The Earth quivered slightly as Optimus came up alongside him. His weapons systems fully deployed, Ironhide flanked the humans while Ratchet brought up the rear and stood ready in reserve. Frowning as he ran, Lennox looked around anxiously.
“Where are the others? Salvage and Beachbreak?”
The African sun glinted off bright lenses as Optimus looked down at him. “Hurrying to position themselves, according to my instructions. If all goes well their assistance may not be needed.” The Autobot’s gaze rose to lock on the hulking bipedal shapes that were presently attempting to cross the river. “It seems that we are three against three, but when two of those three are myself and Ironhide, the odds are very different from the actual numbers.” Incredibly advanced visual perceptors focused. New imagery was matched against old memory.
“We are facing Macerator and Dropkick. They are good fighters, but can be taken. Payload will be more of a problem, as his area of expertise is akin to that of Ironhide.”
As Kaminari and Petr hurried to try and keep up, Ironhide rumbled expectantly.
“Akin to, perhaps, but far from equal.” Raising his voice, he bellowed a challenge across the white water. “Payload! Inheritor of futility! Turn and fight!”
That was Ironhide, Lennox thought as he ran. Never one to mince words. Only opponents.
The nearest Decepticon was quick to turn and respond. “Ironhide! It will be a pleasure to watch your component parts detonate one by one!” This comment was punctuated by a puff of smoke from the vicinity of the challenging Decepticon’s left shoulder.
“Incoming!” Epps shouted a warning as he dove for the nearest pile of water-worn, car-sized boulders. Payload’s missile landed just behind them. The ground where it struck shook as it vomited sand and dirt skyward.
Shells and missiles tore into air, earth, and water as the three Autobots advanced into the roaring river to engage their Decepticon counterparts, each combatant seeking a weak spot on the part of the other. Meanwhile the humans had been forced to halt on the riverbank. While Petr knelt and began making adjustments to the peculiar gun he carried, Kaminari could only watch and wait in nervous anticipation.
“Why do they have to fight in the river? Why can’t they come over here? I can’t reach any of them this way!”
Petr glanced up at her. “What—can’t you swim?”
“Look at this river, you idiot! Look at the way the current is flowing. This isn’t some gently meandering Siberian salmon stream. This is the Zambezi! Besides the current, it’s full of hippopotamuses and crocodiles.”
“Not at the moment.” He pointed.
It was true. From where they stood on the riverbank it looked as if every living thing within half a kilometer was racing to get as far as possible away from the scene of battle. Hippos, crocs, buffalo, even elephants were fleeing upriver or into the bush, leaving the water to the half dozen towering mechanical combatants.
Lennox hurried to activate the launcher he carried. Despite Optimus’s confident claim, the initial stages of the fight did not appear to be going nearly as well for the Autobots as their leader had envisaged. For one thing the river here was fast and deep enough to inhibit the movements of Autobot and Decepticon alike. Had that been the Decepticons’ plan all along: to lure their opponents into the water, hoping that it would equalize the odds? If so, either Optimus had not considered the current and depth factors, or else he was convinced he and his comrades could overcome them. After all, the Zambezi was nobody’s ally. It slowed Decepticon and Autobot alike. It also made it much more difficult for Lennox to lock onto a target with his own weapon.
The tube he was balancing on his right shoulder was a modified Stinger ground-to-air missile launcher. Unlike its predecessors, which were designed to be discarded once used, the lightweight titanium-and-carbon-fiber device the captain struggled to aim could be reused multiple times. That was important because Epps’s backpack contained a dozen highly compact self-propelled rounds. Each was tipped with the new armor-penetrating sabot round that had been developed by American and Israeli members of NEST working in conjunction with Ironhide. At NEST’s underground testing range on Diego Garcia, the two men had had plenty of practice in firing the new weapon.
Unfortunately, none of it had involved firing at a target that was locked in close physical combat with an ally in the midst of a wide, fast-flowing tropical river.
