Remnants of a Lost Age - Chapter 5
And now for what I consider to be a filler chapter. It might not be exciting, but it was necessary...or I like to think it is.
In this chapter, Jazz, Sideswipe and Skids are debriefed, the Autobots get some answers, and Optimus Prime gives some rather obvious orders.
Chapter Five: Incomplete Answers
A stream of words she did not understand flowed from the woman’s mouth, words that were being uttered in a different language entirely. And though she liked to think that she had a pretty good grasp of other languages besides English (she was getting pretty good at Spanish and was working on her French), Carly still had to work her way towards understanding Arabic.
At the moment though, she was sort of glad that she couldn’t understand what Dr. Naila Saab was saying in her sleep. Given how the archaeologist was tossing and turning, she had to be dreaming about something bad. A part of Carly was curious, but another part of her didn’t really want to find out.
The door behind her hissed open and closed, and when she looked over her shoulder she saw Spike coming towards her. She smiled at her husband, who smiled back at her reassuringly. “Hey there.”
“Hey there.” Spike quietly pulled up another chair from another part of the room - one of the spare ones that the Autobots had allocated for human use in the Ark, whenever Chip or Raoul had or wanted to stay over for a while. The furnishing was a bit sparse, but it was comfortable, and within easy reach of the Command Center, Optimus Prime’s office, and the med-bay. “How long has she been like that?”
“A while now.” She reached over, catching Spike’s hand in her own. “I’m worried.”
Spike smiled, and turned his hand over so that his fingers fitted into the spaces between her own: a gesture of comfort, one of many that had evolved between the two of them over the course of their relationship. “Just let her sleep. She’s obviously had a long day. When she wakes up, we’ll get answers.”
Carly nodded. That much had been obvious to her when Skyfire arrived from Egypt late that afternoon after picking up Jazz, Sideswipe and Skids, with Dr. Saab and three very unusual items in tow. Two of those items - a crate containing a crystal of some sort, and another one containing a coffin - were put in a dark, secluded room, and upon Naila’s request, everyone was put under strict orders not to go in there while the two items were in storage. After that, the three ‘Bots were brought into Optimus' office for a debriefing, while Carly took it upon herself to show Naila to a room, whereupon the poor woman - wearied out by something Carly had no idea of - was only able to murmur a quick “thank you” before she fell asleep.
“What do you think happened out there?” Carly murmured.
“They’ll call us in as soon as Prowl and Optimus have debriefed them.”
Naila uttered a soft moan, as if in pain, and Carly caught the tears that glittered amidst the woman’s lashes in the dim light.
Spike’s grip on her hand tightened just so, and he pulled Carly up from her chair. “Come on,” he said, moving towards the door. “You need a break.”
Carly opened her mouth to protest, but Spike gave her a look that made her close her mouth almost immediately. “She’ll be fine without you for a while, honey. You, on the other hand, don’t look too good. Have you even eaten anything since breakfast?”
She stared at him for a while, and then simply chuckled as she followed him out of the room and into their own, which was more like a complete apartment than just a room, since it had a kitchen, a living room of sorts, a bedroom, and a decent-sized bathroom. It used to be like the other guest rooms, until Sparkplug and Spike gradually moved some of their own things into it, when they started staying longer in the Ark for various reasons. In the end, it was decided that it would be turned into a more permanent living space, now that the Witwickys spent more time in the Ark than they did in their own house.
The memory of Sparkplug made Carly’s heart hitch. He had died a few years ago, in the midst of an Autobot-Decepticon battle, and though the mourning period was over for all of them, she could not help but think back on him from time to time.
“Carly?”
She looked up at Spike, and shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Sorry, spaced out for a minute back there.”
“All right, that’s it: you’re going to eat whether you like it or not.” He nudged her towards the little dining table, pulling out a chair and making her sit down in it. “You just sit there and wait a while. I’ll make you something to eat.”
Carly laughed, but didn’t argue, and watched as her husband moved around the kitchen with an efficiency that she had always admired. Spike was a whiz in the kitchen, and she loved watching him cook just as much as she loved eating what he made. It reminded her of that Isabel Allende novel she had been reading, about how the main character described watching her husband cooking as one of the most erotic things she had ever seen…
A small, silly smile crept onto her face, and she stood up, heading towards her husband just as he was starting to chop some tomatoes. Her smile widened when she felt him stiffen a little as she wrapped her arms around his waist, and nuzzled the space between his shoulder blades. “You know,” she purred, gently massaging his abdomen, “we haven’t been spending much time together alone lately… And when you and I get home we’re too tired to do anything except shower and go to bed…”
Spike did not say anything or even move for a few seconds, but gradually, he relaxed, and he set aside the knife and wiped his hands on a towel before he turned around, eyes dark and mouth curling in an expression that Carly was very familiar with, and missed terribly. “You really should eat first…”
Naughty thoughts chased each other like cats in Carly’s head, and she moved closer, pressing her husband against the kitchen counter. “Oh, I’ll definitely be having dinner…” She tilted her head upwards, and it did not take long for Spike to take the hint, because a few seconds later he was kissing her.
