Transformers: Retribution (25 page)

“I’m sure the Curator told you all sorts of things,” Optimus said drily. “And you were far too eager to listen.”

Megatron shook his head. “Don’t try to change the subject, clerk. Wasn’t your Matrix of ‘Leadership’ supposed to keep you from making these kinds of rookie mistakes?”

Optimus was too weary to indulge in recriminations. “You’re in the same cell with the rest of us, Megatron.”

“Not for long.” But Megatron’s bravado rang hollow in that cramped hold. Some of the Autobots laughed openly at him. Optimus simply shook his head sadly.

“Megatron, don’t you realize who the Quintessons are? They’re the very same race who sent you to toil in the mines millions of years ago! If I’m a fool for believing them, then what does that make you?”

Megatron smashed his fist against the floor. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

The manta ray ship suddenly ground up against something solid.

“We’re docking!” Perceptor said. There was a rush to the portholes on either side as Autobots and Decepticons crowded around them, trying to get a look at their destination. The ship had surfaced in a massive undersea grotto, a gigantic military staging area. Multiple industrial cargo elevators ran back and forth between other manta ships while maglev cargo trains hauled Energon and weapons out of the room and into tunnels. Sharkticons were everywhere, some standing guard and others loading. Still others stood in long lines, where
they were being issued with weapons and supplementary armor before marching into the open holds of the manta ships.

“Looks like they’re getting ready for a war,” Rodimus said.

“Sure,” Ramjet said, “but with whom?”

“The Sharkticons in this room already outnumber us twenty to one,” Dirge muttered. “They didn’t need all this for us.”

“So who are they planning on fighting?” Ramjet repeated.

“Someone else on this planet?” Rodimus suggested.

“I think they’ve got this planet locked down pretty tight.”

“So who are their neighboring star systems?” asked Jazz.

“We didn’t see any,” Optimus said.

“Because you didn’t
look
,” Megatron said. “You were so eager to rush in and find the AllSpark, so trusting in your precious Matrix. That’s Optimus’s leadership for you, everybody! Fling the most important artifact in history into the cosmos just so you can spend your entire life running around looking for it!”

“While you’d rather just spend your entire life running your mouth,” Ironhide said.

“Impudent whelp!” Megatron snarled. “Your days are numbered!”

But even as he said it, the holding cell doors slid open to reveal a squad of Sharkticons wielding laser whips.

“Check out the welcome wagon,” Rodimus snarked. His comment was immediately met with a laser whip that lashed out and sent him sprawling on the ground.

“NOT TO TALK!” a Sharkticon screamed at him. Another cracked its whip and pointed to the open hatch.

“YOU, THIS WAY! NOW!” Both Autobots and Decepticons fell into line as their Sharkticon guards marched
them out of the manta ship and onto the docks, where a maglev train awaited, its hatches open.

“Looks like we’re going for another ride,” Ironhide said. A Sharkticon guard raised his whip threateningly.

“YOU GET IN! NOW!”

As they filed aboard, Optimus looked up and saw the huge Sharkticon general overseeing the entire process from an observation deck on his flagship. For a moment he and Optimus met each other’s gaze, and then Optimus stepped inside to join his companions. The Autobots and the Decepticons were loaded into separate train cars this time. That came as a big relief to the former, especially because the Decepticons were starting to be less than cooperative as they reached their designated car on the train. Megatron’s voice boomed and echoed through the cave.

“I demand to know where you are taking us!”

Megatron got his answer in the form of several laser whips cracking over his head.

“SHUT UP! MOVE ON TRAIN! NOW!” At least some things were consistent, Optimus thought. Even in the face of the unknown and adversity Megatron remained a pompous scrap pile. But Optimus was thinking that maybe—just maybe—there might be a way to turn that arrogance to their advantage.

T
HE TRAIN SPED THROUGH A ROCKY TUNNEL FOR A COUPLE
more hours. Optimus did his best to maintain his bearings, but with all his systems frozen at such low power, it was all he could do to keep from falling asleep. At least this time they didn’t have to spend the trip watching their backs for Decepticon treachery, though perhaps leaving the Autobots alone with their thoughts was even worse. Optimus was glad when he detected a change in the train incline, which sloped ever more
steeply, rising steadily from the level of the seabed. He went to a window to get a better look, half expecting to see that they were back in the water again. To learn that this train was partially aquatic would have been the least surprising thing that had happened that day.