“Loaded and locked!” Slamming the back of the launcher shut, Epps gave the captain a slap on the shoulder to indicate that he could fire at any time. While the launcher’s weight had been pared to the minimum it was still considerably more difficult to aim than, say, an ordinary rifle. Furthermore, the Zambezi’s flow was powerful enough to push all six combatants steadily downstream.
“Fire—Captain, sir!” Epps shouted.
“I can’t get a clean line!” Lennox glanced up from the launcher’s electronic tracker. “Every time I get a clear sight, one of our guys stumbles into the viewfinder and I have to reset.” Shouldering the launcher, he found himself scrambling to keep pace with the ongoing battle, running along the shoreline or jumping from rock to rock. Picking up the backpack full of shells, Epps followed.
Out in the middle of the river, cannon fire and missiles had given way to hand-to-hand fighting. The bots were massive and heavy, but the Zambezi was stronger, especially out in the center of the current where the water was deepest. Optimus and Ironhide were locked in combat with the two largest Decepticons, Macerator and Payload, while Ratchet engaged Dropkick. Every time one of the Autobots tried to disengage in order to fire a weapon, its corresponding foe would leap forward to wrestle it back into the water. To Lennox it looked as if the Decepticons were not trying to strike debilitating blows so much as they were fighting some kind of incomprehensible holding action.
To what end? It struck the increasingly winded Lennox as a losing strategy. Each time a Decepticon attacked, the Autobot he was confronting had time to adopt a solid defensive stance. By now Ratchet had suffered only a few glancing blows while Ironhide and Optimus were largely unhurt. In contrast, one of Dropkick’s arms was hanging loose. As for the belligerent Payload, unable to bring his heavy integrated weapons systems to bear, he was being ferociously pounded by his relentless counterpart Ironhide. And despite absorbing one crushing blow after another, Macerator clung tenaciously to Optimus, seemingly indifferent to the damage that the leader of the Autobots was inflicting. While the outcome of the clash was far from decided, it was apparent to anyone that the Decepticons were losing, as a group as well as on an individual basis.
Then Payload let go of Ironhide, swept around in a wide circle, and slashed with all his strength. Ironhide did his best to dodge the blow. On land it would have missed completely. But the water shoving him downstream interfered with his footing. Fluids spurted and the Autobot staggered.
“Damn it.” Cursing softly, Lennox dropped to a crouch and tried to steady the launcher. The combatants were even farther away now and the roar of the rushing river much louder where he had stopped. Furthermore, the slowly drifting fighters were approaching a fog bank that made singling out potential targets even more difficult. If the battle was swallowed up by the fog, then …
An inability to successfully lock onto a target was not the only reason the captain suddenly straightened. “Oh my God,” he muttered in abrupt recognition. An anxious Epps came up alongside him.
“What is it, Captain? What’s wrong?”
Lennox didn’t look over at the tech sergeant. His gaze was mesmerized by the mist that was about to envelop the mechanical combatants.
“I just realized how far downriver we’ve come.”
He was about to elaborate when a sound between a roar and a hiss caused both soldiers to look upstream. Something was rocketing in their direction, moving fast and sending up a fishtail of water behind it.
Beachbreak, finally in his element. And he wasn’t alone.
Seated in the driver’s seat but freed from any need to
steer was a sweating Petr Andronov. Despite the rocking and bouncing, he was trying to balance something on the stealth Jet Ski’s front. Lennox was able to make out the strange weapon the Russian had brought with him. Seated directly behind him in the passenger’s seat was Kaminari Ishihara. As the two men on shore looked on aghast, despite the danger she rose to a standing position and began sighting her own weapon.
Putting down the launcher, a frantic Lennox began waving his arms to try and draw attention to himself. Not from the new arrivals, who thanks to Beachbreak’s abilities were reasonably safe, but in an attempt to alert the other Autobots. It was becoming increasingly, dangerously clear why the Decepticons had chosen to forgo the use of heavy weaponry in favor of hand-to-hand combat. Their choice had nothing to do with tradition, custom, or an inbuilt need to physically demolish their opponents.
