Transformers: The Sparkless Ones

By OneHorseShay

Disclaimer: Transformers and related properties such as toys, video games, novels, television programs, movies, characters, etc. are owned by Hasbro and Battlestar Galactica and related properties are owned by Universal Picture and respective copyright holders.

Rating: T Violence, Language. Rating subject to change due to particular chapters.

Summary: In the time of rebuilding, healing and cooperation among the inhabitants of Cybertron, her former colonies and Earth after the Great War, a new threat comes from the deep reaches of space from the pursuit of the last remaining humans of the Colonies of Kobol on their journey to find their lost brethren for sanctuary… a threat made of flesh and blood and steel, but of no Spark.

Author's additional note: Set in the Aligned Universe of Transformers with the primary inspiration coming from Transformers: Prime and Transformers: Rescue Bots followed by the games, Transformers: War for Cybertron, Transformers: Fall of Cybertron and the Aligned Novels and Transformers: Robots in Disguise. I will borrow and reimage as I see fit material from Generation One and Beast Wars when necessary.

The story starts sometime during 'Lay Down Your Burdens' Part 2 for Battlestar Galactica and after Season Two of Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015).

God made Man…

…Man made Cylon.

God made Primus…

…Primus made Cybertronian.

Chapter 1

NORAD
Peterson Air Force Base
Colorado Springs, CO
Earth, Sol System
Sometime in 2017

Sergeant Adams pinched under the bridge of his nose under the nose piece of his glasses, momentarily resting his eyes from looking at the computer monitor that displayed a section of the space to monitor any potential contacts, FTL signatures that the base personnel had long ago dubbed as 'warp signatures' due to the nature of the drive and the remote possibility of formation of an artificial wormhole well beyond orbit of the planet. It was his turn at the monotonous observing the empty sky was occasionally punctuated by identifying passing satellites, the International Space Station safely orbiting the planet and pieces of space junk and he clearly wasn't enjoying it, but he did his duty to the best of his ability as his other colleagues on either side of him.

The other personnel in the advance command center had something to keep their attention more focused of tracking air traffic for the majority of North America and outside the boarders for any potential threats.

The sergeant readjusted his glasses to focus on the screen, the area it as displaying at the moment was in the vicinity of the moon and dozens of astronomical units beyond and looking just as empty as the rest of the sky. The emptiness and potential boredom was interrupted when about two dozen contacts suddenly appeared several thousand kilometers from the moon.

He sat up in his seat in less than a blink of an eye as the computer was beeping and trying to identify the contacts. A few moments later, alarms went off through command center. Adams and the rest of the on-duty personnel went into swift action as each member fell onto their training and experience to log the position, track the contacts courses and attempt to identify them. There was an additional edge of tension due to the fact that something could appear so close to Earth without any prior warning.

The duty officer quickly walked to stand behind Adams and looked at the monitor, spying the contacts the computer had so far failed to identify, but was working up multiple silhouettes, that were slowly making their way towards Earth.

The commander on duty immediately walked into the center, an older man with a touch of gray to his short hair and silver eagle on each of his shoulders and immediately demanded, "Report."

The duty officer turned away from Adams and quickly answered from one of the primary stations, "We have several contacts… at least two dozen contacts, possibly more and two of them are fairly large… each at least a kilometer long."

The colonel looked at the dominating screen at the end of the room that had been switched from an orbital view of the Earth to the display on Adams' screen. It displayed the various beeps of contact that were slowly moving towards the planet. He took a deep breath then glanced to one of the airmen and asked, "Please tell me those are Cybertronian—preferably Autobot."

He shook his head and replied, "No sir. They don't match Autobot or Decepticon silhouettes in the system and we're not reading any energon signatures."

"Their ETA to orbit?"

He took a moment to look past Adams' shoulder again at the display, seeing that the Sergeant had finished up the calculations. "At current speed, they'll reach orbit in a day."

The colonel looked over his right and demanded to one of his subordinates, "Get me General Faireborn, alert Nellis to scramble interceptors and get me the President!"

Several thousand feet above Nellis Flight Range

First Lieutenant Diederick 'Dirk' Manus sat comfortably in the cockpit of the second generation Skystriker, dubbed the Starstriker, a craft bore a striking resemblance to an F-22 but with a single powerful centerline engine, as he maintained cruising speed towards the two targets on his scope north of his position.

He glanced over to his starboard side at his 'wingman' and called out, "Okay, I'm reading two bogies incoming that need identification. I'm going to—"

The other crafted responded, "I'm going to get in close for visual confirmation. You hang back and mop up the leftovers." The other fighter accelerated away at near full afterburner.

Dirk sighed and called out, "Air Raid… Air Raid… blast it…" He pushed his throttle forward, causing the engines to flare a jet blue color and accelerate to catch up with the Aerialbot. He divided his attention between his HUD and the monitor, seeing him closing rapidly with the craft that his system identified as hostile craft.

The Aerialbot reached the pair of fighters first and rotated to his right nearly ninety degrees and aimed between the incoming fighters. He 'fired' a series of light pulses from a specially mounted pod attached to his nose cone. He read a kill on the lead fighter as they broke formation in the effort to avoid being hit with the simulated bullets and collision, one heading to the deck while the other one to gain altitude.

