“Just when I get all my crap settled, we’re on the move again,” Konnie groused, leaning back and putting his feet up on a stump. He laced his fingers behind his head and sighed. “Not that I’m complaining, but I thought we had found a place to settle. Middle of nowhere, plenty of food and water, trees keeping away prying eyes or optics or whatever.” Brea, with her tent and her meager belongings already rolled up and stowed on her back, shook her head at the human. “And all your crap is going to get packed how exactly? By thinking happy thoughts?” She smiled towards Liberty, including her in the joke. Konnie waved his handed towards the tent. “Oh that? Made a bet with Dirk. He lost.” With that, Dirk emerged from the tent with a bag full of Konnie’s belongings and tossed it towards the lounging human. “Eat me,” he said with a sarcastic smile. As he went about pulling down Konnie’s tent, he added, “Where in the name of God did you find some of that stuff?” “You can find anything in some of those towns if you look hard enough. The way I see it, it’s like Cory’s video camera. It’s a good way to remember society.” Dirk regarded Konnie with a look of exasperation. “Cory uses his video camera to talk to all of us about how we got here. You have a penlight that says ‘Where’s the Beef?’, a scratch and sniff sticker book, and a carrot juicer.” Konnie smiled brightly. “Well, I didn’t say whose society, now did I?” He punctuated the statement with a quick laugh and quickly got to his feet. “Yo, J.D.,” he said to the approaching human, “check it out.” He swept his arm towards his tent, which Dirk was in the process of rolling up. “Dirk doing actual work.” J.D. laughed, as they all did. Liberty was beginning to find human laughter infectious. Before the merciless teasing of Dirk Mannis could continue, Cassie Vasquez walked up to check on them. “Are you guys about ready to go?” she asked. Konnie turned back towards Dirk. “Are we, Dirk, my good lad?” Dirk scowled back at Konnie, who turned again to Cassie. “I still haven’t deciphered all of Dirk’s many scowls, but I’m pretty sure that one means ‘yes’.” Cassie watched them for another moment and shook her head, obviously trying not to smile. “I don’t even want to know. We’re meeting at the north side of camp in a few minutes.” She turned and walked away, chuckling. Moments later, they were standing with the rest of the cell at the north end of camp. Liberty was curious beyond words would prompted such an abrupt move, but the curiosity was not going to be stayed at that time. After, several of the older members did a quick head count, they began walking towards the north. Liberty turned to Brea. “Do you know where we’re going?” J.D. was the one to answer. “One guess,” he said, motioning towards the quarry. Liberty blinked. “Oh.” “Don’t know why though,” J.D. added with a shrug. “I heard someone say they thought a pretty big snowstorm was coming in the next couple days,” Brea said. “Maybe that’s why.” Konnie grunted. “It’s the end of October. And it’s like 45 degrees right now.” Brea shrugged and smiled. “Welcome to the Midwest. It’s snowed earlier than this up here.” “I’m from Kansas, doll,” Konnie scoffed. “I know what winter’s like.” “I’m from North Dakota. No you don’t.” Konnie gave the female a faux hurt look, followed quickly by a wink. “I’ll keep you warm.” “I’ve got a blanket.” J.D. and Dirk answered that statement with riotous laughter, which Brea quickly joined. Liberty laughed as well, but she didn’t quite get the joke. The laughter ended fairly quickly after the next statement. “I know why we’re moving,” Cory Donner said quietly after he walked up next to Konnie. “Dad found a dead body outside the perimeter on patrol earlier today.” All six of them stopped walking. Dirk leaned closer to Cory in order to keep his voice down. “How did you find this out?” “I was standing outside the tent when he told Mom. I wasn’t spying,” he added quickly, almost defensively. Dirk laid a sympathetic hand on Cory’s shoulder as if telling him that it was all right. The rest of them started whispering between them. Liberty only stared at the ground in front of her. ‘The other human,’ she thought, ‘the one that she… oh Christ.’ She cursed herself and listened more intently to Cory as he finished his story. “Dad called him a watcher or something.” “Oh, one of them,” Brea huffed. “Those creepy people back in the woods, the ones that just watch us all the time.” She looked at Liberty. “I don’t know if you’ve been around long enough to see them. They’ve been a little scarce lately.” “No, I haven’t,” Liberty said, still concentrating on Cory. “Well, Dad came and got Shawn. I guess Shawn thought he had a broken arm and a, um, broken neck.” Cory shuddered before continuing. “Shawn just kind of looked over the area, like he was looking for clues, and led Dad back to the camp. That’s really all I know.” “Whoa,” Konnie and J.D. said in unison as Brea gave Cory a quick, reassuring hug. Cory smiled weakly at her. Liberty turned and faced the direction they were heading. The walk was a fairly short one and the group ahead of them was slowly coming to a stop as they reached the entrance to the bunker. She watched the door open and people slowly file into the dim light of the cave on the other side of the door. She knew she should feel excitement. This was going to be a windfall of information that Prowl was sure to like. Instead, all she could think about was her mistake of forgetting that human lying beside the tree. She thought back to the brief fight. She remembered snapping his arm, crushing him against the tree, and snapping his neck. But couldn’t another human have done that as well? Surely she had seen movies that showed humans performing such actions. She breathed a quick sigh. ‘Yes,’ she thought, ‘a human could do that. A human could have the strength to break another human’s neck. Relax. Nobody suspects a thing.’
Liberty walked into the entrance of the bunker. Dim lights lined the stone walls. The rest of the resistance cell was excitedly talking amongst themselves, the chatter bouncing off the walls around them. She tried to look around or over the group of humans to see deeper down the corridor, but to little avail. After noting the irony that she was even small by human standards, let along Autobot, she walked over to the group she had been walking with. “I can’t see anything down there.” “Relax,” Konnie said, with a smile, “we’ll get there.” Liberty shrugged and leaned against the wall. With a sigh, she slowly slid down the wall and came to a sitting position beside J.D. He patted her hand reassuredly and smiled, a smile that Liberty returned. It almost faltered when she thought again, ‘I’ll be the one to sentence him to death.’ “I have admit,” J.D. said, “I’m a bit anxious to see this place myself. John just won’t shut up about it. Makes it sound like the greatest thing since sliced bread.” “Oh, bread sounds really good right now,” Brea said. “It’s been years since I’ve had any.” She paused. “God, has it really been that long?” Dirk, who was peering into the crowd, said, “It’s been about five years total since they first attacked.” “Yeah,” J.D. responded thoughtfully. He was looking straight ahead, but Liberty thought he was probably looking at Sara in his mind’s eye. “Shawn’s coming,” Dirk said. Liberty turned and watched the stout, balding man weave effortlessly through the crowd, talking to people as he did. The conversations were brief and were punctuated by a brief nod from people he spoke with. The conversations were thinning out and the crowd seemed more dispersed. ‘Looks like we’re moving again,’ she thought. After another minute, Shawn was talking with them. Liberty and J.D. stood as he spoke. “You guys knew about this place already?” Shawn said simply. They all nodded. Even Liberty, who had known him for weeks rather than years, knew that it was not really a question. “Been in here?” “Me and Konnie have,” Dirk said. A soft smile grew over Shawn’s face. “Not surprised there. Then you know something of what’s in here, but not everything. It’s a little tight through some of the corridors, so we’re going in a little at time.” “We kinda know the way around,” Dirk offered. “We saw the weapons, the bunks…” Shawn shook his head. “You haven’t seen everything.” Konnie chuckled. "I've seen enough of this place already to know it doesn't deserve a tour." "Since this... whatever is common knowledge, how did it get built so fast?" J.D. asked. "The Decepticons?" "No," Shawn said, looking around the entrance area casually. "Actually, most of the structure predates the invasion. It was supposed to be a bomb shelter." "But who could have known it was here?" "Me," Shawn offered, smiling at the shocked looks on their faces. "You get around, buddy," Konnie said with a smirk. "Not really. This shelter was contracted to A-1 Construction out of Duluth, which just happened to be operated by a little company out of Central City, Oregon called Berger, Inc." Dirk shook his head incredulously. "What didn't your company do, for God's sake?" Shawn continued. "From the paperwork I saw about it, some paranoid rich guy wanted it built, but died in early 1984, before it was finished. His kids didn't want to sink any more many into the project, so construction was halted. We were just about to unload onto the local county officials when the attacks started. And it's been here since." "How'd you know it was still here?" Liberty asked. "The Decepticons helped us there, checked it out." "Why didn't some of the locals take up residence?" J.D. asked. At this, Shawn shrugged. "I really don't know. The door on it now is far more secure than the one that was here after construction stopped. Nothing to write home about certainly. Maybe they thought it was haunted." Brea shivered. "Don't say stuff like that, Shawn." Konnie looked incredulously at Brea. "Hold it. Earth has been invaded by giant alien killer robots and you're afraid a few ghosts. You're something else, Brea." Liberty continued to watch the crowd thin before them and started to get to her feet. Despite fewer people standing in the room, they seemed to talking in steadily louder voices, obviously excited by what they were seeing. “Shawn, what’s in that room?” Liberty prompted. “Better question,” Dirk said, pushing away from the wall and looking after the crowd with obvious curiosity. “*What* is that room? We didn’t see it when we came in here before.” “I guess you could call it the mess hall,” Shawn said with a shrug and started walking in that direction, motioning them to follow. “A sort of gathering area for our purposes, I suppose. I said you hadn’t seen everything yet.” Shawn stopped just before the entrance to the gathering area, and spread an open hand towards it and boisterous crowd inside. Liberty followed the others in, her gait slowing as she walked into the room. Ahead of her, she heard someone mention Whitney Golden and how he was here. This information would have piqued her interest under normal circumstances. So would have the emotions the humans were showing in this room. Human emotions so fascinated her. Instead though, her optics were locked on a room across the open area, blocked off by the faint glow of an energy barrier. The barrier could not block what was clearly visible however. Weapons. Piles of them, anchored to the wall. She recognized different variations of Decepticon technology; others were foreign to her. They all looked so small, so weak. “Liberty,” a voice called. She shook her head and turned to her left. Lincoln was smiling at her from under his hat. She walked over to him and leaned against the wall beside him. “I’m not sure anybody else has even noticed the weapons yet,” he said. “It’s scares you bit, huh?” “Yeah,” Liberty said, surprised that it was a truthful statement. She felt Lincoln’s arm drop over her shoulder. Almost without thinking, she leaned back against him, staring at the weapons. The weapons did scare her though not because they were a threat to her or the Autobots. It was the opposite, in fact. She was afraid that they would not be enough. She was afraid that, when it came time to fight, these humans would not stand a chance.
