Chapter 45

Keller, Maggie and Simmons separated. Lennox and his team move everyone of the hanger into the tunnels as ... Water coming in from ever-growing fissures in the wall, melting Megatron.

The ice started to cracks off in thick chunks. The first of one of his limbs snaps loose, then another, and another ... the connected tubes rip and uncoil, spraying Cyro-Spray -- MEGATRON BREAKS FREE!

The immense figure of Megatron continued to step clear from the last of his trailing restraints. Cables and smaller wires tore away from the gargantuan body like thread. Conduits that continually replenished the material in which he had been frozen broke free, spraying supercooled liquid in all directions.

As Megatron surveys his surroundings, assessing the quickest route to freedom, his optics flare with a cold, calculated light. He stands amidst the chaos, his towering form casting an imposing shadow over the broken remnants of the facility.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Megatron extends his arm, revealing a hidden compartment within his forearm. The air hums with a deep, resonant vibration as the Cybertronian Mace emerges, unfolding like a deadly mechanical flower. Its surface glistens with an alien sheen.

He swings the mace with an effortless might, the weapon slicing through the air with a sound like a thousand steel cables snapping in unison. As it connects with the platform before him, a shockwave of raw power erupts, sending shards of metal and debris flying in all directions. The sound is deafening, a cacophony that drowns out the alarm klaxons and the distant roar of battle.

The platform crumples beneath the impact, collapsing into a twisted heap. Megatron strides forward, unyielding and unstoppable, his path now clear.

By now the vast silo was almost empty of its human occupants. The Cube, he thought. The Energon Cube had been close—very close. Now it was gone. He sensed its presence, its power. Both were receding steadily from his current location. But it was not far. After so many millennia, the delay in recovering the Cube would be as nothing. No time would be involved, little effort would be required.

Tilting back, the enormous metal skull peered upward. Acute sensors detected other presences. To his right was the long tunnel through which he had originally been hauled in so many years ago. Cowering behind stacks of barrels whose thick white exteriors were enlivened by stencils of skulls and crossbones, one tech who had been unable to escape looked on in terror as the huge mechanism began to change before his eyes. He need not have feared for his life. Even if he had been in a mood to kill, Megatron would not have wasted his time with such inconsequentialities.

He had a rendezvous to make. The bipedal shape contracted, flexed, flowed, and expanded. What condensed in its place was something like a plane, something like a jet fighter—but unlike anything the tech had ever seen before, except perhaps in the illus-trations on the covers of certain magazines to which he subscribed. Growling to itself, the alien aircraft pivoted on the debris-filled floor. Purple fire emerged from one end.

He blasts and disappeared down the access tunnel, leaving only a thunderous echo in its wake. After performing a perfunctory reconnaissance of his former prison and its immediate surroundings, Megatron circled slowly downward to land among the rocks at the bottom of the dam. Transforming back into his natural bipedal shape, he walked up to a second machine, which was Starscream.

Awaiting its master, Starscream sat perched eagle-like on a massive jutting finger of granite. Their greeting was brief and incomprehensible to humans. "I live to serve you, lord Megatron."

Megatron rumbled coolly. "Where is the Cube?

Starscream in anger replied."The humans have taken it."

Megatron growled, "You fail me yet again, Starscream. Get them."

Across the Dam spillway to a lower road where Bumblebee".and the artillery buggies are racing away!

There was the usual traffic on the highway leading to Vegas, but not enough to dangerously inhibit the convoy. Flanked in front and behind by the shepherding army vehicles, the Camaro purred northward away from the dam and the Colorado River. They were headed for the complex of military bases located just outside the city. Once there, they would be far better equipped to protect the Cube and deal with anything the Decepticons could throw at them. In the vehicle he was riding in, an expectant Epps kept his sabotloaded launcher close at hand. Donnely was alive in his mind, and so was Figueroa. One shot, he kept repeating silently to himself. That was all he wanted, all he wished for. Just one shot, within range. Blow a freakin' hole right through one of the soulless metal bastards. Watch its guts melt and leak out all over the road as he stared back into its empty plastic eyes and waited for it to die. Catching a glimpse of the Camaro ahead of him, he felt that he had to revise his scenario somewhat. Alien machine or not, he decided, maybe, just maybe, some of them were not quite as soulless as the rest.

Inside the Camaro, Mikaela turned to look into the backseat. While Alexander already set up his Armour on standby mode.

