Transformers: Prometheus

CHAPTER 9

The evening had gone from weird to sombre in three syllables. The garage had the feeling of a funeral parlor, albeit one where they embalmed their clients in motor oil. It wasn’t every day where you learned that an alien warlord was somewhere on your planet, seemingly out to prove that his first act of apocalypse wasn’t a fluke.

Jack had no idea where to begin.

“‘So,’” Bumblebee remarked, in a British voice. “‘What’s the plan?’”

In the opposite corner, Arcee sat, brooding. “Not much of one, from where I’m sitting.”

“Well, aren’t you cheery,” Sam remarked, hand pressed against her cheek.

Arcee glanced at her. “Oh, scrap you.”

“Hey, whoa,” Jack said, shaking himself out of his thoughts. “No one’s scrapping anyone. But we could stand to be a little more constructive.”

Bumblebee buzzed. “‘Can we fix it? Yes, we can!’”

Arcee set her fist against her cheekplate. “Have I ever mentioned how much I hate being surrounded by optimists?”

“I’m not sure we can fix it, Bee,” Jack replied, “But we can figure out our next moves.” Leading the way, as always. “Arcee, you said that if Megatron is in the Arctic, he’d be in stasis lock?”

“Assuming the Decepticons haven’t found him yet, yes.”

“I think it’s more than an assumption. You said Blackout was his best hunter. Why would his best hunter be sniffing around the Middle East if they had any idea where he was?”

“I don’t know, soldier boy, but perhaps you’ll get a chance to ask him yourself.”

Jack frowned. Heat surged along the back of his neck. “Arcee.”

She shut her optics. “That was cruel of me. I... apologize.”

He took a breath. “Accepted,” he said. “I get this guy is some kind of combination of Genghis Khan and Ivan the Terrible. But I don’t think the world is ending just yet. Arcee, Bumblebee—if this Megatron was out there, do you think he’d be letting Blackout take all the glory?”

Bumblebee shook his head. Arcee shrugged.

“Here’s what I think,” Jack continued. “I think Megatron’s still buried up there in the Arctic. And I’m willing to bet that Soundwave and Blackout are looking for him. But we have one advantage they don’t.”

“We know where he is?” Sam offered.

“Exactly.”

“Which doesn’t really help us much. I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t afford a vacation to the Arctic. To say nothing of the cargo costs.”

Bumblebee set his front door wings low, like a dog dropping its ears. “‘These sweatpants are all that fit me right now.’”

“I’m not saying you’re fat, Bee,” Sam said. “But you could stand to get on that high-octane fuel.”

Liquid squirted out of Bumblebee’s eyes. It struck Jack that it had to be windshield washer fluid. Surely robots didn’t have tear ducts, or needed to cry. Was Bumblebee... acting?

It was all very strange.

“This is all very strange,” Jack said.

“It’s fine, he’s playing it up because you two are here,” Sam said.

“Primus save me,” Arcee muttered.

“Well, okay.” Jack said, and cleared his throat. “The advantage we have is that we know where Megatron is, and they don’t. I don’t know what we can do with that, but it’s something. Somehow I don’t think we can convince anyone to airstrike the place.”

“Then it’s not much of something,” Arcee put in.

“Arcee. Please.” Jack rubbed at his scalp.

“You don’t know what Megatron can do. He was forged in the gladiatorial pits of Kaon. No Autobot has ever beaten him in single combat. No one has ever come close.”

“I’m doing the best with what resources we have, ‘Cee.”

“Then we need more resources, or better ones, or both.”

Bumblebee nodded, pointing, tapping the ceiling of the garage. “‘Message from Starfleet, Captain.’ ‘Throughout the inanimate vastness of space.’ ‘And angels will rain down like visitors from Heaven! Hallelujah!’”

Jack stared. “Is he saying what I think he’s saying?”

Arcee nodded. “He is. Bumblebee and I can signal for reinforcements. If there are any Autobots out there, they’ll find us.”

“How?”

“We can project a signal into space. The exact specifics aren’t necessary for you to know.”

“But,” Jack said, “if Soundwave is in orbit—”

“He’ll detect the beacon,” Arcee said, nodding. “And the Decepticons will throw everything they have at us.”

“That sounds less than ideal,” Sam said. “Just saying.”