Dr. Archeville stepped atop one of the tables in the middle of the room and raised his arms, trying to get the attention of the rest of the group. It was slow going. They were all still very excited about everything: the new bunker, the reintroduction to old friends, everything. It was all new, all exciting. Even he felt excited, and knew far more in the way of disturbing information than the rest of them did. Slowly, people were starting to settle down, but many still had not noticed Doc waiting for them. He looked down at Konnie and shrugged. ‘What were you going to do?’ the expression said. Konnie apparently knew what to do. He got to his feet, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted, “Yo, people! Can it! The boss wants to talk!” The room fell suddenly silent, with all present turning towards the middle of the room. Doc lowered his arms and looked again at Konnie. “Thanks, John,” he said, a tinge of sarcasm lining his voice. Konnie simply smiled. “I don’t have an inside voice. Might as well use to our advantage.” Doc chuckled and looked around at the group. He waved his arms around the room. “Well, here it is. The big mystery finally solved. We wanted to wait to move in here until we had the placed a little more put together, but Mother Nature seems to have plans of her own. With the snowstorm that is on its way, we decided we might as well move in here and live a little more comfortably. “I know many of who knew something was here, but not what. Some of you know a little more than others.” Doc cast a glance over towards Dirk, who seemed to suddenly find the ceiling quite interesting. “It’s a bunker built before the Autobots invaded. Shawn, I’m sure, will be more than happy to give the details if anybody is interested. There are several other rooms than everybody can go ahead and explore as they will. There are a several bunkrooms off to the right, certainly enough room for everybody to spread out a bit and not worry about rolling over on each other. “Many of you have also noticed a few familiar faces are back with us. That’s an even longer story, I’m afraid. One that seemed necessary at the time. While the rest of us were slowly making our way up here, taking care not to be seen by any unfriendly forces, Whitney, Cal, and Brian made their way up here, taking residence in the bunker in order to work on, among other things, these.” Doc turned and motioned towards the weapon storage room. A few people gasped, having barely noticed the room before. “The all have fancy names, like phase drivers, EM Bombs, and electrostatic pulse rifles.” He paused and looked at Whitney. “Did you want to explain what these are now? Whitney laughed. “Only if you want a room full of sleeping people.” Several people in the room laughed at this, prompting him stand and bow. “Ah, the people, they have missed my wit.” “Sure,” Doc said doubtfully, but with a wide smile. “Anyway, what these fancy names boil down to is weapons that we will use against for our defense, should the need arise.” The room was suddenly alive with nervous chatter at this, without even the mention of the word “Autobot.” ‘Not as though they didn’t already know,’ he thought morosely. ‘God I hate that it must be so.’ “But enough of this for now. It’s late; everybody is excited, and probably wants to take a look around. Tomorrow midday, we’ll gather again for something a little more formal.”
"A snow storm?" Dr. Whitney Golden asked, sitting on a stool beside one of the lab's workstations. "You don't think that some of those people might not buy that considering we basically lived in a cave in the Colorado Rockies for four years and made it just fine?" Dr. Archeville simply shrugged. A group of five people, the people that the others looked to as leaders of their resistance group, sat in a ragged circle in Whitney Golden's main lab. While such meetings were common, it had been a long time since Whitney had been a part of them. Doc couldn't help but feel joy at this. He and Whitney had been friends for a long time, dating back to their college days at the University of Virginia. In the years they had been on the run, he had grown close with many in the group and admired and respected every one of them. But Whitney was different. They could almost read each other's thoughts. Doc knew the question posed was more to get the meeting started than question his decision. "Tents and caves are two very different things in elements like this. This bunker is more shelter." "When are you going to tell them the real reason?" Again, Doc shrugged. For a moment, there was silence. "Are we certain it's... you know," Cassie asked doubtfully. "We can't be 100% certain, no," Shawn answered, "but it doesn't look good. We found something else last evening that rather tilts towards the attacker being something other than human." "Help me out with this," Whitney said, closing his eyes and tilting his head towards the ceiling. "I've been living in a cave for the last nine months and I'm bit out of the loop." Shawn smiled briefly before continuing. "From the beginning. Dan Donner found a body in the woods not too far from the barrier. He was suffering from several severe injuries including a cracked skull, a broken arm, and a broken neck." "One of those forest people," Whitney interjected. "We think so. The kids call them watchers. Had the usual M.O. An unloaded handgun, face camouflaged with dirt, that sort of thing. The injuries weren't anything that a person couldn't do necessarily, but there was something else. A tree nearby, with a trunk about..." Shawn paused and glanced at Lincoln. "Twenty inches," Lincoln added, his eyes flitting up briefly from under the brim of his ratty cowboy hat. "Thank you. A tree about twenty inches in diameter at the base also had some damage to it. Judging by how tall this watcher was and the bruises on his back and torn clothes, it looks like the damage to the tree came from being driven into it." "What sort of damage?" Cassie asked, leaning forward. "Shredded bark, a large area that appeared crushed inward. It would have taken a lot of force to cause that sort of damage. Lincoln used a shovel to try to simulate the damage on another, similar tree, but never came close." "So what you're saying," Whitney asked slowly, "is that something incredibly strong threw this guy against the tree? Something like, say, a Transformer. Or a superhero." "Yeah, one of the two," Shawn said, the slight smile returned briefly. "I can't say for certain though, not with just that. It could be a Transformer, almost certainly an Autobot since it was a human that was found dead." "This Autobot could not be the size that we've seen in the past," Doc said, running his hands through his shock of gray hair. "But if the Decepticons can be the size of, say, Frenzy, certainly the Autobots can as well. "But there's something else as well. When Shawn and Lincoln widened their search radius, looking for other clues, they found something that certainly lends a lot of credence to the attacker being an Autobot." Doc looked towards Whitney. "Do you remember what happened to Evan Pastor, just before we left the Rockies?" Whitney shuddered. "Yeah," he said, "kind of hard to forget it. He was standing right next to me when he was shot." He paused. Doc knew what he must have been thinking, that one minute Evan was standing there and next there was nothing but ash and a gust of acrid air. "Well, about a hundred yards from the body, Shawn and Lincoln found something similar. Burnt leaves, ash, about six feet in length. It was isolated and didn't spread beyond the immediate area, so a controlled fire is all but out of the question. But laser fire from an Autobot weapon..." Whitney nodded. "If it is the Autobots, aren't you concerned they'll find this bunker though?" Doc sighed. He had been over this in his mind hundreds of times, weighing the options. "It seemed the best thing to do. If it is the Autobots keeping tabs on us, they either know it's here or they don't. Us being in it won't change that. If they know of its existence, we're in a better position regardless. It's better defended and a more defensible position with the additions that were made. If they don't know about, we'll have veritably disappeared, which will buy us some time." Almost as an afterthought, Doc turned towards Shawn and added, "Did you contact the Decepticons?" Shawn nodded. "I sent a quick communiqué to them. Told them we had to move and we'd advise. It's a little cryptic, but someone could be listening." Whitney rose to his feet and walked over another workstation. "Speaking of Decepticons, when you do contact them, have Ravage thank whoever came up with that little contraption he brought over here." Doc, too, stood and crossed over to the station. "Helpful, was it?" "More than I can say. It's a kinetic driver. I've been working on something similar to power the energy weapons. Take the person who is holding the weapon's own energy of motion and store it in a power cell. I have something that works, but the bastard weighs about 40 pounds and would be a liability if we had to move." He held out a small device that about covered the palm of his hand. "This does the same thing, but weighs about 4 pounds. Best of all, I think I can duplicate it. I was going to burn through the rest of the night and try to get another one or two built and tested.” “I can give you a hand,” Doc said, wringing his hands together in thought. “Let’s call this meeting over for now. We’ll meet again tomorrow before lunch and decide what we’re going to tell everyone then. And let’s try to get some rest. I’ve a got a feeling we’re going to be busy in the coming days.” With that, the other three left the room. As did another being, watching from above.