Since he read a kill on the first craft, he rolled hard over to catch up with the craft with all the intention of getting his second 'kill'. He pulled out of the roll and started catching up with his opponent. He attempted to line up his crosshairs as the other craft violently evaded him, maneuvering far superior than any other craft produced by humanity, but suddenly felt his radar warning signaling that someone was attempting to get a weapon's lock on him. He focused his sensors on the new contact and picked up two other craft attempting to close with him. He contemplated breaking off before the other craft could get a confirmed lock, eagerly wanting the kill in front of him.

His decision was made for him as his sensors suddenly read one contact sent a signal that it was dead and the other one breaking off from pursuit. He picked up a third signal approaching him and quickly identified that it was Dirk.

"You're welcome Raid. Now splash him before his buddy swings around and puts a simulated missile up our engines!"

Air Raid chuckled through the comlink and turned his full attention to the craft in front of him that was attempting to pull a hard left turn, far steeper and pulling greater g's than any other modern fighter. He pulled with him and quickly made the calculations with the speed far outstripping any supercomputer, but that a human pilot would instinctively figure out and 'fired' ahead of the craft then moments later his instruments showed that he had 'killed' the craft.

He laughed across the comlink, "That's how it's done gentlemen."

The craft in front of him eased off his turn and leveled off while Dirk pulled up beside Air Raid. The human wingman pulled off his face mask and glanced over to his wingman, mumbling in clear irritation, "I thought you were the one supposed to be teaching us, not showboating."

"I am teaching you: make sure you get up close and personal to confirm the kill. You humans rely far too much at standoff weapons. Your missiles aren't going to be worth squat if the other side can effectively jam them."

The human pilot sighed then pointed out, "There's a differencing between getting close for dogfighting and recklessly charging into the fight. They still could have blasted you with heat seekers and would have if I hadn't saved your butt—or the equivalent of your butt. I thought you understood the point of teamwork with your squadron."

"Hey, I gave you the chance to shine," the fighter craft bot gently laughed.

Dirk was about to counter, but a voice came over his comlink, "Tower to Flight Three, emergency scramble. Return to base for arming. This is no drill, repeat, this is no drill."

"So we're going to have some real fun?" the Autobot laughed before making a hard bank away to head back to the base.

Dirk sighed before moving the stick to bank to port to join him and head back to the secret base.

Somewhere in Las Vegas, NV

A Black late '60s Dodge Charger weaved through traffic of the busy streets of Las Vegas to make up time in the effort of reaching the occupant's destination at the appointed time.

The female 'driver' was pulling the hem of her shirt down as the stirring wheel turn on its own, maneuvering the vehicle around other vehicles to jostle for position on the road without endangering anyone and more or less maintaining the speed limit. She was a lovely young woman in her early twenties with long, slightly curled dark brunette hair, fair blemish free skin and symmetric face, blue eyes and thin, eye-catching figure. She muttered in frustration while adjusting in her seat, "Can't you go any faster?"

The display in the center of the dashboard showed a sky blue image with a red symbol that vaguely looked like the head of a robot, blinking in time with apparently the vehicle answering, "Not unless you want me to start breaking traffic laws then we'd have Vegas PD on my tail. I'm not outrunning the cops just to get you on time for your exam. I told you we should have left earlier…"

The dark brunette sighed, feeling frustrated and finishing adjusting her shirt then settled into the seat, slipping her left arm back under the seatbelt for it to go back over her shoulder and across her chest, "I don't need a lecture from you too."

The vehicle answered with something that came off as a snort, "I'm not lecturing you, just pointing out the obvious that if we had left earlier, you wouldn't be running late."

She pulled the sun visor down and began applying her lip balm she had retrieved from her satchel book bag as she answered, "I know, I know… I overslept."

"I told you should've called it a night sooner…" the vehicle gently nagged the driver.

She popped her lips then put away the balm into her satchel sitting in the passenger seat then answered, "I had to study. I have to ace these exams."

"You've been studying all week. You can't go twenty-four/seven," the vehicle gently reminded the occupant.

She relaxed back in her seat and chuckled with a tired smile, "You mean like you."

There was a soft chuckle to the voice as the vehicle answered, "Yes like me. You'll do fine. You worry too much."

She looked to the display and sighed, taking a moment to try to let the tension leave her body. "I just don't want to fall on my face and…" She shook her head and finished adjusting her top. "Never mind."

The vehicle was quiet for a few moments, the only sound being the vibration of driving down the road and the dampened ambient noise of the city while the young woman reached over to her satchel in the passenger seat to make sure she had everything for her exam. He finally spoke in a quiet, reassuring voice, "Mimi… Marissa…"

She looked away from the bag and towards the display.

"I know what this is about and I've been watching it for too long."

She returned with a quiet, cautious voice, "And what's that?"

"You don't have anything to prove."

The lovely brunette cocked her head and stared at the display, quickly following up with a forced laugh, "Prove? What do you think I have to prove?"

"Nothing, that's my point, but you definitely think you have something to prove. It's why you're pushing yourself so hard in your studies. Why you have me quiz you on every little thing every chance you get. Why you spend every free moment to study with getting enough sleep the least of your concern."

"That's just dedication," she answered with a roll of her eyes. "I saw plenty washout as an undergraduate and seen plenty this semester."

"Right… that's what it is… just dedication…" the vehicle answered with blatant sarcasm in his voice.

