“Flying’s at a premium these days,” Springer muttered.
Wheeljack nodded. Springer was probably right. Jetfire had become Ultra Magnus’s personal scout, able to range far behind Decepticon lines and then report back to him directly. His former identity probably made his insights all the more useful. Jetfire darted low, landing and switching back to bot form. The others did the same and followed him into a narrow rocky tunnel whose entrance was so well concealed that Wheeljack had never realized it was there. Rock quickly gave way to metal walls; security cameras in the walls let Wheeljack know they were being watched. The corridor branched off into more corridors, but Jetfire seemed to know which way to go. It was quite the maze, and it ended in an armored door, which slid open—
“Come in,” Ultra Magnus said.
The Wrecker leader stood in the center of a screen-lined control room. He looked weary, his red and blue armor battered in multiple places. But he smiled warmly as Wheeljack and Springer entered. Jetfire shut the door behind them while they saluted. Ultra Magnus didn’t waste time getting to the point.
“I’ve got a mission for you,” he said.
“Great news,” Wheeljack said. “Who are we going to carve up?”
“It’s not a hit job,” Ultra Magnus replied. “It’s a rescue mission.”
Wheeljack and Springer looked at each other. “A rescue mission?” Wheeljack asked.
“You heard the bot,” Jetfire said.
“Shut up,” Wheeljack said.
“So who are we rescuing?” said Springer.
“Alpha Trion,” Ultra Magnus replied.
That wasn’t what Wheeljack and Springer had been expecting. They glanced at each other and looked back at Ultra Magnus.
“He didn’t escape from Iacon?” Wheeljack asked.
“He never tried,” said Ultra Magnus.
Springer looked baffled. “Why not?” he asked.
Ultra Magnus sighed. “We’re not exactly sure,” he said. “He may have believed he could get Shockwave to see reason.”
“Shockwave and reason aren’t two words that go together,” Wheeljack said.
“You have to remember that Alpha Trion is a Prime,” said Ultra Magnus. “That means he doesn’t think the way us regular bots do. He may have believed it was his duty to stay and defend the archives. He may have been trying to stay above the fray, seeking to preserve his neutrality.”
“Neutrality means nothing to the Decepticons,” Wheeljack said. “You’re either with them or against them.”
“That is true,” Ultra Magnus said. “The other possibility is that he might have felt himself constrained by the Covenant of Primus.”
“How would the Covenant restrain him?” Springer asked.
“We don’t know,” Ultra Magnus said. “That’s the point. But if it convinced him that it was his destiny to stay in Iacon even after Decepticon occupation … well, that might be why he elected not to leave.”
“I see,” said Springer, not seeing at all. This kind of philosophical mumbo jumbo didn’t make much sense to him. He much preferred to just get Decepticons in his crosshairs and squeeze the trigger.
“Maybe you’re overthinking this,” Wheeljack said. “Maybe he lost his nerve.”
“That’s an unworthy statement,” Ultra Magnus said sternly.
“Doesn’t mean it’s not true,” Wheeljack persisted. “It’s not like a Prime can’t lose heart. Look what happened to Sentinel Prime.”
“Sentinel Prime was old,” Ultra Magnus retorted. “Senile, even.”
“And you’re so sure that Alpha Trion isn’t?”
“Enough of this,” Ultra Magnus said. “Alpha Trion was one of the Thirteen. That puts him on a level far above any appointed Prime. And it also makes him a potentially deadly tool for the Decepticons should they seek to turn him against us.”
“Will they?”
“Shockwave’s guards took him into custody this morning.”
Wheeljack pondered this. “That isn’t good.”
“It gets worse,” Ultra Magnus said. “They brought him to the tower, and he hasn’t been seen since. The whole place is now under lockdown, and we don’t know what’s going on within it. But I received a report from one of my informants in the city that Shockwave has already started experimenting on Alpha Trion.”
“What kind of experiments?” Wheeljack asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine. Unlock his powers … use him to find some of the lost artifacts … turn him into a Decepticon Prime. The point is, we don’t know. And we can’t wait around to find out. Shockwave’s a mad genius, and he’s capable of anything.”
