Transformers Dark of the Moon

by Peter David

  Her driver slowed to a halt. “Why are you stopping? Get us over there!” Mearing said. “Lennox has stopped answering the phone, and I have to find out what the hell is going on!”

  “Ma’am, your safety is—”

  “You’re not worried about my safety, you’re worried about yours, and I’m not a … oh, forget it,” she said in disgust. Before the aide could take any action to prevent it, Mearing was out the door. She had already swapped out the hated heels for sneakers, and she sprinted toward the site of the detonations. This was her facility, and she was determined to protect it at all costs.

  It was obvious that the Decepticons must have breached the perimeter, and her people were fighting, probably dying, as a result. There was simply no way she was going to be running in the other direction while that was happening.

  She reached into her shoulder holster and pulled out her gun, chambering a round as she moved.

  The closer she got, the more clearly she saw the damage that had been inflicted. She ran past smoking ruins of helicopters and various land vehicles. Hangar Bay One had been completely demolished, and then she heard explosions coming from within Hangar Bay Two. She started toward it, uncertain of what she was going to see, but never had the chance to get close enough. There was a thunderous detonation that she belatedly realized came from a fuel storage area within, and then a massive fireball erupted from the bay. The concussive force of the explosion blew Mearing off her feet. She flew through the air, her glasses knocked off her face, and then hit the ground hard. If she hadn’t been wearing a pantsuit, her legs would have been lacerated. As it was, the skin on her hands was abraded and the fabric of her clothing torn up.

  She lay on the ground, gasping, her ears ringing. Her hair had come undone and was hanging in her face. She shoved it out of her eyes, and her hand came away with even more blood, which she realized was seeping from a gash in her forehead.

  Then she saw something that filled her with instant relief.

  From the smoke, from the flames, Sentinel was emerging. He was moving slowly and steadily, even casually, if such a word could be applied to a being like him. To Mearing, there was only one possible interpretation of what she was seeing: There had been some sort of Decepticon assault, and Sentinel had just finished dispatching them.

  Thank God these creatures are on our side, she thought. What would it be like if only the Decepticons had arrived here?

  Mearing staggered to her feet. She picked up her glasses and saw that the right lens was shattered. Folding them up, she shoved them in her jacket and started toward Sentinel, treading lightly since her left ankle seemed tender. But it could have been worse, a lot worse. Torn clothing, busted glasses, a pulled muscle, perhaps. At least she was alive, so that was something.

  “What’s happening?” she said to the Autobot. “Sentinel? Report!”

  Sentinel looked down at her with as much disdain as his face could possibly convey. “I am a Prime from the great planet Cybertron. I do not take orders from you. But”—his voice softened slightly—“I regret all the harm that must come.”

  Uncomprehending, Mearing drew closer, and suddenly she heard shouting from nearby. She turned and saw Lennox and Witwicky running toward her. They were gesturing wildly for her to get back, and now she could hear Lennox shouting, “No, ma’am! Stop!”

  “Get away from him!” Sam Witwicky was calling to her.

  Slowly, understanding dawned upon Mearing. She looked up at Sentinel. “Oh, my God,” she said.

  “Your God is not here to help you, so you had best deal with me. Now”—he moved around toward Lennox and Witwicky—“return what belongs to me.”

  “You mean the pillars in the vault.”

  “Yes. I assume it is within your … ‘pay grade’ … to release them to me. Do so.”

  “Go to hell,” she said defiantly.

  Sentinel paused, considering her, and then, sounding insanely avuncular, said, “You do not want me for an enemy, Charlotte.”

  The familiarity he was taking made her skin crawl. “It’s a little late for that. You destroyed half my base.”

  “No. I am not your enemy yet. The destruction I have inflicted thus far is merely to prove a point. Yes, half your base is destroyed, but half remains intact. I have demonstrated restraint.”

