Transformers: Retribution (21 page)

“I’m feared, sir?” Skywarp asked with a mixture of trepidation and confusion. It was times like this that he honestly wished he was smarter. But he didn’t like the
use of the word
fear
. Not now. Not when he was experiencing it so strongly himself. Not when Starscream had that scheming look on his face …

“I’m not one to spread scurrilous rumors and idle gossip,” the Seeker commander said. “But you must be able to see how envious the other Seekers are of you. It’s not your fault that you’ve outshined the others. Of course they’re going to be bitter. You
do
see that, don’t you?”

“I suppose so …”

“Of course you do. You have an ability that no other Cybertronian has, Skywarp. That makes you different, and that makes people fear you. But that’s why Megatron and I have been singling you out for these special missions. You’re the jet trooper we turn to when we need things to get done.”

“Well, I try to do my best.”

“And you succeed, my friend. Which is why we need your help once more.”

Skywarp’s optics narrowed as he considered Starscream. Maybe the Seeker commander wasn’t planning on eliminating him, after all. “My help …?”

“This Pavilion we stand in is magnificent, but it is a gilded cage. These Quintessons are playing us. Megatron and I plan to turn the tables on them.”

“I thought this peace treaty—”

“We don’t need a peace treaty. We need victory against Autobots and Quintessons alike. Even as I speak, the
Nemesis
is preparing to strike. But at the key moment, we need our best Seeker to hit the Quintessons where they least expect it.”

Skywarp was having trouble following this. Plots and intrigues just weren’t his style. But fighting was. And it sounded like he was about to get called into the fray again.

“This order comes from Megatron himself?” he asked.

Starscream’s face darkened. “Of course. Do you want me to disturb his sleep cycle so he can tell you that personally?”

“No, no, no,” Skywarp said quickly. “That won’t be necessary. Tell me what it is you require.”

T
HE
C
URATOR WAS GLAD TO LEAVE THE
P
AVILION
. I
T WAS
intended to make the Cybertronians feel comfortable, but to him it was a monstrosity. Everything about its architecture was wrong, though that wouldn’t matter shortly. Returning across the Kraken Sea aboard his personal craft, he was only too happy to get back to his inner sanctum, where he found Xeros waiting for him.

“How have matters gone?” the junior scientist asked.

“Excellently well. These Cybertronians are a painfully simple lot. The current progression of events is well within the margin of error of all the simulations we played out. My calculations now place our probability of success at 84.5 percent.”

“Even though we have revealed our identity?”

“That was a necessary step at this juncture. The timing demanded it. There is no way a backwater planet like this could have access to the weapons that we just neutralized their ships with. We had to tell them who we are or else we had to tell them some wild story that could be disproved—or that would simply raise more questions than it answered.”

“But to admit that we are their ancient nemesis—”

“Were,”
the Curator corrected him. “That’s all we’ve admitted.”

Xeros didn’t seem convinced.

“Surely some of these bots will suspect our ultimate intent.”

“All of them suspect
something
,” the Curator said.
“But none of them know for sure. And the bait dangled before each of them is too great. Each one thinks he can still outwit me if necessary.”

The doctor nodded slowly. “When really you have trumped them all.”

“Let this be a lesson to you, Xeros.” The Curator was in an expansive mood. “The key to realizing a plan is to avoid trying to control the exact paths by which that plan is realized. Indeed, sometimes one sets those paths at odds with one another, as I have done tonight. Never tell one falsehood when you can deploy several contradictory ones. Sometimes you can even tell your victims the truth. It doesn’t matter. Each player in this game is still hooked by his own desires. The fact that their agendas clash only strengthens our hand. No matter what transpires tomorrow, we shall win. Then we can proceed to Stage Two.”

Xeros raised an eyebrow. “So events on Cybertron—”

“Continue to proceed on schedule.”

“You are not concerned that the scientist Shockwave might discern our plans?”