“Crap,” Liberty whispered harshly as she strode down the hallway to the main door. “Crap crap CRAP!” Liberty stopped walking and placed a hand on the cold metal reinforcing the rock tunnel she was standing in. As she had done all morning and night before, she willed herself to calm down, but the fingers that clawed against the wall signified her success in that. 'You messed up, Lib,' she scolded herself. 'Big time. And you need to fix this now before it gets any worse.' Already Dr. Archeville and the others suspected an Autobot was near the camp. She could not take the chance that they might take another intuitive leap. She was lucky that the one mistake did not end the mission right here and now. She could not afford to make another one. After stealing away from the meeting where her error was revealed, she had crept back to her bunkroom. For what seemed like an eternity, she had tried to fall into a recharge cycle, but found herself doing little more than staring at the darkness above her. All around her, the chatter of the humans slowly died to nothing more than soft breathing. After several hours, she decided to get up and scout the bunker. She was sure that she had found more than any other human had in their brief stay. She found gun emplacements already charged and ready for an assault. She found several alternate exits, most likely in case the bunker was infiltrated. She did not think in terms of military strategy, but she could see that the group was farther along than it appeared on the surface. They might be able to defend themselves against a small Autobot force if could catch the invaders by surprise. After mapping much of the bunker in her mind, she returned to her bunk and lay awake waiting for sunrise. Presently, Liberty took a deep breath and push away from the wall, continuing toward the main entrance. She knew that she needed to contact Prowl, but she did not know what she was going to tell him. Should she admit her mistake? She was loath to do that as that would certainly lead to a suspension of the mission. There was a cornucopia of information that she had yet to reveal: the weapons, the bunker, and the additional humans. Perhaps some of this would stave Prowl off for long enough to complete the mission. As she neared the main entrance, her gait slowed. Standing beside the door was Lincoln, studying a monitor display. She paused beside him and looked at the screen. A blanket of snow covered everything, from the rocky ground to still tree branches near the entrance. It was a strong contrast to the grays and browns that otherwise dominated the area the night before. In a few hours, the sight went from sterile nothingness to stark beauty. "Something else, isn't it?" Lincoln said, almost making Liberty jump in surprise. "Yeah," she answered, tearing her optics from the screen. "Not exactly the snowstorm Doc was saying, but I guess it did the job." He was looking at the screen again. "Almost hard to believe what's really going on out in the world. Almost makes you think everything is new again." "Can I go out there?" Liberty asked, trying to make the question sound more innocent than it felt in her mind. "Walk around in it." "Not right now," he answered, looking at her again. Liberty nearly frowned at his expression. It was one she had not seen before. "Doc wants to keep everyone inside for a bit, make sure the locals think we've gone." Liberty continued to look at Lincoln, trying to decipher his expression. 'Was it respect?' she wondered. 'Was it friendship?' "The barrier is still up into the woods to let us know if anyone gets too close," he continued. "Why are we hiding from them?" Liberty asked, wanting to keep the conversation going as she puzzled over the odd look. "They're getting more bold," he said quietly, and started to lean towards her. Liberty quickly took a step back, her shell's eyes open wide. 'It's not respect or friendship,' she thought in a near panic. 'It's love. How can he with what I'm going to do?' She shook her and looked at the floor. She turned away and started running back down the hall. "I'm a killer," she whispered. "You can't love a killer."
After several minutes, Liberty found herself standing deep in the bunker, her head down. She looked around, flipped her hair over her shoulder. She was standing in front of one of the alternate entrances. She stepped toward it, but stopped. 'They respect me here,' a voice inside her said softly. 'They want me here. Can you say that about the Autobots?' She shook the thought from her head and walked through the exit. The air was cold and dry. The snow was several inches deep and left obvious tracks from the door. Anybody that went out the door would instantly know that someone had left that way. She considered for a moment covering her trailing by brushing her hand over the footprints, but decided against it. If anybody did see her outside the bunker, it would be less seem far more innocent if the tracks remained then have to explain why she felt the need to cover them up. As she trudged toward the nearby forest, Liberty thought again of the questioning voice within her. It was true that the humans did respect her. She could no longer deny that she felt more at home among them than with the Autobots. Even still, she could think of no feasible way that she could possible stay among them. The Autobots knew she was there. For all she knew, they had some way to track her. And the humans were bound to discover the truth about her sometime. Would they accept her then? She doubted it. Once in the woods, Liberty exited her Pretender shell and walked deeper into the woods. Just before passing through the barrier, she paused and looked at the shell. Slowly, she approached the shell again. She studied it for several seconds with sad optics before smiling and running her fingers through its hair. "It would be nice to a human, Lib," she whispered longingly. "I know," the shell replied quietly.
