Retribution Page 17

  By talking to a subject in the middle of an experiment.

  “Remove consciousness locks,” he said to the drones that buzzed around Alpha Trion’s prone form, attending to the interfaces with the glowing mouth of Vector Sigma. “Reinstate consciousness along the following parameters.” He reeled off a series of numbers. Halfway through them Alpha Trion’s eyes opened.

  “Shockwave.”

  “Alpha Trion. I trust you are in no pain.”

  “Considering you’ve removed most of my external sensors, I’m far less concerned about pain than I am about damage.”

  “Damage,” Shockwave said in a tone so devoid of feeling that it would have made any psychiatrist in the room rush for the exit. “Damage. No. I have spared you that.”

  “I’m not talking about damage to me. I’m talking about damage to reality itself.”

  “Oh,” Shockwave said lightly, “that. Well, I wouldn’t worry. Reality has a way of looking after itself. But I will confess to some small difficulty in harnessing Vector Sigma.”

  “Small enough to make you seek my counsel?”

  Shockwave ignored the jibe. “I need your fail-safes.”

  “My fail-safes …?”

  “You’ve put a code around the core of your cortex.”

  Alpha Trion looked amused. “And you can’t break it?”

  “I’d prefer to have the key rather than force the lock.”

  “That’s going to be difficult given that I haven’t used any such codes.”

  “You lie.”

  “The only one dissembling in this room is you, Shockwave. Why don’t you tell me what’s really got you concerned?”

  “I just did.”

  “But you’re holding back. What do your energy readouts on Vector Sigma show?”

  “They are strange,” Shockwave admitted.

  “Was that so hard to say?” Alpha Trion chided.

  Shockwave fought down the urge to slap him. “There are surges in areas where there should be none and no energy in areas which should be awash with it.”

  “And what does that tell you?”

  “I thought you might be able to speak to that.”

  “How long has passed between you starting this experiment and now?”

  Shockwave frowned. “You mean to say you don’t know?”

  “You removed my consciousness filters. I have no idea.”

  “Consult your chronometers, then.”

  “All my monitors are frozen.”

  Shockwave frowned. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “None of this was supposed to happen. I repeat: How long has passed?”

  “Twelve hours.”

  “And besides the anomalous energy readings, what are you finding?”

  “That the structure of Vector Sigma is not precisely what I was anticipating.” He gestured at a screen; readings chased themselves across it. Alpha Trion studied them closely, and his eyes narrowed.

  “Someone is interfering with you,” he said.

  “You are interfering with me if you continue to obfuscate.”

  “Shockwave, put aside your egotism and listen to me. You think that I could be a back door to Vector Sigma, but once you open the door, it may be another that passes through it.”

  “I have shut down all interfaces to the rest of Cybertron. And besides, no one on this planet could possibly rival me for—”

  “What makes you assume they’re on this planet?”

  “What are you rambling about, old man?”

  “Think of the universe as a dark and endless forest, Shockwave. What you are doing is lighting a fire in the middle of it. You will draw in any predator that can see the blaze.”

  “We’re thousands of miles beneath the surface of Cybertron, Alpha Trion. No one can see what we’re—”

  “I’m not talking about visuals, you fool. I’m talking about the fabric of space and time. Since you persist in being so willfully obtuse, I will employ another metaphor. You are sending out vibrations like a fly struggling in a spider’s web. So do not curse me if I cannot tell you the identity of the spider.”

  Shockwave laughed. “You tell me fairy tales in the desperate hope of dissuading me from going further? I suppose it’s a step up from begging.”

  “I’m no longer begging. You are so blinded by your own narcissism that I doubt I can convince you of anything. But since you are asking me, I am telling you that this data is clearly being manipulated remotely. Someone else has found a conduit to Vector Sigma, and they are piggybacking on your efforts. That is why you must not resume this process.”

  “Nonsense,” said Shockwave. “I simply need more power to break through your codes.”

