The Veiled Threat (29 page)

After all, the sound of engines racing was far from unknown in Rome.

Deadend and Swindle were agile as lizards, but in
Rome’s narrow byways nothing could handle the ancient twists, turns, and thoroughfares as well as a bike. With something to prove, Knockout blasted beneath ancient arches and tore past silent shops without so much as disturbing a rosebush. In minutes he had cut across sections of the central city too difficult even for a racing car to successfully negotiate.

Deadend nearly ran him over.

“Meddlesome Autobot!” the modified street racer shouted. “Your death will precede that of your betters!” Transforming a front fender into a rotating cannon, the Decepticon unleashed a burst in the motorcycle’s direction.

Knockout dodged, and like much of the ancient city, the old apartment building the shells poured into was fortunately undergoing restoration. When they arrived in the morning, the local construction crew would find considerably more work awaiting them than they had left behind the previous evening.

“You jabber as fast as you juke, but that’s all you two are,” Knockout taunted them. “Nothing but talk!”

In response, Swindle accelerated and fired. Sections of pavement erupted skyward where his explosives hit home, but Knockout was already on the move down an abandoned alley barely wide enough to allow a human to pass.

“Where did the interfering machine go?” Cannon smoking, Deadend slowed as he and his partner searched the area. In the darkness their probing beams scanned crumbling stone and new brick. An urgent call clamored for their attention, but they were too preoccupied to acknowledge it. High overhead, a
circling Starscream fumed impotently as his sidetracked underlings focused on the diversion.

“The task at hand!” The leader of the Decepticons transmitted furiously. “Attend to the task at hand!”

“Terminate this one first,” the slightly larger street racer growled. “No midget Autobot mocks Swindle and keeps its Spark!”

As the cycle continued to circle the area, it, too, received a fretful call. “Knockout, this is Optimus! What are you doing?”

“Sticking some spokes in the Decepticons’ plan,” the Autobot replied. “And having a little fun at the same time.”

“This is not a game.” Optimus’s tone was somber. “You are outnumbered and outgunned. If they catch you in a crossfire—”

“They’re not going to catch me, period!” With that, Knockout’s engine raced and he accelerated once more. “I won’t let you down, Optimus. Not any of you.”

In the big diesel’s cab, Epps smiled and nodded to himself. “I always
did
have a thing for motorcycles.”

The tactical concern that Optimus had voiced had also occurred to the maneuvering Decepticons.

“I will take this road to the left. You continue forward,” Deadend muttered. “According to the roadway plans for this city, there is an ancient wall ahead. We will trap this insolent Autobot between us. At that point, even if he chooses to change his shape it will be too late. Ready your weapons.”

As the smaller street racer peeled off, Swindle un-limbered artillery from both fenders and sped up. Yowling street cats and the occasional stray dog
scrambled to get out of the way as the two determined Decepticons accelerated down different roadways.

Sooner than expected, the back end of a motorcycle suddenly appeared in Deadend’s sights. Without hesitating or worrying about the surrounding structures or their sleeping occupants, the Decepticon opened fire. A part of him was aware that Starscream was yelling at him from somewhere up in the clouds, but Deadend kept to his course. One shell after another just missed his target, but the bursts were getting closer as he refined his targeting. One exploded just behind and to the right of the Autobot’s rear wheel, sending Knockout into a wild skid from which no human rider could have recovered. The next shot, the increasingly animated Decepticon was certain, would cut the fleeing Autobot in half.

Trailing smoke, Knockout screeched around a corner. That last burst had to have wounded him, Deadend was sure, because though still moving fast his quarry was beginning to lose speed. One more corner and …

A Decepticon’s eyes could not widen, even when in its natural shape, but the street racer’s tracking high beams suddenly flashed red. In closing on Knockout, the eager Deadend had momentarily forgotten to maintain full awareness of his own companion’s wildly shifting position.

A moment was enough.

As Knockout slid sideways beneath a parked delivery truck, the two Decepticons slammed into each other head-on. At the excessive speed at which they were traveling, far more than fenders were bent. Circuits
were shorted and internal components shaken as unyielding metal met unyielding metal.

