Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended I'd give my left tit for a Megatron vibrator though...

Brief Author's Note: This is the only warning you're going to get more specific than what are indicated - There are too many fanfic warnings for me to list them here. If you are squicked by anything, think twice before reading this fic. Assume that there will be squicky parts of some type. This is slash. The characters are humanoids, but not human. If you've made it this far, enjoy the fic!

Machines Back to Humans

By Cyrelia J

Prologue

Princes of the Universe

Milky Way Galaxy, Orion Belt, 2005

"We're not gonna make it," Astrotrain said with a grim expression as he surveyed the monitors. The hulking transport mech sat in the navigator's chair, thick fingers deftly keying in their current trajectory. "Ain't even gonna clear the fraggin' belt."

On the bridge of the Decepticon ship, the remaining command personnel held court, Megatron, ancient gladiator, the Slagmaker, they called him, seated in the captain's chair on the upper deck. The lights above glinted off the silver helm he wore, his craggy, hard face lined deep with consideration and displeasure as he listened to the pessimistic evaluation. He turned to Shockwave, brow furrowed, the one eyed tactical officer meeting his gaze levelly, as if expecting the question.

"Do you agree with the current assessment?" he asked. Astrotrain fought the urge to roll his eyes at the inevitable second guess. One lousy miscalculation in the Kuiper belt a hundred years ago...

"He is correct, my lord. And even were we to clear this arm of the galaxy, we wouldn't last a day out of it. In our current state we couldn't even hope to match a Junkyion vessel."

"Hook," Megatron began, as if he were already in front of him, and Soundwave brought the Constructicon up on the large view screen in response almost instantaneously, "Engine Status?" The engineer turned to face the monitor. With a long, elegant finger, he pushed the silver spectacles up the bridge of his nose over two piercing green eyes seeming immune to the severity of the situation.

He chuckled softly, full lips upturned, pale gray skin flushed with amusement. The Decepticon leader quirked a brow at the laugh. "Do you find something funny about this, Hook?" he asked, annoyed.

With a fearless toss of his head the long violet ponytail at the nape of his neck swinging, Hook managed a snort.

"Lord Megatron, we're preparing to jettison the entire warp core into space. Engine status? What engine? We'll be running that impulse relic from our auxiliary power. I you want my expert opinion we should-"

"I don't," came the dangerous reply. "Astrotrain how-"

"At impulse?" the triple changer interrupted with an incredulous sputter, ignoring the deadly look from the tyrant. "We'll be lucky to make it to the nearest gas planet at impulse... Hey, egghead!" he shot the newly acquired human lingo up to the disdainful, delicate face, "I thought you were gonna force the thing at half cruise. At least then we could-"

"I'm sorry, I thought I heard the howls of a primitive hominid!" the Constructicon declared, holding up a hand. Aristocratic features drawn up haughtily at the affront to his expertise he shot back the heated retort. "Does it really think it's going to second guess my genius, myunparalleled intellect-" Scrapper coughed and he amended without missing a beat. "Our unparalleled intellect? Does it really think," he exclaimed, hands in the air, "That if it hoots and shouts into the sky long enough-"

"That's enough." Megatron's voice cut through the two of them, like a cohesive light sword -clean, smooth- and Starscream, standing behind him barely hid a smirk.

"Set a course for the nearest terran planet, Astrotrain," Megatron ordered with a quick dismissal to the affronted engineer. "Our scans show the civilization at pre warp, but we can make do with whatever resources they have available. We've gotten by with worse."

"Of course, Mighty Megatron," Starscream smoothly added as he stepped to the forefront. "Had you heeded my warning as we approached the Perseus arm we might not be in this situation." Hand resting on a slim hip, he looked up to the main display, and the vastness of space stretching out around him. Megatron turned, eyes briefly, almost imperceptibly, tracing a line down the strong yet lithe body.

Starscream's angular red eyes were narrowed just so to match the smirk on his dark, gunmetal visage. He stood tall, proud, the form fitting red and white cyber armor perfectly accentuating his more prominent assets- or obscenely large posterior as Hook was fond of saying. As with the rest of the seekers, the armor was open at the back to allow further venting for their amped ionic thrusters. Long, black microbraided hair trailed down over the opening, setting off the enticing naked curve. It pulled away from his tattooed face, accentuating the high cheekbones. Truly, the air commander was a work of art. At least until he opened his mouth again. "How, can we expect you to lead us to Eden, glorious leader, when you cannot so much as guide us through an asteroid field?"