Marissa crossed her arms over her chest, deeply frowning as her eyes glared at the display.

The vehicle remained silent for a few more moments, apparently unsure how to continue until he spoke, "If it means anything to you… whatever reasons you're pushing so hard… I believe in you and know you can do it."

The dark brunette's expression softened and she slumped her shoulders, letting out a long sigh then directing a tired smile to the display. "Thanks Charge."

"You're welcome. Now relax for a few minutes while I get us there… think about where you'll be next week."

She closed her eyes to rest them and her mind began to drift to the beach, relaxing with the wind in her hair and the sea lapping at her feet. She idly commented with a smile growing on her face, "Spring break… sand, sun and no worries for a week…"

"Though you'll probably burn with that almost vampire complexion?" the vehicle teased with a soft, electronic laugh.

She opened her eyes and looked at the display, half smirking in annoyance. "I knew I should have never let you binge watch comedies—or horror movies."

"I find your culture fascinating… except that Twilight… was that horror, comedy or—"

"It was crap, just crap. That's all you need to know."

The vehicle chuckled as it eased into a right turn. "Well, I hope you enjoy the beach… and not party too hard. I've seen videos of what you young humans like to do during break at the beach and it's…"

"I think you're looking for the word wild, but you won't be catching me doing any of that." She shook her head as she added, "My dad would kill me…" She looked at the display again and asked, "Still don't want to come along? We could spend the day cursing down State Route One."

The vehicle chuckled then answered, "As tempting as that would be… I have no intention of missing the transport run back to Cybertron. Besides, I just know one of those days I'll be sitting in a parking lot where someone would either try to carjack me or some drunk Spring Breaker would vandalize me, so sorry, I'm going to have to skip it."

The lovely young woman smiled towards the display and regretfully sighed, "Well… I hope you enjoy Cybertron."

"I will and I hope you enjoy your break as in enjoying it and not just spending the next week studying more and don't worry, I'll be back in a month and you know…" The tone of his voice turned teasing, "…you could always ask Eric to go with you… you seem awfully fond of him… if I understand your human mating rituals." He paused for a moment then stated in a deadpan manner, "You're not mating with him in my backseat."

The young woman's pale cheeks quickly flushed and shouted, "Charger!"

"Don't 'Charger' me. I've learned enough about your culture to know that stuff like that happens with humans and hormones."

"I'm twenty-four, not some horny teenager—and I haven't mated with him and I wouldn't do that in you," she incredulously answered, her cheeks flushing a darker hew of pink with how embarrassing it was in having such a conversation with him.

"I'm glad to hear—I mean in me. If you want to mate with him, that's your business… then again nine months later, you'd stick a car seat in me, so I wouldn't be too thrilled with that."

She just glared at the display for several moments until she heard a soft chuckling sound over the sound of driving. She asked in a deadpan manner, "You're just messing with me, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am," he answered in a tone that suggested if he had a human face, he'd be grinning.

She snorted a laugh and shook her head. "I so hate you…"

"I love you too," he answered with a continued light chuckling as he pulled into a parking spot in the lot by the Robert L. Bigelow Physics Building of the University of Nevada, Las Vegas.

The young woman realized they had arrived at their destination and her annoyance with him disappeared, replace with a slight worry over how well she would do on her exams. She undid her seatbelt and grabbed her satchel bag in the passenger seat. She glanced at the display and asked, "Are you going to be fine waiting for me?"

"Yeah, it's just an hour and a half. It's not like I'd be sitting here all day if it was a regular day for you… wait an astro-second… Sorry Mimi, just got a call to head back to base."

She knotted her brow and asked, "Something wrong?"

"They didn't say. I just have to get back as soon as I can. I doubt I'll be back to pick you up."

She slumped her shoulders and answered, "Don't worry, I'll get a ride."

The vehicle made a sound close to a sigh, perhaps sounding apprehensive to the suggestion.

The lovely brunette smirked, eyeing the panel and rhetorically asked, "You don't trust me riding in any other thing, do you?"

"No, it's just the potential driver."

She rolled her eyes and answered with a barely patient tone, "I'll be fine. I'll see you later." She stepped out of the vehicle and shut the door, pulling her satchel bag onto her right shoulder then headed to the main entrance of the building.

The robot in disguise waited a few moments to make sure she safely entered the building then backed out of the parking spot and headed to base.

Situation Room
White House
Washington, DC

President Clayton Abernathy walked into the situation room, a buzz of activity with the various military personnel and civilian aids conversing and looking over various monitors built into the walls, and called out, "What's the situation?"

The Chief of Staff of the Air Force stood up from one side of the table and quickly answered, "We have multiple unknown contacts that appeared in the vicinity of the moon about twenty minutes ago. The base commander at NORAD informed Nellis and General Faireborne has ordered the scrambling of fighters for interception. The Autobots at Nellis have volunteered to fly up with the squadron, but… there aren't going to be enough—even if every other treaty nations joining us—if they are hostile and decide to push to establish orbit, unless…"

The President grudgingly questioned, "Unless what?"

"You authorize arming them with nuclear ordnance."

The President took a breath and straightened up even further. He hastily mentally weighed his option of arming fighters with nuclear weapons against the potential of not arming the craft with such weapons in facing the unknown capabilities of the craft approaching the planet and what other nations would do if they realized how their craft were armed. He asked before making such a decision, "Is the satellite defense grid operational?"

