Transformers: Retribution (26 page)

“What was that?”

“I said Megatron isn’t dead, Air Commander.”

“Impossible.”

“It’s true, my lord. Let me show you.” Soundwave pulled up the video footage taken by the
Nemesis
of the sinking Pavilion. The two Decepticons watched the drama unfold. Just when it looked like there’d be no survivors, the Autobots and Decepticons crawled out and were rounded up by the Aquatronian fleet. Both Megatron and Optimus were among them.

“By Unicron,” Starscream said.

“Excuse me, Air Commander?”

“I meant, thank Unicron he’s alive.” Starscream simply could not believe his bad luck. This was a serious monkey wrench in his plan: The remaining Decepticons would no doubt think it was their sacred duty to attempt to rescue Megatron from the clutches of these fish-bots. What angered him even more was the certain knowledge that they would never dream of doing the same thing for him. Starscream figured that for now he would have to play along and give the impression that he wanted to save their dear leader, too.

“I knew he was too tough to fall before those insipid
fish-bots and their Quintesson allies,” he said. “Where did they take them?”

Soundwave brought up his scans of the planet and pointed to a large island in the south; it was so big that it might have been classified as a small continent. Most of it was shrouded in bad weather. Soundwave must have been hard at work reversing the planetary defense system’s scramblers, since it hadn’t been visible earlier.

“They took them all there,” he said. “For what purpose I do not know.”

“What can you tell me about that continent?” Starscream asked.

“The weather has impeded our scans, but it seems to be the largest single landmass on the planet. Also, there is substantial electromagnetic activity, which further inhibits my efforts. That said, irregular breaks in the storm systems have allowed me to get a glimpse of what appears to be a huge city-island in the middle of a lake in the planet’s center. We think Megatron is now someplace within—we received a quick glimpse of his signal about twenty minutes ago. We also detected what appears to be a huge energy source beneath the city, which might be the source of all the electromagnetic activity.”

“Presumably their Energon facilities.”

“I don’t think so. It is far more concentrated than that. Take a look at this scan.” Starscream leaned in for a closer look. “As you can see, that is not an Energon signature. It is something else entirely.”

“So what do you think it is?”

“I do not know. But whatever it is, Megatron and the rest of our soldiers are standing right on top of it.”

“Continue your scans. I don’t want to attempt a rescue until we know more about what these Quintessons are hiding.”

“Of course.”

“Now, what’s the status of the Ark?”

“The Autobot ship remains on the far side of the planet. But we have to assume that they’re trying to figure out how to launch a rescue mission. If nothing else, I very much doubt they will allow the Matrix of Leadership to remain in Quintesson hands.”

“Any sign of Quintesson moves against us or the Ark?” Starscream asked. He eyed those planetary rings nervously.

“They seem to still believe they have us in stasis. And the Ark may still
be
in stasis for all we know.”

“Excellent, Soundwave. You have done well.” Starscream turned on his heel and strode off the bridge, his body language radiating the anger he dared not put into words.

As soon as the door closed, Soundwave moved to another screen and brought up his mini-con’s footage of the fight on the Pavilion. His spy’s purpose had been to make sure that Optimus Prime went down to the Temple of Peace by himself, but the spy had captured much more than that. What was particularly troubling was that just before the combat in the Temple of Peace began, another energy signature appeared on the exterior hull of the Pavilion. Soundwave had been trying to decode it for some time, and now at last he had an answer.

Skywarp.

Right before it had been destroyed, the mini-con had transmitted X-ray data that indicated that the Decepticon teleporter had appeared on the hull and attached an explosive device, which promptly exploded, disintegrating him in the process.

That made no sense whatsoever. Skywarp was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a suicide bomber. So why would Megatron give such a risky order? He already had Optimus cornered, and the bomb easily could have killed everybody in that room. Soundwave had combed through the ship’s database looking for whatever information he
could find on the Quintessons, but there was virtually nothing. It was as though somebody had erased much of the data. All signs pointed to them as somehow being the instigators behind all this, but there was precious little hard evidence to support that theory. Had Skywarp turned traitor? Or been under their control the whole time? The immediate problem was how to rescue Megatron, of course, but now there was a second challenge behind that one, for Soundwave intended to unravel the mystery of just what had set this lethal chain of events in motion. And if it turned out he couldn’t save Megatron, Soundwave knew what his duty demanded.