Unfortunately, Carly was too busy with kissing Spike, and he with reciprocating, that neither of them heard the door of their rooms hiss open, followed by a very familiar voice hastily babbling an apology.
“Oops! Sorry! Sorry!”
Carly groaned, and dropped her head so that her forehead was pressed against Spike’s chest. The door hissed closed again, and she could vaguely hear the sound of Cybertronian footsteps hurrying away. “’Bee has the worst timing…”
Spike chuckled, and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll remind him about knocking.” He glanced at the door, and then at the tomatoes. “Do you go after him, or do I?”
“I’ll go.” She grinned up at him, and kissed him on the cheek. “You finish up whatever it was you were planning to make.”
Spike nodded, and kissed her once on the mouth before letting her go. She gave him a teasing wink, before she headed towards the door, and out into the hall. “Hey ‘Bee!”
Bumblebee stopped in mid-step, and turned around to face her, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry for barging in like that, Carly,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
Carly smiled, and patted his arm. “It’s okay. Just don’t forget to knock, okay?” She tilted her head. “So: what’s up?”
Bumblebee nodded towards Optimus’ office. “Jazz and the others just finished giving their report.” He shook his head in amazement. “Who’d’ve ever thought that there was a whole other side to our history…”
Carly blinked. “A whole other side to your history? So those statues really were Cybertronians?”
“Um…yes and no. It’s a bit hard to explain. Even Skids, who knows the most about this, admits that there are a lot of gaps in his information.”
Just then, a nearby door slid open, and when Carly looked, she saw Naila stepping out. She had been awake for a while, apparently: she had changed into a pair of pants and a long-sleeved sweater, but the scarf she wore over her hair was still the same one she had worn when she arrived.
The Egyptian woman gave Carly a rather confused look. “Are you…Mrs. Witwicky?”
Carly nodded, and smiled as she approached. “Just Carly, please, Dr. Saab.” She frowned, noticing then the grogginess that lingered still on the woman’s face. “Are you all right?”
She nodded slowly in response. “Yes, I am. It is just the jetlag, I think.” She looked around then, and when her gaze fell on Bumblebee, her eyes widened briefly, before she relaxed, and a small smile appeared on her face. “I believe we have not been introduced.”
The yellow Volkswagen Bug grinned, and approached. “I’m Bumblebee. I heard about you from Jazz and the others, Dr. Saab.”
“Naila will do, thank you.” She straightened a little bit, and looked around. “If it is not too much trouble, I would like to speak to those who came with me. There is something that I must tell them.”
Bumblebee nodded. “Sure, Doctor- I mean, Naila.” He glanced at Carly, as if asking for permission, to which Carly responded with a wave.
“I’ll go and get Spike,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll want to hear about this.” She looked at Naila, and smiled. “Bumblebee will take you to where they are.”
Bumblebee nodded, and smiled at Carly before turning his attention to Naila, making small talk with her as he led her towards Optimus’ office. Carly waited until they had rounded the corner and disappeared from her sight, before she turned around, and headed back to where Spike was, intent on getting to the Autobot Commander’s office in time to find out just what, exactly, was going on.
+---+---+
“Are you sure you’re okay, Naila?”
The human woman glanced at him, and smiled. “Yes, I am. Thank you, though, for your concern. You have been most kind.”
Bumblebee nodded, though a small part of him thought that Naila might be lying about being okay. Years spent in close contact with humans had given him a great deal of insight into how they conveyed their feelings - as well as the measures they took to disguise them, if necessary. And at that moment, he knew that something was bothering Naila. She had a distant look in her eye, as if whenever she looked at him she didn’t see him but the wall behind him, and the skin around her mouth was a bit tight at the corners. She tried to hide it by smiling and talking to him, but it was easy for him to see past that.
They reached the Autobot Commander’s office just in time for Bumblebee to catch the tail end of Optimus Prime’s statement: “-else you know?”
Apparently, it was a question directed at Skids, who answered: “I can’t give any more information than I already have, sir. Naila might be able to, but-”
“Excuse me,” Bumblebee cut in then, and watched as several pairs of optics turned in his direction. He smiled back at them, and gestured to his side. “Naila’s awake.”
