by Peter David
I affix it to myself. It takes a moment to power up, and then the thrusters kick in. Within moments I am airborne.
v
(The Driller reaches the top of the building. There is nowhere else for it to go. It feels cramped within the confines, and its tentacles reach out in all directions. It requires room to see what it is doing and so makes some through the simple expedient of ripping off the top twenty or so floors. The entire section of the building tumbles with a howl of twisting metal and shattering glass, slamming down onto the roof of a building across the street. It leans awkwardly against it, glass falling everywhere, and winds up sagging like a fallen tree but still remaining miraculously intact.)
(Paying it no mind, the Driller emerges, looking around and down.)
(How fortuitous.)
(The troublesome humans are down below, in the section that has just been knocked aside.)
(They are clutching on to whatever they can, since they have no floor: pieces of columns projecting from the ceiling, stray dangling wires. Anything and everything they can. But they will not be able to do so indefinitely.)
(Still … why let them dangle there, far above the ground, waiting for the inevitable? Why not simply dispose of them now?)
(The Driller moves toward them, preparing to slap them from their perches, ending this farce.)
(Let no one ever say that the Decepticons are not merciful.)
vi
“I won’t let you fall! I won’t let you fall!” Sam was shouting.
The grappling glove of the late, great Wheeljack was the only thing allowing Sam to cling, batlike, to the remains of the support column.
He had no idea how the thing worked. Whether it was static electricity or a zillion little suction cups or whatever. But the surface and texture of the material permitted him to hold on to a perch that should never have sufficed.
Unfortunately, he had only one, and the other hand was grasping on to Carly’s wrist. She dangled below him, a sheer drop yawning beneath them. He tried not to think about the fact that the muscles in his shoulder were screaming at him, or that his arm was starting to cramp up, or that his palm was starting to get sweaty. He just needed to hold on to her until …
Until what?
He spotted a fire escape attached to the building that they were leaning against. He wasn’t sure if it was too far or not, but it might provide hope for Carly if he could get enough momentum before—
Then he saw the Driller emerging from the remains of the building across the way, coming straight at them.
Oh, God …
Carly’s back was to what Sam was seeing, but she saw the terrified look on his face. She must have realized that he was seeing nothing good, yet she didn’t twist around to try to see it. That was fortunate, because Sam would almost definitely have lost his grip on her.
Instead she screamed up at him, “Sam! I love you!”
He thought, Now? This is what it took?
“I love you, too!” he shouted back. “But your timing sucks!”
And as the Driller moved toward them, preparing to finish them off, that was when shots exploded against its surface, causing it to rear back and howl in protest.
“Optimus!” Sam shouted.
The mighty Prime dived toward the Driller, continuing to fire away at it with his onboard weaponry. The Driller writhed and screeched, its attack on the humans seemingly forgotten.
Sam took the opportunity being presented to him before his arm gave out entirely. He swung her back and forth, shouting, “The fire escape!” so she would know what the hell he was doing. She cast her glance toward it, and then Sam saw the Driller twisting away from Optimus and trying to resume its heading toward the humans. Now or never, he thought, and released her, praying that he’d built up enough momentum.
She came up short of the fire escape, banging into it and almost tumbling away toward the street. She reached up desperately, and her fingers wrapped around the railing at the last second. With a grunt, Carly pulled herself up and found safety—a relative term, to be sure—on the landing of the fire escape.
But that left Sam, Epps, and the mercs still dangling perilously, and the Driller was making another attempt to move toward them. Sam wasn’t particularly inclined to admire the creature, but if he were going to, it would be for its single-mindedness.
Optimus swung around again and fired another series of concentrated blasts just behind the thing’s head. Apparently that was some sort of weak spot, because the Driller writhed and twisted as it hadn’t before, howling like the damned. Then it collapsed, flopping about helplessly, even pathetically, before the spasms finally ceased.
Then, from below, he heard, “Need some help?”