“Well,” said Springer, “so are we.”
“That’s why I called you here,” Ultra Magnus said, smiling grimly. “Your mission is going to be the toughest I’ve ever given any Wrecker. You’ll infiltrate Iacon, break into the Tower of Shockwave, and get Alpha Trion out.”
Wheeljack couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Suicide missions were a Wrecker specialty, but this took that concept to a new level.
“Sounds like fun,” Springer said.
“It won’t just be the two of you,” Ultra Magnus said. “You’ll have a little help. Jetfire will be coming with you.”
Both bots looked at Jetfire, who grinned. “Let’s just say I know a thing or two about how the Decepticons think,” he said.
Wheeljack chose his words tactfully. “With all due respect, Ultra Magnus, Springer and I have worked together for a long time. Talented though Jetfire clearly is, it might be difficult to make us an effective trio.”
“No one’s talking about a trio,” Ultra Magnus said. “Meet the rest of your team.”
A door in the far wall of the control room opened, and two chunky green bots entered the room side by side in lockstep.
Except they weren’t two bots at all.
They were just one.
At first Wheeljack thought that his optics were deceiving him, that he was seeing double. But he wasn’t. The two bots were connected. The right-hand bot’s left arm was also the right arm of the left-hand bot. The arm was more of an axle, Wheeljack thought. He’d never seen anything like it.
“I’d like you to meet Rack,” said Ultra Magnus, pointing at the bot on the left. He gestured at the one on the right. “And that’s Ruin.”
“Actually, I’m Rack,” said the latter bot. “He’s Ruin.”
“How about we just call you Rack n’ Ruin,” Springer said.
“Works for us.”
“What the slag happened to you guys?” Wheeljack asked.
“Shockwave happened,” said Rack n’ Ruin—or rather one of the two bots, but Wheeljack had already decided that he wasn’t going to bother distinguishing between the two of them. Life was short enough as it was. What mattered more was—
“Shockwave did this to you?” he asked.
“We both got captured on a raid a few months back,” Rack n’ Ruin said. “Got tossed into the labor camps, digging some giant complex beneath Iacon. Below Shockwave’s tower.”
“Wonder if that’s where they’ve taken Alpha Trion,” Wheeljack said.
“Bots were dropping like flies,” Rack n’ Ruin continued. “Conditions were savagely bad. And then Shockwave showed up to personally inspect the work. But it turned out he was more interested in the workers. He ordered his Decepticons to transfer a bunch of bots to his headquarters up in the tower. Well, at first we thought we were the lucky ones, ’cos we weren’t going to die in that camp. But maybe it would have been better if we had. We were just fodder for his experiments. Most of the results had to be put out of their misery. We escaped before that could happen. Came back to Ultra Magnus and re-upped.”
“You re-upped? After all that?” Springer’s tone bordered on awe.
Rack n’ Ruin shrugged. “Anything for the chance to get back at Shockwave.”
“Your time inside his tower will prove useful,” Ultra Magnus said. “I’d hate to have to figure things out as we g
o.”
We? thought Wheeljack. “You say that as though you’re coming with us,” he said.
“Of course I’m coming with you,” Ultra Magnus said. “I have no right to evade the risk.” He might have added that no one else was capable of leading such a motley group, but Ultra Magnus was nothing if not tactful. A commando squad consisting of himself, Rack n’ Ruin, Jetfire, Wheeljack, and Springer … If they couldn’t succeed, no one could.
“It won’t be enough,” Wheeljack said.
Springer looked like he wanted to punch him. “Way to boost team morale.”
“I mean we could use a diversion.”
Springer looked as though he’d been insulted. “A diversion?”
“It’s just a suggestion, but we’re going to sneak into the most heavily guarded fortress on the most fortified city on the planet and rescue the bot without whom we might lose this whole war. It’d be nice to get the attention of Iacon’s garrison focused elsewhere.”
“As it happens,” Ultra Magnus said, “I do have a diversion in mind.”
