Transformers Dark of the Moon

  “Over you,” I growl back at him, and then, with a quick twist at my waist, I upend him and slam him to the ground.

  But he has lost not one bit of speed or fragment of his fighting ability. On his back, he sweeps his leg around and knocks mine out from under me. I go down and, cat-quick, he leaps upon me, trying to grind my head into shards. I twist my head away and return blow for blow, jarring him loose. I kick out, connecting with his chest, sending him crashing into a nearby building. Brick and mortar go flying, and the building collapses.

  He springs to his feet and comes at me once more.

  This could take a while.

  vii

  Sam wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do with the pillar once he got to it. Shut it off? If he did that, someone could just turn it back on again. Destroy it? How? Pound it with some debris? Haul it to Mount Doom and toss it in the lava?

  It was good enough for another Sam, so …

  Suddenly he saw someone sprinting from the other direction, heading straight for the same pillar.

  The other guy was faster. The other guy was closer.

  The other guy was Dylan Gould.

  He reached it before Sam and threw his arms around it, embracing it like a lover, his hand coming down on top of one round glyph in the middle that was protruding above the surface of it.

  Instinctively Sam knew what it was and, worse, knew what it was going to do. He stopped, put up his hands as if he were trying to talk down a jumper on the edge of a building, and said, “Stop! Dylan! Please don’t! The future of the world—!”

  “There’s only one future for me,” Dylan said, sounding strangled.

  He slammed the glyph home.

  A pulse erupted from the pillar, leaping skyward, and the energy unleashed knocked Dylan backward. It was as if, for a moment, the entire city was buckling from a sonic boom.

  Sam looked up and saw something that he would remember to his dying day, which was very likely today.

  The curvature of Cybertron was beginning to emerge through the space bridge.

  So many times Optimus Prime had spoken with reverence of his home world. Sam had lost track of how many times, in his sleep, he’d had dreams of Cybertron in which he was walking along its metal surface and seeing the Autobots in their home environment.

  He was struck by the fact that it looked just as it had in his dreams.

  Except this was no dream. This was a nightmare.

  The realization broke him from his momentary paralysis, and he charged at the pillar, trying to get past Dylan, who was blocking his path. Dylan grabbed a piece of rubble about the size of his fist and threw it. Sam attempted to dodge and was only partially successful as it slammed against his shoulder, knocking him off his feet.

  Dylan came at him, having extracted a length of rebar from the rubble and waving it threateningly. “You chose sides, Sam. You chose wrong.”

  viii

  (The remaining Decepticons are arriving from all over the city. They know the bridge has been activated; their aid is no longer required for that. Instead, now they come to help Sentinel in his battle against their mortal enemy. A number of attack ships are still functioning, having been on routine patrol when the battleship was destroyed, so they are moving in as well.)

  (They converge on the battle site where the two Primes struggle. Within seconds they will be there to aid Sentinel and dispose of the hated Optimus. They will not intercede, but in the exceedingly unlikely event that Optimus is triumphant, it will be his last victory. It is clear, though, that that is not going to happen. Sentinel is handling everything that Optimus endeavors to dish out and more besides, and every assault is beaten back.)

  (And suddenly missiles are firing upon the attack ships, blasting them apart, sending them spiraling down into the Decepticons who are on foot.)

  (Human soldiers are everywhere, opening fire with weapons of devastating potency. And they are side by side with half a dozen Autobots, charging into battle, cutting a swath through the Decepticon attackers and annihilating everything that stands in their way.)

  ix

  Carly couldn’t believe she was doing what she was doing. But she felt as if she had to do something, and this was what was available to her. She was banking everything on the idea that she had properly interpreted what she had seen via the telescope, but she was fairly convinced that she had. Years of work in the diplomatic corps had made her very adroit at seeing past what typically met the eye.

  She entered the alley and saw exactly what she was expecting to see: Megatron, seated among the garbage, his back against the wall, looking about as pathetic as anyone ever had.

  There was a wrecked bus wedged into the alley near him. Carly climbed up on the hood and from there onto the roof, bringing herself to eye level with the Decepticon. “So, Megatron, may I ask you a question?”

  He looked up at her upon hearing his name. This was the moment of biggest risk. He might just reach over and crush her with his fingers immediately just to get her out of his face. If she survived the next few seconds, she might actually succeed in what she was trying to accomplish.

  He did nothing except sit there.

  Carly gulped and said, “Was it worth it? All your work to bring Sentinel back. When clearly he now has all the power.” When he didn’t respond, she spoke faster and with more determination. “I just find it ironic. Almost tragic, really. Your Decepticons finally conquer this planet, and yet their leader won’t be you.”

  His face twisted in anger. She could just imagine what was going through his head. Who is this little insect to speak to the mighty Megatron in such a manner? Yet he was listening to her instead of swatting her.

  In the distance, sounds of the battle between Sentinel and Optimus raged.

  Carly went for broke.

  “Any minute now,” she said in slow derision, “and you’ll be nothing. But. Sentinel’s. Bitch.”

