The Veiled Threat (10 page)

“I wish we had images.” Lennox spoke without turning, his attention fixed on the road ahead. “But while the cell phone coverage in this part of the world is adequate, it can be intermittent. And soldiers and mercenaries locked in the middle of a firefight usually don’t have time to whip out their phones and take snapshots.” He looked back at her. “So all we have to go on are the confused reports of a few frightened survivors.”

“Three of them, to be exact.” Epps put his feet up on the dash. Optimus did not object. “What I don’t understand is that according to the reports, they didn’t get bombed. That’s Starscream’s modus operandi: strafing and bombing. But according to what we were told, all the action was confined to the ground. Guns and missiles goin’ off all over the place, but nothing raining down from above.” A slight electrical charge tickled his feet and he hastily took them off the dash. His attention returned to the screen of the laptop that was positioned on his upper thighs.

“Yeah,” Lennox agreed. “And none of the descriptions of the three Decepticons that participated in the attack match up with Starscream’s natural body
shape.” Reaching forward, he tapped the truck console. “So what gives, big guy?”

“Knowing Starscream,” Optimus replied, “this might be his way of luring us into a trap. If so, he has succeeded. We are indeed coming for him. Whatever he has planned, I do not think he can defeat five of us operating with human assistance. That is why it is important there are only four of you. Were we to try to confront him with a massive contingent of human soldiers and weapons, I am convinced he would not risk an appearance. Not after his defeat at Mission City. But against myself and a few Autobots, with only a quartet of humans to back us up, I think he will risk whatever he has in mind for the chance to destroy Ratchet, Ironhide, and myself.”

“Of one thing we can be certain.” Sticking his hand out the open window, Petr let the wind carry away the iridescent beetle.

“Yeah, what’s that?” Epps had reluctantly traded his music player for a communications headset.

“We will soon find out,” the Russian replied.

Edging forward on the bench seat, Kaminari accidentally bumped into Lennox and was quick to murmur an apology. He was still trying to figure her out. The scientist, whose name meant “thunder” in Japanese, was more than a little strange. As Epps had pointed out, an idiosyncratic combination of geek and warrior. But how would she and her experimental weapon work in the field? As Petr had just said, they would soon find out.

“Where do you think they’re heading?” she asked.

“No telling.” The captain grabbed a handgrip as Optimus hit a bump that jostled his passengers. Apologizing,
the Autobot slowed his speed in an effort to smooth out the ride. Lennox continued.

“It’s pretty clear from the reports of those who survived the confrontation at the construction staging depot that whoever these Decepticons are, they were after potential sources for synthetic Energon. According to Optimus, based on what was taken they should have adequate power for the time being. But why they would remain in this area we simply don’t know. There’s nothing of vital strategic importance in the region where they were last seen heading. No military bases, no population centers—nothing but scattered small villages and a lot of wildlife. Which is good for us.”

“Right,” said Kami. Her expression hardened as she settled back on her seat. “Because when all hell breaks loose, collateral damage will be minimized.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Epps. Staring at his laptop screen, the technical sergeant straightened. The excitement in his voice was palpable.

“All right! We have contact.”

As he ignored the road in front of them, his fingers began to dance over the computer keys. Though word of the Decepticons’ presence in this area had been kept as quiet as possible to prevent panic among the local population, the authorities were well aware of what happened at the construction site supply compound. Hasty instructions had gone out to all regional authorities to be on the lookout for the invaders. While a garbage truck and a pickup might not draw much attention, the presence of an anti-aircraft tank rumbling through a town was certain to attract notice.

A uniformed policeman in just such an insignificant village had personally witnessed the three-vehicle procession as it traveled at high speed through his community. As soon as it was safely past, he had reported its presence via his phone. The alert had gone to the nearest district police station. From there it had been relayed to Lusaka, then to Zambian military headquarters. An officer there had activated a special signal that had sent the information upward to a communications satellite, which in turn had forwarded it to the nearest of six recently launched NEST satellites, which had simultaneously provided the relevant information to Diego Garcia and the operations team that was on the ground rolling through southern Zambia.