Skids was the first one to get up from his seat, and walk over to Naila, kneeling down so that she didn’t have to crane her neck to high. “Naila! Did you sleep well?”
Naila’s smile was a bit weak. “After a fashion… But that is not important right now.” She glanced up at the table, and frowned slightly. “I do not suppose there is some way you could get me up there…”
Bumblebee grinned when Skids chuckled, and held out a hand to Naila, who slowly stepped into it, and allowed herself to be carefully lifted up onto the table - and he saw how her eyes widened when she saw that she was surrounded by all the Autobot officers.
“Oh…” she murmured quietly as she looked around. Bumblebee saw that she had tensed up quite a bit, but when she saw Jazz, Skids and Sideswipe, she relaxed, and smiled at them both before moving towards them.
As soon as she was settled down - more or less - Optimus Prime spoke. “It is a pleasure to meet you in person, Dr. Saab.”
Naila smiled, and nodded her head. “It is an honor, Optimus Prime.” She smiled shyly, and the expression seemed to make her look younger. “I hope I am not interrupting anything…”
Optimus shook his head. “It’s all right, Dr. Saab.” He glanced around the table. “Before we go on, I would like to introduce my officers: Prowl is my second-in-command, while Ironhide is responsible for Security. Ratchet is Chief Medical Officer, and Jazz, whom you have already met, is head of Special Operations. Bumblebee, on the other hand, is one of our espionage specialists. Sideswipe is one of our warriors, and Skids is our theoretician.”
Naila nodded at each of the mechs as they were introduced and smiled at those she knew, acknowledging them and their presence at this meeting. As soon as that was over, she focused once more on Optimus Prime. “If I might ask, what do you know so far?”
The door opened then, and when Bumblebee turned to look, he saw Spike and Carly come in. He grinned at them both, and helped them up to the table just as Skids replied: “Mostly what I know - or what I learned when we were still at Cybertron, rather.”
With that, he launched into a brief explanation of the Quintessons’ occupation of Cybertron and the subsequent rebellion that finally pushed them out of Cybertron for good. “What we didn’t know until later,” he continued, “was that the Quintessons were using Cybertron as a large manufacturing plant of war- and civilian-type machines - both of which were intended to be used to help in the conquest and colonization of other planets, regardless of whether or not they were inhabited.
“Long ago, I came across a set of very old memoirs, dating back to a few vorns - Cybertronian years - after the Quintessons were pushed out of Cybertron. They were written by a few Cybertronians who had come back from a distant planet called Maraxa, where they, too, had managed to help the resident sentient life-forms called Maraxans in throwing off Quintesson rule. The memoirs were not at all as descriptive as I might have liked, but they did talk about how the Maraxans had developed extremely powerful psionic abilities. It was because of those abilities that the Quintessons didn’t wipe them out right away, and instead used them as slave labor alongside the Cybertronians. But both races eventually rebelled, and managed to send the Quintessons from their planet at more or less the same time that Cybertron was trying to do the same. The timing was excellent, to say the least.
“After that, the memoirs document how the Maraxans, in gratitude for the help that the Cybertronians provided, built ships for them, powered by a strange crystal energy source that was strong enough to see them back all the way to Cybertron.”
“But that would mean it had to be a very strong power source,” Spike put in then, eyes wide in amazement at the story that Skids had just told.
“It would have had to be,” Skids replied, “since the distance between Maraxa - the planet - and Cybertron was very, very large.”
“But what about them?” Carly asked. “What happened to the Maraxans?”
Sideswipe snorted. “I don’t think she even remembers anymore. She attacked us without a second thought.”
Bumblebee tilted his head in curiosity. “She?”
It was Naila who answered, and to him, her voice sounded tired. “Meriat la Telescos mat Tir. She…took possession of my body and, through me, attacked Skids, Jazz and Sideswipe.”
Jazz nodded, and grinned at Skids. “If it hadn’t been for Skids’ quick thinkin’ and talkin’, I dunno what she could’ve done.”
“Wait a nano-klik,” Prowl cut in then. “What do you mean by ‘she took possession of your body,’ Dr. Saab?”
“Her…I do not know what to call it… Her consciousness invaded mine, and she took control of my body, pushing ‘me’ aside so that ‘she’ could take over.” Naila shuddered a little then. “She could not attack anyone unless she had a body, and hence she took over mine.”
Ratchet frowned. “But why take over yours when she could just as easily have done the same to any of the three of them - and to better effect, too?”
