rebut them before they get placed on the datapads.

The Matrix could feel a swell of worry flow from its bearer's spark and waited patiently. It was important for the future that Optimus come to trust the wisdom-keeper and that trust would begin when Optimus was comfortable speaking his meta to the Matrix. *Um, I am not very good at coming up with counter-arguments on the fly.*

Ah, but that what you have a Matrix for, to provide you with those uncontestable bits of wisdom that the council will not be able to refute, and should you also convey those rebuttals in that delightfully archaic speech it will be that much more effective.

Optimus relaxed. *You will stay with me?*

Of course. Now however, you need to hurry lest the councilors send another frightened secretary to leak at your door.

Optimus snickered and quickly passed a polishing cloth over his plating, then left his quarters. The entire orn he would have his confidence bolstered by gentle pulses of safety/trust/protection from his internal guardian.

_-*-_..._-*-_..._-*-_

Optimus settled onto his berth feeling very satisfied. The orn had been productive, and a complete surprise to the unprepared senators and councilors. They were used to and expecting the meek, unsure Prime of the past few decacycles, not the quiet thinker whose few words held an iron will that made the hearer pause to reconsider themselves.

This too surprised Optimus as he had known what form his new personality would take. The Matrix had been confused and asked the young Iaconian to explain. Optimus had obliged. "Before I was named Prime, before you selected me, I was rebuilt. I had suffered spark-threatening injuries from Decepticon raiders and Alpha Trion saved my functioning by almost completely replacing my frame. One of the primary side-effects of such a procedure however, is radical adaptation of character. Alpha told me that while I would always be myself, I would find that certain previous behaviors and mannerisms would suddenly feel wrong or uncomfortable. This is the reason I have been so unsure for my entire tenure so far. I have quite literally been trying to figure out exactly who I am."

The Matrix expressed thankfulness that Optimus had survived, stating that the statistics of survival from such severe surgery was generally less than five percent.

After that the two of them had created a game of the council meeting. Optimus would experiment with stares of stoicism and piercing gazes to see which were the most effective of which speaker. The goal was to rile them up or unsettle them enough for them to ask him if he wanted to say something. Then it was the Matrix's turn. The artifact would delve through its eons of stored knowledge for the perfect statements to derail whatever foolishness was currently being suggested. It would often supplement the confutations with excerpts from the lawtexts, for it turned out that Guardian Prime, Nova's predecessor, had been a lawyer of great renown and had imparted the entirety of his collective knowledge to the Matrix before his passing.

Optimus' newly revealed intimate understanding of the laws and their execution had caused many a senator to become speechless in shock. When they could not come up with a plausible rejoinder they were forced to relinquish the floor and thus also have their proposal dismissed.

Yes, Optimus was very satisfied with his orn. Not that the Matrix allowed it stay that way after its bearer had settled for the evening. Do not be cocky my Primeling. You caught them off guard this orn, but it shall not happen again. Now they will be expecting it and you will have to change tactics.

*I know, but I can consider that problem later, right now I want to bask in my victory. I do not get them that often.* came the petulant reply.

The Matrix chuckled indulgently. Very well then. Bask away.

Optimus did. He placed his servos behind his helm and allowed a large smirk to overtake his hidden lips. He stayed that way for a few kliks until he was sure he had soaked up as much of the confidence boosting sensation as he could. Then his meta turned to a topic that had been knowing at him for two orns. *So, you never finished telling me about the Priima.*

You are right, I did not. Would you like to hear it now?

*Yes please.* Optimus curled up on his side and listened attentively.

Alright then. The Prime I was gifted to was Primon and the first Prime I ever chose was Prima, Primon's brother. For generations after there was prosperity. The solar energy that Duosteris provided was more than even Primus' converters could use and the People enjoyed an abundance. It was the true Golden Age. The People were happy and began to cultivate vast swathes of Primus' body. Just as they reached the pinnacle of their first accomplishments, the Quintessons invaded.