They were not called Decepticons for nothing.
Ratchet was first to realize the gravity of the changed circumstances and try to break off the fight. Turning, he began struggling against the current as he fought to make his way toward the shore where the two human soldiers continued to gesticulate wildly. Dropkick fired one shot after him. On land it would have struck the retreating Autobot square in the lower back. In the river, however, the force of the detonation was swallowed up by the now raging, foaming current that reached to Ratchet’s shoulders. Frustrated but realizing that pursuit would expose him to whatever surprise the land-based humans might have waiting, the Decepticon also turned away and began fighting to make his way to the opposite bank.
Farther downstream, Payload and Ironhide were still locked in combat. With one shoulder damaged, Ironhide was having a hard time fending off the increasingly potent attacks of his enemy. Payload was reaching back to deliver still another ferocious blow when suddenly he began to twitch, then to shake violently. Turning and looking down, he saw that something had attached itself to his left side. As he reached for it, Petr fired his weapon again. A second small flat object fastened itself to the Decepticon’s flank, at which point Payload’s contortions intensified. Bringing down his massive fist, he tried to pulverize the small craft that was racing back and forth just upstream from where he was standing. But the Jet Ski was far too agile, and the intended deadly blow crushed only water.
As the Decepticon’s fist descended beneath the surface of the river, Beachbreak zoomed in anew. The Russian was reloading, but nothing prevented Kaminari from leaning dangerously over the side. Clinging with one hand to her grip on Beachbreak’s back, she extended herself as far as possible and fired her EMP. She and the designers she had worked with at Tsukuba hoped that the sharp pulse generated by the device would be capable of interrupting the energy flow of any internally powered machine. It had only been built with the aid of computer simulations, however. Trying it against something as powerful and alien as a Transformer was not like testing it in a lab.
Payload reacted as the pulse hit his right leg. Though the contact impacted no vital circuits or components, it was powerful enough to generate the mechanical equivalent of a brief muscle spasm. This proved irritating enough that despite the orders he had been given he broke off the fight. Twitching and jerking from the effects of Petr’s rifle and Kami’s blast, and having to make a conscious effort to maintain his balance, he turned and tottered off in Dropkick’s wake.
Once again free of restraining Decepticon arms, Ironhide prepared to unlimber his heavy weapons. He would have a clear shot at the retreating Payload’s back. But before he could ready himself, much less take aim, he was confronted by Beachbreak and the smaller Autobot’s two human passengers.
“Get back, get back to shore!” Kaminari was yelling at him.
“Why?” The big Autobot looked longingly at Payload’s unsteady flight. “I can follow and finish him.”
“If you don’t get out of this current you’ll be finished yourself!” Kaminari gestured into the mist that had already swallowed Optimus and Macerator.
“She is telling you the truth. We must get clear of this place.” Having divested himself of that warning, Petr regarded his small rifle with satisfaction. “My colleagues will be pleased. This really does disrupt Decepticon internal current flow.”
The Autobot weapons specialist hesitated a moment longer. Then, with a last reluctant look at the stumbling, fleeing Payload, he turned and started toward the shore where the humans Lennox and Epps were jumping up and down and waving at him frantically. What was upsetting them so? Even if they had not destroyed the opposing Decepticons, at least two of them had been seriously damaged and before the fight was over Optimus would surely put an end to Macerator. Ironhide looked into the mist but in his haste could not see either his leader or the clinging Decepticon.
It was indeed difficult to advance against the current. More so than he had anticipated. How many Earthly rivers commanded such an imposing flow? One that seemed to increase with every step. Startled, he discovered that he could not make any progress against the current. He was holding his ground, but he was not moving forward.
“Here!” A metal cable appeared, unreeling from the back of Beachbreak.
Divining his comrade’s intent, Ironhide grasped it with both hands. The smaller Autobot was noted for his agility, not for his strength, but despite his unpretentious size he boasted a powerful internal engine. It roared full-out now.