Megatron rose then, his face like a thundercloud. The eyes of the upper echelons turned to him then expectant. Shockwave managed an impressive display of disapproval with a completely impassive expression. The singular optic seemed to glow, the catlike slit shining from the black sclera surrounding it. Blitzwing and Astrotrain looked almost eager to see the seeker go flying aft over head, Soundwave ignored the entire display, visored face focused solely on his own station.

Starscream wet his lips, leaning in further, looking up at the fearsome gladiator who dwarfed him, basking in the tense silence. C'mon, Buckethead, hit me. Show the rest how weak you are. Show them who's really in control. The hand raised and those red eyes danced almost eagerly when there came a loud beep from the communications console.

"Optimus Prime hails us, Lord Megatron," Soundwave intoned blandly.

With a hiss, and a look vowing this would not go unforgotten, Megatron resumed his seat in the captain's chair, with an air of inherent authority.

"Put him through."

"Megatron!" The Autobot leader's face appeared, just as aged, but with a weariness his Decepticon counterpart didn't possess. His blue eyes wee tired, sad and yet full of determination, his stubbled jaw set and angry. It put Megatron in a better mood instantly, the conciliatory grin spreading his shrewd face. "Why have you altered your course? You gave your word when we let you exit the Perseus arm unmolested that you were headed back to repair and only that."

"And I kept my word, Prime," the decepticon leader offered with a casual shrug, watching the broad shoulders of the other tense. "The damage our ship has sustained is far too extensive surely your scans show that. We won't make it out of the Orion belt. The third planet from that star is the only viable-"

"'Ah told you Prime, he can't be trusted!" the grizzled Ironhide shouted from the background and with a raise of his hand, Optimus silenced the veteran.

"You won't survive a direct assault, Megatron! Not if your ship is as crippled as you claim. Let us haul it from here and-"

"And be at your mercy, Prime? We'd sooner perish!" He turned to Soundwave. "End transmission."

"Megatron! You can't-"

"Do you see this?" Starscream cried from his side. "The fool would just as soon throw away the lot of us for the sake of his own ego!"

"Blow it out yer afterburner, Screamer," Blitzwing snapped as he rose then, massive arms crossed. "The rest of us ain't sniveling cowards."

"Coward?" he hissed. "Again his ridiculous machismo has cost us a golden opportunity!" Drawing himself up, the seeker continued his high pitched shriek, waving his arms, attention turning back to the seated leader. "We could have had them! We could have waited until the moment was right and slagged the lot of them, seized their ship and-"

"Enough, Starscream. We don't have time for your ill conceived schemes." Expression darkening into a nasty smile, the air commander circled him then once almost coquettishly, the two of them engaged in the ancient dance.

"You forget, Lord Megatron, who it was that held this miserable lot of in the palm of his hand while Kaon burned." He stopped, hands on the back of the seat, leaning in obscenely close. His voice dropped lower. "You forget who was it that had you- ACK!" He squawked indignantly as Megatron's booted foot kicked him square in the chest. It wasn't hard enough to cause him to fly into the wall, but instead his backwards momentum carried him over the rail to the lower level. Flipping impressively in mid air, catlike, he landed on his feet. Starscream looked up, furious.

"As always, Starscream you wallow in your past successes while pretending to look to the future." Megatron chastised, looking down feigning disinterest.

"Then perhaps, you old relic, we should settle this once and for all!" There was a chuckle from the ancient warrior.

"As always, Starscream you talk big... when everything about you is small." He stood and walked over to consult with a snickering Astrotrain. Trembling with rage, Starscream raised his arm, the skin on his palm retracting. "No one turns their back on me!" He fired, the laser aimed dead for Megatron's massive back. Soundwave turned from his station with an almost frantic,

"Lord Megatron!"

Raising his energy shield with the back of his large hand, the shot from his second deflected harmlessly to the ceiling. Staring down the suddenly docile air commander, he was about to retaliate when the entire ship was rocked.

"Scrapper!" He bellowed, Soundwave once again automatically responding by COMing the chief engineer below deck. The rather harried Constructicon looked into the monitor then, large bespectacled brown eyes blinking rapidly to clear the smoke. "Shields?" Megatron demanded.