The Peoples' functionings had always been peaceful and they had no concept of war or strife. Weapons were foreign to the People, and this made them easy pickings for the ruthless five-faced blackmarketeers. They destroyed everything. Leveled every fledgling city, every developing town. They rounded up the everyone and took hold of their metas with slave programming. The five-faced ones slaughtered the Prime publicly and hid my shell away to discourage rebellion.

Then the true horrors began. Bonding was outlawed and all offenders were executed upon discovery. This prevented natural sparking and allowed for population control. The Quintessons implanted giant spark-extractors into Primus' core to create new mecha for slaving contracts the universe over. These devices, collectively called Vector Sigma, drained Primus and prevented his reawakening. For he was trying to wake up. He had sensed the evil that had befallen his children and desired to save them. He actually managed to overcome the Sigma devices by his will alone, but the Quintessons found him out. Then they ensured it would never happen again. They entered his processor and overrode his boot-up sequence, then inserted a code to induce permanent stasis. The People were the slaves of the universe and there was no one to rescue them.

Some of them were modified to accept organic interface equipment and sold as pleasuremecha. Many more were sold as test drones to the more warlike planets and were tortured to deactivation for the advancement of their owners' weaponry. This was not the worst atrocity committed against the People though. The worst was the unframed sparks marketed as clean power sources to science-based planets and newly framed protoform to the same for use in experimentation. When the Quintessons realized that their robot-servant venture was a success, they got greedy.

They began to tamper with spark-coding to create new lines to offer in previously untapped markets. This was the method by which femmes and host-mecha came into being. Neither are first creations of Primus, though he has since blessed them as his own. Femmes were sold as wet nurses and more aesthetically pleasing pleasuremecha; hostmecha as sparked furniture and sentient entertainment devices. The new lines were a roaring success, however, no amount of tweaking or programming could get Vector Sigma to produce them. Thus began the Breeding Programs. They forcebonded the new mecha and forced them to rape one another to produce as many sparklings as possible. The mecha that bred true were kept functioning while the breeders that produced only throwbacks were yielded the unintended mercy of termination. It was through this that the first part of the Quintessons' downfall was brought about. When a nonbreedable pair was terminated, their frames were cast into the pits for smelting. One half of such a pair survived. The shot to terminate *his spark was aimed too high and the femme was only injured. *He was carrying at the time and *his determination to remain functioning for its sake allowed him to survive *his unwanted bondmate's deactivation. *He feigned termination until *he was dropped into the pits, then escaped.

The second part of the Quintessons' downfall was their decision to produce warframes. It was the last untargeted venue, and the five-faced slavers craved more credits. They created tankformers, gunformers, and cannonformers from the coding of heavy frame mecha. They implanted programming for external and internal weaponry into standard mecha to allow them to carry the unnatural additions. They even twisted the coding of the shuttleformers to created weaponized orbital platforms.

Then their first mistake came to fruition. The creation of the injured femme led an uprising against the Quintessons and broke the hold of the slave coding with his invention, the Coda Remote. The young mech, then known as A3, drove the interlopers away from the planet and rescued my shell.

The Quintessons had been beaten so badly that they would not be capable of retaliation for many millions of vorns, and in their rage at being bested by an 'inferior' race they left one last enduring alteration. They turned on Primus' engines and inserted a virus that would deter any attempts to turn them off. Now, the People had been enslaved so long that knowledge of Primus and his status as a planetformer had been mostly lost. The few who did remember him thought of him as a god who lived in their planet's core. Therefore it never occurred to any of them that the planet could be returned to stable orbit by releasing his meta from stasis.

And again, because of their lack of knowledge, they had no name for their planet and collectively chose to call it Cybertron. The eons that followed were a time of rediscovery. They had to re-educate themselves on everything from energon refinement to bonding, and it was fortunate that Primus' engines had been set on slow, for their relearning of energon processing was fraught with error. When they finally left the system to which Duosteris belonged the Cybertronians experienced their first Dark Age. Fortunately, they were intimate with the concept of rationing thanks to their time under the Quintessons, but that did not mean it was not difficult.