  Megatron was on his feet in an instant, his fist clenched, and he brought it slamming down toward Carly. She let out a scream, and the fist came down to her immediate right, crunching the front of the bus and sending her skidding to the ground. She looked up, and Megatron towered over her, glaring.

  Then, without another word, he stormed out of the alley, and Carly wasn’t sure what she had just unleashed. But considering the fact that she was alive, she was liking the odds.

  x

  Sam and Dylan struggled in the rubble, pounding on each other, and Sam was taking the worst of it. One eye was already swollen shut, and the other wasn’t in much better shape. His lip was split, and he was tasting the salty bitterness of his blood in his mouth. Meanwhile, searing energy was pouring from the pillar. Even from a distance, Sam felt like it was going to burn off his eyebrows.

  Dylan, much to Sam’s annoyance, simply looked disheveled. Sam was giving the mogul his best shots, and Dylan didn’t seem fazed.

  He felt his resolve failing until he saw the curve of Cybertron continue to draw closer, to assume form and substance. He pictured his world being ripped apart, the remaining humans enslaved by the Decepticons, and the image gave him new strength. He lashed out, knocking Dylan back, swinging a series of jabs and punches as fast as he could, driving him toward the surging pillar.

  Dylan brought his fists up in a boxing stance to protect himself, and Sam charged forward, focusing all his strength in one last-ditch effort. He pounded Dylan around the midsection, feeling his solid abdominal muscles absorbing the impact. He swung a roundhouse punch and missed completely as Dylan sidestepped, and then Dylan brought his fist down on the back of Sam’s neck, sending him to his knees.

  Sam was gasping for breath, and Dylan stood over him, triumphant. “You see that planet up there? I just rescued a whole other world. Think you’re a hero? You think you’re a hero?”

  “No,” Sam said raggedly. “Just a messenger.”

  And Sam leaped upward and slammed his foot into Dylan’s solar plexus. Dylan stumbled back, unaware until the last possi
ble second just how close he had allowed himself to get to the pillar.

  By the time he realized, it was too late. He fell into the powerful beam that the pillar was generating and was instantly incinerated.

  Sam fell to his knees, gasping, unable to believe it was over. Then he realized that, of course, it wasn’t. He grabbed for the glyph that had sunk into the surface of the pillar, the one that, if he could just extract it, would shut the thing off and end this madness.

  No chance. It was smooth against the pillar, and there was no way to extract it, or at least none that he could find.

  “Lennox! Epps! A little help!” he shouted, not knowing where they were and not really expecting to be lucky enough to be heard by them.

  To his astonishment, he turned out to be wrong.

  Seconds later, Lennox and Epps were attaching charges to the pillar. Carly was at Sam’s side, trying to tell him something about Megatron, but he was too distracted to listen. He was busy watching the impending destruction of the earth by means of another world. “Guys! A little faster!”

  “We good?” Epps said to Lennox.

  “We’re good! Now let’s go! Go, go!”

  They got.

  xi

  I have battled with as much determination as I can. I have no excuse this time. He has simply outfought me. There is no dishonor for me in that. Unfortunately, there is no victory, either.

  I lie upon the ground, trying to gather myself for another assault, but my body ignores the commands of my mind. I tell it to stand, and instead I remain prone. Sentinel, who moments before knocked me onto my back, stands near me and shakes his head in what can only be considered pity. “Always the bravest of us, Optimus. But you could never make the hard decisions. Our planet will survive. Thanks to me.”

  He reaches down and picks up the fallen blaster, the one containing the acid rust. He points it toward my head, and now I feel strength returning to me, but too late, too late …

  And suddenly Sentinel’s arm is wrenched back, and the blaster goes flying. He turns in confusion and is astounded to see who has committed such an unexpected act.

  “Megatron?” he says.

  “Lord Megatron,” he announces, and strikes Sentinel Prime a mighty blow in the face. Sentinel staggers, and Megatron fires a blast from his cannon, lifting Sentinel off his feet and sending him crashing to the street some distance away. “Three will stand, and one will fall!”

  Megatron spins and puts out a hand to me. Not a hand cannon. Not a weapon.

  A hand.

  I take the hand of him who once slew me, and he hauls me to my feet. Side by side, we face Sentinel.

  We charge into battle.

  And still he beats us back. Still he thwarts us. He moves faster than anything I have ever seen, and we pound upon him and exchange blows at dizzying speed. The air rings with the repeated impact of metal on metal, and stray explosions blast apart everything within range of the battle, and still Sentinel is on his feet, and still we are not able to overcome him.

  “We were gods once, all of us!” Sentinel bellows, “but here … there will be only one!”

  He slams into me, and the speed of it carries us through another wall, pulverizing it. I manage to toss him aside, but he lands upon his feet and is ready to come at me again.

  Then Megatron charges in, skidding on his side, akin to images I have seen of a baseball runner sliding into base. The slide takes Sentinel’s legs out from under him, and as Sentinel falls, I leap over him, landing on the street behind him. Sentinel is instantly on his feet, ready to fight, ready to end the battle.

  So am I.

  And I happen to be the one holding the acid blaster.