Below, on street level, was Mirage. He was already lowering Carly gently to the street and now started climbing up the side of the adjacent building so he could get to the others. “Unless you just want to keep hanging around.”
Within seconds Sam and the rest of the group were safely down on the ground. Hardcore Eddie looked like he was ready to kiss the sidewalk.
Sam couldn’t believe it. For once—for once—things were going their way.
Suddenly Mirage was yanked upward, off his feet. Looming behind him was Starscream, one arm across Mirage’s chest and the other across his neck, immobilizing him.
“Run!” Mirage managed to get out.
“I never had much patience for you,” Starscream said to Mirage. “You were the one who preferred hiding to fighting. You should have stayed hidden.”
With one quick twist he ripped Mirage’s head clear of his shoulders. Then he tossed the head aside, allowing the lifeless body of the Autobot to slump over. He looked around for the humans.
They had taken the advice of Mirage’s last word.
It would do them no good.
vii
(Shockwave is furious. It was not supposed to happen this way. Optimus was supposed to have been destroyed by his troops. The Driller was supposed to kill the humans. The slate of their greatest opposition was to be wiped clean in preparation for the impending triumph of the Decepticons.)
(Yet now the Prime had shown up and killed the Driller before it could finish disposing of the humans?)
(“Outrage!” says Shockwave. He targets the damnable Prime who is hurtling through the air toward the humans—those precious, infuriating humans—and fires. The blast is well aimed. It destroys part of Optimus Prime’s flight equipment, and Prime hurtles out of control, crashing into a distant building that is still under construction. Caught up in rebar and cables, he struggles like a fly trapped in a web. Unable to gain any sort of leverage, he cannot free himself. At least not immediately. And later will be too late.)
(High above it all, Sentinel watches all that has transpired. He finds the entire business mostly sad, if not vaguely amusing. Then he turns his attention to matters of greater importance.)
(“The magnetics are aligned,” he announces. “Activate assembly.”)
(All over the world, the pillars lift skyward from wherever they are. They form a gigantic ring of light around the entirety of the globe. Were that light not serving as a signal for the end of the human race, some might actually consider it quite lovely.)
(The light burns away the dark cloud hanging over Chicago and reveals, there in the beauty of the last day of life as humanity knows it, a Decepticon battle cruiser. Crafted in secret over many years under the auspicies of such individuals as Dylan Gould, a combination of Terran and Decepticon technology, it floats high above, a glorious symbol of a brand-new world to come … in every sense.)
viii
Sam scarcely had time to process the horrible death of Mirage before he and Carly were running like mad.
In the twisting and turning piles of rubble and debris that now constituted Chicago, it was easy to get separated. Sam and Carly remained together since they were clutching hands as they ran, but within moments they had lost track of Epps and his team.
Unfortu
nately, Starscream seemed to have taken a particular interest in them. Ignoring the scattering mercs, he remained focused on the two young people, rampaging after them, tossing aside buses and cars, smashing walls aside to keep in pursuit of them. They were able to dart through narrow holes that kept them out of Starscream’s grasp for precious seconds, but it required no effort for him to clear a path after them.
“Thought you were working for us, boy!” Starscream said mockingly as he kept right on their tail.
They turned a corner and skidded to a halt. Rubble was piled a mile high, blocking their path. There was nowhere for them to go. They turned to try to backtrack, but Starscream stepped into view, a sneer on his metal face.
“Nowhere left to run,” said the giant. He could simply have stepped on Sam Witwicky, ground him to a pulp under his foot. But he wanted to see the troublesome human up close. He wanted to see Sam’s face as he squeezed the life out of him. So he leaned in close to reach down and grab him.
That was a mistake.
Sam brought up his arm, the one with the grapple glove on it, and fired the grappling hook. “That’s for Mirage, you son of a bitch!” he shouted as the business end of the hook buried itself in Starscream’s right eye, like a harpoon into the side of a whale. “And for trying to crush my girlfriend!”
