The Veiled Threat (23 page)

Kaminari had been waiting nearby for him to complete the interview. Standing off to one side, she amused herself by picking up small bits of debris. As he drew near, she opened her hand to show him her collection.

“See this dark, rounded mineral? Uraninite.” When Lennox looked blank, she elucidated. “Pitchblende. There’s uranium here, no question. Optimus was right about that. A really high-grade deposit, if most of it is like this.” Dropping the bulk of her specimens, she saved the best chunk and tossed it to the watching miner. He reached out as if to catch it, then let it drop in front of him.

Lennox frowned. “I can understand being aloof, but that was—insulting.” Bending over, he picked up one of the other stones Kaminari had dropped, turned, and chucked it directly at the bearded digger.
Not hard enough to hurt, but forcefully enough so that it wouldn’t miss.

Catching sight of the oncoming projectile, the man tried to dodge. He wasn’t quite fast enough. The golf-ball-sized specimen made contact with his chest.

It went right through him.

Eyes widening, Lennox let out a warning shout.

“Decepticon projection!”

As he and Kaminari whirled in the direction of the waiting Autobots, several things happened at once, and very quickly at that.

As Lennox’s lob passed through the figure of the miner with whom he had been talking, the figure instantly derezzed. Their disguise blown, so did the images of the other three humans working the site. Turning away from their “work,” the bulldozer and excavators came charging around the side of the pit in the direction of the waiting Autobots.

“Spread out!” Optimus was backing up as he spoke. “Be ready for anything.”

Something about the looming confrontation didn’t make sense, Lennox thought as he leaped up onto the diesel’s running board, wrenched open the door, and reached in to grab both his launcher and the backpack full of sabot rounds. In Starscream’s absence it was improbable that three Decepticons would attack three Autobots, especially if one of the latter happened to be Optimus Prime. They had to be overlooking something. But there was no sign of Starscream. Bracing themselves to meet the onslaught, humans and Autobots alike had no time for second thoughts.

“I’ll take the big one,” Optimus shouted. “Ironhide, you and Salvage the others!”

Muttering, the dually began to change shape and stance. “Optimus, why do you always leave it to me to look after ‘the others’?” Nearby, Salvage had already transformed. The slightly smaller Autobot moved quickly to his left.

“He’s not.
I’m
supposed to look out for
you
.”

Rising to his full height, Ironhide stretched his weapons-laden arms wide. “As soon as we have dealt with these metal toys, we will discuss in depth exactly why that observation is so completely inapplicable.”

Dropping down behind a pile of rocks, Lennox wrenched open the seal on the backpack, reached inside, and unlatched one of the self-propelled sabot shells. Setup would have gone faster with someone else to handle the loading, but he was alone and somehow he didn’t think Kaminari would settle for serving as his assistant. A glance at the budding battlefield not only proved that to be the case, it had him yelling again.

“Kami, get back here! Get under cover!”

“Sorry—can’t hear you!”

With her ready response contradicting her own words, she disappeared behind a small grove of scraggly red gum. It was a wonder, he decided as he hunkered back down behind his maroon-toned refuge, that when she ran her long hair didn’t get tangled up in the gorse. He had to admit, she had some guts. Although she could grate on his nerves at times, he had come to rely on the scientist almost as much as he did on Epps.

Then something blew up in front of him, showering his place of concealment with earth and gravel, and he was too busy to worry about eccentric female
Japanese cyberneticists who saw themselves as a cross between Sailor Moon and Sarah Whiting. The three Decepticons had also changed shape. Reflecting their choice of terrestrial forms, they were massive examples of their kind.

Lennox was familiar enough with Transformers by now to realize that the two excavators appeared to be twins.

Optimus recognized the pair immediately. “Trample and Tread. I thought you had died on Cybertron.”

The two excavators spoke in unison, giving their words an odd echoing resonance. “A lot of us did not die on Cybertron as you supposed, Prime. More of us have heeded the call than you know.”

“It does not matter.” Ironhide dropped into a fighting crouch as Salvage moved to try and get behind the nearest of the two identical Decepticons. “Scrap metal is scrap metal wherever it ends up.”