  “I already told you there are none. And as to power, you’re already feeding in as much as this room can stand.”

  “I will pour in still more. Break through your resistance and reformat Vector Sigma’s operating protocol so that I can override all—”

  “You are insane, Shockwave.”

  “Am I really?”

  “Not to mention impractical. Where will you get the needed energy? Overriding Vector Sigma would require ten times the power grid of Cybertron itself.”

  “I’m not intending to draw upon the power grid.”

  “Then you are talking fantasy.”

  “Dark Energon isn’t fantasy.”

  Alpha Trion looked at him in horror. “Now I know you’ve taken leave of the last of your senses.”

  “Said the Prime so long past his prime that he’s become a living relic. I have three heavy-class refineries within ten miles of this room. And many more than ten miles of pipes at my disposal.” He signaled to the attendant drones. “Resume the process.”

  “Shockwave,” Alpha Trion said as the conduits clamped around his head, “you would bring down all of creation just to satisfy your own ambition.” But then he fell silent as cognition left him once more. Shockwave smiled as the Dark Energon began pumping.

  “I would indeed,” he said.

  AND IN THAT INSTANT ALPHA TRION KNEW THE TRUTH of it.

  He didn’t lose consciousness down there. He just forgot it all when he was revived. Now he was a chained Prime, a tool in theory but bait in practice, surrounded by mathematics as the equations at the root of all reality spun about him. Somewhere out there a hunter was closing in, something so malevolent that it made the hostility between Autobot and Decepticon look like the squabbling of toddlers. Something ancient and terrible, half a galaxy away.

  But right next to him all the same.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  IT WAS MORNING.

  The roof of the Pavilion’s hangar slid back to reveal a verdant dawn sky. Jazz and Perceptor made a final inspection of the Autobot shuttle and then crossed the hangar floor quickly. They needed to talk to Optimus.

  Scarcely had they departed the hangar than the huge room’s far door opened and Megatron stepped into the room. Bemused Autobots paused momentarily from their task of loading to watch the spectacle while dozens of Decepticon warriors fell on their knees in front of their leader.

  “Hail Megatron!” they yelled in unison.

  “Rise!” Megatron said, spreading his arms wide. Starscream, who stood a half step behind his leader, tried not to appear bored as Megatron reveled in the pomp and glory. Things were going to change soon enough. Thundercracker stepped forward and knelt at the foot of his master.

  “My lord, we hear rumors of a treaty. Tell us they are lies. We hunger for war.”

  “Spoken like a true Decepticon,” Megatron said as he looked out over his minions. “Brothers! I know what you desire. But today we do indeed seek peace with our Cybertronian brothers.” He gestured to the Autobots across the chamber while a confused murmur went up among the gathered Decepticons. “I know that to many of you peace seems like an unexpected destination, but it is one to which we must venture. The future of the planet Cybertron depends on our mutual cooperation. No longer can we remain divided. When Autobot
and Decepticon stand side by side in battle, there will be no force strong enough in the universe to oppose us. No power shall stand in our way.” The last line drew an appreciative rumble among the Decepticons; this was closer to the red-meat rhetoric they expected from Megatron, who sensed their mood and figured this was a good time to wrap it up: “We will bring this weak universe to bended knee and make it realize who its true masters are. We were born to lead, and lead we shall. United we will rule for all eternity!”

  But the cheer that rose up from his troops was still a little muted. Nor could Megatron blame them. His soldiers might not be a hundred percent behind the idea, but it didn’t matter. The audience for this speech wasn’t the Decepticons but rather the Autobots. Before the assembled troops could ask him any embarrassing questions, he turned and left the room, accompanied only by Starscream.

  “Excellent speech, my lord,” Starscream said.

  “Spare me your flattery, dolt. It was the worst speech I’ve ever given.”

  “Very well,” Starscream agreed. “It was terrible.”