“Again, I do not know. All I understand is that she has chosen me to act as a mediator on her behalf.” She straightened up slightly. “That is why she requested that I be brought here. She has asked me to act as a go-between of sorts between herself and all of you. Until she manages to recover from her…current state, she trusts me to act in the capacity of diplomat, as it were.”
“And just what is her current state?” Ironhide asked.
Naila suddenly looked distinctly uncomfortable. She shifted a little, and then answered: “One of the crates that we brought back with us contains a coffin. And in that coffin is Meriat’s body.”
Bumblebee heard both Spike and Carly inhale sharply at that, but it was Spike who reacted: “So you’re saying that Meriat is dead?”
+---+---+
The look of horror on both Spike and Carly’s face after the former had voiced out his realization was troubling - and none knew this better than Ratchet, who understood that amongst humans, death was very final, and that if someone were to “come back”… Well, he was more than aware that that sort of thing was the stuff that human horror movies, both good and bad, were made of. He’d seen more than his own fair share of them, after all.
As a doctor, he was more than familiar with the death, especially those of a violent sort. Death was as final amongst Cybertronians as it was amongst humans. Once it happened, that was that, no turning back. While those like him might be able to stop it from happening, even in very dire situations, there were times when there was nothing one could do.
And since he was intimately familiar with the finality of death, the idea of someone coming back from it was a thought that troubled him quite a bit. He was not necessarily afraid of it in the same way that humans were, but the prospect of an old enemy, or even an old friend, coming back was not something that he wanted to happen. When someone was dead, they were dead. That was that.
But it seemed that there were those out there who could actually defy that.
Naila shook her head. “No, not quite dead.”
All right, maybe not after all.
“What do you mean, she’s not dead?” Ratchet asked then, and the archaeologist turned to look at him. “Aren’t coffins supposed to be containers for a dead body?”
“Yes, that is true, but she is not dead,” Naila replied. “Her spirit is still very much alive: it was what took possession of me in the first place. You could say that she is lying in a state of suspended animation. She will need some time to revitalize her body, before she may take occupancy in it again.”
Optimus Prime frowned. “So you mean to say that her spirit exists outside of her physical body?”
“Like a ghost?” Sideswipe asked, almost eagerly.
“Yes and no. Do you remember the crystal we brought back with us? She needs that in order to keep her spirit…anchored here.” Naila shook her head rapidly. “I do not know if these are even the right words to describe what she is doing. Suffice to say that, as long as the crystal we brought back is kept near her body, she will be able to survive in that state for a very long time - for nearly six thousand years, so it appears. I do not have a complete idea just yet, but I presume that she needs the crystal to keep her spirit alive. What happens to her body is something that she can fix, though how she plans to accomplish that, I do not know.”
This statement was followed by contemplative silence as everyone processed the information that Naila had just offered them. Ratchet glanced at everyone around the table, and knew that Skids and Naila’s fragmentary answers had only spawned more questions…but they would have to wait. The only one who could answer any of them was, after all, in no position to answer any of them at length.
At last, Optimus looked up at them all. “I suppose that’s all we can figure out for now,” he murmured. “We will just have to wait until Meriat can speak to us directly.” He looked at Naila, and his optics glowed kindly at her. “You’re free to stay with us until then, Naila.”
The smile that the woman directed at Optimus was warm. “I am deeply grateful for your hospitality, Optimus Prime.”
Carly came up to her then, smiling. “You can stay in one of the guestrooms, or if you want, you can stay with us.”
While the humans talked softly amongst themselves, Optimus turned his attention to his officers. “I do not think I have to remind you of this, but try to make sure that no word of this leaks out to the Decepticons.”
A wry smirk appeared on Jazz’s face. “’Specially about that energy source, right?”
If Optimus didn’t have his mouth-plate on, Ratchet was sure that he would be smiling, though it would not be pleasant at all. “Yes, especially about that energy source. We don’t need the Decepticons looking around where they aren’t wanted. Also, if there is anything that Naila needs, be sure to help her in any way you can.”
The others responded with murmurs of assent, and with business thus concluded, they began to scatter, going their own separate ways.
As he headed towards the med-bay, Ratchet found himself thinking about what Naila and Skids had said about the Maraxans: how they could not control inorganic beings, as well as how they could put themselves in suspended animation. The former, in particular, was something that intrigued him. Why could they not at least communicate with Cybertronians, despite the fact that they, too, were sentient beings? Had not the Sub-Atlanticans been able to communicate with the Decepticons just fine? What was the difference between them and the Maraxans, if the latter’s talents were the same, if not greater, than those of the Sub-Atlanticans?
But those were questions that had to be answered at another time, though Ratchet somewhat hoped that the answers would come fairly soon.