While in the research room and library dated back to the construction of the dam. As if the architecture and 1930s art deco décor were not confirmation enough, row upon row of bulging cabinets straightaway caught Maggie's attention.

"Ohmigod," she murmured in disbelief. "Paper files."

"Welcome to the Mesozoic," Simmons told her. "The information stored here goes all the way back to 1913." He picked one thick wad of papers off a table and held it up. "Handheld file, circa early twentieth century. Access is slow, but on the other hand you don't have to worry about accidentally deleting the contents."

Off to their left, an agitated Technician was already ripping the back off a computer.

Keller joined Simmons in searching for a tool kit, soldering equipment— anything that could be used to join wires and unfried microchips.

Keller dumped some tools on the table beside him. Picking up a small screwdriver, Technician stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth as he went to work in earnest on the computer's interior.

Adept as those of a surgeon replacing a fleshy heart with one made of metal and plastic, his fingers were a blur as they manipulated the components inside the computer casing.

Simmons did not know how long the old antenna wires had lain in the back of the research room and didn't care. Choosing one set, he began stripping away the cracked and flaking protective outer covering and the underlying insulation to reveal the clean copper underneath. He was making good progress when something slammed into the metal door that led to the access tunnel outside. Everyone stopped what they were doing except the Technician. For the first time in days, he was in his element.

"What the hell's that?" Holding the shredded antenna wires, Simmons stared at the door.

"Didn't sound good, whatever it was," Keller commented uneasily. The banging and hammering resumed with methodical ferocity. Ignoring it, Technician wired the antenna Simmons had found directly into the hastily revamped guts of the old computer.

The metallic clang reverberated through the room as Simmons heard the ominous Cybertronian voice echoing from the other side of the door. His instincts kicked in, and he shouted, "Barricade the door!"

Maggie, Keller, and Simmons rushed to the entrance, slamming their bodies against it in a desperate attempt to hold back the impending threat. The relentless pounding on the door sent vibrations through their bones, and Maggie quickly assessed the situation. She darted to the side, grabbing a heavy table, and dragged it with a determined grit to reinforce their barricade.

Simmons helped bringing more tables and desks to barricade the door.

Simmons, his face a mask of concentration, pulled out a riot gun and a box of twelve-gauge shells from an antique case, handing them to Maggie with a curt nod. As he quickly loaded the antique shotguns, he tossed one to Keller, who caught it deftly. Together, they formed a makeshift defense line.

Simmons unleashed a torrent of fire from a flamethrower, the bright orange flames licking at the Decepticon's metal frame. Keller added to the chaos, providing cover fire with his shotgun, each blast reverberating like thunder in the confined space.

Meanwhile, the technician worked feverishly at the terminal, fingers dancing over the keyboard with a precision born of desperation. As the screen flickered to life, a grin spread across his face. "We're transmitting!" he yelled triumphantly.

John Keller, the Secretary of Defense, nodded in acknowledgment, his voice steady despite the chaos around him. He leaned towards the technician, barking instructions with authority. "Send exactly what I say. This is Secretary of Defense John Keller calling NORTHCOM."

Technician nodded and bent back to the keyboard. As he did so, the deteriorating door finally buckled enough to allow Frenzy to squeeze through. Leaping into the room the Decepticon instantly appraised its surroundings and began unleashing one lethal disc after another. Maggie juked to the side as one disc cut right through the barrel of her riot gun, taking another couple of inches off its already reduced length. The damage didn't seem to affect its functionality, however. When she pumped it and fired, the shell struck the homicidal robot dead-on.

The mechanoid emitted a crazed electronic squeal as the sheer force of the shot knocked it backward. Recovering its footing, Frenzy looked around and sprang straight up as Maggie fired again. The robot disappeared through a gap in the ceiling where an insulation panel had been removed to allow maintenance access. "Send the message quick!" she shouted at Keller and thr Technician as she patrolled beneath the ceiling, trying to listen for movement overhead as she gripped the shotgun tightly.

Keller broke out of his daze continued."Authenticate emergency response Blackbird one-one——nine-five-Alpha,"

Technician hands moving in a rhythmic tap-tap-tap, manipulating two keys to send the urgent message in Morse code. Long, short, long. Each tap echoed the urgency of their situation, a stark contrast to the rapid-fire coding he was used to. It was a throwback to a bygone era, yet it was their only lifeline now.

Amidst the cacophony of gunfire and the looming threat of the Decepticon, the technician's focus never wavered.

As the Airforce received the Morse code the