"Are taking a pounding, my lord!" he yelled, finishing the sentence in his usual quirky manner as the ship was rocked again.

"Shields at seventy-five percent," called Hook from the back console.

"Are they-?"

"Holding? No. At this rate we're looking at a full hull breach in no time."

"We got fire!" Bonecrusher called almost orgasmically and Long Haul shoved the androgynous pyromaniac out of the way as he aimed the emergency fire hose at the blaze.

"We should probably bring some of the others out of stasis to put out the fires, my lord," Scrapper suggested with a calm that belied his anxiety. Starscream hissed at the suggestion, leaping gracefully back to the upper deck of the bridge with ease, gripping the rail as the ship rocked again.

"We can't risk it! Caught in an explosion in space? Better to separate the ship if we can't handle the fires!"

"Forget it, not in this part of space."

"Shields at sixty percent, Lord Megatron!"

"Evasive maneuvers?" Starscream asked, running to Astrotrain at the lull, passing the helmed commander.

Astrotrain grunted noncommittally , his eyes flickering fast as any sophisticated computers across the various quadrants that flashed on the screen. He grunted again -louder this time - as the back of his head was cuffed.

"Are you even listening to me, you shiftless oaf?"

"Cram it, Screamer! This ain't the sky! It's space. This is my world here." The ship banked hard to the right, and there was a raucous from the engineering room as another violent explosion set off. Scrapper found himself unceremoniously toppled. From the catwalk Mixmaster leapt, riding the blast, propelling through the air with a wild whoop as he landed on his feet after a rather showy midair flip. He danced into Scrapper's place with a skip as if he were enjoying the wild ride.

"Fifty percent, Lord Megatron!" The diminutive 'con interjected standing on tiptoes to come into view of the lens. The skin on the upper left of his face had burned away, the complex red ocular scope whirring and visible. An annoyed expression crossed the youthful face, his usual stool having rolled off into the distance. Impetuous, and completely lacking retraint, he spit, secondary salivary glands letting the deadly corrosive fly at the wall where the surveillance was encased. Deftly removing the camera from the sizzling hole, the acid seared away the flesh of his fingers. Pain receptors perpetually offline, he merely blinked and shrugged. The Cybertonium endoskeleton was, after all, immune to the corrosive. He held the lens, looking into it wearing a wide grin. "C'mon boss, let's use the bio weapons," he implored, violet eye swirling madly as it was wont to do.

"That's getting docked from your allotment," Soundwave said cooly from where he sat, completely unruffled, not a dark blue hair out of place. Mixmaster affected a rather innocent pout. A considering hand on his jaw, Megatron regarding the bouncing chemist warily.

"S'a bio agent that feeds on dilithium," he purred to continue, the warrior's red optics lighting up at that. "I ah... took it upon myself to prep a little test torpedo..."

"Doubtless Thundercracker helped the little monster," Starscream muttered under his

breath.

"Blitzwing? What's our missile launch capability?" without sparing a glance for the manic Constructicon he added as an afterthought, "We'll deal with your unsolicited enterprising later." Pulling up the weapons systems from behind a visored gaze, the hulking triple changer frowned. "Every bay out of commission but one." Megatron paused to consider this and with an almost sexual "Please the big gunsssss" accompanied by an equally brow raising bounce, Mixmaster waited impatiently.

"Which one?" Ignoring him.

"Upper deck 3-c." Megatron swore, turning back to the screen. Scavenger perked from fighting fires in the background, shoving his way in the view like a walking hair ball

"Let me do it, Lord Megatron!" He exclaimed, brushing the salt and pepper tangle from his eager young face. "You know I can-" Starscream cut him off frantically.

"We'll lose half the ship if we allow that menace to-"

"We'll lose all of the ship if we don't break away," Shockwave interrupted with that unnerving cyclopean gaze, seemingly never missing a chance to undercut the air commander. Wrestling with the decision for but an instant, Megatron raised his arm, the hopeful excavator looking on, a hand on his gestalt mate's shoulder.

"Do it," he commanded, and Scavenger was gone.