Slowly, progressively, and with Beachbreak’s help, Ironhide was able to raise a leg and put one foot forward. Then another, and another. The closer they came to the riverbank, the lighter the current became, until at last Ironhide was able to let go of the cable and proceed the rest of the way through the water on his own. As the bigger Autobot emerged from the river, Beachbreak spun around to allow first Kaminari and then Petr to jump off onto the bank.
Eyeing the peculiar rifle the man was holding, Epps immediately confronted his Russian colleague. “What the hell does that thing shoot, anyway? I didn’t see any explosions.”
“It’s a battery-powered gun that fires—batteries. More or less.” Petr proceeded to explain. “Coated in special adhesive, they attach themselves to a Decepticon and instantly deliver a full discharge. You would be astonished at the amount of energy that can be crammed into a battery pack these days. Enough to at least momentarily disrupt a Decepticon’s internal flow.” Turning, he squinted across the river. “The discharge is not enough to kill one, but rendering it unstable allows other, more lethal weapons to more easily be brought to bear. Not to mention those mounted by an Autobot.”
“I could have finished Payload.” Looming over them, water and dark green plants dripping from his limbs and sides, Ironhide gazed longingly across the river. Then his eyes dropped to Kaminari. “That was a fine blow you struck.”
She bowed slightly. “Thank you. But it was more important to save you.”
“Save me?” Had he possessed the appropriately flexible features, Ironhide would have frowned. “Save me from what? Being swept downriver? I would eventually have regained control and made my way to shore.”
“Not necessarily.”
The Autobot’s attention shifted to the captain, then back to the river and the mist that now completely obscured its surface off to their left. “Where is Optimus? And Macerator? Have they been swept downstream?”
“Worse than that, I’m afraid.”
A new sound drew his attention and he looked upward, squinting into the sun. An aircraft was approaching from somewhere over the distant low hills. As it drew closer the captain was able to make out the silhouette. Not civilian. Definitely military. Swept-back wings, sleek fuselage, twin engines. He knew he should not have been surprised.
Starscream had arrived. Just as Optimus and Macerator, locked together in hand-to-hand combat, were about to be swept over the rim of Victoria Falls.
The dense, swirling mist obscured everything except the Decepticon he was fighting. Something about this contest was not right, Optimus reflected even as he aimed another powerful blow at his opponent�
�s head. Macerator had ample opportunities to strike back, yet the thickset Decepticon was not taking advantage of them. His only objective seemed to be to hold as firmly to his enemy as possible.
Concentrating on the fight, Optimus did not realize that the intensifying roar that had enveloped them along with the mist had grown far too loud to be generated by the river alone, no matter how fast its flow or how great its volume. There had to be another source. It revealed itself seconds later, too late for him to do anything about it. In any case, the forcefully clinging Macerator would not permit it.
“Victory!” The Decepticon let out a triumphant yell as, entwined together, they tumbled over the edge of one of the most formidable waterfalls on the planet and plunged downward into a rocky gorge of unsurpassed danger.
At virtually the same time a roar of a different kind could be heard, just loud enough to make itself audible above the thundering waters. Finally releasing his grip on his opponent, Macerator pushed himself away. As they tumbled in tandem, Optimus could see the Decepticon falling downward just to his left. And then …
Then he was gone, snatched clear of the water by a streaking aircraft whose outlines he knew only too well. As Starscream bore Macerator away to safety, the bellowing of the Decepticon’s engines left in their wake an echo of mocking laughter. Attempted along the face of nearly any other great waterfall on Earth, the split-second rescue would have been impossible. But the gorge into which Victoria Falls spilled was a straight line nearly a mile and a half long. Plenty of room to allow Starscream to line up on his target, dive down, cruise along the face of the falls, fine-tune his position, and snatch the tumbling Macerator from destruction on the water-pounded rocks below.
The Veiled Threat Page 8