One of the colonels spoke up, clearly hesitant in answering, "In the lab… we've never tested them in orbit out of fear someone would notice them and… we've only tested the planetary shields in sections, so there are no guarantees they are fully operational to cover the entire planet."

The President took a deep breath, seeing that the choice had been made for him. He regretfully, but without hesitation replied, "You are authorized to arm fighters with nuclear ordnance."

The Air Force general slightly nodded his head and answered an equally grave voice, "Yes Mister President."

He quickly followed up, "Do we have any idea who they are? Have we established contact with them yet?"

The Joint Chief of Staff answered him with a weary expression, "No sir. The Autobots aren't familiar with the vessels either and we haven't attempted to make contact yet. We didn't think it would be proper to send a message for a first contact without your authorization and we have the obvious problem of would we be able to communicate with them. What language do we transmit to them? One? The most prominent ones?"

The President thought for a moment, a number of different variables he had to weigh. He looked to the general and ordered, "Do we have Nellis on the line? I need to speak with Optimus, and Generals Robinson and Faireborn."

"Yes sir we do," the general answered then looked to one of his aids and quietly ordered him to have the requested individuals patched through.

Another general spoke up as an aid finished whispering something to him, "Mister President, we have the Prime Ministers of Canada and the UK coming through and the President of China will be on the line momentarily. Other treaty members' heads of states should be coming through shortly."

"Thank you General. I want to make sure Optimus is on the line for that conference."

"Yes Mister President."

The Secretary of State questioned with a concerned tone, "Are we going to let the Autobots speak for us?"

Abernathy looked to the Secretary, seeing the man's weariness and deep concern in his eyes, and answered, "No, we'll have one of our people make contact then relay our joint message, but their presence will send the message that we have allies and if they are aware of the Autobots, make them second guess whether to be hostile or not. It made the Velgrox second guess ever coming to Earth again and if they hadn't, we'd be in a war with them right now."

The Secretary nodded his head in understanding, but clearly wasn't happy a foreign power could be in a position to negotiate on their behalf.

An aid lifted the telephone receiver for a secure line and informed the President, "I have Nellis on the phone for you sir."

Unit: E Headquarters
Nellis Air Force Base
Clark County, Nevada

At the out of the way facility at the Nellis Air Force Flight range, not too far from Area 51, the other members of the highly advance Starstrikers on the ground were scrambling and the others that had returned to base finishing rearming.

On one side of the secret facility inside one of the largest hangers in the world, a large golden colored delta shape vessel with curve edges and a straight back with five prominent engine nozzles was preparing to takeoff.

Inside the bridge of the vessel, two Autobots that had been fighting Decepticon forces elsewhere in the galaxy during Team Prime's fight against Megatron's forces on Earth before the restoration of Cybertron, were seated at the helm stations preparing the ship for takeoff.

Jazz, the former cultural investigator before the destruction of the caste system, trusted lieutenant and old friend to Optimus Prime sat at the left pilot seat. He had adapted to Earth fairly quickly with embracing a number of human cultural idioms, vocabulary and a particular love of human music.

The second Autobot sitting in the right seat was Hound, an old warhorse of a soldier in the right seat, going through the final flight checks.

They were eager to take off, but were still waiting for some key crew positions to be filled. One such crewmember was Charger as he ran into the bridge, drawing the pair's attention.

Jazz looked over his shoulder and joked, "Took you long enough kid."

Charger plopped into his seat to one of the stations on the right side of the bridge, secured his belt and began powering up the station. He returned with the same jovial tone as the term 'kid' was a relative term since he sprung out of the Well of the AllSpark just at the beginning of the Age of Rust, "I was in the city. I had to find an out of the way spot for Ratchet to open up a GroundBridge to get here. What's going on?"

Hound interrupted with a soft grin on his face, "Final flight checks finished. We're ready for takeoff."

The Autobot lieutenant raised a thumbs up and answered, "Roger that. I'll explain on the way." He took control of the flight controls, pausing long enough to tap a control to activate the comm system. "Tower, this Terra-One, requesting permission to take off."

"Standby Terra-One. You have additional passengers arriving," answered the air traffic controller.

Jazz was quick to reply, "Charger is already on-board."

"You have another passenger."

As on cue, the heavy footfalls of another Cybertronian were heard walking onto the bridge.

Charger turned in his seat while Jazz and Hound slightly turned their seats to look over to spot Optimus Prime and Agent Fowler, the top field agent of the US Government's Unit: E.

Optimus walked to stand just between and behind the pilots and politely nodded his head to each then answered for Jazz, "Tower, this is Optimus, we are ready for takeoff."

"Roger that Terra-One. You are clear to depart."

Optimus took the seat on the opposite side of the bridge to Charger, turning his seat to face the front of the ship.

In the center of the bridge was a command center for human passengers where Agent Fowler walked up the steps and quickly settled into one of the seats and buckled his seatbelt.

The ship rumbled to life as the engines powered up and the repulsers activated to lift off the ground. It exited the hanger and approached the runway. It followed the runway only about a hundred meters or so before it pulled away and gained altitude. It was soon joined on either side by a squadron of fighters taking off the runway.

