Transformers-Revenge of the Fallen

by Alan Dean Foster

  The chopper’s skids made a grinding sound as they touched down on the thick concrete.

  “All right, everybody—let’s rock.”

  Led by Lennox and Epps, the troops poured out of the copter and quickly spread out, keeping in contact while seeking cover. No one spoke. There was noth­ing more to be said, and any communication would come from their commanding officer and his assisting noncom.

  Flipping the visor of his advanced headgear down over his eyes, Epps hastily activated its integrated radiation tracker. The heads-up display showed him what he expected to find, in spades.

  “Lotta interference on this one,” he muttered to the man standing alongside him. “Gamma signature’s at four bars.”

  “Four?” Lennox added something under his breath. “You gotta be kidding me. That’s not what we came for. ”

  Behind them, one of the team members offered his own assessment. “Either it’s cloaking its signal, like in Rome, or we’re getting echoes off all this heavy metal.”

  Lennox nodded, pondering. Reaching a decision, he whispered sharply into his headset’s pickup. “Tell our four-by-four friend that he’s clear. ”

  A moment later another black truck appeared. A second squad of experienced soldiers scrambled out, the last one getting off just as the vehicle began to change shape. Bending, folding, rising into the night sky, it assumed the form of a familiar silhouette, scarred but unbowed. Taking a step forward, it crouched down wordlessly behind Epps and Lennox, looming over them. Neither man was intimidated by its proximity.

  Quite the contrary.

  Turning, Epps favored the new arrival with a wel­coming nod. The metal giant responded with a slow nod of its own. Epps grinned knowingly.

  “Let’s kick some alien ass.”

  Lennox’s tone was disapproving. “Epps, you’re getting cocky. ”

  The sergeant shrugged diffidently. “Sir, that’s just me, dealing with my fears about some classified, violent, otherworldly predator. Each of us has our own way of preparing for these encounters. Me, I like to get a little confrontational.” His tone turned serious. “Isn’t like I don’t know what’s coming.”

  Lennox started to say something, then just nodded tersely. Looking up and past the noncom, he regarded the metal shape that now blocked out much of the night sky behind them.

  “Ironhide, we’ve got echoes. Steel stacks, two o’clock.”

  The huge Autobot was peering past the much smaller humans, probing with sensors far more ad­vanced than anything they possessed. “He’s here,” the giant murmured softly. “He’s close.”

  “Then let’s make sure he doesn’t get far.” Raising an arm, Lennox gestured at the squad assembled behind him. “Move out.”

  Spreading out around the straightening, silent Au­tobot, the soldiers brought to mind ancient Car­thaginian warriors flanking one of Hannibal’s war elephants. Each man was prepared to defend himself but also to operate in support of the far more power­ful giant in their midst. Though the electronic eyes and sensors that were part of their gear were greatly inferior to Ironhide’s own, the Autobot could not in­vestigate every place at once. At such times an aggre­gation of humans proved invaluable, able to provide a plethora of supplementary search capacity. When even a second or two of additional warning about

  an incoming attack or possible ambush could prove decisive, an extra pair of simple organic eyes was al­ways welcome on the perimeter.

  This tactical methodology, involving humans operating directly alongside their Autobot allies, soon proved its worth. It was one of the human soldiers

  whose instrumentation first intercepted the revealing

  undulation. Halting, he lifted a warning hand.

  “Thermal ripple, three o’clock.”

  Instantly, every man in the group stopped in his tracks and turned detection equipment and weapons in the indicated direction. So did Ironhide, who had learned the benefit of having a multitude of human scouts. Silently, he broadcast an alert of his own.

  “Sideswipe, deploy ...”

  The corvette that shot down the ramp protruding from the rear of another semitruck seemed utterly out of place among the swiftly dispersing soldiers and their prosaic military vehicles—until it shifted shape into that of a particularly sleek Autobot armed not only with guns but also with a variety of Cybertron- ian swords. As Sideswipe rushed to take up position, Ironhide was already issuing his second order.

  “Arcee, guard flanks.”