  JAZZ AND PERCEPTOR FOUND OPTIMUS IN HIS QUARTERS, staring out the window, deep in thought, watching the sun sparkling over the ocean. He turned in surprise to see his two lieutenants.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  Jazz placed his hands on his hips. “Telling you not to go through with this,” he said.

  Optimus nodded. He’d been wondering who would tell him that. “Right now Megatron seems to be abiding by the rules of the truce,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Jazz, “but for how long?”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” Optimus replied.

  “But what about the Quintessons?” Perceptor asked.

  “What about them?”

  “I still don’t trust them,” Jazz said.

  “Some of the energy readings from this planet don’t make any sense,” Perceptor added. “I’m worried you’re just stepping into a trap.”

  “We’re not stepping into it,” Optimus told him. “We’re in it already. Do you truly think I don’t see that?”

  Perceptor looked abashed. “Optimus, I didn’t mean—”

  “Of course you did. And you should. But here’s what you should consider: If the Quintessons wanted to destroy us, surely they could have done so already. The weapons in the planetary rings could have obliterated Ark and Nemesis alike and then rained fire down on those on the ground. So why didn’t they?”

  Jazz and Perceptor had no easy answer for that. Optimus gestured out at the ocean. “This planet possesses a technology more advanced than ours. And no sane bot wouldn’t be scared by that. But if this really is part of some greater game, all we can do is play along and look for some way to get off the board altogether.”

  “And that’s what you’re doing,” Jazz said, sounding utterly unconvinced. Optimus was glad he hadn’t mentioned the Curator’s offer to reveal the location of the AllSpark. That probably would have made Jazz laugh. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

  “What’s the situation up on the Ark?” he asked.

  “Sideswipe has the repair crews working around the clock getting the backup systems running,” Perceptor said. “And installing extra shielding to act as conducting rods. We think we might be able to vent the pulse back into space if they hit us with it again.”

  Optimus nodded. “Good. That’s the key. We have to get the ship operational. But I want you two to bring another shuttle down from the Ark and take it back into space. Before these negotiations are over, I want you back on the Ark.”

  Jazz was taken aback. “I don’t follow,” he said.

  “If this really is a trap, then the Ark might escape. But those of us down here won’t.”

  “The Ark will evacuate you, Optimus. Get you off the planet.”

  “Too great a risk. If we have to face Quintesson weapons again, the Ark is to make for deep space. Put this place in the rearview and never come back.”

  “No Autobot will ever abandon the Prime,” Jazz insisted.

  “It’s precisely because I’m a Prime that you will carry out my orders. Get Sideswipe on the com-link and tell him to continue repairs and monitor both this planet and the Nemesis. No doubt the Decepticons are thinking along the same lines, so we need to keep a close eye on them.”

  Jazz looked as conflicted as Optimus had ever seen him. “Fine,” he said. “But take some protection to the negotiations. Ironhide, maybe. Or Kup.”

  “The Curator wants Megatron and me to meet with him alone. Just the three of us.”

  “A trap,” Jazz repeated, practically grinding his teeth.

  “As I said, if it was, they could have sprung it already.”

  “But why do the negotiations have to be between just you and Megatron?”

  “Because that’s literally the only way he’s going to listen.” Optimus didn’t tell his lieutenants about the Curator’s offer to deploy somatic engineering. But that bot’s words had been ringing in his head all night. A way to influence circuitry … make Megatron more malleable … Optimus felt that such tampering would violate something sacred. But was it more sacred than peace?

  “At least let someone escort you down there,” Jazz said.

  “No. If there are distractions—no matter how well-meaning—it could upset everything.”

  “If you say so, Commander.” Optimus wasn’t used to seeing Jazz so reluctant to accept orders, but these were unusual times. And then there was the question of what would happen if peace actually became a reality … Perhaps that was the real reason for the Autobots’ disquiet. To have to acknowledge that they hadn’t beaten the Decepticons after all this time. To be forced to coexist with them … Were they prepared for that?

