The Veiled Threat (20 page)

Across the road and downhill, Knockout was tending as best he could to the injured Longarm. The older Autobot peered up at his cohort. One eye was blinking intermittently as if the light behind it was threatening to go out.

“You—saved my life. I am grateful.” Creaking, groaning, and with Knockout’s support, Longarm
struggled to his feet. As soon as he was standing by himself the smaller Autobot released him, stepped back, and turned to look out into the clouds that had swallowed their enemies.

“I was trying to decide whether to go uphill or down, and found myself positioned between you. That’s all.”

Longarm joined his comrade in peering down into the mist. If anything, it was growing thicker as the afternoon progressed and the air heated up. One hand rose to rest on the other Autobot’s shoulder. Its middle finger was bent completely backward. An equivalent injury would have left a human moaning in pain, but Longarm had simply disengaged the relevant neural sensors and would leave the broken digit disconnected until Ratchet could repair it.

“I am sorry that I struck you earlier.” The bigger Autobot’s tone was contrite.

“You shouldn’t be.”

Utilizing his perceptors at maximum, Knockout was frustrated that he could not locate either of the two Decepticons in the chasm below. Had they flown off together, utilizing their terrestrial modes? Or had Ruination been forced to carry the more seriously hurt Blademaster away to safety? The latter course seemed the most likely. Both Decepticons had been damaged, Blademaster seriously. It was unlikely that they would seek to continue the fight. Knockout turned to face his friend.

“Though we are individuals, we serve the same cause. Inexperience and excitement had led me to forget that. It will not happen again.”

“That,” declared Longarm approvingly, “is truly the voice of experience talking.”

While the two Autobots lapsed into the fullness of their own electronic language, conversing at speeds no human could follow, Epps turned to find Petr staring at him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the sergeant growled. “I’m not one of your damn bugs.”

“No,” the Russian agreed affably. “The majority of insects I study tend to be considerably less soiled. You could do with a
dooshim
.”

Epps blinked up at him. “A
what?
”

Petr hesitated, then smiled understandingly. “Ah, I forget. Word in my language that sounds like something entirely else in English. In Russian,
dooshim
is a shower.”

“Oh.” Epps’s blood pressure subsided. He started brushing at himself, realized the futility of it, and stopped. Blinking at the road ahead, he pondered their next move. It was still raining, though it was difficult to tell where the rain began and the clouds and mist fell off. “This whole region is one big shower, but I don’t feel any cleaner for it.”

“You need
garyacha vada
. Hot water. And soap.” Petr’s gaze considered the technical sergeant from head to foot. “Lots of soap.”

Epps made a face at him. “How about if I take that rifle of yours and …”

Smiling afresh, Petr raised an encouraging hand. “Today has already prove to be a more than sufficiently electrifying experience, thank you.” He nodded past the other man, at the permanently saturated
roadway. “You are in charge. What are your orders? Do we pursue?”

Epps mulled the options, then turned to the two Autobots. “What do you think? Should we go after them?”

A newly respectful Knockout waited for Longarm to respond. “Blademaster has been gravely, perhaps mortally injured. We cannot of course accurately gauge the extend of the damage he has suffered without another, closer look. If Ruination has flown him away that will prove impossible.” Raising an arm, he reflected briefly on his injured finger, then looked down at himself and over at Knockout.

“Both of us have likewise sustained damage. Unlike these Decepticons, we have no localized flight capability. Whatever their intentions in this region, it is my considered opinion that neither Ruination nor Blademaster is presently capable of carrying them out. If they hold true to form, they will retire to a place of concealment and safety where they can undergo restoration.”

Alongside Epps, Petr spoke up. “We know they are here. They know that we know they are here. Given such mutual awareness, they are likely to abandon whatever brought them to this part of this continent. If is one thing we have learned about these Decepticons, is that they do not function optimally while under scrutiny.”

Epps considered all that had been said before making a decision. “Right. We go back to Cuzco.” He turned to Morales. “In addition to enhanced satellite surveillance, NEST will provide you with additional support, Lieutenant, so that you can continue to
properly monitor the situation here. You’ve seen how fast our people can respond. If these intruders show up here again, you can bet we’ll be back. With more firepower next time.”

“
Gracias por su ayuda
, Sergeant. We will keep on top of the situation.” He paused briefly. “Your
compadre
is correct: you do need a shower.”

Epps eyed the soaking-wet officer. “You aren’t in any shape to slip the slipper on no señorita yourself, Lieutenant.”

Morales offered a smile in return, then turned to look uphill. “Our vehicles are destroyed and we are on foot now. Though the vegetation around us is tropical, we are still in the mountains and it will get cold tonight. We should start walking.”

“All the way back Cuzco?” Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, a doubtful Petr offered a mild curse in Russian.

Morales started up the road. “Do not despair. As I mentioned before, this is the only road for many miles in both directions from the highlands down into the
selva
. A bus or truck will come along and we will acquire a ride.”

“Can’t be soon enough for me.” Epps kicked the empty and therefore useless missile launcher over the side of the road and watched as it was swallowed up by the clouds below. It was unlikely to change the balance of power among the local monkeys. “I’ve had enough for one day.”

As they trudged upward, the scientist came up alongside him. “Cheer up, Sergeant. At least you are not in desert,
da
?”

Epps shot him a look. “For a Russian, you’re a pretty funny guy, Petr.”

His companion’s attention dropped to a burst of blue flowers that was sprouting from the center of the roadway. “All Russians are funny, Sergeant. It just take a little tragedy and misery to bring out the humor in us. Did you ever hear the one about the
slivoki
and the pig farmer?”