As the ship and the squadron were gaining altitude, Charger asked, "Could someone fill me in on what's going on?"

Jazz obliged in answering, "The humans picked up a whole smattering of ships approaching and we don't have a clue who they could be. We haven't seen them either, so it's a little mystery for us."

The black painted bot asked with cautious concern, "An invasion?"

Optimus offered a calm word, "That is what we're intending to find out and stop them if that is the case."

The former scout leader wasn't filled with such confidence as his screen started filling with the number of contacts they were approaching in comparison to them and their small escort of fighters.

A half a minute later, they cleared the defensive ring of laser and particle weapon armed satellites. The vessel and fighters accelerated at several hundred g's to approach the fleet of contacts.

In one of the escorting fighters, Eric took a moment to just experience the fact that he had left the comforting confines of Earth to reach space. He smiled at the accomplishment that he had finally made it, but he had hoped it would be under different circumstances of exploration than being the point of the spear to defend his home against a possible alien invasion. He turned his focus on his duty and kept a close eye on his instruments of the approaching contacts.

On Terra-One, Charger quickly scanned the readout from the sensor and read out, "I'm reading nearly three dozen vessels over various sizes, but there are two big ones that seem to stand out from the rest. Using human measurements, one is one thousand seven hundred ninety meters while the other is one thousand four hundred forty-five meters long… reading what could be some form cannons on them… wait… reading multiple small craft… human fighter size."

Hound commented while keeping his eyes on the controls, "So it's some battle fleet."

Agent Fowler idly commented, "It could be some form of space carrier group with support vessels."

The Autobots passed him glances to their human passenger.

The former (and overweight) Army Ranger shrugged a shoulder and questioned, "What? It's a reasonable guess. We center our navy groups around a super carrier with escorts and supply ships for operations. This could be an initial assault to secure orbit around Earth."

Optimus gently interrupted, "Whatever the case maybe, we need to communicate with them to find out if they are friend or foe." He looked to Charger and ordered, "Charger, send linguistic codes and greetings in the hopes that Agent Fowler will be able to communicate with them."

"Yes sir," the former scout-class Autobot replied and began typing on the controls of his console.

CIC
Battlestar Galactica

Admiral William Adama looked up at the DRADIS readout displaying on one of the various monitors, studying the large contact they had picked up lifting off from the surface of the planet. There were intermittent signals that it was being escorted by a number of fighters that indicated they had some form of stealth technology for their fighter craft.

The approaching craft had been the first signal that the inhabitants had advance flight since they started observing the planet for the last half hour after jumping close to the planet's natural satellite. The planet was quite habitable and inhabited with intelligent life from the steady radio signals emanating from the planet that Racetrack had recorded before returning to the fleet.

The observations were a welcoming conformation of Racetrack's accidental jump near the planet when she was on her way with the others to jump back to Caprica to rescue survivors of the resistance.

They had detected an impressive array of satellites in various orbits of the planet with what appeared to be a primitive space station, so the communication staff was trying their best to make sense of the various broadcast signals in an attempt to get a rough idea of their language to be able to talk to them, but it was a daunting task. There were multiple languages broadcasting from the surface. However, once they had tuned into one of the video signals and observed human life, it gave them a measure of beyond hope and motivation to find a way to communicate with their lost siblings.

The Admiral's attention was interrupted with Petty Officer Anastasia 'Dee' Dualla called out, pressing her fingers against the side of her headset, and informed the Admiral, "Sir, I'm receiving a signal directed towards us by the large vessel."

Colonel Tigh standing cattycorner to his commanding officer at the plotting table immediately demanded, "Are they trying to hack our communications?"

She paused for a moment to listen to the signal and examine her screen. He cautiously answered, "It wouldn't appear so sir… they look like… I'm not sure, but a series of pulses and… I'm just not sure. It's not a voice communication."

Lieutenant (J.G.) Gaeta picked up with tying the message into his tactical station and voiced an explanation, "It looks like they're transmitting some mathematical formulas."

The answer instantly drew the scientific curiosity of Doctor Gaius Balta standing on the catwalk around the CIC, observing with President Laura Roslin and several other Quorum members as no one wanted to miss the monumental occasion that they had actually found earth. He walked around the others to make his way down the stairs to reach the bottom level and join Gaeta at his station. He looked over Gaeta's shoulder, slightly squinting and adjusting his glasses to read the monitor.

Adama passed a guarded look to Gaius then up to Roslin, conveying his concerns about the presidential challenger, but he couldn't deny the usefulness of his scientific mind. The glance the former Secretary of Education returned matched the Battlestar commander's expression.

Baltar looked over his shoulder to explain, "The pulses are prime numbers followed by what looks like an explanation of mathematical symbols." He took several moments to look at some of the equations, double checking the basic calculations to confirm they understood the symbols. He mentally went through the addition, subtraction, multiplication then division. He idly commented, pleased with the confirmation of their numbers and mathematical symbols, "It appears to be some kind of mathematical linguistic dictionary. Wait a moment; they're trying to establish communication based on universal constants… the atomic mass of protons, neutrons… electrons… isotopes of hydrogen."

Colonel Tigh impatiently pointed out, "We already know their intelligent with communication satellites and one of their spaceships intercepting us."