  “Seriously?” Sam called. “You trash the place and you’re using the ‘glass is half full’ angle?” Lennox promptly told Sam to quiet down, for which Mearing was grateful.

  “Thus far,” said Sentinel, “I have merely done what was necessary for the needs of myself and my race. I have stopped short of regarding you as hostile entities to be dealt with accordingly and have restrained myself whenever possible. For you are a young race and know not what you do. You have an opportunity—right here and right now—to maintain that status quo, to keep this war strictly between the two races that have been waging it. If you do that—if you cooperate—you will be saving untold millions, perhaps billions, of lives.”

  “And if I don’t give you what you want, you’ll what? Kill me?” Mearing said.

  “No. Because right now I require two things in this world: you and my property, locked away in your vault. And so I will simply carry you with me until you agree to do what I wish. And I will kill everyone that I encounter. Men, women, children … it makes no difference to me. And you will have to live with the knowledge that every one of those deaths are lives that you could have saved … beginning with these two.”

  And with that pronouncement, he turned toward Lennox and Sam and raised his foot.

  She should have let him do it. That was what she would tell herself later. She should have let Sentinel obliterate the two of them with one stamp of his foot. She should have sent him a message right then, right there, in the strongest and most unequivocal terms: The United States did not knuckle under to the demands of terrorists.

  But instead she cried out, “No! Don’t!”

  Sam and Lennox had automatically raised their arms to shield themselves against the impact, even though it obviously would have done them no good.

  Sentinel remained frozen in that position and then slowly lowered his foot to the side, clear of the two humans hehad been about to crush. “That was your instinctive response, Charlotte,” he said. “One that was devoid of policy concerns and paperwork. It was your human response. The right response. Follow that instinct, for it will guide you to the proper course. A course that will lead to a destination that you already know. The only question is: How many lives will be ended under my foot before that destination is reached? How many lives will you save? Decide, Charlotte Mearing. Decide … now.”

  ii

  Anyone who happened to be standing outside the building that purported to be Health and Human Services would not have found it at all surprising that a fire truck was rolling out through the main gates of the facility. With the reverberations of explosions echoing in the distance, it was obvious that there had been some sort of major conflagration going on. It was impressive that only one truck had been required to deal with it; from the sounds of it and the size of the fireballs that had been leaping skyward, it might well have been a two- or even three-alarmer.

  Whatmight have seemed off, however, were the five strange-looking pillars that were lashed to the top and sides, which didn’t look like any sort of normal fire fighting equipment.

  iii

  Sam was a pile of seething emotions: anger over what Mearing had said, frustration because she had a valid point buried in her accusations, and foolishness over having been so utterly deceived by Sentinel that he had—

  “It’s not your fault,” Lennox said as if he were reading Sam’s mind. He had released his hold on Sam’s elbow and was now moving at double time. Apparently he was expecting Sam to keep up. “Yeah, Sentinel fooled you. But he fooled the Autobots, too. If anyone should have known, it was them.”

  “I’m not sure they’re capable of understanding that depth of betrayal.”

  �
�Then you shouldn’t be down on yourself. Through here,” and he darted down a corridor and out an exit door. Sam followed, wondering if this was some sort of shortcut to the street. He hoped he had enough money on him for cab fare home.

  Instead there was a Bell-Boeing V-22 Osprey helicopter sitting about a hundred yards away. The propeller blades were just starting to fire up, and Lennox gestured for Sam to follow. Instead Sam stopped and stood there, looking confused. Lennox, seeing that Sam had ceased following, ran back to him and said impatiently, “Are you coming?”

  “I don’t think they’ll let you land this near my house.”

  “Don’t be stupid. We’ve got intel the Decepticons are heading to the National Mall. One that we think may be Megatron from the description was spotted near the Lincoln Memorial. With all that going down, what good are you going to be to us if you’re sitting at home watching cable news? Forget that: I want you near me when this thing goes down.”

  “Even though I’m a civilian?”