  The triplets riding identical motorcycles rezzed once, twice, and winked out. The disguise they pre­sented had become superfluous as the Autobot al­tered, changing into her multiple yet integrated shape. Three single-wheeled killing machines now ad­vanced where the cycles and their simulated riders had formerly idled. As befitted Arcee’s personality and in contrast to her fellow Autobots, both the voice and the aspect of the tripartite Cybertronian em­anated a decidedly nonmasculine cast—though her words were anything but feminine.

  “Locked and loaded, Ironhide.”

  Deep within the complex, Ironhide advanced cautiously, flanked on both sides by alert and ready hu­mans.

  He’s close, he thought to himself. Truly close. But where? If their target was cloaking, he was doing an exceptional job of concealing his presence. If not for his own unique detection gear and that which had been devised by the humans, no one would suspect that anything boasting an offworld origin was any­where in the vicinity. Surely their target must know by now that he was being stalked. Yet the nearer pur­suit drew, the tighter their quarry’s cover seemed to become.

  Where in the name of the Allspark was he hiding?

  A sound followed, motorized and moving fast. Raising both arms, Ironhide turned in the direction of the rising noise. If it was to be a straightforward, head-on attack, then he needed to . . .

  He sighed and lowered his weapons as the ice­cream truck came skidding around a corner.

  He shook his head. “Twins, just ... try and stay out of trouble. Watch the big boys—and learn.” He looked around, searching the silent, dark human industrial complex. “This is no place for improvisa­tion.”

  Obediently, the truck puttered to a stop. The tin­kling musical tune it had been emitting switched off. As the two Autobots, one huge and experienced, the other smaller and new to the conflict, regarded each

  other, the human soldiers kept advancing. Detectors were signaling like mad as the squad closed in around a massive earthmover parked behind stacks of large- diameter concrete water pipes. The presence of kneehigh weeds suggested that the area had not been dis­turbed in some time. Still...

  The audible blip-blip of the tracker integrated into Lennox’s headgear was firing away at his conscious­ness like the drum machines that seemed to underlie half the music Epps favored. Something was causing the device to go crazy. But there was nothing here. Nothing but the earthmover, which gave not the slightest indication it was anything but a standard construction machine.

  Something wasn’t right. The earthmover was clearly not a Decepticon. Sitting in front of them squat, unmoving, and devoid of a single revealing in­dicator, it simply could not be a Decepticon.

  But, he realized abruptly, it could be something else. He took a sudden step backward.

  “It’s a reflection. A diversion!” Whirling, he found himself confronted by . . .

  ... a couple of local children. Their eyes were wide, their expressions curious, and their hands full of rapidly melting frozen treats. Turning to a couple of nearby soldiers, Lennox spoke through clenched teeth.

  “Guys, I ordered this district locked down. Get these kids outta here”

  Too late.

  Enormous cement pipes were heaved aside as the actual earthmover whose duplicated image had drawn the soldiers’ attention changed shape and came at them from an entirely different direction. Men dove for cover. Not all made it as crashing pipes were joined by the irresistible mass of the Decepticon known as Demolisher. Firing as they retreated, t
he squad scat­

  tered while Lennox swept up the stunned children and hustled them to safety.

  Rising and roaring in the midst of the open area, Demolisher struck out with his own weapons as the soldiers poured fire in his direction, spraying the enormous Decepticon with everything from sabot- tipped stinger missiles to portable SAMs. Rocking and rolling, it slammed into the steel beams behind which individual troops had taken cover, smashing the posts aside as if they were toothpicks. Screams and shouts punctuated the barrage of fire and the flurry of explosions as the men fought back.

  A second massive shape came barreling out of the darkness, slamming into the Decepticon and knock­ing him off-balance. As Ironhide locked with Demol­isher the frenzied barrage of human-directed fire slowed, the soldiers afraid to chance hitting their ally. With Ironhide clinging to his back, the Decepticon spun madly on his massive wheels, trying to throw him off.