Starscream let out an earsplitting howl and reared back. It was at that moment that Sam abruptly realized that he had no idea how to disengage the line. Wheeljack hadn’t mentioned it, and the damned thing didn’t come with an instruction manual. He tried to yank it clear from his hand, but it remained fastened tightly around it, as it was designed to do.
As a consequence, Sam was hauled upward, with no more control over his fate than a yo-yo at the end of a string. Starscream didn’t realize he had the human dangling from his eye; he was in far too much pain, thrashing and flailing about, half-blind.
Sam desperately tried to reach the boom stick he had jammed in his belt. Unfortunately, it was over his right hip, and his right arm was busy being Starscream’s pull toy. He attempted to reach it with his left, his fingers brushing against the tip, but he was being thrown around too much to be able to grasp it.
He let out a yell as he saw himself heading right toward the wall of a building and braced himself to wind up as a smear. But Starscream, as it happened, had punched a hole in it, and Sam landed inside it. It had been someone’s apartment, and he crashed into a kitchen table and some chairs, scattering them.
It provided him the stability he needed just long enough to yank the boom stick out of his belt. He gained his feet, and it was at that moment that Starscream saw where he was and his face loomed in the hole, bellowing his fury.
Perhaps he thought that doing so would cause Sam to cringe in fear. Instead, Sam did the exact opposite, charging forward and jamming the boom stick between Starscream’s jaws. He slipped off the safety and ignited it, then tried to fall back enough so that he’d be out of the blast range, whatever that was.
Starscream tried to reach for the boom stick to pull it out, but his fingers were too large and thick and he couldn’t get his fingertips around it.
The door to the apartment banged open behind Sam, and he twisted his head around to see, to his astonishment, William Lennox, with another soldier right behind him. Now, that was timing.
“Sam, get outta there!” Lennox shouted as he and the other soldier opened fire. The bullets pinged off Starscream’s face, and he shouted in fury.
“I can’t! Cut the cable! Cut the cable!” Sam pointed frantically to the cable that was keeping him anchored. Lennox, seeing the problem, grabbed the glove with one hand and brought up his knife, ready to hack through the cable and free Sam.
That was when Starscream tried to take off.
He activated his jets, and Sam was yanked right toward the hole. The knife flew out of Lennox’s hand. Lennox did the only thing he could do. He tried to anchor Sam, to pull back. He failed, and instead Sam, with Lennox holding on, was hauled out of the building and into midair.
Starscream endeavored to gain elevation, but he was still half-blind and instead smashed into a building just across the way. He was still grabbing at his jaw, trying to get at the boom stick, and he kept on trying until the boom stick detonated. Wheeljack had struck at his enemy from beyond the grave as the weapon he’d created performed precisely as designed. The explosion was so fierce that it tore Starscream’s head off, which was only appropriate considering what he had done to Mirage.
Unfortunately, it left Sam and Lennox with nothing securing their position. They started to fall to the street several stories below.
But there was Bumblebee, vaulting down the street, leaping over piles of debris as if they were hurdles on a track. He leaped through the air, his arms outstretched, his hands cupped, like an Autobot filming a commercial for Allstate Insurance. He caught them and slammed to the ground, absorbing the shock with his body.
Sam and Lennox lay there for a moment, gasping for air, looking at each other with mutual surprise, as if each of them couldn’t quite believe that they were still alive. Then they both turned to Bumblebee and said in unison, “Nice catch.”
Bumblebee grunted what sounded like thanks.
They clambered out of his hands, and then Wheelie suddenly came rolling up to Bumblebee. “Bee! Ya gotta see it! Ya gotta see what we found! C’mon! Quick!”
Bumblebee hesitated, looking to Sam. Carly had just run up to him, throwing her arms around him and kissing his face repeatedly. From nearby Epps and the mercs were coming back together and heading their way. “Go. See what the little lunatic wants,” Sam urged, and Bumblebee immediately set off after Wheelie.