“You’d need a pretty big one,” Springer said.
“IS THIS BIG ENOUGH?” said a booming voice.
Everyone except Ultra Magnus practically hit the ceiling. It was like they were standing in a gigantic megaphone, hearing a thunderous voice that echoed out of every speaker in the room … a voice that was as unmistakable as it was loud, that could only be—
“Omega Supreme!” Springer yelled joyfully.
“Where’s he signaling us from?” Jetfire asked.
“Right here,” said Ultra Magnus.
“What do you mean, ‘here’? Last time I checked, he was half a mile long, kind of tough to hide.”
“I thought he was out of commission,” Wheeljack said. He glared at Jetfire. “Since Starscream and his air command shot him down.”
“Does this room look out of commission to you?” Ultra Magnus asked.
“Wait a second,” Wheeljack said, suddenly understanding. “You mean …”
“We’re inside Omega Supreme,” said Springer.
“We’ve been doing repairs ever since the day Optimus left Cybertron,” Ultra Magnus said. “And since we were doing such a good job hiding him underground, it seemed like the logical place for me to set up my headquarters.”
“I’ve enjoyed it,” Omega Supreme said. “Though the place does get a little noisy at times.”
“Well, you’ll be rid of us soon enough,” Ultra Magnus said. “You’ll stay here for the time being while we sneak into the city. Then, when I give the signal, show yourself. Make sure they can see you from Iacon.”
“Trust me,” Omega Supreme said, “they’re going to do more than just see.”
Chapter Seventeen
THE NEMESIS DROPPED OUT OF LIGHTSPEED AT THE SYSTEM’S edge, just out of range of the Autobots’ long-range sensors. Megatron stood on the bridge, personally overseeing the maneuver.
“Lord Megatron, we have arrived,” Starscream said.
“I’m standing right here,” Megatron replied, “so you don’t need to state the obvious.”
Soundwave cut in. “The Autobots do not appear to have detected us.”
“Have you located the Ark?” Megatron asked.
Soundwave brought the image of the greenish world up on the main viewscreen, then magnified the section highlighting the enormous Ark.
“Yes, my lord, exactly where Skywarp said they would be. In orbit around the planet …” Soundwave trailed off, studying the readings.
“Well,” Megatron demanded, “what is it?”
“Lord Megatron, there seems to be a high amount of chatter between the Ark and some Autobots on the surface.” He decrypted some of the traffic. “They seem to be searching for some missing members of their force.”
Megatron almost leaped forward at the screen.
“Is Optimus among the missing?”
“It does not appear so, lord.” The barely restrained emotion underlying Megatron’s question was lost on neither Starscream nor Soundwave. The latter chalked it up to his master’s desire to crush the Autobot leader once and for all, but Starscream knew better. Megatron was obsessed. And obsession led to mistakes. And mistakes could get Starscream killed, which was something he wished to avoid at all costs. To Starscream, Optimus was just one more piece of the puzzle, perhaps the single most important one but still a mere part of the whole. Destroy the Autobots en masse and you destroyed Optimus as well. But focusing primarily on Optimus left one open to unpredictable factors among the rest of the Autobots. That meant that Megatron’s hatred was also his weakness. And weaknesses were something Starscream could exploit …
“Tell our troops to prepare for battle,” Megatron ordered. “But no one is to fire a shot without my explicit command.”
“Of course, my lord,” Starscream answered with a deep bow. Out of the corner of his vision he caught a glimpse of dark purple and black; he turned to see Skywarp enter the bridge and give Megatron a hearty salute. Starscream glowered, less than thrilled that one of his Seekers was taking orders from Megatron directly. It was a matter of protocol. There was a chain of command, after all.
But one bot stood at its apex.
“You summoned me, Lord Megatron,” Skywarp said.
“Yes. I want to commend you on the excellent job you’ve done.”
“All done humbly in your name.” Starscream rolled his optics at Skywarp’s obsequiousness. He’d remember that when the time came. But for now he strained to listen in as Megatron took Skywarp aside and placed his arm around the Seeker’s shoulders.