“Have a care for your
own
components,” Trample snarled.

Ironhide let out a battle cry as he charged. At the same time, Salvage came whirling in from the side. The four mechanicals shook the ground as they slammed together.

Closer to Lennox, the altered dozer boasted a formidable weapons array, and what had been its pushing blade appeared to now act as a shield.

“Surely you remember me also, Prime? You once called me a fool for following Megatron. But the universe is vast, and compared with some ancient powers, even Megatron is subservient. That power grows again, and against it none shall stand. We have here the means to revive our fallen leader, and when he sits
again in power, he will remember those who were loyal to him, even in death.” An arm terminating in a massive hammer rose high. “He will be pleased when I bring him your head.”

Optimus readied himself. “My head stays where it is, Kickback. Whereas too many of you Decepticons seem to have lost yours.”

“On the contrary,” the huge Decepticon growled, “I have on this world of soon-to-be-slaves at last found a use for it. As I have for this!” He brought the hammer arm around in a sweeping arc. Still standing some distance away, Optimus held his ground—until the arm suddenly extended to twice its length, forcing him to flip backward to avoid the gleaming mace. Swinging through the air a couple of yards above the surface, it crushed several of the tough gum trees as if they were carrots.

It was only a feint. The weapon Kickback had been referring to was not his hammer, but the device that had replaced it. Hollow, cylindrical, and ominous, it erupted with a strangely muted puffing sound. The resultant recoil was strong enough to send Kickback’s arm flying up and behind his back.

Looking on, Lennox saw nothing emerge from the gaping maw. No exhaust, no flame, no glow that might signify the discharge of an energy weapon. But several cubic yards of earth beneath Optimus’s feet suddenly vanished and the leader of the Autobots was knocked a hundred feet backward. The concomitant sonic boom hit at the same time. Even though the shaped sonic charge Kickback had unleashed had not been aimed at Lennox, its subsidiary force was powerful
enough to send him stumbling backward before he could take aim with the launcher.

As he fought to recover his balance, his gaze chanced again on the yawning open pit. Kickback had been working a bulldozer. From the first time he had set eyes on them, the sides of the pit had struck Lennox as unusually smooth. The Decepticon’s mysterious weapon was some kind of sonic blaster. As he peered over the rim of his hiding place, Lennox saw that the unusual nature and force of the blow had taken Optimus by surprise. Lennox was shocked to see that the upper portion of the left side of the Autobot’s chest now sported a conspicuous dent. Optimus’s internal restoration mechanisms promptly reinforced the armor behind the concavity, but the big Autobot now eyed his approaching opponent with increased wariness.

“What’s the matter, Prime?” Kickback chided his enemy as he strode confidently forward. “Getting old? Can’t take a hit anymore?”

Missiles roared from both of Optimus’s weapons launchers. One impacted harmlessly on the Decepticon’s massive shield. Aimed lower, the other blasted only dirt and rocks as the Decepticon leaped high to avoid the strike. Spinning in midair, he fired his sonic weapon again. This time the invisible blow struck Optimus square in the lower part of his chest, not only knocking him off his stride but leaving him flat on his back and visibly dazed. Landing lightly on his feet, the uninjured and confident Kickback advanced to deliver a fatal blow.

“Even the greatest Autobots get old and slow,” he sneered as he approached.

Fire erupted against his lower back and he let out a roar of pain and surprise.

On the move as soon as he pulled the trigger, Lennox was racing for the anonymity offered by a small, reed-fringed billabong. His flight was well timed. The chain of explosive slugs the enraged Kickback let loose tore up only the rocks where the captain had formerly been concealed.

“Insolent insect! How dare you! Where are you? Show yourself!”

Not this insect
. Hunkered down in the murky, stagnant water, only Lennox’s head and the business end of the waterproof launcher remained exposed.

Something skittered past his face. Experienced in the ways of forest camouflage, he ignored it. As the furious Kickback hunted through the now vacated rock pile in search of his diminutive foe, angrily tossing aside boulders the size of small cars, Lennox slowly swung the muzzle of the launcher around to bear on the lumbering Decepticon for a second time.