Leaning to his left, Lennox joined his fellow soldier in studying the data displayed on the screen. “We’re close.” Straightening, he compared the road immediately ahead with the detailed map that had appeared on Epps’s GPS-equipped computer.

“If this is correct, they’re barely two kilometers in front of us, Optimus. Turn left off the main road.” Behind him, Kaminari scrambled for something to hang on to as the diesel began to rattle and shake.

“This is a main road?”

Reaching across, the Russian gave her a playful shove. “This is not Yokohama freeway,
miloshka
.”

She glared at him. “It’s not Yekaterinburg, either. Don’t touch me again.”

Grinning, he slowly advanced one outthrust finger in her direction.

“I’m warning you,” she told him irritably.

“What are you going to do?” he challenged her. “Give karate demonstration from seated position?”

Changing conditions put a stop to such horseplay as Optimus led the team off the north–south road onto a side track that was barely wide enough to accommodate a wayward jeep. Despite the Autobot’s best efforts to anticipate the increasing number of ravines and hillocks, a certain amount of bumping and jouncing inside the cab was inevitable. Behind him, Ratchet, Ironhide, and Salvage hewed to the new route with determination. Trees and brush slapped against the sides of the careering diesel. Any human-driven truck of comparable size attempting to negotiate the upgraded goat track would by now have blown tires, busted axles, or crashed into the surrounding brush.

Like the soldiers up front, Kaminari and Petr were too busy trying to keep their heads from slamming against the roof to waste energy arguing. Lennox stared as Optimus smashed through several trees whose trunks had grown sideways across the track.

Where on Earth were the Decepticons going, and why?

Somehow Epps managed to stay focused on his computer readout. “Closing fast!” He had to shout to make himself heard above the chaos of the truck as it crashed through increasingly dense brush. “Almost on ’em. Why aren’t they moving faster, trying to get away? Surely they know by now that we’re on to them?”

Raising an arm, Lennox pointed. “Maybe because they’re out of road.”

A moment later the view ahead cleared. The vista
thus revealed was breathtaking. Blue sky shone above the line of forest green that dominated the bank opposite. Directly ahead of the slowing diesel, a herd of wildebeest were hurrying to one side while a clutch of hippos were rushing to get out of the way of three large, singular metallic figures. Unable to cross the wide, powerful, deep river in their Earthly forms, the three Decepticons had reverted to their natural shapes. There were no humans around to record their presence, no scouts to report on their appearance.

Optimus screeched to a halt as the rapidly shrinking road vanished into a sandbar. “Autobots, transform!” he bellowed, barely giving the four humans he had been transporting enough time to vacate his cab. While Epps shut down his laptop and abandoned it to Optimus’s care, Lennox and the others were on the ground and running back the length of the big truck.

Befitting his specialty as the group’s weapons expert, Ironhide was already on his feet. In front of him, the ambulance was shifting to reveal itself as Ratchet. Salvage waited until the humans reached him and idled patiently as they removed several tarp-covered devices from his truck bed. Meanwhile Beachbreak hummed impatiently on his back. As soon as the humans had taken what they needed, the pickup truck rumbled to life and crashed off along the bank, its four-wheel drive keeping it level and moving forward.

Freed of the need to monitor the laptop, Epps was once more in his element as he hefted a backpack crammed with special, recently developed sabot shells. Lennox hoisted the launcher itself. As for Petr, the captain did not recognize the rifle-like device the stocky scientist was unwrapping. He knew only that
it was something innovative that had been hastily developed by the Russian Academy of Sciences working in conjunction with the weapons specialists at NEST. Kaminari had drawn her own unique weapon from an oversized holster strapped to her back.

The Earth quivered slightly as Optimus came up alongside him. His weapons systems fully deployed, Ironhide flanked the humans while Ratchet brought up the rear and stood ready in reserve. Frowning as he ran, Lennox looked around anxiously.

“Where are the others? Salvage and Beachbreak?”

The African sun glinted off bright lenses as Optimus looked down at him. “Hurrying to position themselves, according to my instructions. If all goes well their assistance may not be needed.” The Autobot’s gaze rose to lock on the hulking bipedal shapes that were presently attempting to cross the river. “It seems that we are three against three, but when two of those three are myself and Ironhide, the odds are very different from the actual numbers.” Incredibly advanced visual perceptors focused. New imagery was matched against old memory.

