Transformers: Retribution by David J. Williams, Mark Williams Read Free Book Online Page A

of fuel. They were desperate, some said, and all their talk that they would shortly crush the Autobots once and for all was just that: talk. Bravado, plain and simple. Then again, maybe the bravado was simply that of those muttering in the shadows, speculating about the course of a war they dared not participate in, a conflict that when all was said and done they knew very little about. In war, the larger picture is so hard to see. All that was clear right now was that a once-great city lay dark.
    But not entirely.
    One building was an exception to the general blackout. One building blazed with lights and dwarfed all else. One single structure stood at the very center of Iacon: a massive tower that was the newest addition to Iacon’s skyline, the only such improvement, if it could be called that, to be made during the entire war. The tower had been built by Autobot prisoners forced to work at gunpoint in slave-labor conditions. What had happened to those prisoners subsequently, no one knew. But they had constructed the largest building on Cybertron by far, twice the height of any other structure on the planet, stretching up and up until it seemed it might burst through the atmosphere and touch the heavens.
    It was the Tower of Shockwave.
    Cybertron’s master, the Decepticon whom Megatron had personally delegated to be his lieutenant to rule as he saw fit until the day the
Nemesis
returned victorious, with the head of Optimus Prime a trophy in its hold. Until that time the only head that mattered was the one to whom the summit of the tower bore more than a passing resemblance. An enormous elongated oval within which burned a piercing light. That Shockwave would have ordered an edifice built in his own image surprised no one unfortunate enough to deal with him directly.
    Right now Shockwave was contemplating the imminentarrival of the latest prisoner to be summoned to his presence. He sat in his personal suite, which encompassed the highest level of the tower. The walls were lined with screens, all of them carefully monitored by Shockwave’s single glowing eye. Some of them showed the position of troops across the planetary surface, but most of them depicted subjects far closer to Shockwave’s heart: calculations, data, experimental results. The screens without data had been left transparent, providing a breathtaking view of the city and all that lay beyond. One could see all the way to the pole from this room, but Shockwave couldn’t have cared less. He wasn’t interested in aesthetics. What interested him was the visitor he was about to welcome. He watched as the room’s double doors slid open. Insecticon guards entered, trailed by a large hover-cart that floated mere inches above the floor.
    Strapped to that cart was Alpha Trion.
    His arms were secured by reinforced clamps, and electromagnetic spikes driven into his circuitry at select points rendered him immobile below the waist. But the expression above his long white beard was one of utter calm as he met Shockwave’s gaze with a serenity that belied his situation.
    “Leave us,” Shockwave said to his guards. They flitted back through the door they’d come through, which slid shut behind them. Shockwave turned back to Alpha Trion.
    “So good of you to join me,” he said.

Chapter Seven
    R ODIMUS , B UMBLEBEE , AND K UP STOOD OUTSIDE THE dropship listening to Prowl’s lengthy mission briefing while Ironhide completed the craft’s preflight checklist. Jazz had chosen Prowl as the away team leader because of his natural discretion and the investigative skills he had acquired as a police officer on Cybertron. Not only that, but Prowl’s experience with the civilian high council back in prewar days spoke well for his ability to address the diplomatic niceties a first contact scenario might require. No doubt about it, Prowl was no-nonsense and business-oriented.
    That was good, because the team he led was going to be a handful. Rodimus was quick on his feet; his