The scientist turned politician tightened his smile to be patient with the Colonel as he answered, "That's not what they're trying to communicate. They're trying to build a system for us to be able to communicate with one another. I assume the crew has been doing their best to translate the Thirteenth Colony's languages from their arrant transmissions into space and they're doing their best to oblige with universally understandable facts."

Adama answered with the same level of false patience, "Yes and fortunately there are a few linguistics in the fleet trying to analyze their language through observation. They believe they're making headway with one language that may have evolved from ancient Kobolian over the last two thousand years. Can you understand them with what they are transmitting?"

Baltar glanced back at the screen as the computer was receiving more complex date then back at Adama. "I believe I can, but it will take some time then more time for… President Roslin to construct a message then translate it into something they will understand. I would suggest in the meantime that the fleet not approach any further as they my see it as a hostile act. We wouldn't want a miscommunication that could cause them to start shooting at us."

Adama stiffened his jaw, but refrained from any dismissive comment as the weasel of a man had made it a suggestion in the capacity as a scientist and respected his authority. He couldn't afford to come off as some paranoid commander, not this close to hopefully now a landside election for Roslin in apparently finding Earth.

The Admiral turned further and ordered, "Signal the fleet that we will be taking up orbit around their natural satellite. They are not to approach the planet until they are cleared to do so. Colonel Tigh, take us into orbit."

"Aye sir," the faithful first officer answered then turned to shout out various orders to the helm stations to plot an orbit.

Adama looked to Gaeta and followed up, "While Doctor Baltar is attempting to understand their message, send along our first contact communications package."

The young officer took a moment to comprehend what the Admiral ordered, but quickly gathered his wits and began carrying out the order.

Baltar turned his attention back to Adama and curiously asked, "Your communications package?"

Adama let a smile tug on his lips, knowing something the erratic scientist wasn't aware. "In the far unlikely event that we ever encountered extra-colonial life, someone had the idea that Colonial military vessels carry a communication package in the hopes of establishing communications the same as the people of this planet are attempting with us. They may be able to analyze our message faster than we can analyze their message."

The presidential candidate nodded his head, seeing the logic behind such a measure and surprised the Colonial military had that foresight. "Ah… a wise decision." He turned to speak with Gaeta and the pair quietly conversed about the message they were receiving.

Adama glanced back up to the catwalk, noticing that Roslin was making her way down to join him on the deck.

The President casually slipped up beside him to converse.

The Admiral spoke first, glancing up at the DRADIS screen to see that the ship was turning away from the planet's vessel, "I assume you already have a message prepared for when we can communicate them?"

"I've been writing since we confirmed intelligent life on the planet. You would think after all this time I would have a greeting for them."

He cracked a genuine smile and replied, "Well, you have the time…" He glanced over his shoulder to see Gaeta and Baltar frantically try to analyze and translate the message to be able to reply intelligently.

Terra-One

The crew quietly waited for a reply, the tension in the air slowly climbing as they stared down a fleet. In the meantime, they had done a few low level scans to determine to the best of their ability that there were only two true warships in the fleet and the rest were unarmed.

Optimus broke the silence by patiently stating, "It's probably taking time for them to understand our message and formulate a response."

Charger suggested with a soft laugh over his shoulder, "We could always try 'Bah-weep-Graaaaagnah wheep ni ni bong'."

The suggestion made Jazz and Hound chuckle while Optimus cracked a soft smile, appreciating the break of tension.

Agent Fowler knotted his brow, completely lost as to why they were laughing. He looked to Optimus for an answer and asked, "Optimus, care to fill me in as to what is so funny?"

"My apologize Agent Fowler. What Charger was suggesting was that we use the supposed universal greeting of peace and friendship. However, sometimes it doesn't go over well for those that do not understand it."

"Doesn't sound very universal then?" the agent answered with a cocky expression.

"No, it would appear not," Optimus spoke with a near deadpan manner.

Charger caught the soft flashing of a light on his display then called out, "I'm receiving a message."

Jazz quickly followed up, "And they're turning away."

Fowler stood up from his seat and asked, "Where are they heading?"

"Looks like they're taking up orbit around the moon."

"Where anyone with a telescope can spot them," Fowler frustratingly sighed out.

Optimus spoke up, "It may be an attempt to show they don't wish to appear aggressive. Charger, what is the message?"

"It looks similar to what we sent them: a mathematical message as a building block to understand more complex meaning. It looks like they transmitted a rudimentary dictionary of their language along with it."

"Is it enough to effectively communicate with them?"

Charger looked at his station and answered, "I'm no Blaster, but I shouldn't have much trouble programming a translation program… interesting… their language has many similarities to ancient Greek and Latin."

Fowler idly questioned, "Greek?"

"Apparently," Charger answered then paused before continuing, "And I believe I have a translation program for you."

"That was fast."

He looked over his shoulder and answered with a smirk, "We're what you'd call walking supercomputers hundreds of generations beyond anything you have, they want us to understand them and translating from English to Ancient Greek is fairly simple for us, so…"

"Gotcha," Fowler answered with a relieved smile. "Would you please open a channel to them and tie in your translation program?"

"Okay, just remember, it still might not be exact."

"Right."

"You're on."

The special agent straightened his posture and cleared his throat then spoke, "This is Agent Fowler, representing the United States, one nation among many aligned, aboard the Cybertronian vessel Terra-One, to inbound vessels, please identify yourselves and state your intentions."