“If there’s one thing I appreciate, it’s a Decepticon who knows both his place and mine. You have shown great promise, and I want to reward you.”
“Reward is not needed, my sovereign,” Skywarp said dutifully.
“Oh, but in this case I believe it is. I have a special mission for you. One I think you will quite enjoy.”
KUP WOKE TO THE SOUNDS OF MACHINES BEEPING AND A bright light shining in his eyes. When he tried to move, he realized that he was strapped into a chair that was really more of a cage; it held his arms and legs fast with a green viscous liquid that smelled even worse than it looked. He turned his head. To the right and left of him, Bumblebee and Rodimus were secured the same way, only unlike him, they were unconscious. As best he could tell, the room was some kind of laboratory.
The Curator leaned over and gave him a broad smile.
“I see you are awake. Luckily that will not affect the procedure.” There was something funny about the Curator’s voice. Not only was it higher-pitched, it didn’t seem to be emanating from his mouth.
“Where am I?” Kup mumbled.
“In good hands,” the Curator said.
“You kidnapped us.”
“Well, you were snooping. Very unwise idea, my friend. Still, I’m sure we can put this opportunity to good use.”
“So we were right,” Kup said. “You’re plotting against us. You’ve got an army down there—”
“Shhhh,” the Curator said as though he were comforting a small child. “We never claimed to be pacifists. Would you deny us our right to self-defense?”
“Okay, have it your way,” Kup said. “And while you’re at it, return me to Optimus.”
“All in good time.” The Curator’s smile grew even broader. “I don’t normally do this, but time simply doesn’t permit an alternative. But sometimes the traditional methods are still the best. Just hold still; I assure you this won’t hurt too much.” The Curator pulled open his voluminous robe, revealing what appeared to be a fist-size hole in his chest cavity out of which sprang over half a dozen red-black tentacles that wrapped themselves around Kup’s head and began forcing their way into his skull …
“Now would be a good time to start screaming if you so desire,” the Curator said.
OPTIMUS, JAZZ, AND PROWL APPROACHED IRONHIDE ON the tarmac while the rest of the Autobots prepared to split up into search teams. Ironhide had decid
ed before they arrived that he would take full responsibility for the entire situation. He knew that he had let Optimus down. If he could turn back the chronometer, he wouldn’t have been persuaded by Kup; he would have stood his ground. But the only thing he could do now was face the frequency.
“Optimus, I’m so sorry. I never should have—”
“No time for that, old friend.” Privately Optimus was furious, but right now his people needed a leader, and as Prime he knew that this was one of those occasions when he had to stand tall for the rest of them. “You’re chastising yourself far worse than I could,” he added. “And right now we need to find them. Do you have any idea where they might have gone?”
“They wanted to take a better look at the ocean floor. To see if they could locate anything our initial scans might have missed.”
“Now why would they want to do that?” Jazz asked.
“We’d already completed the reconnaissance phase,” Prowl spit out, sounding insulted.
“Well, I didn’t put much stock in what Rodimus and Bumblebee thought,” Ironhide said uncomfortably. “But when Kup agreed with them, I figured there might be something to it.”
“Something to what?” Prowl almost growled.
“Look, they just didn’t trust these Aquatronians. I don’t trust these Aquatronians. They said this whole setup seemed too good to be true, and they wanted to take a closer look around.”
“I wish they had come to me first,” Optimus said.
“They violated the chain of command!” Jazz added.
“That’s not the issue, Jazz.” Optimus lowered his voice. “The fact of the matter is that I agree with them. There’s something very wrong about this place, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.” He didn’t add that in truth, he really wasn’t sure if there was something wrong. He was still shaky from earlier—still convulsed by larger doubts—but he knew this wasn’t the time to give voice to them. He just had to trust his instincts. “If Rodimus had come to me personally, we might have been able to make a better coordinated and more exhaustive search. A subtler one, too, that didn’t require us to tip off the Curator. But as it stands, we still might be able to use this opportunity to take a closer look around.”
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