  As the pair whipped in wild circles, sending con­struction material flying dangerously in all directions, a third shape came powering out from the place where Demolisher had been hiding. Lennox got a line on it as it shot past him without even bothering to send covering fire in the humans’ direction. Encased in the shape of a sleek European sports car, the De­cepticon Sideways sped from the scene as fast as his engine and wheels could carry him. Such determined maintenance of its terrestrial guise indicated that he was intent not on fighting back as much as he was on preserving himself. Fighting could come later.

  Right now, the smaller Decepticon’s objective was escape.

  Peering out from behind a still-standing steel beam, Lennox barked into his pickup. “Eagle niner, we’ve got multiple Decepticons! Track ’em—don’t let ’em get away!” Not far away, Epps was shouting into his own pickup as he leaned over a moaning soldier whose legs were pinned beneath a chunk of broken concrete.

  “Team members down, need medevac now”

  High overhead, helicopter gunships that had been patrolling the fringe of the search area began to close an aerial ring, tightening their range on the search. Keeping to as much cover as possible, Sideways tore through narrow alleys and beneath unfinished factory ceilings, all the while seeking a clear, clean exit from the scene of battle. Skidding sharply around a cor­ner, he emerged into an area of open unguarded sky and accelerated. He had not much farther to go before it would find himself in among more densely human- populated areas. There, his sleek but unexceptional shape would allow it to slow, blending in invisibly with the rest of the nocturnal human vehicular traffic. Not only would the Autobots be unable to follow him, but even if one spotted his presence it would not fire in the presence of so many humans and . . .

  There was a vehicle on his tail—a peculiar sort of blocky, unaerodynamic vehicle, brightly colored and much faster than his silhouette suggested. Sideways skidded around a steep curve, then angled sharply to his right, shooting down a much narrower roadway. His pursuer followed, but was ultimately too wide to negotiate the alley. Crashing, it split in two, each half rolling until it came to a halt. Pleased, Sideways roared onward, leaving the ill-considered pursuit in his wake.

  Changing shape, the pair of identical seven-foot- tall bipeds that had comprised the ice-cream truck de­scended into argument and recrimination, shouting at each other via a series of electronic hums, buzzes, and squeals no human could understand. Responding to an especially pointed expletive, one half promptly punched the other, knocking it flat. By the time the struck half hit the ground, Sideways was already out of sight.

  Ignoring them, the three sections that comprised Arcee came roaring around a corner to take off up the alley. Though no faster than the Decepticon they pur­sued, they were far more agile.

  They caught up to the fleeing enemy as he turned down still another alleyway. Unfortunately, this one dead-ended in an ancient brick wall—one of several that marked the border of the industrial park and sig­naled a return to one of the district’s original residential neighborhoods. Recognizing the barrier ahead, instead of slowing, Sideways accelerated—and changed shape.

  Bursting through the brick, the Decepticon tore through the living room of a small house and ex­ploded out through the far wall, changing back into his nimble terrestrial guise as he did so. One, two, three, Arcee shot single file through the ruined living area, closing on her quarry. Finally acquiring a clean line of sight, she opened fire on the fleeing target. Armor-piercing rounds tore into Sideways’s steel skin, tearing off bits and pieces and slowing him. As soon as they drew close enough, the trio leaped on top of the wildly skewing vehicle.

  That was enough for the frustrated Decepticon.

  Recognizing that at this point there was no way he was going to be able to slip unobtrusively into the still-distant flow of nighttime human traffic, he spun sharply. All three components of Arcee were flung off to smash into a nearby shuttered storefront. As glass and cement crumbled around them, the Decepticon shifted into his natural shape and brought his heavy weapons to bear, letting loose rapid-fire bursts in the direction of his unrelenting pursuers.

  In a trice, Arcee’s parts leaped acrobatically, com­bining into a single tall shape to return the Decepti- con’s fire. Not only was their new configuration more difficult to hit with weapons’ fire, it also allowed them to shoot down at the cornered Decepticon. Be­fore he could properly align his guns a new shape slammed into him from another side. Swinging one of his swords, Sideswipe slashed at Sideways, taking one of his legs out from under him. Lennox and his squad arrived just in time to see the target go down. Having lived through several similar seemingly optimistic sce­narios only to see them turn nearly fatal, the major was not inclined to lie back and relax.