J.D. opened his mouth to say hello to Liberty just before she ducked down a short corridor, one he had never really noticed before, and out sight. Suddenly more curious than he was hungry, he veered away from the gathering hall and the smell of another bland breakfast and stepped into the corridor. He felt a gust of cold air brush across his face. "What in the world?" he said softly and stepped further into the corridor. Several seconds later, he stumbled across a wall. He grazed his hand over the rough surface for a moment as if to see if the stone was even real. "That isn't right," he said. He knew that Liberty could not have simply vanished into thin air. Slowly, he felt along the wall, looking for some kind of switch. After several moments, he grasped onto something and pulled it down. Another gust of air swirled in from outside. J.D. pushed the door open and stepped out into the bright gray morning. He smiled broadly and considered going back into the bunker to find Konnie. Certainly this was the kind of mischief that he would simply love. Instead, he spied Liberty walking quickly towards the treeline and decided to follow after her before she vanished from sight. Which was easier said than done. Liberty’s swift pace took her out of sight within seconds. J.D. stopped for a moment. ‘She probably just wants to be left alone for a while,’ he thought. He looked up at the clouds overhead. It did not look as though snow was a further threat. Still, he reasoned, Doc and the others were acting a little strange. A couple of the younger kids were in full pout mode after Cassie told them they couldn’t go out to play in the snow. Even Dirk being unusually nice and saying he would go out with them did not sway her decision. It seemed to J.D. that there was something that she wasn’t telling them, probably having to do with the dead body they had found the other day. Maybe he should find Liberty, if only to tell let her know to be on guard. ‘Not like it’ll be hard to find her,’ he thought as he followed the tracks in the snow. As he reached the forest, he was about to start whistling so that he did not completely catch Liberty by surprise, but stopped. His mouth opened, aghast at the sight before him. Standing at the near the dim light of the energy barrier was Liberty. He started shaking with fear. Looking at her, talking to her, was a small Autobot, the symbol of its affiliation plainly visible on its shoulder. He wanted to sprint out to Liberty and try to protect her, but he was paralyzed with terror. He watched the Autobot step closer to Liberty and… run its fingers through her hair? The Autobot smile. Liberty smiled in return. Confusion ran through J.D.’s face. Confusion changed to anger. He watched Liberty lean against a nearby tree, as he ran through the scene he had just witnessed again, trying to spot anything that made it look like it was something other than Liberty making nice with a member of a race of killer robots. Instead, he thought of the Autobot symbol she wore around her neck. ‘This is beyond me,’ he thought in a manner that sounded weak in his own head. ‘I need to tell someone.’ He turned to leave when something that only occurs in the movies happened: he stepped on a tree branch buried in the snow. He froze for a moment, hoping that Liberty had not heard it. The sound of her quickly pushing away from the tree roused him again. He ran through the trees, pushing aside branches (and hoping that they slowed Liberty down as they sprung back) as he moved. He had not gotten very far before he felt a hand grasp his wrist. “J.D.?” Liberty asked. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” he replied. He did not turn around. He didn’t want to look at her. He waited for her to release his wrist, but the firm grip continued. “It’s not nothing,” she said softly. “What is it?” His head spun back toward her quickly. She started slightly at how fast he had moved. “Maybe it has something to do with you having a little chat with an Autobot,” he said viciously. Finally, she loosened her grip and took a step back. Horror erupted across Liberty’s face. J.D. knew he should turn and make his way back to the bunker as quickly as he could but he hesitated, as if waiting to see what excuse she could possibly retort with. He watched her lips moved with one of her monologues. It looked to J.D. like she was muttering “It can’t be” silently, over and over again. Finally, he turned to leave. “It’s not what it looks like,” she said weakly. “Oh no?” he replied. “Let me guess. He’s deserted the Autobots and is trying to make amends by befriending a group of humans. Or maybe he’s really a Decepticon spy and you’re his liaison to the human resistance. And you know what? Maybe those things really are as plausible as the idea that you would actually side with those monsters, but I know what I saw out there. I saw you and an Autobot acting like you’re best friends. And I’m going to see that this all gets figured out.” He paused, his eyes narrowing as Liberty held one hand out, her eyes almost pleading. She slowly shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “Please don’t.” “I’m sorry, Liberty. I have to. We--*I* trusted you. And now I really don’t know what to think. I wonder if any of us really ever knew you. But I’ll tell you what. If it’s really not what it looks like and you want *any* chance of getting that trust back, they need to know what happened out here.” Liberty looked unfazed. In fact, it was almost as if she had not heard him. She shook her head more adamantly. “No,” she said, her voice stronger. “Please, no. Not him.” J.D. blinked. ‘Not him?’ he thought. Suddenly, he realized that she was not looking at him. In fact, she was looking over his shoulder. J.D. spun around quickly, just in time to see a burst of light erupt before him and hear Liberty scream in horror. He did not have time to think, let alone move, before death dropped over him like a veil.
Liberty, her arm still extended with a laser pistol in her hand, watched the Pretender shell cry out and fall to its knees as J.D. evaporated into ash, expressing the anguishing that she herself felt at this moment. After a second, she watched the pistol begin to shake as a chill ran over her. She dropped the pistol to the forest floor and walked over to the shell. The shell looked up at her. Everything about it looked so real. The grief in her eyes, the way her hands shook with the emotions that Liberty herself was feeling. So real. So human. Suddenly, the shell leapt up and struck Liberty across the face. “I hate you!” it shouted. “You killed him! He was my friend!” The shell moved to punch her again, but Liberty blocked the blow and pulled the shell close. The shell fell into Liberty’s arms, its head resting on her shoulders, her sobs muffled against her neck.
Liberty slowly lifted her head and looked around, trying to find the source of the sound that she had just heard. She did not know how long she had been standing in the forest. It could have been minutes or hours. The sun did not seem to have moved much. It could not have been that long. She looked down at the Pretender shell still in her embrace. She—It was no longer crying, but the human-like face was still pressed against her shoulder. Again, she heard the sound, like a series of beeps. The shell’s head lifted as well, also glancing around. Liberty stepped away and walked around amongst the snow and fallen leaves, her face a mask of concentration. For the third time, the sound chimed. Liberty blinked. “My communicator,” she whispered. “I almost forgot.” She motioned for the shell to remain where she was and went to a more secure location to answer the call. Liberty dwelled for a moment on she had just said. How could she forget about her communicator? She had spent most of her long life behind enemy lines. It had been her primary source of interaction with the other Autobots. With millions of years of using the tool, there was simply no way she could ever forget it or the sound. It alerted her to new orders or warnings. It saved her life and her mission on numerous occasions. Yet for those few seconds it had vanished from her mind. It was foreign to her, a device that had no significant meaning other than it made an unexpected sound. She paused in front of tree and activated the comm unit. “Liberty here.” “It’s about time you answered,” Prowl responded tersely. “My apologies, sir,” she said half-heartedly. She did not feel like arguing that it would have taken much long had she been in the bunker and she did not want to relive the memory of the heinous act she had just committed. “What is your current status?” Liberty paused. There was a lot of information that she had not told Prowl. If she gave him the windfall of data she had in her possession now, he would certainly know that she was holding out on him. But she had to tell him something more. It was her duty as an Autobot. She shuddered. The word “Autobot” passed through her mouth soundlessly. It seemed as foreign now as the sound from the communicator had minutes ago. “The group has moved,” Liberty said. “Moved? Where?” “There is an abandoned quarry not far from where they were most recently camped. To the north. They moved into just last night.” “Interesting. Did they give a reason?” “They said it was because of the weather. They apparently do not adapt well to cold weather.” “Yes,” Prowl said thoughtfully. It sounded to Liberty that he did not quite believe the last statement. “Is that all you have? No new information about the location of the Decepticon base? No information on anything?” “No,” Liberty lied, still not understanding why she was doing it. “That is most disappointing. I wonder, Liberty, if have really put your whole laser core into this assignment. Or perhaps you are simply more incompetent than we had previously believed. At any rate, you will have one last chance to make up for your failure. In two days time, we will be striking the humans you are embedded within, among other targets. You will assist them by attacking from the inside, causing as much chaos as possible. I do not want dawdling from you or the rest of the unit. You will be joining another attack to your east when your operation is complete. Failure in this will have dire consequences.” Liberty felt as though she had been slapped awake. “Wait, Prowl, give me more time. This was a risky operation when it was implemented. You wouldn’t have gone through so much trouble setting it up if you had other viable leads to find the Decepticon base. If we destroy them now, who knows how long we’ll have to wait for another opportunity.” “Don’t underestimate us. You have your new assignment. Implement this to the full ability of the skill you supposedly possess and your previous transgressions will be ignored. Fail again and punishment will be swift. Is that understood, Liberty?” “Yes, Prowl.” With that, the communication ended. She rose and started pacing through the trees. Agitated, she stalked back to the shell and then to the bunker. She slipped back in through the hidden door and waited in the corridor until she knew that she could slip into the bunker with no one witnessing the event. As she waited, she heard the excited conversations. She smelled the food, what someone passing by had called “real food,” that was being dished up in the main hall. More than that, she sensed the range of emotions that the humans were feeling through the tone and, when she peeked around the corner, the way they carried themselves. Besides the excitement, there was a host of other reactions to their environment: fear, happiness, anger. These were all emotions that Liberty herself felt. Did she feel them around the Autobots? She did not know. But she knew that she felt here. With the Autobots, she was largely ridiculed or completely ignored. She did not know which was worse. Respect was something that was earned through ruthlessness and raw physical strength and less because of innate skill. Almost everybody here embraced her instantly. She made friends with a week. She was part of their community. She knew that she belonged here. ‘I want to be human,’ Liberty thought. After a moment, she whispered aloud, “Then why don’t you be human.” Her own voice almost made Liberty jump. She crept back down the corridor toward the hidden door. ‘It’s not that easy. I can’t just say, I’m a human, and then I’m suddenly made of flesh. I’m an Autobot. I’m an alien to them.’ She looked back toward the bunker. ‘Still, I really do have more in common with them than any Autobot.’ She crept back toward the hall and watch several other humans walk past. ‘A human wouldn’t kill someone like J.D. for no good reason. An Autobot could, but not a human. An Autobot killed J.D. Not me.’ Liberty finally stepped into the hallway that led between the primary entrance and the main hall. She smiled, happy with her newfound conviction. She would have to find time to talk with Dr. Archeville about what Prowl had told the Autobot, but that would have to wait until she had devised a reason that she might have heard about the plan in the first place. It’s not like an Autobot to simply blab a plan like that to a mere human, after all. As she turned the corner to the main hall, she jumped as she nearly ran into Lincoln. “Oh, hi,” she said. “Look, I’m sorry about before. I just wasn’t--.” Lincoln held up his hand and said, “Hey, no, it was my fault. I gotta get back to the main door before Dirk throws another fit. Come see me later maybe. Maybe we can talk.” “Yeah,” Liberty said with a smile, “I have all the time in the world.”
