Then the Sharkticons were on them. Optimus and Megatron battled it out hand to hand, dodging mace tails and razor-sharp teeth while they punched and kicked and sent battered Sharkticons flying. The one advantage of fighting in this cramped space was that only a few Sharkticons could get to grips with them at any one moment. But there were more coming up all the time, pressing against the ones in front of them, and the sheer weight of numbers meant that Optimus and Megatron were being forced steadily backward to the very edge of the precipice.
Suddenly Optimus heard a creaking noise behind him. Even as he parried a Sharkticon blow, he glanced around and saw movement in the shaft above. Descending into view on cables was the most heavily armored and largest elevator car Optimus had ever seen. It was the size of a small house, and as it reached their level, it became clear that the door they’d just broken through wasn’t intended to provide access to it, for the elevator car was more than ten meters away, dropping farther down the gigantic shaft. Optimus processed all this in a moment while the Sharkticons regrouped and surged forward once more.
“Only one way out of this,” Optimus shouted, shoving Megatron off the edge and jumping down after him. They both dropped more than fifteen meters out into the shaft, landing on top of the descending elevator. Megatron rose up, furious.
“You pushed me!”
“Couldn’t take the time to explain, and this thing is going down fast.” Optimus broke off as a Sharkticon plummeted past the elevator, followed by still another. The two Cybertronians looked up and saw water and Sharkticons pouring out of the passageway where they’d both been standing, tumbling down toward them.
“By the eyes of Unicron!” Megatron said as a Sharkticon hit the elevator roof next to him, splintering into pieces. The fall was too great a distance now for anything to survive, but that didn’t seem to worry the Sharkticons, who were raining down like bombs. It was the most effective lemming strategy Optimus had ever seen, and it was only a matter of time before one of the plunging kamikaze bots hit paydirt.
“We need to get inside this thing,” Optimus said.
“Agreed,” said Megatron as he and Optimus leaped around the roof of the armored car, dodging the plummeting Sharkticons. Quickly studying the metal plates, Optimus found what he was looking for: an emergency hatch. He ran over to it, evading falling Sharkticons, and grabbed it with both hands.
“Give me the strength!” he muttered to himself, and with considerable effort pulled the hatch open. Megatron ran over and dived through the hatch headfirst. Optimus followed suit and slammed the panel shut from the inside. He then activated his energy blade and used it as a welding torch to fuse it shut before turning to find Megatron holding the being called Xeros by the throat, pressing him against a wall.
“Where is the Curator, you spineless worm?”
“Not here,” Xeros said, looking more than a little scared. Evidently this was the Quintesson command center, the Curator’s inner sanctum. The walls of the chamber were filled with viewscreens showing scenes from the battle raging around the Hall of Justice. To Optimus’s horror, he could see that the place was almost entirely flooded, that scarcely any part of the city remained above water now. There was fighting, but he couldn’t make out which of his Autobots were left. It was a disaster.
But it was nothing compared to the screens on the adjacent wall.
They showed live images of Cybertron: Sharkticons slaughtering the population … Tyrannicon’s battle fleet shelling Iacon … smoke and flame and carnage everywhere. Optimus felt himself going numb and turned to Xeros.
“You’ll pay for this,” he said.
“We already did,” Xeros shot back. “You wreaked slaughter upon us when you threw us off your dirtball of a planet. So this time we’re not going to make the same mistake of trying to turn you into slaves. This time we’re going to wipe you scum from the stars. Your destiny is extinction, Prime! Tell me, how does it feel?”
Megatron threw Xeros onto the floor, kicked him in the chest, and was about to kick him again when the sound of Sharkticons impacting the roof grew more frequent. And at least some of those Sharkticons were still alive, because now everyone in the elevator chamber could hear the whine of power tools starting up.
“They must be sliding down the cables,” Optimus said.
Megatron drew back his foot, bracing himself to put a lethal kick through Xeros’s head. “Where’s the Curator?” he repeated.
“I’m so terribly sorry,” Xeros told him. “He took a different route to the bridge. A faster route.”
