Transformers: Retribution (8 page)

“Energon,” Megatron said with the tone of someone licking his lips.

“Giant stores of it,” Starscream said.

“All ripe for the taking,” added Soundwave.

Megatron smiled. “The two of you have done well. Very well indeed. Send Skywarp back to keep an eye on the situation. I want to know every move the Autobots make. Tell him that he is to do nothing aggressive. He
should not reveal himself; his job is strictly intelligence gathering.”

“Yes, lord,” said Starscream. He turned to go, but Soundwave stood his ground.

“Yes?” Megatron asked impatiently. “What is it?”

“Just one more question, my lord. Now that we have extracted the information from Axer, what do you want us to do with him?”

“You know as well as I do: There is no mercy for traitors. Find some use for him while I think up a suitable death.”

“As you command.” Soundwave strode off, leaving Megatron to stare at the imagery of the Ark and marvel at his luck. But then he shook his head.
Luck
? He was a military genius and had surrounded himself with the finest soldiers ever assembled. Deep in his heart he’d always known that luck simply wasn’t a factor—nor would there be any for the librarian on the day when he was caught.

And now that day was finally here.

“I
THOUGHT THIS PLANET WAS TEEMING WITH LIFE
,” Rodimus said.

“That’s what the Ark said.” Prowl double-checked his own scans of the area.

“Well, where are they exactly?”

Prowl was silent. Kup could tell that Rodimus was grating on the away-team leader’s nerves. He chuckled to himself at the way these youngsters ran hot and cold.

Perceptor broke in. “To repeat, the scans showed considerable life under the water. If you’re not finding anything in that city—”

There was a burst of static as storm activity cut off the link to the Ark.

“Great,” Kup said.

“Hey,” said Rodimus, “here comes Bumblebee. Let’s see if he’s found anything.”

Bumblebee sped up the ramp back to his comrades and shifted back into his bipedal form, making a series of bleeps, blips, and high-pitched whines.

“Slow down, son,” Kup said. Bumblebee did so, calming down and giving them a more coherent report. The city seemed empty. He hadn’t seen anybody, nor had anyone made themselves known to him. Lights were on, and walkways were running; all the elements of a living, breathing metropolis were in place. All that was missing
was the population. Curiously, the city had more than its share of surveillance cameras, all of which seemed to be fully operational.

“Told you,” said Rodimus. “We’re being watched.”

“Maybe we should go to the northern pole when the storms die down,” Kup said.

“I say we wait here,” Prowl said.

“What kind of plan is that?” Rodimus asked.

“Well, you’re right; we’re obviously being studied. Sooner or later they’re going to come to us.”

“Probably sooner,” Kup said. He pointed at water churning offshore. An enormous fin broke the surface and headed toward them.

“Everybody stay calm,” Prowl said. Kup popped his antique wrist cannons, and Rodimus unfolded his rocket bow. Three torpedo arrows locked into place with a resounding clack. Bumblebee’s fists collapsed back into his wrists to expose his twin particle decelerators.

“You call that staying calm?” Prowl asked.

Kup laughed. “I call it being prepared, youngster!”

As the fin reached shallow water, more of the creature beneath it became visible: a silver fish-bot, several meters long. The Autobots were even more surprised when that creature changed into a humanoid-shaped robot, stepping onto the lower platform and making the universal greeting:
I come in peace
.

“Hello,” Prowl said to the robot. It was short and was covered in blue-white metallic scales, each one highlighted with a slight golden tint. The eyes were bright green. There was a burst of static, and then its translators kicked in.

“Hello, hello, hello. So very glad to meet you. So wonderful to have visitors, so very, very wonderful indeed!” It advanced toward them.

“Stop right there!” Prowl barked.

“No need for weapons!” the bot said as it came to a
halt in front of them. “I come in peace and all that!” The three Autobots lowered their weapons, and the robot smiled. “Splendid, splendid, splendid. Allow me to introduce myself; I am the Curator, and I am charged with overseeing this planet. Might I have the honor of your names?”

“I am Prowl, and this is my team: Bumblebee, Rodimus, and Kup. We are from the planet Cybertron.”

“Oh, very good. Very good. We’ve been waiting a long time for visitors from Cybertron.”