Quickly righting himself, Knockout cautiously eased out from the human vehicle beneath which he had taken momentary refuge. Neither Decepticon was moving very much. They would recover, of course. But being of equal strength, they had visited upon each other equal impact. Sure enough, as he looked on, crumpled metal began to unfold and renew shape. Bangs and creaks filled the small street. Those few humans in the immediate vicinity who had been awakened by the crash decided that in the absence of screams from any injured drivers the accident was now a matter for the police. Untroubled, they returned to their beds.

“Disrespecting … Autobot …” Methodically regenerating, a shaken Deadend stammered as he fought to regain his shape. “You … will … die slowly for … what you have … done.”

“I don’t think so,” countered Knockout as a towering shape appeared behind him. At the same time, Swindle managed to restore a missile launcher. Rising slowly, he took aim at the front of the motorcycle.

Appearing behind Knockout, the just-arrived and fully transformed Ratchet fired once and blew off the Decepticon’s reviving gun arm.

High overhead Starscream followed the fight as best he could. “Deadend, Swindle—get out of there! You forget yourselves! Move—
now
!”

The two Decepticons hesitated. Though both had been damaged by the collision, they were still fully capable of fighting. But Starscream’s fury, if not his direct order, persuaded them to comply. As Ratchet
tried to follow, the pair ducked down a side street that was barely wide enough for them to negotiate. Frustrated, the bigger Autobot could only retract his weapons as he and Knockout watched their quarry escape.

Bursting with hatred and frustration, the Decepticon leader’s cry flared on all Cybertronian communications frequencies.

“Optimus Prime! You and your inferiors have put down your last Decepticon! I defy you, once and for all eternity, to make an end to this conflict. I challenge you to single combat between us, the winner to assume dominance over this planet and its swarming organic hordes!”

Slowing slightly on the still-almost-empty Via Fiori Imperiali, Optimus directed his response skyward. “I accept your challenge, Starscream, though we Autobots seek no dominance or control over any other sentient beings. Name the time and place.”

“Here and now!” the thwarted leader of the Decepticons screamed. “Just ahead of you there is a large and primitive human structure in which, according to my records, human warriors once engaged in personal combat. It will prove a suitable venue for your termination! I await you there. You and you alone—lest you are too cowardly to meet me without the backing of your fellow Autobot renegades!”

A thunderous howl could be heard as the descending Starscream approached the Colosseum from the opposite side. Within the diesel’s cab, Lennox found himself conflicted at the thought of the looming clash.

“I don’t like it, Optimus. Starscream must know you can beat him.”

“In a calm and reasoning moment he knows that,” the Autobot leader replied via the truck’s radio. “But at present he is neither calm nor reasoning. Yet again his intentions have been frustrated, and again by the smallest member of our company. At such times even the most calculating Decepticon may give in to uncontrolled rage. This is an opportunity to end the war once and for all. And as Starscream himself points out, the venue could not be more appropriate.”

“Uh, you
can
beat him, can’t you?” asked Epps guardedly.

“If I did not believe so then I would not take the risk. There is too much at stake.”

Lennox shook his head doubtfully. “He’s planning something. This is Starscream we’re talking about. He may be daring, but he’s not stupid.”

Optimus’s confidence filled the truck cab. “Ironhide, Ratchet, and Knockout are all present. They can position themselves outside the ancient structure Starscream has chosen for combat and be ready to counter any kind of surprise attack. And,” he added, and both men were sure they could detect a touch of quiet satisfaction in Optimus’s voice, “while I said that I would confront Starscream unsupported by any of my fellow Autobots, nothing was said with regard to humans.”

“That’s right.” A smile crossed the captain’s face.

“You, Sergeant Epps, Kaminari, and our rifle-carrying friend Petr can place yourselves to best advantage within this structure. Should another Decepticon or more choose to meddle in the forthcoming fight you will be in excellent position to intervene.”

Epps was hesitant. “Our sabot rounds have an effect, but a couple of shells won’t stop a Decepticon.”

“You do not need to stop one if it intercedes: only to occupy its attention. Should that occur, then at that point Starscream will have abrogated the terms of our contest and my companions will be freed to engage. I would not want to be an intruding Decepticon should it find itself suddenly confronted by Ironhide, Ratchet, and Knockout all at once.”