We bugs have to stick together
, he reflected as he pulled the trigger. He was on the move again the instant the round left the mouth of the lightweight tube.

The shell detonated against the side of Kickback’s head. Bellowing his outrage, the Decepticon forgot all about his tiny assailant as he flailed madly at the fiery burn on the side of his skull. When internal suppressors failed to immediately mute the searing chemical reaction, he resorted to a curative procedure that was as effective as it was primitive. Rushing to the billabong, he bent forward and ducked his head under the water. Steam exploded from the surface of the small lake.

As the sizzling faded, Kickback lifted his head. Ripples showed where a small portion of the metal on the side of his skull had melted and then cooled. As he straightened, his gaze happened to fall on a small, bipedal shape that was sprinting in the direction of the other ongoing conflict. His weapons-laden limb rose and took aim. Seeing this, Lennox frantically tried to reload.

“Goodbye, little insect,” the Decepticon growled as he prepared to obliterate the sprinting scientist.

He never fired. Something massive and heavy landed hard on his back. Raising an arm transformed into his longsword, Optimus Prime brought it down sharply. A sound akin to an electronic moan issued from the prone Kickback as the point of the Autobot’s blade penetrated Decepticon armor all the way through from front to back. Kickback lurched, bucked, and twisted, trying to throw his opponent off. The violent convulsive response was too little and too late. Holding the Decepticon down, Optimus struck twice more.

Kickback, severely injured, looked at Optimus Prime. “You cannot win this fight, Prime. Your small victory today is but a delaying action; nothing can stop the power that is rising. Decepticon rule shall be eternal, and the moment of your death will be celebrated for eons.”

A last decisive blow, this time piercing the Spark chamber, and the exceptionally resilient Kickback finally stopped moving.

The red earth on the other side of the mine pit shook as Trample locked arms with Salvage and Ironhide lit into Tread. Lizards, insects, and birds fled the
vicinity as the scene of battle was obscured by dust and flying grit. The twin Decepticons were giving a good account of themselves, Tread holding his own with the bigger Ironhide while Trample pressed his attack on Salvage. True to his name, the smaller Autobot was giving his Decepticon assailant a hard time by picking up and hurling at him everything he could find. Every time Trample prepared to leap or strike a blow he was hit by a rock, a small tree, or a car-sized clump of compacted earth.

“Stand and fight!” The Decepticon howled his frustration.

Salvage had no intention of doing any such thing. The Decepticon was bigger and stronger than he was, but Salvage was quick. Also more nimble. He wasn’t Jazz, but memories of that late, lamented Autobot gave an added boost to his agility as he danced all around the stymied Decepticon. Flinging everything he could in Trample’s direction distracted his opponent while the Autobot let loose with repeated bursts from his own weaponry. Dents and gashes began to appear in the Decepticon’s armor as Salvage pressed the attack. He might not be as powerful as Optimus or as experienced as Ratchet, but he was nothing if not relentless.

Nearby, despite his strongest efforts Tread found himself weakening in the face of the pitiless punishment being doled out by the implacable Ironhide. The Decepticon had taken a calculated risk in separating from Trample. From a tactical standpoint it seemed to make sense. As Tread he would fight the old Autobot to a draw while Trample took out Salvage. The two would then attack Ironhide from both sides with
enough strength to overwhelm the Autobot weapons master.

Unhappily, Salvage had proven a much worthier opponent than they had anticipated. With the other half of him not only still engaged but finding himself under serious assault, it was all Tread could do to fend off Ironhide’s unrelenting attack.

“I’ve maintained this multiple missile launcher in excellent working condition, don’t you think?” The big Autobot released a serial blast from the weapon in question that sent the increasingly apprehensive Decepticon reeling in retreat. “And this cannon—it’s a personal favorite of mine.” A heavy shell exploded against Tread’s left side, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Then there is the two-thousand-round-per-minute minigun. I invite you to listen to its music.” Hundreds of slugs pounded the Decepticon’s body from head to foot, forcing him to throw up his arms to shield his vulnerable optics.

He would not be able to sustain this kind of mauling for much longer, he knew. Intimately linked to Trample, he could tell that his other half was also in desperate difficulty. Something had to be done, and done quickly.