He might not have always been the most patient mech, but h e knew when he had to wait - and wait he would.
In this chapter, Jazz, Sideswipe and Skids are debriefed, the Autobots get some answers, and Optimus Prime gives some rather obvious orders.
Chapter Five: Incomplete Answers
A stream of words she did not understand flowed from the woman’s mouth, words that were being uttered in a different language entirely. And though she liked to think that she had a pretty good grasp of other languages besides English (she was getting pretty good at Spanish and was working on her French), Carly still had to work her way towards understanding Arabic.
At the moment though, she was sort of glad that she couldn’t understand what Dr. Naila Saab was saying in her sleep. Given how the archaeologist was tossing and turning, she had to be dreaming about something bad. A part of Carly was curious, but another part of her didn’t really want to find out.
The door behind her hissed open and closed, and when she looked over her shoulder she saw Spike coming towards her. She smiled at her husband, who smiled back at her reassuringly. “Hey there.”
“Hey there.” Spike quietly pulled up another chair from another part of the room - one of the spare ones that the Autobots had allocated for human use in the Ark, whenever Chip or Raoul had or wanted to stay over for a while. The furnishing was a bit sparse, but it was comfortable, and within easy reach of the Command Center, Optimus Prime’s office, and the med-bay. “How long has she been like that?”
“A while now.” She reached over, catching Spike’s hand in her own. “I’m worried.”
Spike smiled, and turned his hand over so that his fingers fitted into the spaces between her own: a gesture of comfort, one of many that had evolved between the two of them over the course of their relationship. “Just let her sleep. She’s obviously had a long day. When she wakes up, we’ll get answers.”
Carly nodded. That much had been obvious to her when Skyfire arrived from Egypt late that afternoon after picking up Jazz, Sideswipe and Skids, with Dr. Saab and three very unusual items in tow. Two of those items - a crate containing a crystal of some sort, and another one containing a coffin - were put in a dark, secluded room, and upon Naila’s request, everyone was put under strict orders not to go in there while the two items were in storage. After that, the three ‘Bots were brought into Optimus' office for a debriefing, while Carly took it upon herself to show Naila to a room, whereupon the poor woman - wearied out by something Carly had no idea of - was only able to murmur a quick “thank you” before she fell asleep.
“What do you think happened out there?” Carly murmured.
“They’ll call us in as soon as Prowl and Optimus have debriefed them.”
Naila uttered a soft moan, as if in pain, and Carly caught the tears that glittered amidst the woman’s lashes in the dim light.
Spike’s grip on her hand tightened just so, and he pulled Carly up from her chair. “Come on,” he said, moving towards the door. “You need a break.”
Carly opened her mouth to protest, but Spike gave her a look that made her close her mouth almost immediately. “She’ll be fine without you for a while, honey. You, on the other hand, don’t look too good. Have you even eaten anything since breakfast?”
She stared at him for a while, and then simply chuckled as she followed him out of the room and into their own, which was more like a complete apartment than just a room, since it had a kitchen, a living room of sorts, a bedroom, and a decent-sized bathroom. It used to be like the other guest rooms, until Sparkplug and Spike gradually moved some of their own things into it, when they started staying longer in the Ark for various reasons. In the end, it was decided that it would be turned into a more permanent living space, now that the Witwickys spent more time in the Ark than they did in their own house.
The memory of Sparkplug made Carly’s heart hitch. He had died a few years ago, in the midst of an Autobot-Decepticon battle, and though the mourning period was over for all of them, she could not help but think back on him from time to time.
“Carly?”
She looked up at Spike, and shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Sorry, spaced out for a minute back there.”
“All right, that’s it: you’re going to eat whether you like it or not.” He nudged her towards the little dining table, pulling out a chair and making her sit down in it. “You just sit there and wait a while. I’ll make you something to eat.”
Carly laughed, but didn’t argue, and watched as her husband moved around the kitchen with an efficiency that she had always admired. Spike was a whiz in the kitchen, and she loved watching him cook just as much as she loved eating what he made. It reminded her of that Isabel Allende novel she had been reading, about how the main character described watching her husband cooking as one of the most erotic things she had ever seen…
A small, silly smile crept onto her face, and she stood up, heading towards her husband just as he was starting to chop some tomatoes. Her smile widened when she felt him stiffen a little as she wrapped her arms around his waist, and nuzzled the space between his shoulder blades. “You know,” she purred, gently massaging his abdomen, “we haven’t been spending much time together alone lately… And when you and I get home we’re too tired to do anything except shower and go to bed…”
Spike did not say anything or even move for a few seconds, but gradually, he relaxed, and he set aside the knife and wiped his hands on a towel before he turned around, eyes dark and mouth curling in an expression that Carly was very familiar with, and missed terribly. “You really should eat first…”
Naughty thoughts chased each other like cats in Carly’s head, and she moved closer, pressing her husband against the kitchen counter. “Oh, I’ll definitely be having dinner…” She tilted her head upwards, and it did not take long for Spike to take the hint, because a few seconds later he was kissing her.
