Transformers: Retribution (30 page)

“Uncouth in the extreme,” Xeros agreed quickly. “But useful. A Prime and the greatest gladiator in Cybertron’s history … with so much personal animosity between the two … No wonder the power gauges are already passing 40 percent. Such irony that it is their very skill in the martial arts that will help us destroy them. Which one do you think will prevail?”

“Do I look like I care?” the Curator asked. “Get Tyrannicon on the screen.”

T
HE
S
HARKTICON GENERAL STOOD ON THE BRIDGE OF
his flagship as the Curator’s face appeared on one of the dashboards. Tyrannicon saluted reflexively.

“Command and I obey,” he said.

“The energy threshold will be crossed within moments,” the Curator said. “Start your engines and stand by for the final attack order.”

“At once, my lord.” The screen went dark, and Tyrannicon began barking out commands. A rumbling filled the vast chamber as thousands of ships powered up. Each vessel was loaded with a full complement of heavy weaponry and Sharkticon warriors, and all were impatient for battle. Tyrannicon’s heart beat faster as he surveyed his armada. The fleet had been primed for combat for hours now, and everyone was hungry for action, Tyrannicon most of all; he hated waiting—particularly waiting on Quintessons—but like any good general, he knew that timing was everything. It would be the height of folly to let his impatience rule him when he was so close to his birthright, so close to fulfilling his ultimate purpose as a warrior.

“Open a channel to the fleet,” he said. He stood up and extended his massive arms. His two bodyguards stepped forward. One placed his ceremonial battle trident in his hand; the other presented him with the battle horn. His voice echoed across the fleet.

“Brother warriors! Today is the day that we etch our superiority into time itself. Suns may dim and planets may crumble, but the cosmos will know that we were here—that once we lived, walked, and conquered. When they tell their children the stories of the warriors who swept away their puny civilizations, they will whisper our names in awe and know that we were never defeated—that we are the ultimate fighting force. Now we fight the ultimate battle. When you hear my horn sound, follow me to glory. All hail!”

“ALL HAIL!” The noise rang throughout the huge cave. The underground lake on which the fleet rested glowed and flickered as lights flickered over the huge metallic hoop that dominated the entirety of the chamber’s far end. The lights started to move ever faster as the energy poured down through conduits from the city twenty miles above. The space bridge technology had been primed by massive infusions of Energon and fueled even further by the sparks of the Cybertronians devoured in the pit. Now it was being driven to still greater heights by the titanic battle under way above. The noise from both bridge and fleet was thunderous now. Tyrannicon stepped over to his flagship’s pilot chair and prepared to release the brakes …

“T
HAT
’
S STRANGE
,”
SAID
S
IDESWIPE
.

Hubcap glanced over. “What’s strange?”

“We’re picking up huge spikes of energy beneath the Sharkticon capital. So strong that they’re reflecting off the atmosphere. Easily discernible from the far side of the planet.”

“What’s causing it?” Hubcap asked.

“Don’t know. Teletraan-1 is still running scenarios. But it’s absolutely off the charts.”

“All the more reason to hurry,” Hubcap said.

“I know that,” Sideswipe replied. The last of the repair crews had reported in, and the Ark was as ready as she’d ever be. Teletraan-1 put her fighting ability at just over 81 percent. After the beating she had taken earlier, it was going to have to do. Sideswipe had set all the boards to green; they were hoping that the old girl was ready once again to do the impossible. He keyed the com-link.

“You guys ready back there, Sunstreaker?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” his brother replied. He was back in the cargo area with the main force of Autobots, completing the final checks on their weapons and swapping stories about the last time they had been in a tight spot like this. Overall their spirits were high considering the possibility that what was about to take place would be their final fight.

“Great. Now hold on; it’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

“The bumpier, the better.”

“Great,” Sideswipe said. He hesitated, then said: “Until all are one—”

“Save the prayers,” Sunstreaker said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

T
HE CROWD WENT WILD AS
O
PTIMUS SWEPT
M
EGATRON
off his feet with double blows from his swords. Both combatants were leaking oil and lubricating fluids from deep gashes in their armor. The weapons were razor-sharp and were inflicting devastating damage when they made contact. Megatron struggled to get back to his feet, adjusting his chest plate in an effort to keep his key components from spilling out. Optimus pivoted on his one good
leg to receive Megatron’s next flurry of blows, grinning as he did so.