“It’s not ideal, no,” Arcee remarked. “But picking the battle at a time and place of our choosing is better than the alternative. Speaking of alternatives, there is one you haven’t considered, soldier boy.”

“Lay it on me.”

“That Megatron is not in stasis lock, nor on the warpath. That he is here, drawing his followers to him. Rebuilding his army. Here, so far from Cybertron, no one would ever know. Perhaps he wants that the first realization of his presence to be when he cracks the mantle of your world, and reduces it to cinders.”

It was a grim thought. It felt like something that was within the capabilities of this Megatron. Would anything on the planet be able to stop him? A nuclear warhead, probably—but good luck launching it.

Jack shrugged. “Could be, Arcee. If you’re right, then we should see about those reinforcements. Could you and Bumblebee handle Soundwave’s minions?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said. “And maybe even the spymaster himself.”

Jack nodded. “And Blackout? What about him?”

Arcee’s jaw slid left and right. “Less than ideal, as the girl said. But two on one gives us better odds than we had before.”

Sam snorted. “‘The girl?’”

“But not good odds,” Jack said, interrupting.

“I wouldn’t say so, no,” Arcee replied.

“Alright,” Jack said, nodding to himself. “Then we have to put all our pieces on the board and see what happens.”

Bee nodded, warbled something. “‘Sometimes,’” he added, in a gravelly voice, “‘You’ve gotta roll the hard six.’”

“Wow,” Sam replied, looking up at him, impressed. “Nice choice, Bee. I love that show.”

The plan was simple. Arcee would send the beacon into space, exposed, with Bumblebee held in reserve. If the Decepticons came in force, then the larger Autobot would be their ace in the hole—assuming, of course, that the Decepticons didn’t know he was there, too.

Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. Either way, it wasn’t something Jack could control. But tactical geography was. So, the trick was picking the battleground. The four of them studied a map of the greater Los Angeles area. Jack tried to visualize the strategic considerations, the tactical necessities...

He’d never had to account for giant robots before. He didn’t have a clear enough idea of their capabilities, on either side.

“So, what,” Sam said, “are we just going to drive out into the middle of nowhere and lure the bad guys there?”

Jack shook his head. “No,” he said, and his next thought sounded like a bad idea before he even voiced it: “We’re going to draw them as close to the city as possible.”

“Okay, I know I’m not a soldier or anything—but why?”

“Because there’s one thing we know for sure, that the Decepticons have something we don’t: air support. If we head out into open territory, they’ll be able to leverage that advantage. We want to deny the enemy their tactical advantages while keeping our own.”

“Not to poke at old wounds or anything,” Sam said, “but that helicopter sounds like he has no issue with civilian targets.”

“True. But it also sounds like the bad guys are here covertly, too. Before, Arcee said that Blackout took a risk in exposing himself. If the Decepticons want to keep quiet, just like we do, then we can use that against them. If we head outside the city, Blackout might be able to engage us without being noticed. But close to Los Angeles?”

“He’d have to risk being seen,” Sam said. “Wow, okay.”

“Right. Even being seen on radar might be too much of a risk. Soundwave might see our transmission, but that’s a whole other thing to being able to do anything about it. If Blackout is the muscle, then we keep Soundwave from deploying him. That way, whoever or whatever Soundwave sends should be outgunned.”

“Not the worst plan,” Arcee said, rolling her neck left and right. “What’re you basing it on, again?”

“An educated guess,” Jack replied, glancing at her. “There’s a lot of unknowns here and, hey, like Bee said, we have to roll the dice at some point.”

“So, where are we setting our ambush? I’ll need to be out of infiltration mode to send the transmission. It will only take a few minutes, but it will be noticeable.”

“To Soundwave?”

“To everyone.”

“Okay,” Jack said. “How noticeable are we talking?”

“Think one of your searchlights, beaming straight into the sky.”

“Hey, what about the observatory?” Sam suggested. “I mean, I think they do lightshows and junk up there.”

“Too close to the city, too notable a landmark,” Jack said, shaking his head. He examined the map again. Close to the city, somewhere they could minimize civilian risk and collateral damage... His finger traced along the paper, wondering what Colonel Lennox would’ve suggested. Probably something stupidly heroic.

“Here,” Jack said, tapping the map.