Activating the internal dimensional modulator, he sank through the floor, the lights in the deck below going out as he shifted, his body a stream of charge particles, shorting out everything they passed through . Phased out, as he called it, he was a phantom, tearing through the ship free as a ghostly specter, ionic thrusters engaged as he navigated through the constitution class ship easy as a clear sky. In his wake, the delicate systems died, and he took pains to avoid the more vital areas. Starscream swore as the lights on the bridge flickered, Shockwave working hard to reroute the power dispersal. Once inside the massive Constructicon lab, Scavenger grabbed the torpedo. Moments later he flew up through the cybertonium floor, his bounty cradled in his arms.

"Loading the bay!" came the COM to Megatron at the same time Hook called out "Twenty five percent! They're going to start cutting the armor any moment!" Blitzwing watched the screen, for the status of the bay, internal systems whirring with a tension he didn't outwardly reveal.

The light blinked in ready status as Optimus Prime attempted another hail.

"Eat slag, filthy 'bots!" Blitzwing thundered, firing the sole functioning weapon of the Nemesis.

There was a tense silent moment as the missile fired as those on the bridge watched with anticipation. The Constructicons were on standby, and Astrotrain was still attempting to head full impulse towards the blue planet. They'd narrowly avoided another shot, and it seemed an eternity before their own artillery hit in a beautiful spray of blue. A whoop went up amongst the commanding officers as they watched the volatile nanites do their dirty work. The shield cushioned the ship and the retracting energy field carried the vicious bioweapon back into the confines of the ship.

"Rerouting more power to the shields, Lord Megatron. It will buy us more time in case we need it..."

"Hey, one eye! I don't barge into your creepy torture dungeon and tell you how to work!"

"I'm merely planning for every contingency. Your lot has a tendency to exaggerate your accomplishments."

The Nemesis was rocked again, and there was another moment of silence until Hook confirmed that for one more blow the shields held.

"We can't take another," he warned, shooting a nervous glance to the mercurial chemist. Starscream swore, giving a furious glance to the screen.

"How long is that going to take, Constructicon? At this rate there won't be anything left of the ship to salvage!"

"Fires on deck 4 and 2," Blitzwing added laconically.

"You're watching a beautiful scientific dance, flyboy. But I don't expect an undereducated seeker hotshot like you to see that," Mixmaster huffed. The Air commander was about to retort when Astrotrain brought the main display back to the darkened Autobot ship.

"Ha!" the chemist crowed, and a cheer went up from the entire Constructicon contingent.

"Fraggin' eggheads're gonna be insufferable," Astrotrain grumbled as he directed the wounded and damaged vessel to the bounteous planet.

"So what else is new..." from Starscream as Megatron mercifully cut them from the main display. "How long?" he asked louder.

"ETA Nine meta cycles."

"Shockwave?" Megatron directed towards the stoic tactical officer. The mech in question rose with a bow, violet hair falling down around his shoulders. He was the only one of them who could sustain himself without the need for energon to keep his organics functioning.

"I shall endeavor to keep the Nemesis on course while the rest regain strength, Lord Megatron." The gladiator nodded as he too rose.

"Then come, the rest of you. We have fires to put out. The Constructicons can see to any repairs the stasis pods might require and we shall sleep until we reach..." He looked to Soundwave then, that other's face obscured behind the large pink visor and white cloth pulled around the remainder.

"Earth, my lord."

"Gotta give 'em credit for style," Jazz remarked with a faint smile as the entire ship powered down. Even in the darkness, the sensors on his visor read the disapproving expression on Prowl's face.

"You would say that." The security officer shook his head with faint disgust. "This isn't a laughing matter. We need to get our systems back online and reengage: drag them back to the Sagittarius arm by force if necessary. Did you forget, they're wanted criminals throughout the galaxy? That we even let them go in the first place is a travesty."

"We ourselves are no better in the eyes of the rest of the universe, Prowl," Optimus chastised. There was silence on the bridge until the auxiliary generator kicked in. Prowl bristled. Jazz looked down at the Autobot insignia proudly branded on the back of his hand, considering and thoughtful. A vow to uphold the sanctity of life in the universe seemed almost perverse coming from creatures who fed on life energy of organic matter. Lions protecting the antelope from the hunter. He chuckled with uncharacteristic cynicism.

"They're headed for that terran planet," Cosmos said from the navigator's seat interrupting the wayward thoughts. "If we can get our systems fully functional, we can cut them off. The sensors indicate they're only moving at impulse."