“Leaving you to manage the situation.”
“I’m expendable,” Xeros said, summoning his courage. The volume on the roof increased further. “But he did want me to give you both a message.”
“Namely?”
“He hopes you die badly—very badly indeed.” Xeros’s insane laughter filled the chamber. It was all Optimus could do to keep Megatron from killing him right there on the spot. Instead Megatron turned and smashed his fist into one of the consoles out of sheer frustration. There was a whirring, and a panel slid back. Inside was an incandescent red object that looked exactly like—
“The Matrix of Leadership,” Megatron breathed. Confusion and greed warred on his face. He turned to Optimus: “But I thought you had—did they steal it from you?”
Optimus patted his chest. “You know as well as I do that mine’s still here. Just tampered with.”
Megatron mulled this over, and then understanding suddenly dawned in his eyes. He pulled Xeros to his feet, grabbed him by the shoulders, and pulled his face up against his own. “This is the Decepticon Matrix of Leadership! The one the Curator promised me! Admit it!”
“You’re crazy,” Xeros said.
“And you’re lying!”
“The Curator was lying to you,” Xeros told him. “That’s just the computer he was using to—” He looked at Optimus. “—influence you. And augment the bridge activation. He transferred all the codes there when he left. So he still has everybody right where he wants them. All this does now is assist me with coordinating Sharkticon movements.”
“The same ones who are trying to break their way in here now?” Optimus asked as the noise above grew still louder. The ceiling was starting to glow.
“Those are beyond my control, alas.” Xeros shrugged sarcastically. “The Curator programmed them to destroy any intruders who penetrated his inner sanctum. This device won’t help you.”
“We must destroy it anyway,” Optimus said.
“It won’t do you any good,” Xeros said.
“It’s going to do me a world of good!” Megatron yelled. “For once you Quintessons told the truth, and now you seek to bury it in still more lies!” He ripped the Matrix replica from the console and tore off the wires. Optimus tried to grab the object, but Megatron slugged him hard, sending him staggering backward.
“Megatron, don’t do this!” Optimus yelled. “It will unleash still more madness!”
“You’re slagging right it’s going to unleash madness!” Megatron screamed. “The madness known as ME!”
He shoved the Matrix replica into his chest.
Chapter Forty
CYBERTRON
SHOCKWAVE WATCHED TRANSFIXED AS THE SHARKTICON armada roared in toward the walls of Iacon. Its ranks had thinned slightly, and many of the ships that remained bore the damage of collision or bombs dropped by high-altitude Decepticons. But the bulk of the invaders were still operational, and from Shockwave’s vantage point he could see that they were attacking the city from every side. The guns of Iacon opened fire. A wave of lasers and shells lacerated the initial ranks of the oncoming forces, but then hatches opened on all those manta ray craft; cannons protruded and let rip. The walls of Iacon disappeared in sheets of flame and fire. Some of the more high-trajectory shots sizzled past the tower; Shockwave knew it was only a matter of time before they found the range and started to knock his stronghold to pieces. There was only one place in Iacon that might save
the situation now—and only one bot. He sent out orders to that bot, then stepped inside the nearest turret and set the elevator controls for maximum speed. He descended the depths of the mammoth structure even as shells began to crash against him.
RATBAT HAD NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE IT. THOUSANDS of manta ray craft were sprouting battering rams, accelerating as they made their final rush toward the walls, and it seemed like they were all coming straight for him. He couldn’t even make himself heard over the roar of the bombardment. The sky was one huge mass of smoke and flame. He did the only logical thing he could think of.
He deserted.
Straight out the door, past his shocked troops, and into his staff tank, which was waiting with the engine running for just such an occasion. As they hurtled away, Ratbat imagined what he was going to have to say to Shockwave. Something along the lines of I was the only survivor, and I escaped to bear you these grim tidings, but then he realized that he was just in denial. Shockwave no longer mattered. Nothing did. In the rearview he could see clouds of dust as the Sharkticon juggernauts hit the walls.