CIC
Battlestar Galactica

Dee cupped her ear again and called out to her commanding officer, "Admiral, I'm receiving another transmission from the Earth vessel. It's audio this time… and it sounds colonial."

Adama passed a glance from the corner of his eye to Roslin, seeing her mildly surprised at the quick turnaround of their transmission.

In the background, Gaeta and Baltar were having similar, but more explicit expressions of their surprise. The scientist cleared his throat and commented, "It would appear their computer systems are superior to ours in being able to analyze our message."

The Admiral threw a look over his left shoulder and dryly commented, "It would appear so." He looked to Dee and ordered, "Dee, please put the message through the speakers. Let everyone hear."

"Yes sir," she answered while tapping a few controls.

The clearly electronic greeting came over the speakers, filling the CIC and allowing each to listen to the first purposeful directed message towards them by presumably the Thirteenth Tribe:

"This is representative Fowler, on behalf of the United States, one nation amongst many together aboard the Cybertronian vessel Earth-One, to inbound vessels, identify yourselves and state your purpose."

There was a hush that swept through the CIC, the crew and guests each experiencing a number of different emotions ranging from jubilee at hearing them use the word Earth to concern at hearing the word 'Cybertronian' and the voice not sounding naturally human.

Colonel Tigh looked to his old friend and commander, showing a weary expression with the greeting. It was an understandable response suddenly appearing in their space to know why they were there, but the word 'Cybertronian' was concerning. It implied cybernetic and in turn, potential for them to have the equivalent of Cylons. They certainly had an assortment of entertainment involving robots from what little they had processed since jumping into the vicinity of the planet.

Admiral Adama shared a similar concern, but couldn't let it hold them back from making contact with their one chance to finally find some refuge.

Baltar spoke up to calm any concerns, hoping to remain in good graces with as many people as possible, despite knowing once 'Earth' had been discovered, he didn't have a prayer of winning the election, "They're obviously using a computer synthesizer to translate their message. They'll most likely be able to translate any response Madam President."

Adama passed a fleeting glance to the scientist then looked to President Roslin, asking with just a glance whether she wanted to be the first to speak.

She politely smiled and nodded her head, signaling that he should answer the voice from the Thirteenth Tribe.

He picked up the receiver on the plotting table, bringing it to the side of his face. He took a breath then answered, "This is Admiral Adama, commander of the Battlestar Galactica and military commander of this fleet. Our intentions are non-hostile. I repeat, our intentions are non-hostile. We are a civilian convoy looking for the planet Earth in the hopes of finding refuge from our enemies… we are the last of the human race from the colonies of Kobol after the destruction of our worlds… other than we hope of the planet Earth."

He paused and refrained from glancing around to the others, not wanting to show any doubt of fear or concern that the translation could be faulty.

Terra-One

The message came through, Charger pausing just long enough to run it through their translator several times to get the most accurate translation possible with combining known Ancient Greek and Latin and from the linguistic package they sent.

"This is Admiral Adama, chief of the Battlestar Galactica and military chief of this fleet. Our intentions are non-hostile. I repeat, our intentions are non-hostile. We are a civilian caravan looking for the wandering star of Earth in the hopes of finding sanctuary from our enemies… we are the last of the man race from the colonies of Kobol after the devastation of our worlds… other than we hope of the wandering star Earth."

Jazz looked to his fellow shipmates and questioned, "I thought Earth was the only planet that had humans."

Fowler knotted his brow, contemplating the ramification of there being other humans on other planets and answered, "It is, unless some alien race in the past took some of us and put them on other planets."

Hound helpfully offered, "We know Cybertronians in the past visited Earth—Greece specifically. Perhaps they took some and settled them on other planets?"

Jazz followed up, "And now they need help? Who could attack them?"

Optimus gently interrupted the discussion, "Those are very good questions and it would appear we have a bit of a mystery, but we can investigate it at a later date. At the moment these people appear to be in need of assistance, not planning an attack."

The military vehicle transformer added, "But apparently running from an enemy with that intention that they may have just led to Earth."

"That is something else that we will have to consider as well," Optimus answered with a weary tone, already contemplating the possibility that they could be facing a new and deadly enemy when they were just enjoying the fruits of peace.

Agent Fowler voiced his suspicion, "They could be lying as a way to lower our defenses."

Optimus nodded his head and replied, "Perhaps, but looking over these scans, the other vessels look to be civilian and in desperate need of maintenance. It would be logical to continue speaking with them to determine the validity of their statements, satisfy your concerns and find out about this enemy they speak of then the governments of Earth can determine if they will take them in as refugees."

Charger interjected with grave concern lacing his voice, "Yeah, especially the part about them being the last humans after their enemy destroyed their worlds."

Fowler debated whether he should give a reply or relay the message back to the President to formulate a response, but he was the one sent out here by the President to represent the United States and unbeknownst to them outside those that had tentatively agreed to form the Earth Defense Command, the rest of the world.

He looked over to Charger and asked, "Put me back on."

"You're on."

"Admiral Adama, we have received your message. We can confirm that the blue planet behind us 'Earth' as we call it and I am human. I will have to contact my superiors to discuss refugee status, but to clarify in the hopes of a proper translation, are you saying you are the last of your people?"