Vengeance on everybody involved.

T
HE INTERIOR OF THE
H
ALL OF
J
USTICE LOOKED LIKE A
cross between an ancient gladiator pit and a modern opera house that sloped down to transparent holding cells, allowing an audience of thousands to enjoy a good view of the captives. Aquatronians packed those seats, sitting in attentive silence, waiting for the spectacle to begin. In front of the cells was a circular sunken area surrounded by a half circle of five viewscreens that stretched from floor to ceiling. A defendant’s box stood in front of those screens, and a dais had been placed opposite the box, with a witness stand off to one side. The entire room was resplendent in eerie green and black with gold highlights here and there. The Sharkticons who stood guard everywhere wore elaborate armor that matched the color scheme and design aesthetic of the hall. In a peculiar way, it made the short fat killing machines seem almost regal.

“I don’t like the look of this one bit,” Jazz said. He and the rest of the Autobots were in one set of holding cells; the Decepticons were in the other. Everybody was glaring at one another, wondering what was going to happen next.

“You and me both,” Ironhide replied as he looked for a weakness in the cell. He grabbed the bars and pulled. A Sharkticon guard slapped his hands with his tail.

“GET BACK!”

“It doesn’t do us any good to antagonize them,” Ratchet said.

“I’d say they’re already pretty antagonized,” Ironhide replied.

All at once the lights dimmed. Deafening horns sounded throughout the chamber. A figure wreathed in shadow appeared on the dais opposite the defendant box. It was hard to make out the details, but from the way it flickered, it was obviously a holographic projection.

“Guess that’s the chief,” Perceptor said.

“Guess again,” Prowl said as the five screens suddenly came to life. On each screen was another shadowy figure, five in all. Only they weren’t figures. They seemed more like disembodied heads floating in midair, each face contorted into a skull-like grimace. It was impossible to make out more than that, and the overall effect was more than a little eerie, an effect that intensified when one of the heads began speaking. A low hollow voice seemed to echo from a place beyond all space and time.

“By the power of the Quintesson Imperium, I call this high court to order on the city of Hydratron, in the province of Aquatron, and do hereby stand before you as chief magistrate.”

Megatron chose that moment to start yelling. “Chief coward is more like it! Why don’t you show yourself instead of hiding behind that screen!” The Sharkticon guards promptly knocked Megatron to the ground with their maces and whips. The chief magistrate let the beating go on for a while before resuming his speech.

“Another outburst from the defendant will result in
him being found in contempt of court. Prosecutor, are you ready to commence your case against the defendants?”

“I am,” said the figure on the dais.

“Do you swear to present that case with neither malice nor prejudice?”

“I do,” the figure said.

“Then proceed.”

“Your honor, I shall begin with the charges against their leader, Optimus Prime.”

Megatron looked outraged. “Optimus isn’t our leader”—but his words were cut off as a Sharkticon smashed him back onto the ground. More Sharkticons grabbed Optimus and led him to the prisoner’s box. He stood there for a moment regarding the screens. He suddenly realized that he was looking at some kind of long-range communication system, that whoever was running this trial was offworld, perhaps on Quintessa itself. That meant they had to have a space bridge nearby to enable faster-than-light communication. It also meant there had to be a considerable power source close at hand. Perhaps they could turn that power source against the city’s defenses. If he could only find a way out from under the thumb of this sham of a court …

“State your name for the record,” the prosecutor said.

“I am Optimus Prime, and I refuse to recognize the legitimacy of this court.”

“Your recognition is not required,” said the prosecutor. “Are you ready to hear the charges?”

“Go ahead,” Optimus said wearily.