“Oh, really? You’ve heard of Cybertron?” Prowl asked.

“Why, yes. Yes, of course. Hasn’t everybody?”

“Are you one of the lost colony worlds?”

“No, we are just a world. Tell me, are you Autobot or Decepticon?”

“Autobot,” Rodimus said with pride.

“Yes, indeed. I can see it now. Right there on your chest the insignia is. It has been a very, very long time since I’ve seen that. I am so very glad you are here.”

“Sure, of course you are.” Rodimus leaned in close to Kup. “Are you buying this guy?”

“Just keep your optics peeled and your audio receptors open, sonny. I got a feeling this fella’s got all kinds of things to say. We’d do well to listen.”

“Where are the rest of your people, Curator?” Prowl asked.

“Out to sea. Since we are amphibious, there are times when we live solely under the oceans. You might think of us as schools of fish, no? Right now many of us have migrated to the underwater facilities in the southern hemisphere. All of our cities have a high degree of automation. This outpost alerted us to your landing, and I was dispatched to see to your needs.”

“And who is ‘us’ exactly?” Rodimus asked.

“Why, the citizens of Aquatron of course. Let me show you around.”

O
PTIMUS FELT IT AGAIN AS
R
ATCHET RAN A SYSTEMS DIAGNOSTIC
: that terrible isolation. Optimus recalled the times he had traveled halfway across Cybertron delivering messages to members of the civilian council. He had felt alone then, too, but free on the open roads of Cybertron. Alive and in control of his own destiny.

Yet right now he felt an acute sense of dread bound up in the feeling that somehow, somewhere along the line he had lost his independence by becoming so reliant on the Matrix of Leadership. He wondered if, by its silence, the Matrix was trying to tell him something. Or maybe the problem was within him—he was somehow resisting the awesome responsibilities that had been thrust upon him. After all, he had never asked to be Prime. He had assumed the mantle out of duty and respect for the council. Never in his wildest thoughts as a data clerk had Orion Pax seen himself as a leader or even a warrior. Those titles had been handed to him, along with the power of the Matrix. What was the Matrix trying to show him now? Why wasn’t it just telling him what he needed to do? Was it telling him that maybe his time as Autobot leader was over?

“Well, there don’t seem to be any problems with your systems,” Ratchet said as the tests ended. “In fact, you’re operating at peak efficiency.”

“I see. Good.”

“Is there any reason why you wanted me to run these tests, Optimus?”

“I just felt I needed a checkup before going down to the planet. So you’re sure there were no anomalies?”

“No particular reason why you’re concerned?” asked Ratchet.

“Not at all.”

“Optimus, if you don’t mind me saying, you are a terrible liar. If you tell me what’s really wrong, I might be able to help you. A patient who doesn’t share all his information with his doctor risks a faulty diagnosis.”

Optimus shrugged. There was no hiding from Ratchet. “I think the Matrix of Leadership is malfunctioning,” he said.

Ratchet considered this. “Malfunctioning? How?”

“I’m not sure. I was hoping that maybe my own systems were the problem, but now you’re telling me they’re fine.”

“I am. You’ve got a clean bill of health.”

“Are you sure? When was the last time you checked your diagnostic equipment?”

“I can assure you that my equipment is in top working order,” Ratchet said. He hesitated, then continued: “Tell me more about what’s going on with the Matrix.”

“It’s gone almost silent.”

“Hmm.” Worry flickered across Ratchet’s face, only to subside beneath his professional demeanor. “Anything else?”

“I’ve been having these strange feelings. They’re tough to describe.”

“Try.”

“It’s sort of like … Well, one moment I’m free, and the next moment I’m in a cage.”

Ratchet frowned. “You feel like somebody is putting you in a cage?”

“Not exactly. It’s as though I’m constrained by something I can’t put my finger on. Almost like I’ve had this feeling before but I can’t quite remember all the circumstances.”

“Hmmm.” Ratchet looked concerned.

“It goes without saying I need you to keep this between us.”

“You know you can rely on me for complete confidentiality, Optimus. It wouldn’t do for this to get out.”

Suddenly, the med-lab door slid open and Jazz rushed in.

“Optimus! I’ve been looking all over for you. Didn’t you hear us calling?”

