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D'eux les Gens Clairet
Transformers: Deux Claret - Part One

"How We Seared the Sky"

by

~ Bells of Eden ~

Prologue: Thousand

We know not where it comes from. Only that it holds the power to create worlds, and fill them with life.

Silence.

Void.

It was all it had known for hundreds of thousands of years.

Cast out from a world that had fallen prey to the hand of war, the object — the Cube — bore no visible trace of its bloody past. Carved all over with intricate symbols, symbols that formed a language unknown to man, it had wandered through the depths of space, from one edge of the universe to another. It had left behind a world that still battled ferociously in its absence, fighting for control of an object that was no longer with them. And so the war on Cybertron dragged on and on and on — aimlessly, uselessly, endlessly. And the Cube, lost to the stars, now passed a sun — a yellow dwarf — that was no more than a speck in the Cybertronian sky.

It had been centuries, millennia, since it had passed through the event horizon of the Alkaris Anomaly. The one called Megatron had followed, but his path had taken him elsewhere. So the Cube had been left alone. Alone, in the silence of space, to dwell on what had come to pass.

The Plan had gone well.

But now — with no fertile world on which to continue it — how would the Plan persist?

Though the great monolith bore thousands of symbols, symbols wrought by the hands of creatures older than this sun, its purpose was invisible to the naked eye. That it had been created by an intelligent power was apparent. But that it was a sacrosanct object, worshipped as a creator-god; the reason behind a war; the sole focus of a single world — that was a history unknown to those who could not read its symbols.

And even those that could read Cybertronian had no idea of its true purpose.

The Plan.

In all its years in space, the Cube had never come into contact with another solid mass. Its path had always stolen it from harm's way, and its surface remained almost untouched by the deep collision marks that scarred most of the universe's spatial debris. But now, as it had always known, it would encounter a galactic anomaly.

For time everlasting it had spun uselessly among stardust. Now, as if out of nowhere, a stream of rubble — most likely errant residue from the dust trail of a comet — passed in front of the Cube. It could have moved, but it had suddenly noticed something: a world. A lush, organic, backwater planet. And it knew at once that this was the world it had been searching for. It was a small planet, around half the size of the one it had come from, but its gravitational pull was large enough to capture the Cube. It was the embrace it had waited for ever since it had left Cybertron. The embrace of the world on which the Plan would persist.

Unseen, unheard, the Cube circled this new world. It watched. It waited. And as it tumbled deeper and deeper into the gravitational influence of Earth, it sensed life. It sensed the four million primitive but sentient humans that inhabited this strange planet, this planet that was so unlike the one it had been launched from. It sensed the animals and the planets. It sensed the water and the air. And in those things it sensed that this world had been created, by whatever being or event, as a world on which the Plan would flourish.

As the Cube's orbit degraded, slowly but surely, it silently calculated the length of time that might pass before those that had been denied control of its power came looking for it. Megatron had been thrust through the multifaceted wormhole to a solar system far from this one. Without the assistance of a space-bridge, or some other technology that interrupted the space-time continuum, it would take tens of thousands of years for them to arrive. Autobot or Decepticon — light or dark — yes, they would come. Neither would surrender control of the All Spark. The Autobots, led by Optimus Prime, would seek its strength as a means of rebuilding what war had destroyed. And the Decepticons, led by Megatron and his conniving subordinate Starscream, would use it to rule the universe.

But not on Cybertron.

Here.

Fire blazed around the monolith, licking at its coat of symbols. It tumbled, spun, fell like a meteor into the planet's atmosphere, burning white-hot, leaving a streak of light in its wake. As it arced towards the surface of Earth, it glowed with an energy that would be unknown to man even when it was discovered.

At the eight corners of the Cube, an orb of light appeared. They burned brighter than stars.

Sparks.

Eight sparks.

For balance. For the Plan.

With a burst of light that could be seen from far below, the eight sparks fired from the Cube. Two shot backward, upward, back towards the stars; six went forward, downward, towards the world below. Six as the seeds, two for the harvest. The six that encountered Earth buried themselves in the ground, waiting for a time when they would rise and fill a body.

The Cube's arrival, though it brought with it a new stage of history, went as silent and unnoticed as a shadow through darkness. It left only the slightest dent in the ground before it buried itself deep in what would later be called the Black Canyon. It would be many, many years before the sparks would be ignited again, and before the Plan could continue as smoothly as it once did on Cybertron. But until then, they would wait — as would six autonomous robotic life forms, light years away on Cybertron, who suddenly felt as if the sparks that powered them had been rent into two pieces. But they dismissed those strange, painful, wonderful feelings as simple tremors of emotion: as side-effects of a war that had rent their planet, and their lives, into pieces of debris.

Yes, they would wait.

All Spark would wait.