Epps and his team came forward as Lennox and his people assembled as well. They could not have looked more different, the battled-hardened mercs and the young, well-trained soldiers in the black uniforms. But in the nods, the silent greetings, the slight tilt of the heads—there was a quiet but obvious mutual respect between the two.
Lennox and Epps fist bumped. “So this is retired, huh?” Lennox said teasingly.
“Don’t start with me,” Epps warned his old partner. “I’m armed and I’m angry.” He pointed to the top of the building, where Sentinel and Megatron, clearly confident in their power, stood above the city like gods. “We can’t get across to the building.”
“We have to,” Sam said. “We have to find a way. I mean,” he said, looking with an odd degree of triumph at the remains of Starscream, “we got one. Now we gotta stop that space bridge.”
ix
The attack vessel whose Decepticon pilot had fallen prey to Epps’s grenade was now lying on the street, engine idling, waiting for its pilot to return to it. Brains was in the cockpit, doing some enthusiastic rewiring as Wheelie came rolling up with Bumblebee in tow. “Ya got it ready to go, Brains?”
“Yes, yes, no question. It was hardwired to respond only to its previous pilot, but I’ve got it. All taken care of,” Brains said in that rushed, manic way he had.
Wheelie turned to Bumblebee and pointed skyward, toward the Decepticon battle cruiser that hovered far above. “Brains and me, we’re sick a seeing everybody else making a difference and we just sit around like we don’t matter. Plus Wheeljack was a good guy. We’re looking for some payback, and that looks like as good a target as any. Think you can get us up there, big boy?”
Bumblebee gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
Moments later the attack vessel was arcing upward, closing in on the battle cruiser very quickly. Had Bumblebee gone in with guns blazing or attempting some manner of suicide run, he doubtless would have been attacked on sight. But since he was proceeding as if nothing was remotely unusual, it tripped no alarms on the cruiser and so he was able to draw extremely near.
There was a wide deck below, and Bumblebee angled near it.
“Thanks for the lift, Bee!” Wheelie said, and a moment later both he and Brains had leaped out. They landed safely below, and then Bumblebee angled the shi
p back toward the ground.
He was rather pleased with the situation before him as he flew toward the city streets. He had an attack vessel at his disposal. It was certainly in better shape than the one he’d been flying before, and that had worked out. He might well be able to do some damage.
In fact, he knew exactly where to go.
He turned the vessel in a leisurely maneuver and angled straight toward the building where Sentinel and Megatron were standing, looking skyward toward the coruscating energy being generated by the control pillar. With a grim smile, he charged up the attack ship’s weapons and targeted the pillar. Sentinel and Megatron weren’t even looking at him.
He was going to save the day.
x
(Bumblebee’s ship is suddenly hit broadside by a devastating blast accompanied by sound so overwhelming that Bumblebee thinks his brain is going to fry.)
(Bee recognizes the pitch of the weapon that struck him instantly: a sonic cannon. He fights to regain control of the vessel, but there is nothing left to gain control of. The engines are sputtering, about to die, and the helm is useless. Yet he keeps valiantly battling and by the end is attempting to steer it by means of sheer mass, throwing his body this way and that to try to control where and how it is going to come down.)
(The ship hits the ground, chewing up asphalt and annihilating parked cars. It bounces several times, rolls over, and finally skids to a halt.)
(The world is spinning around Bumblebee as he tries to recover his wits, and suddenly he is being yanked out of the cockpit. He is hauled to his feet by several Decepticons. His struggles are unsuccessful.)
(What he sees then utterly crushes his spirit.)
(Leadfoot, Topspin, Roadbuster, Ratchet, and Sideswipe are being held immobilized by other Decepticons. Standing directly in front of Bumblebee, holding up the sonic cannon that he used to blast Bumblebee from the sky, is Soundwave. And behind him is a human who looks familiar to him, but he is not sure from where.)