“No.” Arching his back and stretching, Epps found that some of the soreness was beginning to fade from his legs and back. “Why don’t you enlighten me.”

The scientist proceeded to do so.

There is the Outback, and then there is Beyond the Outback. Looking down at the endless stretches of raw red earth below the descending transport, Lennox knew immediately that they had arrived at the latter.

Oobagooma. It didn’t even sound like a real place. What lay here, among this interminable expanse of exhausted, erosion-sculpted hills and boot-piercing spinifex and lethal serpents, to attract the likes of Starscream? The only landing strip in the area was small, dirt, and quite incapable of handling an aircraft the size of the C-17. They would have to parachute in.

They could have started from Perth, he knew, but even traveling at high speed it would have taken the three Autobots days to reach this isolated part of this country that was also a continent, and where time and Decepticons were concerned, leisurely travel could not be allowed to enter into the equation. Not if they wanted a chance to catch Starscream or any of his cohorts before they could cause any real damage.

But what damage could they do here? Lennox wondered as he leaped spread-eagled from the back of the plane. Not only were there no sensitive facilities in the immediate vicinity, there was nothing of consequence
for a thousand miles in any direction. Certainly nothing that seemed likely to draw the interest of a single-minded Decepticon, much less Starscream himself.

As he floated toward the red ground below, tugging occasionally on the chute’s control cords, he wondered how Epps and Andronov were doing in South America. Then Kaminari Ishihara shot past him, a black-haired torpedo free-falling until the last possible moment, and the ocher surface that was rising rapidly toward him drew his full attention.

Optimus, Ironhide, and Salvage were already on the ground and had changed into their favored terrestrial guises: two pickups and one husky diesel. Prior to departure both Optimus and Ironhide had been concerned that their rolling shapes might be too flamboyant for the backcountry where they were headed. An Australian officer posted to Diego Garcia had promptly set them straight.

“She’ll be right, mates. The farther you go into the Outback, the more vehicular customization you’ll encounter. Not much else to do in that bloody backcountry. One bit of advice for Salvage and Ironhide, though. Change your identifying insignia to a local auto manufacturer. Be less likely to draw attention that way.”

Though the recommended modification seemed too insignificant to be worth the bother, both Autobots had taken the advice to heart and instituted the recommended adjustment. Lined up on the wide dirt road, it seemed even less necessary than ever. Not a single car or truck had passed their way since they had touched down.

Like Epps in Cuzco they could have called upon NEST forces to bolster their strength. But with both Optimus and Ironhide on-site the addition of a squad or even a division of armed humans seemed superfluous. Human soldiers wouldn’t be of much use against Starscream. Besides, the nearest NEST post was located in Perth, more than a thousand miles to the south. Additionally, the presence of a large number of trained operatives in such an underpopulated part of the country would be likely to draw more attention from local prospectors, tourists, and locals than suited NEST. In this part of Australia, trucks were a more common sight than groups of strangers.

Peculiarly enough, an overflying F-22 Raptor would draw less attention than a squadron of armed men and women. The empty Outback was often used by military aircraft to practice everything from tactical maneuvering to low-level bombing runs. Lennox knew any other intruders would by now have adopted innocent Earthly forms such as trucks, cars, or commercial vehicles. A Decepticon who chose a more blatantly aggressive shape like Payload would quickly find himself the unwanted subject of hasty cell phone snaps or hurriedly recorded videos.

Still, he told himself as the shock of landing ran up his legs, one could never predict what a Decepticon might do. The question here, he mused as he gathered in his chute, was what they hoped to achieve in such a desolate, uninhabited wilderness. Whatever it was, it was his job to find out and put a stop to it. There was only one problem.

The Gamma signal originally detected by one of NEST’s surveillance satellites that had brought them
here had disappeared just before they had left Diego Garcia.

It was not the first time a signal had been picked up only to be lost soon after. Fully aware that the Autobots and their human allies were hunting them around the clock, the Decepticons had developed ways of masking their presence as they traveled. If it were otherwise, every Decepticon on Earth would have been located and suitably dealt with immediately following the clash at Mission City. It was only when they were expending an unusual amount of energy in a location that happened to pass beneath the sensors of an orbiting satellite that they could be detected. So Lennox was not surprised that the transmission that had brought them here had subsequently gone missing.

It would make finding whoever had generated it difficult but not impossible. If the source was still in the immediate area Optimus and his companions would be able to sense even low-level transmissions once the originator was on the move again. If he, or they, had journeyed out of range, well, it wouldn’t be the first time NEST had missed a chance to take down one or more of the Decepticons. Eventually though, they would get them all.

They had to, Lennox knew.

Kaminari had already slipped out of her harness, packed up her chute, and begun striding toward the waiting vehicles. The order of travel had been determined earlier, on board the transport. Ironhide would lead the way with Optimus following and Salvage bringing up the rear. The humans’ individual gear, including the scientist’s inimitable Jo stick and Lennox’s
more prosaic sabot launcher, had been carried down on Optimus’s back. They would find it in the big truck’s cab along with the minimal necessities for human survival: food, drink, and personal communications gear.

Donning dark shades, Lennox adjusted the side flaps that were designed to keep out the Outback’s maddeningly persistent flies as he contemplated the sky. Clouds to the north, bright sunshine elsewhere. The temperature was mercifully and unexpectedly congenial. When transporting humans Optimus and his companions were perfectly capable of generating internal air-conditioning, as they had done in Zambia. Lennox disliked having to trouble them with such details. Such requests made humans appear even weaker by comparison, and were probably distracting as well. All of the Autobots’ concentration and energies needed to be focused on locating and destroying Decepticons: not on providing for the comfort of their human companions.