  “Spread out! Triangulate your fire—pin him down!”

  Confirming Lennox’s caution, the cornered Decep­ticon let loose with a pulse blast from his primary weapon. Exploding outward, a bubble of highly com­pressed air rippled down the side street Sideways had just vacated. As the squad tried to avoid it, several of them were picked up, thrown forward by the force of the compression, and slammed into a flanking wall.

  As far as the Decepticon was concerned, the injured humans represented only collateral damage. The pulse had not been aimed at them: the intent had been to take out the onrushing Sideswipe.

  It failed.

  Charging straight toward the target, Sideswipe demonstrated the agility for which he was famed. Leaping into the air at the last possible instant, the al­tered Autobot soared over a second pulse blast, landed with grace suggestive of a cross between a prima ballerina and a twenty-ton battle tank, and re­turned the Decepticon’s fire. Moving to grapple with his attacker, Sideways found himself distracted by re­peated sabot fire from the surviving humans. Several shells struck at weak points. They failed to bring the enraged Decepticon down, but they succeeded in slowing his reactions and forcing him to contend with damaging fire from multiple directions at once.

  It was enough to allow Sideswipe to skate in be­neath Sideways’s weapons. Forcefully, the Autobot took his enemy’s legs out from under him and flipped him into the air. Sideways was still firing as he came down—right onto one of Sideswipe’s sword arms. The sharpened metal pierced the Decepticon’s neck from front to back.

  As their quarry writhed on the pinioning blade, Lennox was able to steal enough time to study his battlefield readout. What he saw made the hair on the

  back of his neck stand up.

  “Air support!” he yelled into the unit’s pickup. “Be advised—we’ve got one of ’em down and cornered. But secondary target is headed for the quarantine perimeter. Do not let it get past! Repeat, interdict sec­ondary target at all costs!”

  Grimly, he put away the readout and returned to

  the clash at hand. He could not be everywhere at once. The fight with Sideways was in hand and had been appropriately proscribed, but if Demolisher broke out of the containment area in the industrial zone, even at this hour of the night it would be diffi­cult to keep the encount
er under wraps in spite of the cautions that had been imposed on the local media. If anyone could keep the ongoing firefight under con­trol, it was Epps.

  At the moment, however, the sergeant was more concerned with avoiding the cloud of flying shrapnel that surrounded the other fleeing Decepticon. Some of it was a consequence of the fast-moving enemy’s own heavy fire, while the rest was being generated by the clutch of Eagle gunships that were pouring fire on the target from above. Their shells did not appear to be having much effect on the heavily armored Decep­ticon.

  As Epps looked on, trying to shoot and maintain cover at the same time, Demolisher leaped up onto an empty rail trestle. Did the Decepticon realize that the tracks offered a direct route not only out of the indus­trial zone but the quarantine area as well? If so, they needed to stop him, and stop him fast. Ducking back behind cover, Epps pulled his own battlefield com unit.

  “He’s found the rail access! Chopper fire’s not slowing him enough and those of us on the ground might as well be throwing spitwads! We need some­thing heavy over here!”

  Fortunately, “heavy” was already on its way.

  For such a big aircraft, the C-17 was surprisingly maneuverable. The few citizens out and about in the darkness who saw it come over low and slow paid it no special heed. Low-flying military and cargo air­craft were constantly shuttling in and out of the great city’s airports at altitudes that would never be toler­ated elsewhere. They ignored the big jet’s thunder and went about their business, Doubtless it was coming in for a landing to disgorge some special cargo.

  None of them had any idea just how special.

  As the massive rear cargo door opened, exposing the interior of the aircraft to the gleaming lights of the city below, the jumpmaster checked his safety harness as he edged toward the windswept opening. He was waiting for control confirmation from his pilot. The instant he received word, he turned and yelled.