A look of consternation was on his round face as he continued to glance at the screen. "Assuming we want to catch them," he finished softly, not daring to look at the others. The short mech absently fidgeted with the green mechanic's suit, dark red bangs falling over his face.

"Let them go?" Prowl exclaimed with rare fire. He slammed his palms on the console, causing Cosmos to rip the fabric, startled. He didn't meet the security officer's eyes. As if surprised by his own reaction, Prowl blinked. He was angry with himself for losing control, and stood, clasping his hand behind his back to stop the trembling. He seemed to stalk the bridge like a caged animal made to perform far too many tricks. "Out of the question," he snapped crisply, his firm conviction shining through.

Jazz also rose then, a strange counterpart to the security officer. He looked at those few in the upper echelons, taking an easy lean against the deck rail, gray arms crossed over his chest. His black, dreadlocked hair was pulled back into some semblance of order, officer's uniform unbuttoned at the top. Long dark fingers peeked out of the fingerless gloves Jazz donned as he drummed idly on his crossed forearms. Prowl stopped, ramrod straight, white hair impeccably groomed and slicked back, boots polished, hands gloved with the pristine white material unmarred by even a slight fade.

"C'mon, Prowl," he baited with a teasing smirk. "You don't get sick of all this useless slag? Chasing a bunch of thugs all over creation to protect a bunch of primitives that'll turn on us soon as they realize we're not any better?"

"Watch your tongue, officer," The security chief warned. "You're dangerously close to treason."

"Careful, sarge, you're starting to sound like Cliffjumper," Jazz laughed softly. He held his hands up in mock surrender as Prowl's face only grew darker. "Devil's Advocate, man. Relax. I'm just saying what the rest are thinkin'. You even read the morale reports Smokescreen sends across your desk? Or are you too busy polishing your boots?" Prowl stiffened even more, if that were possible. The air between them, as always, was thick with tension.

"Enough, both of you," Optimus interrupted, not liking the direction this was heading.

"Primus never said the right way is the easiest." His look was soft as he regarded Cosmos. "I understand, my friend. I know all too well how easy it would be to leave. I know the others too, are tired of nothing but fighting. There isn't a one of us who hasn't wondered... if the sacrifices are worth it. But what would we be leaving behind?" And it was always Prime who stood at the forefront when the first stones were thrown and led their faction to retreat without raising a hand in retribution. It was always Prime who seemed the feel the pain of those they couldn't save the most deeply. And yet the matrix bearer shouldered all of it without ever complaining. The navigator frowned, the conflict evident on his face as Optimus invoked the ages old "If we don't, who will?"

"Am I my brother's keeper?" Jazz asked unusually soft and all eyes turned to him. "Picked it up on one of the broadcasts the humans sent out."

"But are we?" Cosmos asked, expression tired and sad.

"Yes," came the strong declaration from Blaster seated at the communications display.

Jazz quirked his brow at the fiery-haired mech's interruption. So few knew why it was he fought so hard and so determined. Even Jazz had never quite been able to ferret that one out, but he never doubted for a moment.

"We are brothers." Optimus intoned, looked almost sadly at the small, skeptical number on the bridge. "We're not fighting this miserable war for ourselves, for the weak. We're fighting for them too."

"And if they don't wanna be saved," Blaster added with a soft punch of one hand into another, "Then we slag the lot of them."

"Then that's their own decision," Prime fired back sagely turning again to Cosmos. "This has gone far beyond the question of Eden. Megatron believes our strength, our power grants us free reign over those too weak to stop us. Can any of us live with the blood on your hands? Can you, Cosmos?" The navigator, torn, guilty, looked back to the screen silently. "Blaster, COM Perceptor."

With a jaunty waive, the communications officer complied, and the black haired scientist was suddenly on the screen, oblivious as he continued repairs in the engineering room.

"Perceptor!" Optimus called, and the slight man nearly leapt into the air as he whirled around. Facing the camera, one brilliant blue eye visible, the other obscured by an elaborate eye scope he smiled sheepishly.

"My apologies, Optimus. The microbes in the warp core have proved a most fascinating study. I can't help but marvel at the mad genius of such creatures. I see Mixmaster's signature all over them. The genome is almost reckless, unstable, but truly remarkable in their-"

"What's the status of our engines, Perceptor?" he interrupted patiently.