“What these primitive bots call science is mere fumbling in the dark,” the Curator said scornfully. “We have taken Shockwave’s measure without him even knowing it. There was a 96.7 percent probability that he would tamper with Vector Sigma and a more than 80.0 percent likelihood that he would use Alpha Trion to do it. He thinks to create something that will make him a god; little does he know that he is merely forging the chains with which we will bind his race. But the maturity of that particular vector is still a few days away. The primary vector on
this
world will come to fruition tomorrow, and you and I will enjoy the spectacle from here.”

“I applaud your genius,” Xeros said with a graceful bow. “I must admit that to see a plan as complex as yours
achieve fulfillment like this is simply … breathtaking. There surely is no doubt you will be asked to report back to Quintessa when your work here is done.”

“Should that happen, you will be accompanying me.”

“You do me too great an honor,” Xeros protested.

“Not at all. Your work here has made mine possible. It is only right that you share in my success.” The Curator went over to the glowing replica of the Matrix of Leadership and began to make adjustments to various wires and conduits to the apparatus.

“The real thing will be infinitely more useful,” Xeros said.

“This has proved its worth. We’ve replicated enough of the codes to be able to interfere with the actual one, and that is no small feat.”

“But the genuine one can be used to find the AllSpark itself. We can breed whole new armies—uncover the remaining secrets of the Primes—”

“I am fully aware of that,” the Curator snapped, and Xeros cringed visibly. “I estimate the chances that the Matrix will be destroyed tomorrow at less than 2 percent. It is far more resilient than the one who carries it, who has at least a 65.3 percent chance of termination.”

“Optimus Prime truly doesn’t suspect we have been manipulating it?”

“No. The complexity of the circumstances has provided us with the perfect cover. He believes that the Autobot Matrix of Leadership is malfunctioning due to his own self-doubt. The effect is self-reinforcing. That said, I intend to make a few minor adjustments before tomorrow.”

“He wears his virtue as though it were the heaviest of burdens,” Xeros said. “It weakens him. Makes him more susceptible.”

“I couldn’t agree more. In the meantime, have the required
amount of Energon moved from the refineries to the holding tanks in preparation. In the wake of tomorrow’s events, we must be ready to launch Stage Two without delay.”

“I anticipated your desire and already gave the order.”

“Excellent. Now we have merely a few more hours to wait.” The Curator turned back to the glowing Matrix replica and began to ponder what dreams Optimus Prime would have next.

CYBERTRON

“D
ISTURBING
,” S
HOCKWAVE SAID
.

That was as emotional as he ever got, but it was quite enough. Things just weren’t working out as planned. He prided himself on his objectivity—the essence of the true scientist—and he was increasingly realizing that the gap between what he’d thought was going to happen and what was actually taking place had diverged to the point where he was going to have to do the unthinkable, violating a key principle of his methodology.

By talking to a subject in the middle of an experiment.

“Remove consciousness locks,” he said to the drones that buzzed around Alpha Trion’s prone form, attending to the interfaces with the glowing mouth of Vector Sigma. “Reinstate consciousness along the following parameters.” He reeled off a series of numbers. Halfway through them Alpha Trion’s eyes opened.

“Shockwave.”

“Alpha Trion. I trust you are in no pain.”

“Considering you’ve removed most of my external sensors, I’m far less concerned about pain than I am about damage.”

“Damage,” Shockwave said in a tone so devoid of feeling that it would have made any psychiatrist in the
room rush for the exit. “Damage. No. I have spared you that.”

“I’m not talking about damage to me. I’m talking about damage to reality itself.”

“Oh,” Shockwave said lightly, “that. Well, I wouldn’t worry. Reality has a way of looking after itself. But I will confess to some small difficulty in harnessing Vector Sigma.”

“Small enough to make you seek my counsel?”

Shockwave ignored the jibe. “I need your fail-safes.”

“My fail-safes …?”

“You’ve put a code around the core of your cortex.”

Alpha Trion looked amused. “And you can’t break it?”

“I’d prefer to have the key rather than force the lock.”

“That’s going to be difficult given that I haven’t used any such codes.”

“You lie.”