There was a pause, understandable with a translation and them formulating an answer as they were, Fowler was hoping, just as concern about conveying exactly the meaning they wanted to get across.

After several more seconds, the ships computer translated the Admiral's words, "Yes. Our civilization was destroyed by our enemies the Cylons. They launched a sneak attack against our worlds… performing nuclear strikes from orbit… killing nearly thirty billion people… and they have been pursuing us since with the goal of wiping out the rest of humanity. We are seeking refuge from our fellow humans."

A sense dread immediately spread across the Cybertronian vessel, each bot sharing a glance with one another. Fowler took a deep breath, feeling dread stirring in his lower gut. The words may have been just a translation from the shipboard computer, but the voice broadcasting had a tenor of truth to it.

Charger turned in his seat to look at the others and muttered out, "There's only seven billion humans on Earth… and there were thirty billion of them?"

Optimus mouth became a thin line and the aperture of his optics slightly closed and opened several times as if he was squinting, clearly deep in thought.

Fowler regained his composure, clearing his throat and spoke into the speaker at his station, "I'm sorry, but… there's a question about the translation of your message. Would you please repeat the number of people that you lost… with the numerical equivalent?"

Half a minute passed before the monitor in front him displayed the translation of the number. The former Army Ranger fought down the churning feeling in his stomach when he saw the confirmation in the estimation of the loss of life. He lifted his chin then quietly replied, "Admiral, if you would give me some time to contact my superiors and hold your position in orbit of the moon?"

"Certainly. Our civilian government is quite eager to speak with your civilian leaders. If I may ask, if you could stress our… humanitarian needs? This is truly a civilian fleet with the needs of fifty thousand souls to be met."

"I will. Please standby."

Fowler looked to Charger and asked, "Could you put me through with the President?"

Charger turned in his seat and immediately typed to transmit to Earth.

CIC
Battlestar Galactica

Adama replaced the receiver onto the cradle attached to the plotting table then looked to Roslin. He cracked barely a smile and commented, "I think that went well. They're willing to speak to us instead of just opening fire."

"But they didn't agree that we could land," a low toned, but idly sounding voice pointed out behind the leaders of the fleet.

Adama and Roslin turned to see that Tom Zarek, the representative for Sagittarian, casually smiling and having his hands in his pockets. He had made his way down from the catwalk to the main deck without their notice.

The Admiral returned the easygoing smile, but his eyes still showed a steely gaze. He calmly replied, loud enough for the majority of those in the CIC to hear him, "Mister Zarek, I would not expect this Mister Fowler to have the authority to unilaterally give us clearance to land on their planet. As he mentioned and we've confirmed through our observations, they are not a unified government. Their other nation states may object to our landing even if one or several of them gave us permission and perpetuate a conflict. We will wait for them to respond so that President Roslin can speak with their civilian leadership to negotiate possible settlement."

"Possible settlement? Do you have doubts they would not give us sanctuary? A place to settle?"

Adama's smile grew as he pointed out, "I would not presume to guess the possible actions of an entire planet and their various leaderships. I will trust the President and the Quorum to negotiate whatever is necessary to get them to agree to give us a refuge."

Zarek tightened his smile then turned to rejoin the other members of the Quorum that had observed the exchange.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Roslin whispered over to Adama, "You do have your doubts?"

He glanced over his right shoulder to make sure no one but possibly Colonel Tigh could overhear them, "We are strangers after two thousand years and leading a ruthless enemy to their doorstep. Some might not be too thrilled to open the door for us and just send us on our way."

Roslin crossed her arms under her chest, her left hand cupping her right elbow, and slightly nodded along. "We'll just have to appeal to their Humanity and offer some kind of trade, though I'm not sure what we have to offer them. We're the ones essentially begging them."

"We do have something to bargain with."

"And what would that be?"

"Military aid. Other than that one ship, two dozen fighters or so and what looks like a primitive space station in orbit, we have no indication they have any other advance space flight capability. We'll need to share our technology with them in order to defend themselves from the Cylons when they eventually come."

"So you're not buying Cavil's explanation that they're going to leave us alone now? That we've parted our separate ways?"

Adama lifted a corner of his mouth and lowered his voice further to rhetorically ask, "Do you?"

Roslin smile grew bigger, as if the pair was sharing a secret. "If you'll excuse me Admiral, I will retire to the conference room to prepare speaking with the Earth representatives when they call."

"Of course Madam President," he answered with a nod and a softer, more affectionate smile.

The President turned and started for the side exit of the CIC, quickly joined by her presidential aid Tory Foster and her security detail. The other members of the attending Quorum members soon followed her out along with Zarek, but Baltar remained with Lieutenant Gaeta to continue to decipher the original message sent for their ability to translate messages.

Adama turned his attention back to Colonel Tigh quietly spoke, the look in his eyes showing that he want anything to interfere with his order, "Make sure the CAP keeps the fleet in orbit of their natural satellite. I don't want some eager shipmaster try to make a run for the planet and the Earthers be forced to shoot it down."

The experienced officer nodded his head and replied, "Yes sir."

Author's Note: I hope this opening chapter has hooked you to see where this will go as four civilizations collide. Some may have noticed a few names from other incarnations of Transformers and other Hasbro properties… that is fully intentional. Thank you for reading, OneHorseShay.