But he was wrong.

Bleak landscape stretched off in all directions, punctuated by distant mountains, their peaks shrouded in low-hanging clouds and mist. A steady rain beat down. The only signs of life were overland power lines and pipes that crisscrossed the barren lands. Huge lightning rods rose up from the rails at regular intervals, no doubt to counter the constant storms. It was one of the most desolate wildernesses Optimus had ever seen, and it went on for mile after mile, until finally the weather began to clear a little and through the clouds up ahead Optimus caught sight of a distant city skyline.

“Guys,” he said. “I think we’re here.”

As everyone pressed up against the window, it quickly became apparent that this was no ordinary city. In fact, it might have been the largest city Optimus had ever seen, several times bigger than Iacon. There was no doubt this was the Aquatron capital. And it was set in the middle of a vast lake; as the train raced onto a causeway that stretched out over the water, Optimus studied the approaching buildings. They almost seemed more organic than mechanical, curving into and around one another as if they were enormous crystal growths. Optimus could make out flying versions of the Sharkticons weaving their way in and out of the skyscrapers. It stunned him that the city had gone undetected during the scans from orbit. Clearly the weather had been a factor, but there must have been additional shielding at work here. As the train passed over the lake, Optimus could see down into the clear water; bots sped this way and that, busily working on infrastructure just below the surface. Optimus could
only wonder what else was down there as the train raced off the causeway and into the city.

Unlike the one at the pole, this place was crowded. Aquatronians were everywhere. But now that the subterfuge was over, it was clear what a cowed lot they were. They were the planet’s worker class, whereas the Sharkticons were the warrior caste. The latter were a constant presence on the streets, their macelike tails bouncing along behind them. The population showed no curiosity at the prison train thundering past them. Perhaps it was a routine occurrence. The train traveled a considerable distance into the city and then came to a stop in front of a grand cathedral-like structure. Huge flying buttresses carved from sea stone held up a magnificent archway in which stood statues of huge trident-wielding Sharkticons. The runes indicated that the building was the Hall of Justice. Optimus had a feeling that justice would be the last thing they would find in it.

“I hate this place already,” Ironhide said.

The train doors slid open, and Sharkticon guards marched the Autobots and Decepticons out of the train and down onto the platform. Waiting for them there were—

“Not these guys again,” Rodimus said.

The Curator and Xeros were surrounded by a Sharkticon honor guard. Both looked pleased with how the situation had turned out.

“KNEEL!” One of the Sharkticon guards cracked his whip. The Cybertronians reluctantly obeyed and dropped to their knees. It was one of the most painful things Optimus had ever done, but he knew he had to stay alive if his people were to have any chance at all. Trumpets sounded as General Tyrannicon appeared in the doorway two cars back. He marched up to the Curator and dropped to one knee before him.

“May the light and hope of Quintessa shine down and empower your humble servant,” he said formally.

The Curator smiled and beckoned the general forward with his scaly hand.

“You may rise. General, allow me to congratulate you on apprehending these … malefactors. We can only shudder to think what further damage they would have caused had you not acted quickly. You have done well, and now that you have brought them to our great city of Hydratron, we can administer justice as the law requires.”

“Thank you, my lord. I live to serve.”

“See, Xeros?” The Curator turned to the taciturn scientist at his side. “I was right to return the Sword of Sharkticons to his rightful place.”

“Of course you were, my lord.” Xeros glanced at Tyrannicon with more than a little trepidation. “How could I have not seen how essential his role would be?”

Tyrannicon puffed out his chest and spoke in his imposing baritone. “These cretins surrendered without a fight once they saw the majesty of my battle force.”

“Liar!” Megatron screamed. Then, turning to the Curator: “You! You set us all up! I’ll rip you limb from limb for this.” His words were cut off as Tyrannicon stepped over to him and delivered a powerful backhand blow that sent the Decepticon leader flying into the side of the train. Not content to stop there, Tyrannicon lifted his huge scale-covered foot and placed it on Megatron’s throat.