“We are facing Macerator and Dropkick. They are good fighters, but can be taken. Payload will be more of a problem, as his area of expertise is akin to that of Ironhide.”

As Kaminari and Petr hurried to try and keep up, Ironhide rumbled expectantly.

“Akin to, perhaps, but
far
from equal.” Raising his voice, he bellowed a challenge across the white water. “Payload! Inheritor of futility! Turn and fight!”

That was Ironhide, Lennox thought as he ran. Never one to mince words. Only opponents.

The nearest Decepticon was quick to turn and respond. “Ironhide! It will be a pleasure to watch your component parts detonate one by one!” This comment was punctuated by a puff of smoke from the vicinity of the challenging Decepticon’s left shoulder.

“Incoming!” Epps shouted a warning as he dove for the nearest pile of water-worn, car-sized boulders. Payload’s missile landed just behind them. The ground where it struck shook as it vomited sand and dirt skyward.

Shells and missiles tore into air, earth, and water as the three Autobots advanced into the roaring river to engage their Decepticon counterparts, each combatant seeking a weak spot on the part of the other. Meanwhile the humans had been forced to halt on the riverbank. While Petr knelt and began making adjustments to the peculiar gun he carried, Kaminari could only watch and wait in nervous anticipation.

“Why do they have to fight in the river? Why can’t they come over here? I can’t reach any of them this way!”

Petr glanced up at her. “What—can’t you swim?”

“Look at this river, you idiot! Look at the way the current is flowing. This isn’t some gently meandering Siberian salmon stream. This is the Zambezi! Besides the current, it’s full of hippopotamuses and crocodiles.”

“Not at the moment.” He pointed.

It was true. From where they stood on the riverbank it looked as if every living thing within half a kilometer was racing to get as far as possible away from the scene of battle. Hippos, crocs, buffalo, even elephants were fleeing upriver or into the bush, leaving
the water to the half dozen towering mechanical combatants.

Lennox hurried to activate the launcher he carried. Despite Optimus’s confident claim, the initial stages of the fight did not appear to be going nearly as well for the Autobots as their leader had envisaged. For one thing the river here was fast and deep enough to inhibit the movements of Autobot and Decepticon alike. Had that been the Decepticons’ plan all along: to lure their opponents into the water, hoping that it would equalize the odds? If so, either Optimus had not considered the current and depth factors, or else he was convinced he and his comrades could overcome them. After all, the Zambezi was nobody’s ally. It slowed Decepticon and Autobot alike. It also made it much more difficult for Lennox to lock onto a target with his own weapon.

The tube he was balancing on his right shoulder was a modified Stinger ground-to-air missile launcher. Unlike its predecessors, which were designed to be discarded once used, the lightweight titanium-and-carbon-fiber device the captain struggled to aim could be reused multiple times. That was important because Epps’s backpack contained a dozen highly compact self-propelled rounds. Each was tipped with the new armor-penetrating sabot round that had been developed by American and Israeli members of NEST working in conjunction with Ironhide. At NEST’s underground testing range on Diego Garcia, the two men had had plenty of practice in firing the new weapon.

Unfortunately, none of it had involved firing at a target that was locked in close physical combat with
an ally in the midst of a wide, fast-flowing tropical river.

“Loaded and locked!” Slamming the back of the launcher shut, Epps gave the captain a slap on the shoulder to indicate that he could fire at any time. While the launcher’s weight had been pared to the minimum it was still considerably more difficult to aim than, say, an ordinary rifle. Furthermore, the Zambezi’s flow was powerful enough to push all six combatants steadily downstream.

“Fire—Captain, sir!” Epps shouted.

“I can’t get a clean line!” Lennox glanced up from the launcher’s electronic tracker. “Every time I get a clear sight, one of our guys stumbles into the viewfinder and I have to reset.” Shouldering the launcher, he found himself scrambling to keep pace with the ongoing battle, running along the shoreline or jumping from rock to rock. Picking up the backpack full of shells, Epps followed.