Lennox nodded slowly. “This will be the end of it, then—as long as you can beat Starscream.”

“Have a little confidence, Captain.” Appropriately reassuring martial music began to pour from the cab’s speakers.

In the dark of predawn the outline of the ancient Colosseum loomed stark and uninviting, its pale limestone walls visible even in the absence of moonlight. Informed by local authorities who were in regular contact with Lennox and Epps that a secretive military exercise was about to take place in their immediate vicinity and ordered to seek shelter, the monument’s bemused but responsive nighttime security personnel rushed to vacate the area. None of them could envision the kind of gladiatorial contest that was about to take place on ground where thousands of years earlier desperate individuals clad in considerably less armor had fought and died.

Starscream arrived first, converting spectacularly from F-22 to full-fledged Decepticon as wings became legs. He landed with both feet among the ruins of the ancient floor. Rolling in through a far portal that had been enlarged many years earlier to allow repair and restoration equipment to enter the center of the stadium,
Optimus shifted into his towering, gleaming self. Outside, a quartet of seemingly mismatched vehicles spread out to keep watch. Within the stone walls the four humans grouped themselves together high up in the age-worn grandstands, taking cold seats on the two-thousand-year-old equivalent of the midfield stripe. As Lennox and Epps checked their equipment and each loaded his launcher with a hot round, Kaminari and Petr found themselves utterly absorbed in the looming face-off below.

“They should use swords and shields,” she murmured as she looked on in fascination.

“They might yet.” For once, Petr Andronov did not allow himself to be distracted by nearby arachnids, or the weather, or a tiny flowering weed that was growing out of a crack in the ancient stone. “We are privileged, I think, to be witness to a battle the likes of which has never before been seen on our world. Or even imagined.”

The Colosseum’s storied, much-bloodied original floor of sand-covered wood had long since decayed away, leaving the hypogeum, or underground, open to the night sky. The exposed ranks of parallel, crumbling stone walls and arches would make footing difficult for the combatants. The complex network of subterranean pathways, cage areas for wild animals, and staging platforms meant that instead of clashing on a level surface, the two armored fighters would have to negotiate, bash their way through, or leap over intervening barriers. Starscream was already maneuvering for position. As if reading Kaminari’s thoughts, one arm had transformed into an enormous, glistening, studded metal club.

“It is to be hand weapons then?” Optimus spoke calmly as the two combatants circled each other, both looking for an opening. His right arm contorted. When it had re-formed, he was wielding the same immense battle sword with which he had terminated Bonecrusher. “For once you make a fitting decision, Starscream.”

Starscream dropped slightly into a fighting crouch. “Yes. Just like old times on Cybertron. With one exception: now
I
am leader of the Decepticons.”

Optimus stared stolidly across at his enemy. “I fear your leadership will be short-lived. Even if I do not defeat you here today, there are already those within your own faction who plot against you, and to raise their old master.”

Starscream hesitated for a moment imperceptible to human thought. He remembered all too well his recent betrayal on Cybertron by the traitor Dreadwing. But surely those Decepticons who’d come to Earth had done so out of allegiance to him, Starscream? No matter. If there were more traitors among them, he would deal with them as he had Dreadwing. With extreme prejudice.

“Nice try, Prime. But you can’t deceive a Decepticon.”

Whereupon several simple mechanical latches gave way simultaneously and Optimus Prime plunged out of sight.

He had not detected the hinges because their workings utilized nothing of an electrical nature. No switches, no cables, nothing to which his electronically synced senses were attuned. Similarly, he had not thought to deep-scan the ground beneath his feet
because it was already riddled with innumerable tunnels and corridors and storage areas from hundreds of years of ancient digging and excavation.

In contrast, the void into which he plummeted was of recent origin. Though it was not particularly deep, he did not have the opportunity to prepare for the shock of hitting bottom. Instead the bottom was boosted sharply to make contact with him. So were the sides of the cavity. Unlike the recently reconditioned surface over which the taunting Starscream had deftly maneuvered him and through which he had subsequently fallen, the material that now surrounded him was metal and not stone. Massive, unyielding, well-forged metal.