An ancient struggle erupts on Earth between two warring clans of Dairycons, with a clue to the ultimate power held by a young Heffer.
"We must speak."
PlotHole turned and faced the indivudual in his presense. Minerva made for a striking 'bot, even in these circumstances. Were he not several timescales her senior, he might have complimented her on her choice of chassis. As it was, the Ancient merely nodded, and turned back to the battle unfolding below them.
Minerva: "You have the power to stop this."
PlotHole: "Young lady, I have the power to do many things. But with great power comes great responsibility. I can't simply interfere because I want to."
Minerva: "That makes no sense. You've been interfering for years..."
Plothole considered her words. Minerva was essentially correct. Though it had been a few years since her presense had graced his own, the words still rang in his audio receptors. As an Ancient of Space, he'd spent lifetimes trying to keep the Universe in-check.
And now, at the end, he had finally failed.
Well, it felt like failure anyways.
PlotHole knew, in his spark of sparks, that the end was near. Oh, it was more than creaking joints; he'd seen the future... all of them. And in all possible futures, he knew his own end would come in a situation like this.
The Dairycon Universe was shattered.
There was simply no stopping it.
The Dairycon Universe would give way to the Dairycon Multiverse. He had seen it. PlotHole's very essense was to be scattered amongst the various incarnations of this Moo-niverse. Though he would still be a part of it, he would no longer be able to act.
It was not fear of that event that halted his progress; merely the inevitability of it. He felt he'd done all he could for this universe; he brought all the Dairycons together at the appointed time. He'd notified the Prime. He knew his time was done. Couldn't he, after all this time, take a few moments for himself to rest?
Of course not. He'd always faced the future with optics to their fullest apeture. He would not change that now.
PlotHole pondered. Wise and powerful, he went thru possible scenerios involving his direct intervention; discarding those possibilities as ultimately damaging to the very Moo-niverse he was trying to save, he considered a more creative approach.
He had it.
Pulling his shard of Primus from his subspace pocket, he concentrated. The object glowed, and a figure materialised in front of the Ancient:
TO BE CONTINUED in Shattered: The Dairycon Moo-niverse