“The only one dissembling in this room is you, Shockwave. Why don’t you tell me what’s really got you concerned?”

“I just did.”

“But you’re holding back. What do your energy readouts on Vector Sigma show?”

“They are strange,” Shockwave admitted.

“Was that so hard to say?” Alpha Trion chided.

Shockwave fought down the urge to slap him. “There are surges in areas where there should be none and no energy in areas which should be awash with it.”

“And what does that tell you?”

“I thought you might be able to speak to that.”

“How long has passed between you starting this experiment and now?”

Shockwave frowned. “You mean to say you don’t know?”

“You removed my consciousness filters. I have no idea.”

“Consult your chronometers, then.”

“All my monitors are frozen.”

Shockwave frowned. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“
None
of this was supposed to happen. I repeat: How long has passed?”

“Twelve hours.”

“And besides the anomalous energy readings, what are you finding?”

“That the structure of Vector Sigma is not precisely what I was anticipating.” He gestured at a screen; readings chased themselves across it. Alpha Trion studied them closely, and his eyes narrowed.

“Someone is interfering with you,” he said.

“
You
are interfering with me if you continue to obfuscate.”

“Shockwave, put aside your egotism and listen to me. You think that I could be a back door to Vector Sigma, but once you open the door, it may be another that passes through it.”

“I have shut down all interfaces to the rest of Cybertron. And besides, no one on this planet could possibly rival me for—”

“What makes you assume they’re on this planet?”

“What are you rambling about, old man?”

“Think of the universe as a dark and endless forest, Shockwave. What you are doing is lighting a fire in the middle of it. You will draw in any predator that can see the blaze.”

“We’re thousands of miles beneath the surface of Cybertron, Alpha Trion. No one can
see
what we’re—”

“I’m not talking about visuals, you fool. I’m talking about the
fabric of space and time
. Since you persist in being so willfully obtuse, I will employ another metaphor.
You are sending out vibrations like a fly struggling in a spider’s web. So do not curse me if I cannot tell you the identity of the spider.”

Shockwave laughed. “You tell me fairy tales in the desperate hope of dissuading me from going further? I suppose it’s a step up from begging.”

“I’m no longer begging. You are so blinded by your own narcissism that I doubt I can convince you of anything. But since you are
asking
me, I am
telling
you that this data is clearly being manipulated remotely. Someone else has found a conduit to Vector Sigma, and they are piggybacking on your efforts. That is why you must not resume this process.”

“Nonsense,” said Shockwave. “I simply need more power to break through your codes.”

“I already told you there are none. And as to power, you’re already feeding in as much as this room can stand.”

“I will pour in still more. Break through your resistance and reformat Vector Sigma’s operating protocol so that I can override all—”

“You are insane, Shockwave.”

“Am I really?”

“Not to mention impractical. Where will you get the needed energy? Overriding Vector Sigma would require ten times the power grid of Cybertron itself.”

“I’m not intending to draw upon the power grid.”

“Then you are talking fantasy.”

“Dark Energon isn’t fantasy.”

Alpha Trion looked at him in horror. “Now I know you’ve taken leave of the last of your senses.”

“Said the Prime so long past
his
prime that he’s become a living relic. I have three heavy-class refineries within ten miles of this room. And many more than ten miles of pipes at my disposal.” He signaled to the attendant drones. “Resume the process.”

“Shockwave,” Alpha Trion said as the conduits clamped around his head, “you would bring down all of creation just to satisfy your own ambition.” But then he fell silent as cognition left him once more. Shockwave smiled as the Dark Energon began pumping.

“I would indeed,” he said.

A
ND IN THAT INSTANT
A
LPHA
T
RION KNEW THE TRUTH
of it.

He didn’t lose consciousness down there. He just forgot it all when he was revived. Now he was a chained Prime, a tool in theory but bait in practice, surrounded by mathematics as the equations at the root of all reality spun about him. Somewhere out there a hunter was closing in, something so malevolent that it made the hostility between Autobot and Decepticon look like the squabbling of toddlers. Something ancient and terrible, half a galaxy away.