Unfortunately, Carly was too busy with kissing Spike, and he with reciprocating, that neither of them heard the door of their rooms hiss open, followed by a very familiar voice hastily babbling an apology.
“Oops! Sorry! Sorry!”
Carly groaned, and dropped her head so that her forehead was pressed against Spike’s chest. The door hissed closed again, and she could vaguely hear the sound of Cybertronian footsteps hurrying away. “’Bee has the worst timing…”
Spike chuckled, and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll remind him about knocking.” He glanced at the door, and then at the tomatoes. “Do you go after him, or do I?”
“I’ll go.” She grinned up at him, and kissed him on the cheek. “You finish up whatever it was you were planning to make.”
Spike nodded, and kissed her once on the mouth before letting her go. She gave him a teasing wink, before she headed towards the door, and out into the hall. “Hey ‘Bee!”
Bumblebee stopped in mid-step, and turned around to face her, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry for barging in like that, Carly,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
Carly smiled, and patted his arm. “It’s okay. Just don’t forget to knock, okay?” She tilted her head. “So: what’s up?”
Bumblebee nodded towards Optimus’ office. “Jazz and the others just finished giving their report.” He shook his head in amazement. “Who’d’ve ever thought that there was a whole other side to our history…”
Carly blinked. “A whole other side to your history? So those statues really were Cybertronians?”
“Um…yes and no. It’s a bit hard to explain. Even Skids, who knows the most about this, admits that there are a lot of gaps in his information.”
Just then, a nearby door slid open, and when Carly looked, she saw Naila stepping out. She had been awake for a while, apparently: she had changed into a pair of pants and a long-sleeved sweater, but the scarf she wore over her hair was still the same one she had worn when she arrived.
The Egyptian woman gave Carly a rather confused look. “Are you…Mrs. Witwicky?”
Carly nodded, and smiled as she approached. “Just Carly, please, Dr. Saab.” She frowned, noticing then the grogginess that lingered still on the woman’s face. “Are you all right?”
She nodded slowly in response. “Yes, I am. It is just the jetlag, I think.” She looked around then, and when her gaze fell on Bumblebee, her eyes widened briefly, before she relaxed, and a small smile appeared on her face. “I believe we have not been introduced.”
The yellow Volkswagen Bug grinned, and approached. “I’m Bumblebee. I heard about you from Jazz and the others, Dr. Saab.”
“Naila will do, thank you.” She straightened a little bit, and looked around. “If it is not too much trouble, I would like to speak to those who came with me. There is something that I must tell them.”
Bumblebee nodded. “Sure, Doctor- I mean, Naila.” He glanced at Carly, as if asking for permission, to which Carly responded with a wave.
“I’ll go and get Spike,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll want to hear about this.” She looked at Naila, and smiled. “Bumblebee will take you to where they are.”
Bumblebee nodded, and smiled at Carly before turning his attention to Naila, making small talk with her as he led her towards Optimus’ office. Carly waited until they had rounded the corner and disappeared from her sight, before she turned around, and headed back to where Spike was, intent on getting to the Autobot Commander’s office in time to find out just what, exactly, was going on.
+---+---+
“Are you sure you’re okay, Naila?”
The human woman glanced at him, and smiled. “Yes, I am. Thank you, though, for your concern. You have been most kind.”
Bumblebee nodded, though a small part of him thought that Naila might be lying about being okay. Years spent in close contact with humans had given him a great deal of insight into how they conveyed their feelings - as well as the measures they took to disguise them, if necessary. And at that moment, he knew that something was bothering Naila. She had a distant look in her eye, as if whenever she looked at him she didn’t see him but the wall behind him, and the skin around her mouth was a bit tight at the corners. She tried to hide it by smiling and talking to him, but it was easy for him to see past that.
They reached the Autobot Commander’s office just in time for Bumblebee to catch the tail end of Optimus Prime’s statement: “-else you know?”
Apparently, it was a question directed at Skids, who answered: “I can’t give any more information than I already have, sir. Naila might be able to, but-”
“Excuse me,” Bumblebee cut in then, and watched as several pairs of optics turned in his direction. He smiled back at them, and gestured to his side. “Naila’s awake.”