THE WRECKERS MADE THEIR WAY THROUGH THE PANICKING crowds. Decepticon soldiers mingled indiscriminately with civilians, all hierarchy dissolving as every bot looked for sanctuary that wasn’t there. The city walls were breached. The war was lost. It didn’t even look like the Sharkticons were taking prisoners. This was shaping up to be a total massacre. But Ultra Magnus seemed as calm as ever, leading his team along a side alley and down a series of staircases and ramps, letting the noise subside until it was only a distant rumbling somewhere above. And somewhere below, too—the Sharkticon forces that had infiltrated the undercity were obviously climbing higher. The portion of the city that remained free was dwindling rapidly.
But so far the Wreckers were still within it. They passed through a double-vaulted set of doors and into the vast labyrinth that housed the Hall of Records. Files, computers, and consoles of every description were stacked everywhere—every medium imaginable, even old scrolls and paper. Wheeljack caught a glimpse of Alpha Trion’s face; he could only imagine what it must feel like to be returning to the place where he had spent so much of his life. Now it seemed that life had reached its final chapter. Unless Alpha Trion had one more trick up his sleeve …
“What’s the plan?” Ultra Magnus asked.
“There must be something here about the Quintessons,” Maccadam said. “Something we can use to destroy them. Something—”
He broke off as he saw Alpha Trion’s face.
“We can’t destroy them,” the ancient bot said.
Wheeljack was shocked. “Why not?”
“It’s far too late for that.”
“Then why did you say we had to come here?” Maccadam asked.
“Because there is something we can do to wound them.”
SHOCKWAVE’S ELEVATOR REACHED THE BASE OF THE tower and kept plunging through several more levels. As soon as it stopped, Shockwave leaped out, racing down metal corridors into the basement beneath the High Council Pavilion, which had to be nothing but wreckage by now. He could hear the roar of the Sharkticon machines above him. But up ahead were the double doors to which he alone had the key and that gave way to the vault that housed the relics that might yet save him. The Forge of Solus Prime … the Star Saber … several canisters of Tox-En … and several other weapons that might be used to turn the Sharkticon tide. His fingers flew over code keys. There was a buzzing noise, and the doors slid open. He entered.
* * *
TYRANNICON GAZED AT THE DEVASTATED CITY. HIS new flagship was almost as good as his old one, only slightly smaller. But its crew was no less eager to please than the ones who had been destroyed in Omega Supreme’s ambush. The manta ray craft smashed its way through Cybertron’s buildings, grinding the smaller ones beneath its treads, punching straight through the walls of the larger ones so that they collapsed around the ship like a falling house of cards. Gunners all along the length of the hull were having a field day blasting fleeing Cybertronians. Tyrannicon suspected that most of the city’s population was now hiding underground, but that wouldn’t save them. His Sharkticons were closing in from all sides. What was left of the garrison kept fighting, but their defense was as hopeless as it was heroic.
That was when an enormous purple and green bot leaped down onto the hull of the flagship and put its foot straight through the bridge. Half the bridge crew was crushed instantly; glass and metal flew everywhere as Tyrannicon hastily leaped aside. The bot began to tear its way into the flagship, screaming that it was Devastator and assuring them that they were all going to die. Tyrannicon had to admit that the bot seemed to be specifically designed to rip things apart; he suspected that it might have been involved in construction before the war. But he wasn’t hanging around to study it; he moved aside to let several squads of marines past and then stepped out onto the hull and leaped onto the ground, rolling clear. Gunfire echoed from within the craft that had been his replacement flagship; the ship trundled forward out of control, swaying from side to side while Devastator tossed marines out the portholes. Tyrannicon watched it go.
Then he took out a remote control and hit a button.
A huge explosion shredded the erstwhile flagship; what was left was tossed about fifty feet into the air and landed on its back with a sickening crunch. Tyrannicon smiled the smile of a bot to whom collateral damage was an alien concept. If Devastator was still intact in the smoking wreck, they could dig him out later and harvest the scraps. He strode away.
