The Veiled Threat (22 page)

“It could be done,” the weapons specialist concurred. “Connection to an abundant external power source, if one could be found, could bloat an individual’s internal capacity to the point of overload. Of course, consequent discharge to another point of reception would relieve the overload and alleviate the danger.”

Lennox nodded slowly as he repeated the Autobot’s explanation. “ ‘Discharge to another point of reception.’ Like, to another Autobot?”

“Or to a Decepticon, yes. But there is no need to accumulate more energy than one of us can use. Each of us is amply powered by our individual Spark. Excess energy, like excess heat in humans, would simply be radiated away by our bodies. Yet I sense you are not engaging in idle speculation to pass the time, Captain Lennox.”

“Damn straight.” He turned a slow circle as he spoke, addressing each of the Autobots as well as Kaminari. “Consider what’s here, in this supposedly ‘empty’ part of the world. Uranium. For Decepticons, a potential source of more power than they need simply to live. Just as exists at the Kariba–Cahorra complex. Now, according to the maps and information I just pulled up, what underlies the whole eastern face of the Andes? Oil and natural gas. Another potential source of a big external energy burst.” He paused briefly to let his words sink in.

“Hydroelectric, fissionables, hydrocarbons. All vast,
concentrated sources of energy. All located far from populated areas where exploitation of similar resources would draw attention from nearby human residents. Localities where Decepticons operating undercover could exploit and draw on whatever they find. And the
only
thing that links all three otherwise highly diverse locations with Decepticon activity.”

“But why? To what end?” Kaminari challenged him. “The Decepticons’ energy needs are no greater than those of the Autobots, and we don’t see them hoarding great stores. Just enough for emergencies. Why would they need to overload themselves, as Ironhide just pointed out, with a potentially dangerous surfeit of power?”

Lennox eyed her fixedly. “I’m sure Ironhide’s right. They wouldn’t need the supply of excess power for themselves. They’d store it up for something else. Something incapable of renewing its depleted spark without an external boost, without a kick-start, from outside. Like a human needing a shot from a defibrillator. You’d need a helluva lot of power to do the same kind of thing for a Decepticon or an Autobot.” He looked expectantly at the leader of the Autobots. “Wouldn’t you, Optimus?”

The big truck revved its engine loudly before offering a single-word reply.

“Megatron.”

For a moment, silence returned to a particularly isolated corner of the Outback. It was broken by an intensely thoughtful Ironhide.

“Restoring a Spark by delivering a precisely focused burst of external power is theoretically possible.
One way would be via a combined, simultaneous discharge from a number of heavily over-energized Decepticons. But I am not sure the kind of concentrated energy required could be derived from human-based resources. Only your Large Hadron Collider might generate sufficient power, and it is being carefully monitored by NEST. No matter how clever the camouflage it might adopt, not even a single Decepticon could get near it, especially when it is in operation.

“I suppose a concentrated burst of stored power
might
be capable of reactivating a spark. But I calculate that even in a best-case scenario the revived individual would not be fully responsive. The need to conserve the transferred energy would result in a revivification that was incomplete at most.”

Lennox and Kaminari pondered the Autobot’s assessment, but it was Optimus who commented. “We have been operating under a false assumption. We have proceeded from the incorrect belief that Starscream holds complete control over all the Decepticons here on Earth. Therefore we have been seeking connections where none exist. The dam was just a trap; this is something different.

“Starscream is de facto leader of the Decepticons, but only because of Megatron’s death. He succeeded to the throne; he did not earn it. Due to the ambitious nature of the Decepticons as a whole, it will not be long before one or more rise to challenge him. His skills are formidable, but he would not be able to withstand a coup. It has happened before, as we Autobots well remember.

“He will need to prove his ability to hold that position.
He needs to establish unquestionable primacy for the Decepticons to continue following him. He can only do this by destroying me and the remaining Autobots here on Earth. That would be sufficient to uphold his claim among most of his kind. But failing in that, and happily so far he has, he will be tested.

“We must now anticipate that there are potentially two Decepticon factions here on Earth. Those loyal to Starscream, such as we found at the dam in Africa, and a rogue element seeking some way, however tenuous, to restore their rightful leader. Given his arrogance, I doubt Starscream even realizes the plot that is unfolding beneath his feet. He has always felt that leadership was his birthright; he does not even conceive that others do not share this lofty view of his vaunted self. While we can, we must exploit this lack of enthusiasm for Starscream’s new role.

“In the meantime, we must prevent the others from accessing the uranium deposits here, and we must then try to anticipate where they will seek it next.”

While the need for some kind of road to accommodate Optimus restricted their searching somewhat, the big diesel proved adept at negotiating even the narrowest cattle-driving tracks. A surprising number of the latter crisscrossed the area they were exploring.

It was not until several days after learning of the ferocious confrontation in the Peruvian cloud forest led by Sergeant Epps that they came upon the excavation. While Autobot engines raced quietly as the three trucks pulled over onto the side of the road, Lennox and Kaminari climbed out to examine the odd dark splotch that marred the slope of the hill off to the west.

Lowering his binoculars, Lennox found himself unable to pronounce judgment. “What do you think, Kami?”

She let fall the monocular she was using. “I don’t know what to say, Lennox. Previously I would have been all for charging in with weapons raised. Of course, that’s what we did at the suspicious site we encountered two days ago and I’m still not certain the innocent rockhounds we found camped there have wholly forgiven us, despite the hush money you were authorized to pay out.” She shook her head at the
memory. “That one elderly gentleman would still be chasing you with his pickaxe had not Salvage intervened.”