  He has taught me well what to do in just such a situation. For this one instant, the student truly has surpassed the teacher.

  Sentinel Prime freezes.

  It is all I require as I unleash a blast of acid rust.

  It strikes Sentinel Prime fully in the chest. He staggers, clutching at the rapidly expanding hole in his torso, looking bewildered that such a thing could possibly be happening to him, and then he sags to his knees.

  “All I ever wanted,” he gasps out, “was the survival of our race. You must see … why I had to betray you.”

  He reaches up with a trembling hand, which I ignore. “You did not betray me. You betrayed yourself.”

  His hand sags, falls to the ground, and dissolves. Moments later, so does the rest of him.

  I feel as if I have just slain a part of myself. Just as humans who have lost limbs claim that they still feel phantom pain from the missing body parts, so too will I always know the sensation of the absent part of my life called Sentinel.

  Except …

  I lost him once.

  I can lose him again.

  Suddenly I hear several explosions, and the coruscating beam originating from the control pillar, wherever it has fallen to, sputters and then goes out. Someone has destroyed it. Knowing their resourcefulness, it is probably the humans.

  Megatron lets out a long, high cry of protest as, with the anchor destroyed, the beam is broken.

  I have just enough time to glimpse my home world. I reach up, imagining that I am holding it in the palm of my hand. And then the space bridge collapses, and just that quickly, the planet of my birth is drawn back to its point of origin.

  All is silence.

  Slowly I turn to face Megatron.

  “You felt it,” he says to me. “You must have felt it. The draw of our world. It called to you just as forcefully as it calls to me. The difference between us is that I was willing to answer that call.”

  “No,” I say. “It was never about Cybertron, any more than it was about Earth now. It was always about you. Whatever nobility you may have had once, or think you’ve had, was long consumed by your overwhelming need to dominate all you see before you.”

  “Such pompousness from you, Prime. Your sanctimoniousness would be more impressive if we did not both know that the two of us are very much alike.”

  “We are nothing alike.”

  “I wanted to control Cybertron because I thought I was right. You fight me because you believe you are right.”

  “I,” I tell him, preparing for battle, “am tired of your control.”

  “And I …” He hesitates.

  And he sags to the ground. “I … am tired of fighting.”

  I have no idea what reply to make. So I wait.

  “I sue for peace, Optimus,” he says finally. “I will order all Decepticons to stand down. It is over. All this”—he gestures around us—“is over. Even endless war must end sometime. Our world calls, and I will devote my existence—and the existence of all Decepticons—not to attacking you or humans but to returning to our home world. I have spent far too long destroying, and it has brought me nothing. Nothing. So I wish to try creating for a time and see if that brings me … something.”

  “And I am supposed to believe your words? I am supposed to accept this call for a truce? After all the lies and deceits? After all the attempts to lay waste to an entire world?”

  He stares at me for a time and then says, “Honestly, Prime, it does not matter to me what you believe. You still hold the weapon of Sentinel Prime. Use it. Annihilate me. I no longer care what you do. All I ask is that whatever decision you make, make it quickly.”

  I look at the blaster in my hand. How easy it would be to destroy him. To put an end to it once and for all.

  I glance toward the sky. Cybertron is gone. But as loath as I am to admit it, he is right. It calls to me. It calls with the song of what it once was, and what it could be again if only we, as a race, were capable of living up to the potential we once had.

  “You are wrong. I am not like you,” I say at last, “because if I were, I would destroy you for showing what any Decepticon would define as weakness. Your own people may well tear you apart for this change in your attitude. For your sake as well as theirs, control them.”

  “I will.”
br />   Slowly he rises, trying to display some measure of dignity, and then he says, “When I do return to Cybertron and when I do make things right, I will send for you and yours. And we will join and be one race again. A race of peace. We will once again have a home.”

  I say nothing as he walks away.

  I want to believe it will be peace.

  I want to believe that he can truly transform.

  And I will hold out hope … because in the end, that is all we have.

  xii

  “You said it, you know,” Sam reminded her tiredly.

  Bumblebee was seated on the ground while Sam leaned against him. Carly was busy using some towels she’d found to try to clean Sam’s face as best she could. “I said what?”

  “You used the L word.”

  “That didn’t count,” she said. “That was under duress. You say crazy things under duress. You’re not in your right mind, endorphins get released—”

  He put a finger to her lips, silencing her, and he tried to smile except it hurt, so he settled for a wince. “I love you. You’re all I’m ever gonna need. And all this? This blowing stuff up and war and everything? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  “You promise?”

  “Promise. If you promise me that you’ll say the L word to me, not under duress, within the next sixty seconds.”

  “Well, that’s a pretty steep requirement,” she said. “Be specific: Just how are you going to make it up to me?”

  Sam stopped, unsure what to say.

  Bumblebee abruptly coughed up a gasket ring. It dropped down and into Sam’s open palm.

  He looked down at it and what it symbolized and suddenly felt a decline of nerve. “Okay, hold it … hang on …”

  Carly plucked the gasket ring from his palm and slipped it onto the third finger of her left hand.

  Sam looked up at the robot, flustered. “Bumblebee!”