“Oops,” said Ratchet. “I must have accidently shut down the lab’s com-system. Blame me. Sorry.”

“What’s going on, Jazz?” Optimus asked.

“We just got the away team’s report.”

“And?”

“It’s complicated.”

O
PTIMUS AND
J
AZZ JOINED
P
ERCEPTOR BACK ON THE
Ark’s bridge. Prowl’s silver face glared at them from the main viewscreen.

“Report,” Optimus said as he took his position on the bridge.

“We’ve made contact with an administrator-leader type who calls himself the Curator,” Prowl said. “He says the name of the planet is Aquatron.” Images of the Curator appeared on the screen. Perceptor stepped in and took over the briefing.

“As you can see from his construction, this ‘Curator’ is a highly advanced form of robotic life geared toward survival on an aquatic world. He is capable of taking on both fish and humanoid form. It’s very possible that these machines evolved amphibious shapes in order to gain access to all of this planet’s resources. It would be fascinating to run a study that allowed us to cross-compare our own evolution with theirs. There are several ramifications that I think might be particularly—”

“Get to the point,” Optimus said impatiently.

“I’m just saying it’s amazing to think that they paralleled our own development in so many ways, yet they
aren’t one of the colony worlds. Robotic life that evolved on its own.”

“Or it
is
a colony world and they’ve forgotten,” said Jazz.

“There were stories that Primus created other forms of life,” Optimus said. “This planet might prove that hypothesis.”

“Like I said, I’d love to do some tests,” Perceptor said. “At one point in time, these robots might have dwelled solely on land, but as their technology advanced and they found themselves spending more time underwater, their form adapted to those efforts. Possibly they didn’t start on this planet but migrated here instead. Take a look at this video footage the Curator provided the away team with—some of the local fauna.”

The screens began to show more images. “What you’re looking at here is what they call a school of Cleaners,” Perceptor explained. “These groups can reach into the thousands and function as microsocieties. They deal with garbage buildups along the underwater pumps; their bodies ingest it, then reprocess the waste as solvents to help clean other systems. However, there are larger units that service facilities like these.” A series of pictures of seabed mining units followed.

“The Curator claims their entire society is dedicated to the production and long-term storage of Energon,” Perceptor continued. “As you can see from these projections, they’ve been steadily producing a 20 percent surplus every refinement cycle. There’s enough Energon here to last several thousand years.”

“Wow,” said Jazz.

“It gets even more intriguing,” Perceptor said as Teletraan-1 displayed a comprehensive breakdown of what appeared to be an Energon cube. “Thanks to samples the Curator gave the away team, I’ve had a chance
to analyze the Energon they produce. It’s a highly oxygenated mixture; no doubt that’s because of their environment, but that makes it highly compatible with what we use. In fact, it might even be more efficient.”

“Interesting,” Jazz said.

“And they’ve said they’re willing to sell it to us. Cheaply, too. The entity who calls himself the Curator wants to meet you, Optimus. He says it’s very important that he speak with you face to face.”

“Does he now? Did he give any more information than that?”

“No,” Prowl said. “But he did make it clear that he has some knowledge of Cybertron and our conflict with the Decepticons.”

“How would he know about that?” Jazz asked skeptically. “Is there any sign they’ve ever been in contact with the Decepticons?”

“None,” Prowl replied.

“According to the Curator,” Perceptor said, “there used to be a fairly active space bridge in the planet’s orbit that they used to sell their Energon to a variety of races. But he hasn’t dealt with an actual Cybertronian for thousands of years.”

Optimus punched up Bumblebee’s reconnaissance photos of the city. Optimus thought some of the Aquatronian architecture looked vaguely familiar. He could have sworn he’d seen such patterns and designs on Cybertron, but for the life of him he could not remember where. He found that fact unsettling.

“What happened to the bridge?” Jazz asked.

Prowl broke in. “The Curator said that when it stopped functioning a few million years ago, they broke down what was left and used its components to build the ring system.”

“Which seems plausible enough,” said Perceptor. “Optimus, I would like to take samples of their Energon and
see what its exact effect is on Autobots. All the simulations indicate it ought to be compatible. I would like permission to conduct the tests on myself.”