Skids was the first one to get up from his seat, and walk over to Naila, kneeling down so that she didn’t have to crane her neck to high. “Naila! Did you sleep well?”
Naila’s smile was a bit weak. “After a fashion… But that is not important right now.” She glanced up at the table, and frowned slightly. “I do not suppose there is some way you could get me up there…”
Bumblebee grinned when Skids chuckled, and held out a hand to Naila, who slowly stepped into it, and allowed herself to be carefully lifted up onto the table - and he saw how her eyes widened when she saw that she was surrounded by all the Autobot officers.
“Oh…” she murmured quietly as she looked around. Bumblebee saw that she had tensed up quite a bit, but when she saw Jazz, Skids and Sideswipe, she relaxed, and smiled at them both before moving towards them.
As soon as she was settled down - more or less - Optimus Prime spoke. “It is a pleasure to meet you in person, Dr. Saab.”
Naila smiled, and nodded her head. “It is an honor, Optimus Prime.” She smiled shyly, and the expression seemed to make her look younger. “I hope I am not interrupting anything…”
Optimus shook his head. “It’s all right, Dr. Saab.” He glanced around the table. “Before we go on, I would like to introduce my officers: Prowl is my second-in-command, while Ironhide is responsible for Security. Ratchet is Chief Medical Officer, and Jazz, whom you have already met, is head of Special Operations. Bumblebee, on the other hand, is one of our espionage specialists. Sideswipe is one of our warriors, and Skids is our theoretician.”
Naila nodded at each of the mechs as they were introduced and smiled at those she knew, acknowledging them and their presence at this meeting. As soon as that was over, she focused once more on Optimus Prime. “If I might ask, what do you know so far?”
The door opened then, and when Bumblebee turned to look, he saw Spike and Carly come in. He grinned at them both, and helped them up to the table just as Skids replied: “Mostly what I know - or what I learned when we were still at Cybertron, rather.”
With that, he launched into a brief explanation of the Quintessons’ occupation of Cybertron and the subsequent rebellion that finally pushed them out of Cybertron for good. “What we didn’t know until later,” he continued, “was that the Quintessons were using Cybertron as a large manufacturing plant of war- and civilian-type machines - both of which were intended to be used to help in the conquest and colonization of other planets, regardless of whether or not they were inhabited.
“Long ago, I came across a set of very old memoirs, dating back to a few vorns - Cybertronian years - after the Quintessons were pushed out of Cybertron. They were written by a few Cybertronians who had come back from a distant planet called Maraxa, where they, too, had managed to help the resident sentient life-forms called Maraxans in throwing off Quintesson rule. The memoirs were not at all as descriptive as I might have liked, but they did talk about how the Maraxans had developed extremely powerful psionic abilities. It was because of those abilities that the Quintessons didn’t wipe them out right away, and instead used them as slave labor alongside the Cybertronians. But both races eventually rebelled, and managed to send the Quintessons from their planet at more or less the same time that Cybertron was trying to do the same. The timing was excellent, to say the least.
“After that, the memoirs document how the Maraxans, in gratitude for the help that the Cybertronians provided, built ships for them, powered by a strange crystal energy source that was strong enough to see them back all the way to Cybertron.”
“But that would mean it had to be a very strong power source,” Spike put in then, eyes wide in amazement at the story that Skids had just told.
“It would have had to be,” Skids replied, “since the distance between Maraxa - the planet - and Cybertron was very, very large.”
“But what about them?” Carly asked. “What happened to the Maraxans?”
Sideswipe snorted. “I don’t think she even remembers anymore. She attacked us without a second thought.”
Bumblebee tilted his head in curiosity. “She?”
It was Naila who answered, and to him, her voice sounded tired. “Meriat la Telescos mat Tir. She…took possession of my body and, through me, attacked Skids, Jazz and Sideswipe.”
Jazz nodded, and grinned at Skids. “If it hadn’t been for Skids’ quick thinkin’ and talkin’, I dunno what she could’ve done.”
“Wait a nano-klik,” Prowl cut in then. “What do you mean by ‘she took possession of your body,’ Dr. Saab?”
“Her…I do not know what to call it… Her consciousness invaded mine, and she took control of my body, pushing ‘me’ aside so that ‘she’ could take over.” Naila shuddered a little then. “She could not attack anyone unless she had a body, and hence she took over mine.”
Ratchet frowned. “But why take over yours when she could just as easily have done the same to any of the three of them - and to better effect, too?”
“Again, I do not know. All I understand is that she has chosen me to act as a mediator on her behalf.” She straightened up slightly. “That is why she requested that I be brought here. She has asked me to act as a go-between of sorts between herself and all of you. Until she manages to recover from her…current state, she trusts me to act in the capacity of diplomat, as it were.”