“Okay?” Sam replied. “Mind explaining to the rest of the class?”

“There’s this landscaping company right here. My mom sent me there when she wanted to redo the garden about a month ago... which she never actually did. There’s enough space for Arcee to send her message without being seen, and enough places to hide Bumblebee. The whole area is industry. No one will be there at this hour.”

“We’re going right now?” Sam asked.

“I’m not sure about ‘we’,” Jack said. “A giant robot deathmatch isn’t any place for a kid. No offence.”

“Some taken,” Sam retorted. “Bumblebee’s my friend. I should be there for him. And I’m seventeen, dude.”

“‘Thank you, thank you,’” Bumblebee crackled. “‘You’re wonderful.’”

“Sure,” Jack said. “But if you’re his friend, then you don’t want him to have to choose between ending the fight and protecting you.”

Sam crossed her arms. “So, what—you’re going?”

Jack nodded. “If Blackout shows up, then I need to be there.”

“And what’re you going to do, ‘soldier boy’, throw rocks at a giant space robot?”

“I’ll figure something out,” Jack replied. “I’m good at improvising, but...”

“But?”

“You said your dad’s head of the neighborhood watch, right? Does he have a gun in the house somewhere?”

He did. About twenty minutes later, Sam ventured into the house and returned with a matte black handgun. After assuring her that he wouldn’t use it in any robberies, Jack took it into the garage and checked it over. If he was going to fire a weapon, he had to make sure it would work—never fire a gun you haven’t loaded yourself, Colonel Lennox had liked to say. He slammed the magazine home, heard the familiar click. A ten round magazine loaded for nine millimeter. It had a comfortable weight in his hand.

Part of him thought he’d rather have a rock.

“What’s that?” Arcee asked, ducking into the garage.

“It’s a Glock,” Jack replied. “A handgun. Just not, y’know, literal ones like you have.”

“Oh, funny. Because I almost thought it was a weapon.”

“It’s all I’ve got, Arcee.”

Arcee crossed her arms, plates scraping quietly. “You’re not coming, soldier boy. Bumblebee and I can handle this. We’ll send the message, see if the Decepticons come running, and kill any who are stupid enough to do so.”

“It’s my decision, Arcee,” Jack replied.

“Actually, as ranking Autobot here, it’s my decision.”

Jack stepped toward her, shaking his head. Her silver face was difficult to read, angular and alien. Dozens of small plates and pieces making up something like a human visage. But the line where armor and features was so blurred, each melding into the other, that she didn’t look close to human. Her electric-blue optics narrowed.

“It’s my planet, Arcee.”

“It’s my war.”

“They were my friends.”

“And if one of your military installations couldn’t stop Blackout, couldn’t even slow him down, what hope do you have?”

“Funny,” Jack said, turning away, so she wouldn’t see the angry flush in his cheeks. “You almost sounded like you cared there.”

“It’s not about caring, soldier boy, it’s about stupidity. I’ve involved you because I had to.”

“I was already involved!” Jack replied, turning back, voice rising. “Blackout involved me! Ravage involved me! I get it, we’re not partners in this, you think I’m a lesser form of life—but from one soldier to another, I think you can give me some professional respect!”

Arcee said nothing.

“That’s it. That’s all I’m asking for. But I’m also not really asking. I’m coming with you, Arcee. I can’t let you take on Soundwave’s goons alone.”

“I won’t be alone. B-127 will be there.”

“The longer we can keep him a secret the better,” Jack replied. “Look, I know what you said. I’m a liability. I’m not asking you to protect me, Arcee. But I have to be there. I need to see Blackout again. I don’t know if I believe in destiny—but me and him? I owe him one. I won’t be able to sleep well again until I see the light go out of his eyes.”

Arcee’s expression twitched then, and she sighed. It was such an oddly human expression that it took Jack a moment to catch himself—there was no way that she needed to breathe, that she had lungs.

“Fine,” she said. “But like you said to the girl—don’t make me choose.”

“Yeah. Because I know you’d choose to end the fight over saving me.” It was about half a joke.

Her visage twitched again. Was that a slight quirk of her mouth, a grim smile?

“Well,” she said, “if we both know where we stand...” She shifted forms with smooth precision, and fired up her engine. “Hop on, Sergeant.”