Lincoln smiled as he watched Liberty walk into the main hall. ‘That is one good looking woman,’ he thought, surprised at how quickly his feelings had developed for her. For all his adult life he had kept his emotions guarded. He had to, otherwise being a cop in Las Vegas had have driven him insane. He couldn’t display his anger at a suspect or become too attached to a victim. The game simply was not played that way, not in a town aptly nicknamed “Sin City.” Everybody had an angle. As Lincoln walked towards the main entrance and a decidedly cranky Dirk, who was covering the entrance while Lincoln got a bite to eat, Lincoln glanced down a corridor that lead to one of the emergency exits. He skidded to a stop. After looking around to make certain no one was paying attention to him, he took a couple of steps toward the corridor. Quickly, he spun and walked back to the main hall as Dan Donner walked by. “Dan,” Lincoln called out to him. “Could you do me a favor and find Doc or Shawn and send them out here? Need to run something by them.” Dan shrugged. “Yeah, sure. No problem.” As Dan left, Lincoln walked slowly back toward the corridor, pretending to investigate some paneling on the walls. Within minutes, Doc and Shawn both strode down the hallway. “Two for the price of one,” Doc quipped with a smile. “What is it?” “This way,” Lincoln said, motioning towards the corridor. He pointed down at the ground where several small pools of water glistened. “There was some snow mixed in with it when I first noticed it.” “When did you first see it?” Doc asked as Shawn stepped passed them to glance at the door. “Couple of minutes ago when I was heading back to the main entrance. Didn’t look to closely when I went past here the first time, but since the snow was still there, it has to be recent.” Lincoln felt a breeze whistle into the hall and glanced down the corridor again. “Gentlemen, could you come here a moment?” Lincoln and Doc slipped quickly, single-file into the corridor and out the door. Lincoln squinted into the bright gray sky. The snow was making it seem much brighter than it otherwise would. He slowly shook his head as his gaze fell to the ground and his eyes followed the tracks into the forest. “One guess who those size fifteens belong to,” he said. “Figures they would be the first to find these doors.” Shawn rubbed one hand under his chin. “No doubt the prints are J.D.’s, but what about the other ones?” Shawn pointed at one set of prints several feet in front of them. “J.D.’s prints actually overlay the other set. And they’re too small to belong to either John or Dirk.” Lincoln squatted beside the tracks and studied them for a moment. The smaller prints were oriented both into and out of the hidden doorway. J.D.’s prints only lead one direction: into the forest. Lincoln was about to point this out to the other two when Doc interjected. “Shawn, go inside and make sure that everyone is accounted for. And when you find Dirk and John, ask them if they knew anything about this. Lincoln, grab a couple of weapons. We should check things out in there.” He motioned towards the forest.
Shawn strode into hallway moments after Lincoln and Doc returned. “Everyone is accounted for. Everyone but J.D.” Dr. Archeville shook his head. “What about John or Dirk? Did they have any ideas?” Shawn shook his head. “No and neither did Brea. I haven’t asked anyone else. I didn’t want to cause any worry, just in case.” After peering at Doc’s face, he added. “There’s reason to worry, isn’t there?” “Nothing conclusive,” Doc said, trying to sound more positive then he felt. “But his tracks lead into the forest and don’t lead out. There was an area of clearing that it looked like a couple of people had tramped through, but nothing that pointed to what might have happened.” He slumped against the wall, suddenly feeling very old. “I need to think this through. Have Cassie call a general meeting for an hour from now. Hopefully, I’ll have something to tell them everybody by then.”
“Well, I guess Cory gets a big damn cookie, doesn’t he?” Konnie groused, as he strode into the empty room. “Oh, we’re just going into this secret bunker because of the storm. Don’t mind that dead body in the woods.” After watching Konnie throw his work gloves in frustration against the far wall, Dirk glanced back down the hallway. ‘The last thing we need is for Cory to hear his idol saying that,’ he thought, finding it odd that he even cared. He motioned Brea and Liberty into the room and closed the door behind him. “God,” Brea said breathlessly as she sat on the nearest bunk, “what if something happened to J.D.?” Judging from the slightly glazed look in her eyes, Dirk was not sure if she even knew she asked the question aloud. “Nothing happened to J.D.,” Konnie said sternly into the wall in front of him. “He just got lost or something.” “Konnie,” Dirk said slowly. Konnie turned and looked at him and words stopped at the back of his throat. His eyes almost glowed with fear barely hidden beneath his shell of defiance. Regardless of that defiance or the shock that Brea was enveloped within, they were all thinking the same thing. Moments ago, Doc told the group that the main reason for the sudden move into the bunker was the dead man found in the forest. Judging from the reaction of shock and surprise from the majority of the group, it seemed that the few people that knew about him, numbering at less than a dozen, had kept that information close to their chests. Doc told them how Shawn and Lincoln were still investigating what happened, but to make certain of their safety, he decided to move them into the bunker ahead of schedule. After a few questions that he skillfully avoided answering in a direct fashion, Doc said the sentence that had stuck with Dirk since. “And now, John Davie is missing.” Dirk vaguely recalled hearing him discuss emergency exits, footprints, and searches. He tried to remember when he had seen last seen J.D. that morning. He remembered thinking that he was surely working in the lab or something, probably buried behind some books. As if reading his mind, someone else in the room suggested that, only to earn a negative response. Doc might have said something like that he was hoping for the best, but given recent events he had some cause for concern. He asked if anybody had seen J.D. anyplace this morning to tell him, no matter how trivial it might seem. Someone then asked about the Autobots, if they could be involved. Doc had no words to answer the question. That seemed answer enough for Dirk. There might have been more discussion, but Dirk had no recollection of it. Now Dirk looked at the red fear simmering in Konnie’s watering eyes and he was lost for words. “What?” Konnie said, his voice strong as if defying his fears as well. “He’s fine. He’s lost, probably got stuck somewhere. He’ll turn up any time now and won’t you all look stupid for being worried about it.” He turned and kicked the locker in front of him. “Everything that happens isn’t the damn Autobots. He’s just lost.” “J.D. doesn’t get lost,” Dirk finally said. “He’s the one who finds us when we get lost. And like you said, he ain’t stupid. He isn’t going to willingly get himself into something he can’t get out of.” “First time for everything,” Konnie mumbled morosely. “You don’t believe what you’re saying,” Dirk said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Konnie turned and swiped the hand away. “Well, I sure as hell don’t believe that he’s dead!” Brea looked up sharply, as Konnie continued. “I mean, that’s what the gist of that little powwow in there was! Dead forest dwellers and ‘injuries indicative of Autobot involvement’ and that crap. That’s what they’re getting at. That’s what they were trying to brace us for. But there is no way, man, no way that J.D. is dead. You getting all morose and chummy isn’t going to make me think that he’s gone.” “John,” Brea said softly. “Shut up, Brea!” Konnie snapped. “I don’t need to hear this crap from you, too. I’m just not ready to phone my friends in like that.” Brea stood and slapped Konnie across the face. Konnie stepped back, shocked at being struck, his cheek glowing red. “Jesus Christ, John, do you think I *want* to feel like this?” she asked angrily as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Do you think that I want to think that I’ve lost yet another best friend? Well, I don’t. I want J.D. standing here right now. I want Colin here. And my mom. I would even settle for my good-for-nothing loser of a father. I’m tired of feeling like this and I don’t need you throwing it back in my face like I’m doing something wrong.” With that, she ran from the room and down the empty hallway. Dirk glanced up at Konnie. His mouth was a thin tight line, as if was the only thing keeping his emotions in check. His eyes were glazed over, likely with shock was both what he had said and Brea’s reaction to it. He took a step toward the door to follow her. Dirk moved forward to stop him, but decided against it. Sometimes it was better to be alone. Konnie turned quickly towards Dirk and backed away with the same defiant expression of his face. Finally, after several seconds, he finally shook his head. “He’s not dead,” he insisted in a whisper. “He’s just lost.” Konnie turned and stalked out of the bunkroom, heading in the opposite direction of Brea. Dirk sighed and his shoulders slumped. Suddenly, he remembered that he wasn’t alone. He turned at looked at Liberty sitting on a nearby bunk. She had not said a word since Doc started talking nearly an hour ago. Now she simply sat with her head down, her eyes looking at the floor. Her hair streamed over her shoulders, concealing much of her face. ‘She seems sad,’ he thought, ignoring for the first time the instincts that had served him so well through his earlier life on the street. The instincts that told him that she was no good.