But as he did so, the wreckage started to rumble. Before Tyrannicon could process what was happening, several smaller vehicles erupted from the remnants of the flagship and sped toward him. Tyrannicon realized that Devastator had separated into his component bots, which were now busy smashing their way through buildings and rubble as they zeroed in on him.
As far as the Constructicons were concerned, Tyrannicon was going to be easy meat; Scrapper flashed his lights, and his fellow bots flawlessly rolled into an arrowhead formation as they closed on Tyrannicon’s position, sounding their horns and sirens while they circled Tyrannicon.
“Okay, let’s put this fish-bot down!” Scrapper broadcast.
“You got it, buddy!” Mixmaster responded. “Do it by the numbers.”
The Constructicons picked up speed, broke their formation, and started driving figure eights around Tyrannicon, dashing in and out, conducting hit-and-run attacks against the mighty general’s imposing form. Tyrannicon was surprised such heavy vehicles could move so fast; the next moment, Mixmaster sped past him, spraying a blue adhesive gel from his cauldron. Tyrannicon pulled free, but in the time it took him to do so, Hook snared him by the armor, ground forward, and smashed him into a nearby building while Long and Scavenger closed in from the sides. They whirled and dumped debris and fuel down onto Tyrannicon, whereupon Frontloader streaked by and ignited the pile. Tyrannicon, wreathed in flames, emerged from the debris with his fire extinguishers working overtime and a furious expression on his face. He had to admit he was impressed with his adversaries’ skills; the close order with which they fought was a sight to behold even if they were trying their best to eliminate him. He shook his war trident in their direction.
“Vermin,” he said. “All you’ve done is get me angry.”
If he was trying to provoke the Constructicons, he succeeded. They converged on him, slamming on their brakes and converting from their vehicle modes back into robot form as they trained their lasers on their target.
“Give it up, scaly,” sneered Bonecrusher. “This is a fight you can’t win.”
Tyrannicon answered by doing a ten-meter somersault, landing in the middle of their line, after which he tripped Hook with his war trident and then grabbed Mixmaster by his arm and executed a throw that propelled the Constructicon into a nearby building. Then he did the same to Scrapper, using him as a club to send Scavenger sprawling. The latter was trying to get a clear shot and wasn’t succeeding. Scrapper couldn’t believ
e how bad this fish thing was making them look.
“That’s it!” he yelled. “You asked for it! Constructicons to me!” The bots seamlessly synced together, each one taking on the requisite component as they shifted back into the giant green-and-purple chrome form that was—
“DEVASTATOR!” yelled the enormous bot, bellowing his name as he slammed both fists into the ground with a seismic force that sent Tyrannicon sprawling. Devastator then proceeded to snap a massive antenna off the top of a nearby building and hurl it like a spear at Tyrannicon, who ducked at the last moment. He was showered with shrapnel as the projectile smashed into a nearby wall and exploded. But as Devastator closed in, Tyrannicon snagged an oil conduit with his trident and directed a geyser of fuel upward, temporarily blinding the lumbering titan and enraging him even further.
“A LITTLE OIL WON’T STOP ME, PUNY BOT!” Devastator sputtered.
Maybe not, Tyrannicon thought, but it might buy some breathing room. While Devastator flooded his optics with cleansing fluid, the Sharkticon leader turned and sprinted down an alley, smashing against buildings almost at random. To an unwitting observer, it might have looked like he was damaged beyond repair, that he was malfunctioning so badly that he was unable to run straight. Devastator’s vision cleared just in time to see Tyrannicon turn a corner and vanish from sight, but the size of the bots meant that the head start wouldn’t last for long. Devastator strode after the Sharkticon leader, following him into an area of the city where the buildings crowded particularly closely. Yet getting to grips with Tyrannicon proved to be more difficult than expected; Tyrannicon kept turning, dashing down alley after alley, his path so unpredictable that it bordered on the random, even though it was anything but that. Tyrannicon danced an acrobatic circle around the enraged giant, finishing with a series of leaps that brought him to the top of a nearby roof. Devastator saw him and turned to grab him.
Retribution Page 29