It became the normal pattern as Cybertron wandered for there to be good eras of plenty when near a star and dark ages when in-between. It was not until the second such dark age that a Prime spark re-entered the populace, which meant I needed an interim carrier. Alpha Trion volunteered to keep me safe until a true leader could be found and I was not adverse to giving my trust to the renamed A3.

The first Prime after the occupation was Vector Prime. He had an imposing aura, but was truly gentle in manner. He was not prone to rash decisions and was most willing to listen to my advice. He led the Cybertronians wisely for many millennia. When he passed on to the Well I looked diligently for his successor, for I had assumed that Vector's appearance meant that the lineage would return to its previous status of one Prime spark for every generation. I was in error. The Quintessons had destroyed too many sparklines and the new lineage rounded out to a single Prime spark for about every five generations. The Cybertronians could not go so long without a leader, so it was decided that imterims would be chosen to fill the gap. The council of that time voted to give the standby a title that would indicate their supremacy over the planet yet also denote that they were not Primes and therefore temporary until the genuine leader appeared. The designation chosen was "Priima", in honor of my second bearer.

With the Matrix's story completed it fell silent to await its Prime's response. It was a while in coming.

Optimus was nearly reeling mentally from the deluge of historical information and it took him a moment to sort it all out into the appropriate knowledge files. When he finished he returned his attention to his symbiote. *So, Sentinel was a Priima?*

Yes, as was Nova before hime.

This left Optimus confused. *But, if you did not choose them as your temporary bearers, how did they acquire you?*

Ah, now there is a bit of interesting subterfuge. After Guardian Prime's deactivation the council got it into their helms to seize the powerseat. When I gave the indication that there was no Prime spark to replace Guardian they appointed Nova as my Priima. They intended to use him as a puppet, but history can well attest to how that turned out.

*Oh.* Suddenly, things were making a lot more sense. It had always bothered Optimus that the supposedly ethically driven and wisdom led Primes were sadistic selfservers prone to bouts of tyranny and madness. However, if these individuals were not Primes, then Optimus could conjecture that their actions were caused by something else. *Wisdom-keeper, when the Priimas were selected for you, were they told of what they were or were they led to believe that they were Primes?*

The Matrix thought for a moment. The council wanted the maximum control possible and they told them they that Priima meant Prime-in-Training and that they would be true Primes when the council was sure they would be able to properly fulfil their roles. This ensured that the council would have free rein to overrule the false-Primes.

Optimus weighed his next statement carefully. *Is it possible that this deception contributed to their eventual madness.*

How so?

*Well, if they thought they were Primes then they would also have expected to wield the power of one, including mastery over the Matrix of Leadership and the ability to activate various Prime-locked artifacts. When it became apparent to them that they had neither, might it have caused them to lash out and eventually fall to darkness?*

The Artifact whirred in the Prime's chest, its thoughts causing an audible noise, and light began to seep from its shell. It grew warm as the light increased, but then all its activity ceased. The answers you seek cannot be rendered quickly. Your suggestions present new possibilities to previous conclusions and the ramifications… I must take time to ponder this. It will most likely be several orns before I can offer any satisfactory answers.

*Alright,* Optimus hesitated for a klik, then asked, *I do have more questions. Do you have time for them this dark-cycle?*

Sadly youngling, neither of us do. You have given me much to consider, and furthermore, it has grown late. You are set to begin healing Prowl tomorrow and will need all your wits about you. The Matrix gave him a gentle caress. Go to recharge now and we will speak again later.

The young Prime assented and curled up for a peaceful defrag. The length of his orn overtook him and he was out as soon as he shuttered his optics.

Lair of the Twisted Muses: So, hopefully this answers the questions about the Priima. Was it worth the wait?

SomeoneI'mSure: First, I love your anon name, so funny. Second, I am glad that you like my Matrix. I always hated how impersonal the cartoons always made it. I mean come on, the device that holds all the wisdom of the entire Cybertronian race and it can just be manipulated and used by anyone? Uh, irresponsible much? So, yeah, I envisioned it with a personality.

SunnySidesofBlue: thanks! I feel sorry for Prowl too, but don't worry, things will get better for him.