Lincoln took his hat off his head and ran his fingers through this ragged blonde hair. He glanced at Shawn, who was standing next to the small clearing with his eyes closed, a sure sign that he was thinking his way around every angle of the scene before them. Lincoln knew he was a good cop. The Army had trained him well and the streets of Las Vegas taught him the rest. But he also knew that he could live a hundred years and not reach Shawn’s level of cognitive intuition when examining a scene. Shawn could teach courses in forensics. ‘Hell,’ Lincoln thought, ‘Berger, Inc. probably did have forensics classes.’ Lincoln scanned the clearing again. Two sets of footprints were clearing visible. The only pattern that could truly be discerned was that they seemed to shift back and forth a little, as if J.D. and the mystery person had mostly stayed apart from one another. Lincoln had circled the clearing once, looking for additional prints or broken tree branches, something to indication whether J.D. had wandered off into the woods. “Here’s what we know,” Shawn said suddenly. “We know that two sets of prints were found near one of the bunkers emergency exits. One we suspect belongs to J.D. That set of prints only leads away from the door and into the woods. Another set of prints leads both away from the door and to it and also seem to be present in this clearing. We also know that nobody was detected walking through the detection barrier in either direction. What we don’t know is who the second set of prints belongs to and what became of J.D.” “Or where the prints came from,” Lincoln added. “We don’t know if this mystery person came from the woods and then retreated back there or came from the bunker, went to the woods, and returned to the bunker.” “As much as I hate to say it, I think the latter option is the most likely scenario. The snow you found that tipped us off…” Shawn trailed off, knowing that Lincoln would agree. “Yeah,” Lincoln said quietly. “We’ve learned just about everything we can just staring at this pile of snow. If J.D. is still safe and alive, there will likely be additional tracks somewhere around here. If one of those forest people or…” He paused for a moment, refusing to admit that someone from the group could have harmed J.D. “Well, if it was a person, J.D. would have put up a struggle. If it was an Autobot, like the others, there may be signs of that as well.” “With the snow, we aren’t going to find any burn marks.” Shawn shrugged. “Perhaps on some nearby shrubs or trees there could be a sign. You take the northern half of the area. Look for anything out of the ordinary.” Lincoln nodded and trudged across the clearing. For nearly an hour, both men painstakingly scanned the clearing and the adjacent wooded area for any clues. Snow was slowly brushed side. Every demarcation near the ground was scrutinized. Every branch and leaf on every piece of foliage was carefully examined for any sign of disturbance. Lincoln stood and stretched. He rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. He looked into the woods and blinked. He leaned forward, being certain as to what he was seeing. Finally satisfied, he turned and whistled towards Shawn. After a moment, the older man was standing beside him. His shoulders drooped as he followed the line from Lincoln’s outstretched hand to the ground. The angular lines of the footprint could signify only one thing. An Autobot had been here. Lincoln pulled his arm to the left. “Looks like the tracks lead in that direction around this clearing to the west. Hard to tell though. Snow fell from the tree branches up there and covered the tracks. But it certainly means we had a visitor here since last night.” He turned at looked at Shawn. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.” “Damn,” Shawn whispered. “I have something to show you as well. I was examining some low-lying branches over here. Looks like burn marks from a short burst of very intense heat.” Lincoln pushed his hat up on his head with his fingers nested in his hair and cursed. Then he stood and looked around at Shawn. “What about the second person?” Shawn shook his head. “I need to think about this some more. Inside, where it’s warm. We’ll come back out before nightfall and bring a few extra people with us. Just in case.” Lincoln nodded and started following Shawn. He stopped, however, when something sticking out of the snow caught his eye. He stooped down and looked at it first without disturbing it. It looked like some sort of thin black robe. He again whistled to Shawn, who had trimmed off one of the branches that had been burned, and grasped the rope with one of his gloved hands. As he heard Shawn step up behind him, he lifted the rope up and out of the snow. His breath caught in his throat as he saw what was at the end of it: an Autobot symbol chipped at the bottom. The necklace that belonged to Liberty.
‘What the hell good am I doing up here?’ Lincoln thought as he set beside a newly activated gun battery. He tapped the monitor beside him, which was currently displaying nothing but trees and snow, to try to clear the static from it. ‘I’m barely even watching this damn thing right now.’ He sighed and resigned himself to the less than crystal clear screen for the moment. Ever since the phase driver beside him, and others like it, was activated, the monitors would intermittently buzz with light static. Whitney and Doc were working on something to help remedy it, but chances were now that the Autobots would find them first. The two scientists, as well as every free hand the base could spare, were working over time getting the rest of the weapons online and in working order. Lincoln tapped the screen again. He did not know the ins and outs of the weapons that were created by the techs over the years. They all had technical names like phase drivers, electrostatic pulse weapons (of which Lincoln liked the hand-held variety), EM bombs. His own pet names for them were simply Snap, Crackle, and Pop. He had thought that those names about covered the intended affects. It did make him feel a little more at ease knowing these weapons were there and that the Decepticons seemed to think that they might come in handy in a scrape. He stared at the landscape outside, suddenly imagining it looking very different very soon. Evidence that at least one Autobot was nearby continued to build. Doc’s analysis of the branches that Shawn found was certainly consistent with Autobot weapons. After returning with a few Crackle rifles and people to wield them, they had taken a sweep for information outside of the energy barrier and discovered additional footprints that no human could leave. If one Autobot knew they were there, it was likely that others did as well. Lincoln could not help but feel uneasy not knowing what might happen. He simply had a bad feeling that there were going to have a fight on their hands far sooner than they would have liked. “Hey there, stranger,” a familiar voice from behind him said. Lincoln closed his eyes for moment and said, “Hi Liberty.” “Everybody is kind of buzzing down there,” she said, sitting beside him. “Did you find something? Did you find him?” “No,” he said, continuing to look at the screen, “we didn’t find him.” “Oh,” Liberty hushed. “God, what happened to him?” He wanted to turn and say to her that she was probably the one to ask, but he held his tongue. He did not truly know what she was doing out there or even if she was out there at the same time as J.D. Any number of scenarios was possible. J.D. could have been investigating the footprints he saw, footprints that Liberty had left during the night. Maybe Liberty was planning on venturing out again until she saw the other footprints and thought better of it. Lincoln thought over and over again that this had to be the explanation. It was the only thing that fit. She could not have possibly seen anything because she certainly would have said something. She could not possibly be hiding anything. Not her. Before either of them could say anything else, Dirk poked his head into the battery. “Oh, there you are. I think Cassie’s looking for you for some reason, Liberty.” “Okay,” she said. She turned and after resting an affectionate hand on Lincoln’s shoulder, she walked past Dirk and out of the battery. Dirk stepped up and sat where Liberty had been sitting and smirked at Lincoln. “Wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” “No,” Lincoln returned briskly, making certain with his tone that he did not want the subject broached again. Instead they both simply stared at the monitor and the unchanging snow and trees outside. The only movement was Lincoln reaching over and tapping the screen again, trying vainly to rid it of static. “That been working?” Dirk asked finally. “No, but it hasn’t stopped me from trying it about a dozen times.” “I’m worried about Konnie,” Dirk said. Lincoln simply nodded. He knew there had to be some reason Dirk had stayed in the gun battery. “He can’t seem to admit that J.D. is gone. I mean, I don’t want to admit it either, but with what you guys found out there…” “He just needs to work it out. Thing with Konnie is, when he came with us, he was holed up is his little community kind of set apart from the rest of the world. Nearly his entire family still lived in that town. All of his friends were there. His world was there. I don’t think he lost a single person close to him since the Autobots started making trouble. And if that’s true, then J.D. was the first one he did lose. Konnie’s a good guy, smart. He acts foolish, but he’s not. He’s confused and hurt and he just needs whatever help we can give him. That’s what we all need right now.” Dirk nodded, watching the monitor. “Feels different out there,” he said suddenly. “Probably