“Another word from you and I shall permanently deactivate your voice circuits,” he said.

For once, Megatron shut up. “You should let me kill them now,” Tyrannicon said to the Curator.

“Your enthusiasm is commendable, General. But these Cybertronians must formally account for their hubris.” The Curator then turned directly to Optimus. “To think
I thought you Cybertronians were ready for peace. Instead you’ve proved yourselves totally unworthy.”

“You deceived us,” Optimus said.

“No,” the Curator insisted. “You deceived us. You defiled our temple, and you disgraced yourselves. I gave you the benefit of the doubt when I should have known better.”

“You little two-faced
snake
,” Ironhide said. A whip knocked him sprawling.

“You see?” the Curator said. “Even now your people can’t control themselves. You’re primitives. But you still must answer to the law.”

“And what does
that
mean?” Optimus asked.

Tyrannicon stepped in. “You dare take that tone of voice?” he rumbled. He was about to give Optimus the same treatment he’d just meted out to Megatron, but the Curator raised his hand.

“He has the right to speak, General. Or rather, he will inside the Hall of Justice.” Then, turning back to Optimus: “You see, Optimus, we Quintessons place a premium on truth and justice. Unlike you, I might add. But despite your many transgressions against us, you are still entitled to certain protections under our ancient code. Despite your proclivity for destruction and mayhem, we will treat you in a way that befits your status. Despite the fact that you do not deserve it, you will still receive a fair trial.”

“A fair
trial
?!?” Jazz shouted incredulously. “But we’ve done nothing wrong!”

Xeros snickered. “Of course you would think that. You have no true concept of what is right and what is wrong. Empathy and reason are empty words to you.”

“I’ve heard enough,” Optimus said, facing the Curator directly. “Not only are you our mortal enemy, you can’t even admit that to my face. You hide behind this talk of justice, and you’re laughing all the time. You’ve
deceived us, but I promise that the one who will pay for his crimes will be you—” He was cut off as Tyrannicon raised a fist and smashed him to the ground.

“For shame,” said the Curator. “Every word you say can and will be used against you. But in the end, I have no doubt you will recognize the gravity of your transgressions. Mark my words, Optimus Prime. In the end you will beg to be forgiven. General, take them in to meet the justice they have run from all their lives.”

Tyrannicon smiled the smile of a pure predator. “At once, my lord.”

S
TARSCREAM STRODE ONTO THE
N
EMESIS
’
S FRESHLY REPAIRED
command deck with a newfound air of confidence. Fleeing the Pavilion had been instinctual, but it had been one of the best moves he’d ever made. Because now the ship was undeniably his, and it was almost operational again. To be sure, he was short some of his key Seekers and a few others, but no matter. As far as Starscream was concerned, there was no reason to remain out here in the middle of nowhere, especially not when he could return to Cybertron and rule it himself. That mad scientist Shockwave would put up little opposition. Besides, if he waited here long enough, the Quintessons would finish him off, too. After all, that was exactly what he would do if the situation were reversed. The best answer he could think of was to be someplace else entirely, and that someplace undoubtedly was Cybertron.

“Soundwave,” he demanded, “what is the status?”

“Regrettably, I have been unable to reboot several of the
Nemesis’
s computers. However, I have managed to link new circuitry directly to the engines and devised a series of manual workarounds.”

Starscream looked impatient. “So can we fly or can’t we?”

“We can. Just not as well as I should like.”

“Excellent. Plot a course back to Cybertron. We’re leaving this place immediately.”

“But what about Lord Megatron?”

“Megatron is dead.” Starscream figured that would be the last time he’d need to hear
that
name. He congratulated himself once more on using Skywarp so deviously to eliminate the Decepticon leader. He began thinking about his plans for Cybertron. First of all, it would be necessary to rebuild Iacon entirely from the ground up. And there would need to be some suitable monuments. Perhaps a giant image of himself, three hundred meters tall, carved with laser on stone … Starscream became aware that Soundwave had said something.