"Ah, yes the engines. Well, as I was saying, the microbes have been insatiable in their appetite for dilithium. It was only with Wheeljack's quick thinking that we were able to isolate the specimen and keep them from spreading to the rest of the ship. We had to use the liquid nitrogen on the core, I'm afraid to isolate it completely, else it would have spread to the auxiliary..." There was a faint nudge to his arm as Ironhide stepped forward to steer him back on course. "That is to say we too, have been relegated to impulse for the time being. But even at this range," he added brightening, "we should be able to contact Ultra Magnus-"

"No!" Optimus lowered his voice as the scientist jumped again. Ironhide let a hand fall briefly to the small of his back. "My apologies, Perceptor, but we don't wish to draw the Decepticon's further attention. If Megatron views a threat, he might contact Galvatron from the void and-" he trailed off, trembling. Eye widened, Perceptor could only nod. The old warrior leaned forward, a soft whisper of something indecipherable in his rugged pitch and the scientist relaxed.

"We need to warn the Earthlings," Wheeljack spoke up suddenly coming into view and with a faint bow, Perceptor took his leave. The older man's expression was serious as he lifted the goggles from his face, letting them rest atop his wild silver hair. "Prime, I know we've had this discussion before, but you remember Rigel 4?"

"Wheeljack," Prowl warned as the taboo subject was brought up.

"Please, Optimus," he begged, ignoring the censure. "We can't keep doing this! It's killing all of us little by little. I've said it before and again I'll say it, it's not our place but theirs! If we give them, the humans, the universe just enough of our own technology they can defend themselves!"

"Wheeljack, in the wrong hands..." Prowl cut in again.

"No! Frag it," he swore, "Why should more of our number fall? Give me a chance Prime, and I'll show you there's a better way!"

"It's too risky," Prowl answered in his stead, face set in a hard line.

"I wasn't asking you!" the mad scientist shouted, and the Autobot leader looked back at him silently. In that moment he looked every one of his ancient years. It was a proposition he never thought he'd approve and he knew that Prowl would likely never forgive him.

If there was one thing he knew better than anyone else, it was the basic fundamental difference that separated the two factions. No matter how brutal some of their own number, how erudite and charming some of the enemy, it all came down to such a basic, primal difference. Impulse control. They'd never just repair and leave even if that was their intent.

One of them - Primus how many times it stemmed from just one -would see a comely native, covet a ship, beg just one indulgence too many and be denied. There was no denying them. He shut his eyes briefly, still seeing the fires that had burned Rigel 4. If only it were just the fires. The acid had rained down from the sky that day in the primitive metropolis and the innocents scattered fearing the gods were bringing down their wrath. Not the gods, only Devestator. And when the bloodlust ran too high and they hungered for more, the outlying towns and tribes were razed, and the screams of the slowly dying were agonizing as the chemicals stripped away their world exploded around them like Armageddon and Prime found himself shaking at the memory. The Constructicon gestalt had truly lived up to its name that day : because Mixmaster held no currency for to buy the native candy... a delicacy their systems couldn't even process.

Prowl glared furiously at the underhanded invocation at one of the worst Decepticon brutalities. Wheeljack hardly looking any more glad of the victory. Prime declared, eyes shut: "So be it."

"I swear, Optimus I'll use the utmost discretion." There was no answer to that as the COM was cut and, shoulders slumped, Optimus Prime turned to Blaster praying that he could find the words to make the world listen.

"Begin Transmission."

"People of Earth! You are all in danger! From the darkness comes a devil far greater than any evil ever perpetrated in human history, than any of the demons or bogeymen of legend. The monsters come to your world, and as they have destroyed so many others, yours too shall fall. They are the scourge of galaxies far beyond this, their names feared and hated throughout the cosmos! Do not be fooled by their lives or deceived by their promises! You cannot reason with them! You cannot hope to hurt them! If you turn away they will give chase! If you fight back they will annihilate you. If you surrender, they will show no mercy! Don't drop your guard; don't welcome them in and Primus..." His voice broke here. "Don't die"

"With this transmission is light! We are sending you some of our greatest secrets to aid your battle. Use them, please I beg of you. Do whatever you must to stave off the encroaching darkness! Help comes!"

They knew not his name or face: only a voice scrambled by the darkness of space. They knew not, the two final words spoken as the auxiliary failed, and the transmission cut off. They knew nothing, but fear.