“You’re getting slow in your old age, Megatron!”

Megatron quickly brought the ax up, clipping Optimus’s faceplate and sending him staggering. “Shut up, upstart! I’m done playing with you!”

Optimus spun to the right, but his blade hit nothing but air. Megatron was already shifting to the side, using his ax as a staff to deflect the next blow. Before Optimus could compensate, Megatron stuck his foot out and tripped him, sending him sprawling. In one smooth motion, Megatron raised the ax over his head and sliced it back downward in a crushing two-handed blow. But Optimus had already rolled out of the way, and then he was back on his feet again, one of his blades slicing across the Decepticon’s midriff, a blow that might have been fatal if Megatron had not stepped back in the nick of time. The crowd was approaching a state of frenzy. As the noise washed over the combatants, Megatron grinned.

“Seems I’ve underestimated you, librarian. You’ve become quite the soldier. I always said you would have done well in the pits had you started out there. You’ve learned much from me over the course of our conflict.”

“As always, it all comes back to you,” Optimus said sarcastically.

“Make no mistake, you’re going to lose. But I’m offering you a genuine compliment: I’m impressed.”

“Then let me impress you some more,” said Optimus, moving forward.

T
HE
C
URATOR WATCHED THE NEEDLE AS IT CLIMBED
steadily into the red. It was almost at the requisite threshold.

“Lord,” Xeros said, “the Autobot spaceship is on the move.”

“What?”
The Curator was as dismayed as he was surprised.

“They must have made repairs. Shall I order them destroyed?”

“We’re channeling every drop of power from the planetary rings to the bridge. If I back that off now, we might lose our window. What’s their heading?”

“Powering away from the planet at speed.” Xeros pulled up the projections, showing the Ark vectoring out from its current orbit, a course that would take it over the pole and out into space. The Curator breathed a sigh of relief.

“They’re running away,” he said. “A wise decision.”

“So we do nothing?” Xeros asked.

“Not right now. We’ll hunt them down and destroy them later.”

“By which point they’ll be the last survivors of their race,” Xeros said.

The Curator slowly nodded.

“L
ORD
S
TARSCREAM
,” S
OUNDWAVE SAID
.

“Yes, what is it?” Starscream said impatiently.

“We are picking up more energy spikes from the city.”

“You already told me that.”

“These are the most intense yet. There seems to be a generator of the first magnitude somewhere beneath the city itself.”

“Does this have anything to do with whatever’s going on in that building?”

“I’m not sure, lord,” Soundwave answered. There was a certain edge to his voice, and Starscream could guess what it was: Soundwave was getting tired of Starscream’s constant requests to keep studying the situation. Perhaps he was even starting to realize that Starscream was just trying to delay things so long that no rescue of Megatron
would be required because they’d get proof that he was dead. Starscream would far rather get a lavishly detailed report on the death of the Decepticon leader than launch the mother of all last-ditch rescue operations.

The doors to the bridge slid open. Headstrong, Rampage, and Tantrum stood in the doorway. Behind them were several more Decepticons. All looked more than a little annoyed.

“Why the slag are we still here?” Rampage asked.

“You want to leave?” Starscream asked him. “I suppose that could be an option.”

“We want to go rescue Megatron,” Tantrum rumbled. “And we’re tired of your telling us you’re ‘assessing the situation.’ ”

“One might almost think you didn’t
want
to rescue Megatron,” Headstrong said. The Decepticons crowded into the room, and Starscream had to think fast. He had a mutiny on his hands, and history showed that if one of those got out of hand, it could be a very quick route from command chair to air lock. But if you couldn’t beat ’em, it was better to just get on out in front.

“On the contrary,” he said. “I was just about to give orders to—”

“Lord Starscream,” Soundwave shouted. “The Autobots’ Ark has left orbit!”

“What are its coordinates?”

“It’s heading past the pole, out toward deep space.” A rumble of contempt rolled through the Decepticons.

“Fleeing for their lives,” said Headstrong. “Typical Autobots. Cowards, each and every one.” He looked at Starscream. “What was that you were about to order?”