because of J.D., but I don’t know. It’s like the calm before the storm.” Dirk stretched and shook his head. “I sure hope that it isn’t though, because I sure don’t feel calm.” “I feel it too,” Lincoln said. “They’re out there somewhere and they’re probably going to come after us. Who knows when though? That’s what I don’t like. The waiting. If they’re going to do it, I just wish they would and get it over with.” “Yeah,” Dirk said, hardly believing that he was agreeing with him. Lincoln looked at Dirk for a moment. His eyes were hard and blue beneath his hat. Every time that Lincoln had looked at Dirk or Konnie or any of them, he had always seen kids. This time, he saw Dirk as something else. “I’m not telling you this to be morbid or anything, but the Autobots are going to attack us again. Maybe it’ll be tomorrow and maybe it’ll be next year. Who the hell knows? But I need you to know that a lot people here look at you and see a leader. Now I doubt you believe me and I know that’s probably the last thing you want to hear. But I see it and it’s there. The younger ones certainly see it. They just about idolize you.” Lincoln paused. “Much to my chagrin,” he added wryly. But you are a strong leader. When the fighting starts, you just do that. Just lead.” Dirk scowled. “Oh yeah, ‘just lead’. You make it sound so damn easy. You’re the one who’s good at barking orders, man, not me.” “It’s not just barking orders. Dirk, you’re a natural. It’s easy for you.” With that, Lincoln looked at the monitor again. “I’m not big on speeches. Go talk to Shawn; he’ll tell you the same thing.” “Right, because Shawn his such a blabbermouth. He’d just grunt and point and let that big brain of his keep working on other things.” “Knock it off. You know it just as much as Shawn or I do. Christ, for the last few years I’ve been expecting you to just take off. I’ve seen you standing at the edge of camp or somewhere just staring off into the distance and I know what you’re thinking because I think the same thing sometimes. You think about how much easier it would be to just run away from all of this and wait it out. How you’re a target working against them in a group like this, but all alone you most likely will survive a lot longer. Then you get to thinking about your friends here and how you would be leaving them to fight a battle that you feel, deep down, we should all be fighting. And you decide to stay for a while longer and help out. A couple weeks later, you find yourself going through the same process all over again, standing out in some pasture, staring at some overgrown wheat field and thinking how it’s like a symbol of freedom. But you always stay, just like all of us do, because the only way we’re ever going to be free is to see this thing out.” Dirk stared at Lincoln for a minute before he, too, started to watch the monitor. He said nothing for some time. Finally, he turned back to Lincoln. “Um, Lincoln? We’re not, like, friends now, right?” “Hell, no. You’re nothing but punk who can’t follow simple instructions.” “Good,” Dirk countered, “’cause I can’t be friends with a prick like you.” A hint of smile grew on Lincoln’s face as reached over and tapped the static from the screen again.
Shawn Berger stepped into the main lab and crossed over to one of stools near Whitney Golden. He glanced around the room, almost awed by the transformation the room at one through in the last eight hours. At the beginning of the day, odd contraptions and half-finished weapons that looked as though they belonged in some apocalyptic science fiction story were strewn across the room in what amounted to an orderly working environment for Whitney and his crew. Shawn knew that Doc would much rather work in a less cluttered area, but he had told Shawn long ago that he adapted to disorder far easier than Whitney did to order. But now, the lab was cleared. Working areas where empty of tools and wires. The technicians, many of them recruited earlier in the day to work overtime to finish the weapons in as timely a fashion as possible, had left, more than likely going to their bunkrooms to do their best at getting some sleep. Only Whitney was left. Shawn watched him as he surgically manipulated a small pliers, shifting around some unseen component hidden behind the shell of what was undoubtedly far more complicated than the simply metal box it looked like. Shawn wondered why Whitney had not retired to his bunk as well. He imagined it was far the same reason and Shawn himself did not. Sleep was still very far away. “Working overtime?” Shawn asked as he lifted himself onto one of the stools. “When don’t I?” the scientist returned with an obvious feigned scorn. He looked up from the contraption on the table before him. “That look on your face tells me you verified that bad news.” “As much as I could at any rate. We’ll never know one hundred percent though, but all the evidence seems to indicate Autobot activity of some sort nearby.” Shawn sighed. “A part of me still hopes I’m wrong though. That instead of heading towards another battle in the war, that we’ll see J.D. heading towards us, apologizing for losing track of the time. God, I wish that would happen.” “We all do. In the mean time, we have to prepare for the worst. We can’t have the Autobots stumbling upon us with us not ready for them.” Shawn looked around the lab again. “Everything is online?” Whitney nodded. “Online and fully tested. There are some problem with the targeting monitors for the phase drivers. Static, but not really enough impede the effectiveness of the weapon.” Whitney smiled and winked at Shawn. “You can go ahead and call me a miracle worker if you like. I won’t mind one bit.” The security mogul could not help but smile in return. Whitney’s energy was completely infectious. “Not everything seems to be finished,” Shawn said, pointing at the device in the scientist’s hands. “Oh this,” Whitney said, pausing to admire the small metal box. “This a clever little thing is why Doc is a god and I’m nothing but his bitch. He’s been fiddling with it for a while now, I think since just after me and the others came up here. He hadn’t quite perfected it until last night, so it’s not really ready for testing. Still, ol’ Doc hasn’t been wrong yet so I thought I’d work on replicating it. As luck would have it, I found some spare oscillators that the Decepticons left in their latest goody bag from a while back.” He paused. “Not like I could even think about sleeping right now anyway,” he added with a shrug. “There are others done already?” Shawn asked. “Yeah, the others are back there.” Whitney motioned to a locked storage area against the wall behind him. “They’re light diffractors. It’s a play on some obscure Cybertronian tech that basically makes someone appear where they are not. It casts an image of the person in another location. It’s simple, I’m afraid. The actual tech is way too complicated for us. The image appears at simple geometric angles from the actual location. Still, it’s better than nothing for anyone outside the base if the attack comes.” “If it’s simple, would the Autobots be able to calculate where they are?” “Maybe not. But that’s part of the problem. We’re having trouble predicting where someone will be wearing it. In the one test we managed, when two people wearing these little baubles are near one another, the angles of diffraction intersect and throw the images in completely different locations. We’ll have to be careful with these things and make sure we don’t shoot one of our own accidentally though. Those random but not-so-random battle lines you and Lincoln were working on will certainly help, once we get these up to spec. I’ll be more than happy to work with you guys on it.” Shawn nodded. There was an added danger to involved with no knowing the location of their own fighters, but there was no doubt that the light diffractors would cut done of initial casualties. Out of habit, he started running scenarios through his head of tactics that could be used as the battle wore on and the front line fighters had to abandon their positions. There was no question that such a device would be useful. Even without them, they had a lot of weapons. And thanks to Ravage’s latest visit, they were able to hold a charge longer than their old weapons, which meant they would be stronger longer. ‘I hope it’ll be enough,’ Shawn thought. His brow furrowed. “Hope,” he said quietly. “What was that?” Whitney asked, his eyes back on the diffractor. “Nothing,” he answered. “I’ve just been noticing that that word has been popping up a lot lately. Hope. I hope we get through this. I hope the snow holds off. I hope, I hope, I hope. I never noticed before, but they only time we really use that word and mean it is when things look like they might be bad. Or hopeless. The utter hopelessness of hope itself.” Shawn sighed. Whitney looked up. “I deal in weapons manufacturing, not irony. But I will tell you one thing. If hope is all we have, I’ll take it. Because where there’s hope, there’s a chance. Luckily, we don’t have just hope on our side. We’ve got weapons. We know the Autobots are coming sometime and we know we’ll be ready. And we have some allies who can hold their own as well. We’ve got more than hope to help us through this, Shawn.” He began closing the paneling on the diffractor. “Which reminds me, have we contacted the Decepticons yet? I’ve been in here all day, so I’m a bit more behind on the news.” “Not yet. I was looking for Doc to see if there was anything additional he wanted me to add to the message. Have you seen him around?” “He was checking on something before it got too late. He’s probably in the main room.” Shawn nodded and turned to leave. ‘The sooner we contact the Decepticons the better I’ll feel about this.’