“And just what is her current state?” Ironhide asked.
Naila suddenly looked distinctly uncomfortable. She shifted a little, and then answered: “One of the crates that we brought back with us contains a coffin. And in that coffin is Meriat’s body.”
Bumblebee heard both Spike and Carly inhale sharply at that, but it was Spike who reacted: “So you’re saying that Meriat is dead?”
+---+---+
The look of horror on both Spike and Carly’s face after the former had voiced out his realization was troubling - and none knew this better than Ratchet, who understood that amongst humans, death was very final, and that if someone were to “come back”… Well, he was more than aware that that sort of thing was the stuff that human horror movies, both good and bad, were made of. He’d seen more than his own fair share of them, after all.
As a doctor, he was more than familiar with the death, especially those of a violent sort. Death was as final amongst Cybertronians as it was amongst humans. Once it happened, that was that, no turning back. While those like him might be able to stop it from happening, even in very dire situations, there were times when there was nothing one could do.
And since he was intimately familiar with the finality of death, the idea of someone coming back from it was a thought that troubled him quite a bit. He was not necessarily afraid of it in the same way that humans were, but the prospect of an old enemy, or even an old friend, coming back was not something that he wanted to happen. When someone was dead, they were dead. That was that.
But it seemed that there were those out there who could actually defy that.
Naila shook her head. “No, not quite dead.”
All right, maybe not after all.
“What do you mean, she’s not dead?” Ratchet asked then, and the archaeologist turned to look at him. “Aren’t coffins supposed to be containers for a dead body?”
“Yes, that is true, but she is not dead,” Naila replied. “Her spirit is still very much alive: it was what took possession of me in the first place. You could say that she is lying in a state of suspended animation. She will need some time to revitalize her body, before she may take occupancy in it again.”
Optimus Prime frowned. “So you mean to say that her spirit exists outside of her physical body?”
“Like a ghost?” Sideswipe asked, almost eagerly.
“Yes and no. Do you remember the crystal we brought back with us? She needs that in order to keep her spirit…anchored here.” Naila shook her head rapidly. “I do not know if these are even the right words to describe what she is doing. Suffice to say that, as long as the crystal we brought back is kept near her body, she will be able to survive in that state for a very long time - for nearly six thousand years, so it appears. I do not have a complete idea just yet, but I presume that she needs the crystal to keep her spirit alive. What happens to her body is something that she can fix, though how she plans to accomplish that, I do not know.”
This statement was followed by contemplative silence as everyone processed the information that Naila had just offered them. Ratchet glanced at everyone around the table, and knew that Skids and Naila’s fragmentary answers had only spawned more questions…but they would have to wait. The only one who could answer any of them was, after all, in no position to answer any of them at length.
At last, Optimus looked up at them all. “I suppose that’s all we can figure out for now,” he murmured. “We will just have to wait until Meriat can speak to us directly.” He looked at Naila, and his optics glowed kindly at her. “You’re free to stay with us until then, Naila.”
The smile that the woman directed at Optimus was warm. “I am deeply grateful for your hospitality, Optimus Prime.”
Carly came up to her then, smiling. “You can stay in one of the guestrooms, or if you want, you can stay with us.”
While the humans talked softly amongst themselves, Optimus turned his attention to his officers. “I do not think I have to remind you of this, but try to make sure that no word of this leaks out to the Decepticons.”
A wry smirk appeared on Jazz’s face. “’Specially about that energy source, right?”
If Optimus didn’t have his mouth-plate on, Ratchet was sure that he would be smiling, though it would not be pleasant at all. “Yes, especially about that energy source. We don’t need the Decepticons looking around where they aren’t wanted. Also, if there is anything that Naila needs, be sure to help her in any way you can.”
The others responded with murmurs of assent, and with business thus concluded, they began to scatter, going their own separate ways.
As he headed towards the med-bay, Ratchet found himself thinking about what Naila and Skids had said about the Maraxans: how they could not control inorganic beings, as well as how they could put themselves in suspended animation. The former, in particular, was something that intrigued him. Why could they not at least communicate with Cybertronians, despite the fact that they, too, were sentient beings? Had not the Sub-Atlanticans been able to communicate with the Decepticons just fine? What was the difference between them and the Maraxans, if the latter’s talents were the same, if not greater, than those of the Sub-Atlanticans?
But those were questions that had to be answered at another time, though Ratchet somewhat hoped that the answers would come fairly soon.
He might not have always been the most patient mech, but h e knew when he had to wait - and wait he would.