“That it’s time to free our glorious leader!”

Everyone cheered. Soundwave prepped the controls while Starscream smiled outwardly and inwardly mulled his options on how to avoid being Megatron’s savior.
He wasn’t done yet. Friendly fire happened all the time. Especially in chaotic rescue missions.

M
EGATRON
’
S POWERFUL WHEEL KICK SENT
O
PTIMUS
skidding toward the edge of the gladiator pit with a huge dent in the side of his head. Through his blurred optics, Optimus caught sight of Megatron bearing down on him, dragging the ax behind him, sending sparks flying in all directions.

“Say good night, librarian!”

But Optimus leaped backward and out of the way as the ax smashed down into the floor, sending sparks everywhere. Optimus brought both swords down on the haft of the ax, slicing straight through it. The blade spun through the air; Megatron ducked inside Optimus’s guard and grabbed his arms, twisting, forcing the Autobot leader to drop both swords. It was hand to hand now. Optimus slammed his shoulder into Megatron’s already wounded chest, but Megatron grabbed his neck and got him in a headlock.

“Did you really think you could beat me, librarian? This is where it ends.”

Optimus suddenly realized that Megatron was almost certainly right. Now that the weapons were gone, Megatron’s natural brute force was giving him an advantage that was steadily increasing as he tightened his grip on the Autobot leader. Optimus felt like his head was about to come off his shoulders. He struggled to free himself but couldn’t. His optics were flickering, on the point of going out.

He did the only thing he could.

The Matrix of Leadership: He’d sworn to never use it again, at least not until he could defeat the Quintessons and purge the Matrix of the corruption they’d inflicted on it. But right now he didn’t need to ask it any questions. He
didn’t need to listen to it. He just needed to defeat Megatron. With the last of his strength, he switched it back on—and felt a blast of energy surge inside him. Everything around him seemed to glow. He grabbed Megatron’s arm, shifted his great weight, and flipped Megatron over his shoulder and onto the floor with such force that the whole room shook. Waves of energy pulsed across that floor.

Which then shattered.

T
HE
C
URATOR SPARED
O
PTIMUS AND
M
EGATRON BARELY
a glance as they tumbled into the pit. His focus was on his systems as they at last attained full power. The Matrix replica’s normal reddish glow changed to a bright white light that filled the entire inner sanctum. Xeros cried out as he covered his face to ward off the intense and burning light.

“We’ve done it!” the Curator yelled. “Now channel all power on my command!”

“At once!” Xeros said, recovering and rushing to the consoles. The Curator brought Tyrannicon up on another screen.

“G
ENERAL
T
YRANNICON
! I
NITIATE LAUNCH SEQUENCE
!”

“Forward for glory!” Tyrannicon yelled. He released the brakes, and the flagship thundered into motion, followed by the entire armada, all of them making straight for the vast hoop of fire that was the now-activated space bridge. Tyrannicon howled a battle cry as the fire filled the screens, engulfing his vision. He braced himself.

And then they plunged through.

CYBERTRON

S
HOCKWAVE FROWNED
.

A moment ago he thought that he’d at long last attained what he’d been seeking, that he’d successfully broken through to the core of Vector Sigma. But now the energy readings were going haywire. Lightning crackled over Alpha Trion’s prone form. For one brief crazy moment, Shockwave considered bringing Alpha Trion back to consciousness and asking him for advice on what to do. But he knew that that old relic would subject him to another stupid lecture, one that probably would contain the words
I told you so
.

Shockwave didn’t need that. What he needed to do was ride it out. He furiously made adjustments to the consoles around him and ordered his servitor drones forward into the glowing furnace that Vector Sigma was rapidly becoming. Shockwave wondered if it was actually possible for Vector Sigma to experience meltdown. If so, the incandescent mainframe might burn straight through the core of Cybertron, all the way down to the Well of All Sparks. Would it release Primus from his eon-long slumber? Would there be anything left of the planet? Shockwave had no idea. He didn’t want to find out, either. He brought up a screen showing the overload patterns and began to initiate fail-safes, trying
to damp down the overflow. But what he was seeing on the screen just didn’t make sense. This room wasn’t the source of the energy.