“I felt I had no choice,” declared the pickup from behind them.

Lennox hastened to reassure the Autobot. “I don’t think the old boy could have caught me, Salvage, but you did what you thought was best. Fortunately, since in your excitement you forgot to rez up a driver, he bought my explanation that you accidentally shifted out of neutral. And you barely bumped him. Thank goodness for NEST’s discretionary field fund.”

Kaminari nodded. “His anger level fell considerably when you handed him that money.” Once again she raised the monocular to peer through its precision eyepiece.

“It was my fault.” Ironhide’s deep voice echoed across the open plain. “Sensing the presence of radioactives and seeing vehicles on the site, I jumped to conclusions.”

“Any one of us could have made the same mistake,” Optimus reminded him.

“That is so. But any one of you did
not
make the same mistake. I did.”

“The important thing,” insisted Lennox, “is that no one was hurt. And that none of the weekenders noticed there were no drivers in any of you until you realized they were harmless and rezzed some up.”

“Hai,”
agreed Kaminari. “Also that they did not notice that the ‘drivers’ in all three of you looked exactly alike.”

“Salvage’s creation appeared suitable.” Optimus sounded nonplussed. “Given the need to generate an
image of a human driver quickly, neither Ironhide nor I saw any harm in copying his projection.”

Gazing across the spinifex-dotted terrain that separated the road from the oddly discolored hillside, Lennox shrugged. “If anyone questioned it further we could always have said that our drivers were triplets.” With a nod, he indicated the new location that had piqued their curiosity. “I find myself standing here wondering if there’s reason enough for us to announce ourselves to the operators of this site, or if we should continue on in the hopes of finding something more obvious.”

“If the Decepticons are still operating in this region they will take pains to be anything but obvious.” Trundling forward down the slight slope, Optimus paused long enough to allow the pair of humans to clamber up into his cab. “I perceive that the ore body here is especially rich, so much so that the residual radiation resulting from natural decay would make it an unhealthy place for humans to live. I think we should go ahead and investigate further.”

“I suppose we must,” Kaminari said as the diesel accelerated. “But if it’s just another bunch of weekend prospectors they’ll hit us with the same questions as the previous group.”

“We can say that water is required for our cooling systems,” Optimus ventured.

Lennox was doubtful. “They won’t buy it. Whoever’s working this site won’t believe that anyone except a complete idiot would take a truck into this country without adequate supplies.”

“Then confess that you are an idiot,” Optimus suggested
blithely. “Perhaps they will believe that. One way or another, we must get closer.”

“Let’s do it, then.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Lennox made an effort to lean back and relax in his seat. Behind it, his launcher waited in readiness. Just as it had on the previous pointless occasion.

Seated beside him, Kaminari had primed her weapon. At first Lennox worried that its presence might stir awkward questions among the outlanders. He need not have worried. As eccentric a group of human beings as existed on the face of the Earth, the few people who made their homes in the Outback tended to favor the kind of individualistic attire that reflected a blissful indifference to sartorial norms. Confirmation had come from one of the part-time miners they had encountered earlier.

Seen up close the nascent mine was more impressive than it had appeared from a distance. In addition to the cut in the hillside that had initially drawn them to the spot, when they arrived at the site they found that surrounding brush concealed a deep, circular pit. Instead of being piled up in one place as was typical for such diggings, scree and tailings had been trucked away from the excavation and spread widely across a nearby dry lake. Though he was no miner, this action immediately aroused Lennox’s suspicious. One thing freelancers and part-timers of any ilk were not inclined to do was spend any more time or effort than was absolutely necessary doing anything not specifically mandated by the local law.

Up against the hillside two big multiarmed excavators were removing soil and overburden while a huge bulldozer shoved the resultant rubble off to one side.
Concentrating on the work at hand, their drivers ignored the newcomers. Surely they couldn’t actually be mining uranium ore here, Lennox felt. Uranium mining wasn’t a small-time, family operation like digging for opals or sapphires. It required hundreds or thousands of workers and a full complement of heavy industrial gear. Then what were these people up to? He decided it was possible that they were working to expose an ore body in order to prove that they had a claim worthy of being purchased by some big multinational mining concern.

Descending from Optimus’s cab, he walked over to the bulldozer, to speak with the middle-aged man who sat in its cab. The miner did not offer any welcome. Instead he focused his attention on the vehicles idling in place behind the captain.

“What do you lot want here, mate?” His tone was less than welcoming. “Something wrong?”

Lennox peered past the dozer, trying to get a better look at the diggings. “You fellas having any luck out here?”

“Would somebody in my position tell you if we were?” The miner glared back at him unblinkingly. “Your mob is a long ways from anywhere.”

Lennox didn’t flinch. “I could say the same for you.”

The man jerked a thumb in the direction of the hillside. “This claim belongs to my mates and me. We work here. We live here. You don’t do either.” His expression narrowed. “You need to leave.”

“Okay, okay.” Lennox had heard enough. He turned to go.
Another useless detour
, he thought disappointedly. The belligerent miner hadn’t even given
him a chance to use his need-water-for-trucks excuse. “It’s not like we were expecting Outback
hospitality
or anything.”

The man raised and arm and pointed. “Plenty of hospitality about a hundred and ninety kilometers up the track. Rockhouse Station. Cold beer, too.” The conversation was at an end.

“Good idea.” Lennox offered thanks even though he and his companions had no intention of continuing along the main route—if the single-lane dirt-and-gravel track could be called that. Another forty kilometers and it would be time to take the first westward branching. If they could find it. Along with everything else, road signs were in short supply in this part of the world.