  “You stopped being a civilian the moment you bought a camouflaged robot at a used car lot. Besides, no matter what Mearing thinks, you’re probably the foremost expert on the Autobots on the planet.” He started running toward the Osprey, and this time Sam fell in behind him. He called over his shoulder, “I mean, c’mon! You brought Optimus Prime back to life, for God’s sake.”

  “Yeah, well, let’s hope I don’t have to do it again, ’cause I’m not sure how many times I can pull that trick out of my bag,” Sam shouted back over the roaring of the Osprey’s rotors. He clambered in behind Lennox, and moments later they were airborne.

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  i

  (The mighty Megatron strides up the steps that lead to a statue erected in the celebration and memorializing of a famed human leader. It is his understanding that this particular leader was responsible for freeing human slaves during a great war.)

  (Freedom. What an utterly useless reason for a war.)

  (War is about domination, not freedom. It is about taking, not giving.)

  (This man knew nothing of the way of things.)

  (On eye level with the seated statue, Megatron reaches forward, clamps his hand upon the statue’s head, and rips it off with a crunch of stone. Then he calmly sets the head aside and proceeds to shred the rest of the body seated on the chair while taking care to preserve the rest of it, or at least as much of it as possible, intact. He cleans away the remains of the debris and then turns and sits himself in the now-vacant chair. He tests its weight to make certain it will bear up under him and is satisfied.)

  (He watches as Sentinel busies himself setting up the pillars in a wide circle around the National Mall. The Prime moves with confidence, jamming each one into the ground, affirming that each is prepared for the job it must do. Hanging brightly in the night sky, the moon looks down upon them as if blessing the endeavor.)

  (Seeing him go about his business with such efficiency moves his thoughts to Sentinel’s successor. He addresses the bearded statue head in his hand. “Prime never knew. When Sentinel left Cybertron … it was to defect. He was to rendezvous with me here on earth … before fate waylaid us both. To revive him … we needed Prime and his Matrix.”)

  (Then he hears the sound of an air vehicle approaching. He leans forward and watches with interest as a helicopter descends a distance away. Once, he might have been concerned about such an arrival. The humans have shown considerable resources in thwarting the endeavors of the Decepticons in the past, in conjunction with the Autobots. But there is nothing to worry about this time. The humans, the Autobots, even their leader … none of their actions would have any impact on what was about to happen.)

  (This time, the Decepticons would win. In fact, they had already won. At this point, it was just a matter of seeing matters play out to their inevitable conclusion.)

  (Had he been capable of pity, he would have felt sorry for Optimus Prime.)

  (But he wasn’t, and so he did not.)

  ii

  Sam and Lennox emerged from the Osprey on the opposite side of the National Mall. Lennox was busy radioing in their location, while Sam simply gaped at the sight of the revered Autobot warrior completing the array of pillars while Megatron looked on from the Lincoln Memorial.

  Seconds later Lennox stepped in next to him. “They used us,” he said with cold, dark fury. “Used all of us. Without our space program … without Optimus reviving him … none of this happens. We handed all this to the Decepticons and practically thanked them for the opportunity. And now he’s opening the space bridge.”

  “To where?” said Sam, still not understanding. “I still don’t—” Suddenly he grabbed Lennox’s arm and pointed. “Look!”

  Hurtling across the Mall from the direction of the Washington Monument was an array of sports cars, plus one very familiar blue and red truck. They were barreling toward the site of the pillars at high speed, and then came a familiar series of sounds. The vehicles were far enough away that he saw the changes a second before the sound reached him. But still, he’d never been quite so relieved to hear that distinctive racket, like a series of metal dominoes falling into each other. There came Optimus Prime, moving with the speed and determination of a charging bull, followed by Mirage, Wheeljack, Bumblebee, Sideswipe, and Ratchet.

  It’s gonna be okay. Yeah, Sentinel obliterated three Autobots like it was nothing, but that’s ’cause he’s a Prime. And so is Optimus, plus he’s got the others backing him up, while Megatron looks like five miles of bad road. Everything’s going to be fine.