“The charges against you are as follows: destruction of public property, criminal mayhem, high treason, war crimes, and galactic blasphemy. Do you have any questions regarding these charges?”

“You’re charging me with
treason
? Against whom?”

“Are you not a native of the planet Cybertron?”

“Yes. Which means that—”

“It means that treason is applicable. The other charges reflect the destruction you have wrought on Aquatron and your past crimes against the Quintesson Imperium committed by both you and your minions—” He broke off as the Autobots and Decepticons started howling in outrage. The Sharkticons had to restore order; by the time they were finished, many of the Cybertronians were unable to do anything more than watch the proceedings from a prone position. After that there were no more interruptions, and the prosecutor got on with his hatchet job.

“You have the right to know the evidence,” he said to Optimus. “Are you prepared to hear it?”

“I’m prepared to hear it, but I doubt you’re going to listen to me.”

The prosecutor ignored him. “First, as to mayhem and blasphemy. The following is indisputable: that you did willfully engage in violent combat in an area designated as a sacred neutral zone. This combat did result in the destruction of our Temple of Peace. The following footage will be labeled as Exhibit A.” The image on one of the screens was replaced by a scene of Autobots and Decepticons battling savagely at the Pavilion. It was followed by another of Optimus desperately fighting for his life in the Temple of Peace before the bomb on the hull detonated and turned the screen white.

“This was instigation,” Optimus said. “A setup. The Curator orchestrated all this, and you know it.”

“I know nothing of the kind,” said the prosecutor. “Do you see this ‘Curator’ in the courtroom today?”

Optimus looked around, but the Curator had remained outside. “No, I do not.”

“Then we regret that we are unable to call him as witness.”

“He’s right outside!”

“But not present. And thus legally not relevant.”

Optimus ground his teeth. Obviously this was a kangaroo court, and the ending was preordained. He forced himself to listen as the prosecutor continued: “Your wanton desire to wage war on Aquatron itself is beyond dispute. However, these incidents pale in comparison to the ancient and long-standing vendetta you have harbored against the Quintesson Imperium. May it please the court, we turn now to the war crime and treason charges.”

“Proceed,” said the chief magistrate.

“I wish to introduce Exhibit B.” The face on another screen faded, to be replaced by an image of a barren and rocky Cybertron. “Millions of years ago we found your planet a barren wasteland. In our infinite wisdom and benevolence, we Quintessons gave life to both Autobot and Decepticon. We brought forth your race and gave you the gift of intelligence, along with the spark of life itself.”

Down in the cage Prowl looked at Perceptor. “That’s not the creation story I was told,” he said in a low voice. Now the screen gave way to bots changing into jets and vehicles while an automated assembly line installed cockpits on them and shadowy figures climbed in.

“And after we gave you all these gifts, you chose to reject our love. You rose up against us and drove us from your planet. You betrayed us and set yourselves on a path to never-ending war and violence. And look where it has gotten you. Millions of years of fighting later, it was inevitable that you would return to us—and now that you have, we demand that you account for your disobedience.”

Optimus’s head was spinning. Was all this true? If the information had been presented to him in any other way, he might not have taken it so seriously, but there
was something about the visuals that had the spark of truth to them. Or maybe it was just the entire spectacle of the court; maybe he was meant to be taken in by all the pageantry. Surely this was just propaganda, pure and simple. But in that case why was the pressure in his head building? Why did it feel like he was about to have another seizure? What if the Quintessons really
had
created the Cybertronians? Through the haze that engulfed him he could hear the prosecutor continuing:

“Thus is Optimus Prime guilty of blasphemy,” he said. “Guilty of rebelling against his own creators.”

“So a video constitutes proof?” Optimus asked.

“More blasphemy,” said the prosecutor. “You condemn yourself with your own words.”

“I thought you said the blasphemy charge was for fighting in your temple.”

“I didn’t say it was limited to that,” the prosecutor shot back. “During our rightful rule of Cybertron, you spoke against us.
That
was blasphemy. Then you acted to thwart us.
That
was treason. Both are capital crimes.”