  “Don’t worry, Optimus,” said Perceptor as though in answer, “we’re ready for anything.”

  “I know you are,” Optimus said. “I’ll see you when I get back. Believe me, whatever Megatron’s got planned, I can handle him.” With that Optimus stepped into the elevator at the far side of his suite. Jazz couldn’t suppress a feeling of dread as the doors slid shut. He and Perceptor turned away, and even as they did so, one of Soundwave’s mini-cons silently landed on the roof of the elevator, an invisible companion to Optimus as the elevator plunged into the depths of the Pavilion and the answers the Prime was seeking.

  ON THE FAR SIDE OF THE COMPLEX, MEGATRON REACHED another elevator. He turned to Starscream.

  “All is in order?” he asked.

  Starscream nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

  “How go the repairs on the Nemesis?”

  “Almost ready for battle, sire. Even damaged it stands as a formidable opponent.”

  “And are the warriors I requested properly briefed?”

  “Of course. They are waiting as per your request.”

  “What about Soundwave’s spy?”

  “In position. Soundwave confirms that Optimus is on his way to the Temple of Peace alone.”

  “Very good. When this is all over, you will be properly rewarded, Starscream. You have served me well.”

  “Reward is not necessary, my lord. I have merely done my duty.”

  With that Megatron strode into the elevator. As the doors closed, Starscream could not help thinking of a tomb slamming shut forever.

  It was a thought he found immensely comforting.

  SKYWARP WORKED IN SILENCE AS HE MADE THE FINAL modifications to the cluster mine with which Starscream had provided him. The air commander had told him he’d stolen it from the Aquatronians. Skywarp didn’t give much thought to how he’d done that; undoubtedly Starscream had pulled another of his scams. No, he was more interested in the weapon itself, which he estimated was several times more powerful than the bombs he was accustomed to using. Starscream also had given him a detailed schematic of the Pavilion and precise coordinates on where the Curator would be. The fuse on the warhead would give Skywarp just enough time to teleport in, set the bomb, and teleport to safety. After that he would join the Decept
icons in the final slaughter of Autobots and Quintessons alike. He was honored that Megatron and Starscream had such confidence in him. There was no way the plan could fail.

  WATCHING THE TWO CYBERTRONIAN FACTIONS PREPARE for the peace summit, the Curator was glad he was nowhere near the Pavilion. Xeros pointed a long scaly finger at instrument readings alongside the main viewscreen that showed exactly how much Energon each of the ships had placed in its respective hull.

  “Their vehicles are fully loaded,” he said. “Seems they just couldn’t get enough of it.”

  “Don’t be so hard on them,” the Curator said. “Who could resist such a generous gift? The chance they would have left the energy behind was minuscule. All we need now is one last insurance policy.”

  “An insurance policy?” Xeros was puzzled. “But your plan is perfect.”

  “No plan is perfect,” the Curator snapped. “And while Stage One now has less than a 3 percent chance of failing, Stage Two’s variables still need strengthening.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “That we activate Tyrannicon.”

  Xeros paled. “Are you sure that is wise?” he asked. “That seems to be a bit … premature.”

  “The sooner we bring him into the picture, the better. If we truly intend to utilize him in Stage Two, this will be a suitable test of his leadership capabilities.”

  “It’s not his leadership capabilities that worry me. It’s that—”

  “Your concerns are well known to me.” The Curator looked Xeros square in his dark green eyes. “And utterly irrelevant.”

  Xeros stepped back abashed as an honor guard of Aquatronians entered the room, bearing a gigantic cryo-unit as though it were an oversized coffin. Ice crusted its windows, concealing what lay within. The honor guard set the unit down on a pedestal in the center of the chamber and left quickly. The Curator stepped forward and keyed in a security code. The cryo-unit started to hum.

  “You’re activating him here?” Xeros asked.

  “Why not?” The Curator gestured at the ceiling, and a hatch slid away. A sizable laser cannon descended from it and swiveled to aim straight at the coffin.