  Sentinel, acting as if he had nothing but time, adjusted the final pillar—the six-foot one in the middle—and then rumbled in a voice that carried across the vast expanse of the Mall: “Power and initiate.”

  One pillar began to glow, and then the next, each one in sequence, and the Autobots were still too far away to reach it.

  NEST forces were now pouring in from all directions. Helicopters, jeeps, even tanks were converging. The air was split by the howls of sirens as police cars and SWAT teams came rolling in, discharging human passengers who were armed to the teeth.

  Meanwhile, a dome of light had spread from one pillar to the next, enveloping them like a glowing tent. In the center was the Prime from the moon, standing there like the sentinel that was his name.

  The Sentinel …

  “Oh, my God!” Sam abruptly said to Lennox, speaking all in a rush. “The Sentinel!”

  “What about him?”

  “Not him! It! Look,” he said with growing excitement, “the other night Carly and I wound up watching 2001: A Space Odyssey on one of those classic movie channels.…”

  “So what? Sam, is this really import—?”

  “Listen! There was this old boring guy introducing the movie, and he was going on about how it was partly based on this short story Arthur C. Clarke had written called ‘The Sentinel.’ About how it turns out there’s this whole alien base left behind on the moon that has all kinds of advanced technology, including this object that they based the Monolith on in the movie. But it was, like, this warning beacon, because when humans got smart enough to find it and screw with it, it would mean that we had become a possible danger and it would summon the race that built it so that they would come and maybe destroy us! Don’t you get it? Arthur C. Clarke knew all about this somehow! Maybe he was even trying to warn humanity before it was too late!”

  “So you’re saying this guy Clarke can help us?”

  “Yes! Wait … no.” Sam suddenly remembered. “He died a few years ago.”

  Lennox stared at him. “Yeah. That was useful. Thanks.”

  THE MOON

  (They have been lying dormant all this time, their internal systems operating at such a minimal level that even when the Autobots were inspecting the remains, they did not detect them. They have been waiting for a signal, and if it had never come, then they would have waited for eternity.)

  (But now it does come, an inviting pulse sent by five pillars that is
received by hundreds of objects just like it. And each of those objects sends a jolt into the beings who are holding them, awakening them, telling them that finally, finally it is time.)

  (They emerge from the shadows of the Ark and from the barren soil of the moon. One by one, then by tens, then by hundreds, the Decepticon warriors arise, each of them holding a pillar that serves as a receiving point for the beacons that are summoning them to the verdant world below. Saying, Now, now, come to me now.)

  (They obey. The pillars on the moon begin to glow, creating a web of energy that crackles with irresistible force. And in an instant, all the Decepticons are transported from the lunar surface, traversing the distance between the moon and the earth in a heartbeat.)

  (The moon is now wholly dead.)

  (The earth may soon follow.)

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  i

  Sam watched in horror as Decepticons poured out of the space bridge. There were dozens, no, hundreds of them, practically falling over one another to scatter in all directions.

  The various police and military vehicles that provided transportation and weaponry for the humans now served as templates for the Decepticons. They instantly began transcanning the cars and vans, the tanks and helicopters, and seconds later they were shifting into brand-new earth shapes, driving and flying every which way. It quickly became impossible for the humans to distinguish simple conveyances from robots in disguise that were determined to kill them.

  Some of the Decepticons didn’t bother to camouflage themselves. They strode forward, proud and lethal, and just started firing away with their onboard weaponry. A millennium is a long time for a bellicose race to sit around and wait for a call to action, and they were taking every advantage of the situation, hammering away at anything they saw.

  The NEST and SWAT teams were overwhelmed. They had not been remotely prepared for an onslaught of such magnitude. They returned fire as best they could, but engaging in a sustained battle with a hoard of Decepticons was simply not a reasonable option.