Brea could not even close her eyes. All around her, she listened to the deep breathing of her bunkmates sleeping. Once, she heard one of the younger girls talk softly through a dream before settling back into a deep sleep. But mostly there was just the soothing sound of breathing like a night breeze filling the room. Normally, this would put her right to sleep. When she couldn’t sleep as a child, she would sneak into her mother’s room and crawl soundless into her bed. Within minutes, the sound of her mother sleeping put her to sleep. But now, Brea simply stared into the darkness above her. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw J.D. dying. Suddenly, the door swung open, the dim lights from the hallway showered into the room. Brea sat up quickly, squinting towards the door. She was about to ask who was there, but the tall broad silhouette could only belong to one person. “He’s dead,” Konnie said, his voice almost catching in his throat. “Isn’t he?” Brea nodded slowly. “Yes, John. He is.” She watched Konnie’s head drop, his eyes looking at the floor. “Right,” he whispered. He turned and left, closing the door behind him. Brea lay back down and cried.
Dr. Grayson Archeville stood rigid in the back of the main room of the bunker staring at the array of portable weapons waiting to be taken into the battlefield. They had truly only faced the Autobots one other time. It was almost two years ago, but it felt like yesterday. Sometimes when he was lost in thought he could feel the ground shake as it did on that day. Too often he pictured the lives lost that day. That day had been life altering for the group. They had decided to leave their hidden camp near Rifle, Colorado. They decided that allying themselves with the Decepticons was all well and good but they may have better luck staying away from a fight if they weren’t so close to the Autobots ancient enemies. And they decided that they needed weapons. Lots of powerful weapons. Dr. Archeville knew, as they all did, that the battle near Rifle, where over a dozen brave men and women had perished, would not be the last time they would have to deal with the Autobots. The next time they would be ready. ‘But are we?’ he questioned himself. ‘Can we ever truly be ready?’ He disliked the fact that they truly had no options. He hated war. Whitney had always laughed at him when he would lament about this at a local bar after a hard day at the lab. Whitney found it gloriously ironic that the one person the government turned to when they needed something innovative to throw at their enemies was Dr. Archeville. Whitney would always have a good laugh about it. Dr. Archeville would laugh as well. It seemed so different now that he was in the middle of a war. And not any war. He was always optimistic with the other members of the resistance cell, but one did not have to be a military historian to when the odds were long and defeat was all but certain sometime down the road. For nearly three years, he had managed to evade the Autobots through stealth and luck, but now it seemed that luck finally caught up with them all. Dr. Archeville thrust his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat and let his right hand curl around Liberty’s Autobot necklace. ‘And now I have this to deal with as well,’ he thought morosely. He started slightly as he felt a hand wrap around his waist. He calmed himself instantly and nearly melted into Cassie’s embrace. He knew that she felt the same doubts as he did. He knew that she did not ask to be here, that she was even in Los Angeles was an emergency meeting with Dr. Archeville’s lab. She should have been on the road for nice vacation visiting her sister in Tucson. Instead of possibly being out of the main line of fire in the relative safety of the desert, she ended up in a resistance cell fighting for her life. Despite all the doubts, she always stayed vigilant. Her strength was one of the many things that he loved about her. He grasped her arm and squeezed it gently. “What are you going to say to her?” Cassie asked quietly. “I still don’t know,” he replied. “What can I say without sounding accusatory?” He turned and held her, looking into her brown eyes. “It’s frustrating, Cassie. Usually I can look at a situation and know the answers. I can see things disassembling themselves in front of me and showing me everything that I need to know. But I’m missing something here. People are dying, the Autobots are around, and now this possible implication that Liberty is hiding something. There’s some piece of the puzzle that’s out my reach. It’s just barely in the shadows, but I still can’t see it.” Dr. Archeville had a gift of deduction. He saw things differently than other people did. Some called it a sixth sense. Others thought it was dumb luck. Whitney called it “our golden goose.” Whatever it was, he was able to see things unfold in ways that others could not. This time, it was different and it bothered him. “I’ve always been jealous of that innate ability of yours to combine random events like that,” she said with a smile. “If I could do that, setting up funding for everything at the University would have been a breeze.” “It’s not random. It’s just how one sees them.” “I know,” Cassie said. “You have all of our trust.” She reached about kissed him gently. “And my love.” Dr. Archeville smiled. “That’s all I need.” “Am I interrupting?” a voice called from the doorway. Cassie shot Dr. Archeville a reassuring smile and turned towards Liberty. “No,” she replied evenly, “I was actually just leaving.” “Dirk said you wanted to see me?” “Actually, I was looking for you for Gray,” she replied. Cassie turned towards Dr. Archeville again. “I’m going to spell Dan at the front entrance. I’ll see you later.” She turned back towards Liberty and smiled. “Good night, Liberty.” “Good night,” Liberty responded, walking into the main room. Dr. Archeville motioned for Liberty to sit as he lifted himself onto a nearby table. “I’m actually glad to find you, Doc,” Liberty stated as she seated herself on one of the benches. “I, well, know something. Something that’s pretty important.” “Oh?” Dr. Archeville said. “What is that?” “Well,” she said and stopped. She looked down at hands, which were splayed out palms down on the table in front of her. “I don’t know how to say it. You see, I knew about the dead humans in the forest.” ‘Humans?’ Dr. Archeville thought. He again reached into his pocket and grasped the necklace. Something inside him clicked. The missing link was almost within reach. “From Cory, I presume?” he asked. Liberty looked up. She had an odd look on her face, something like relief. “Yeah. And now with J.D. and the Autobot nearby… Well, there’s something that I didn’t tell you about the attack on my home. I’m from a suburb south of Minneapolis called Roseville. Before the Autobots actually attacked, there were some odd occurrences. People missing. Some mauled. Houses burned down. The police couldn’t explain it. People started wondering if it was maybe the robots that were out west.” She looked back down at her hands. “Turns out it was. They attacked the next day.” She looked back up. “Thing is, I have this feeling that we’re in trouble. They attacked the outskirts before making their big strike before. I think they’re coming. I think they’re coming tomorrow.” Dr. Archeville simply nodded. He stood and slowly paced up and down one of the isles. He did not look up at Liberty but he could sense her eyes on him. His hand still wrapped tightly around the necklace, he mulled over some of the things that she had said. ‘Calling human beings “humans” isn’t something people do in everyday conversation,’ he thought. ‘And Roseville…’ “How long did you live in Roseville, Liberty?” “What?” she asked, sounding a bit confused by the question. Dr. Archeville stopped and smiled. “Sorry, when I get to thinking, inane questions sometimes find their way out. Helps me think.” Liberty smiled too. “Oh, and I thought mumbling to myself was a strange habit.” Dr. Archeville chuckled. “I was there since I was ten. Before that we lived in the city.” “Always preferred being away from the big city myself. Moved from Appalachia to the Beltway when I was a kid. Boy, did I hate it.” He leaned against the table again. ‘The smaller tracks lead both to and from the emergency exit.’ His eyes flitted down to Liberty’s feet for a second as he pretended to stretch his neck. Liberty asked if he was all right and he responded how it had been a long day. ‘Her feet are about the right size and we found her necklace in the forest. The snow that Lincoln found tracked into the bunker indicates that the person with the smaller feet went to the woods and then returned, not the other way around. So, Liberty may know something that we don’t.’ He looked at Liberty again. “Did J.D. mention anything about the emergency exit to you?” Liberty blinked. “No. Why?” “We asked his other close friends, but didn’t ask you. Wanted to make sure the bases were covered.” “Oh.” ‘Humans,’ he thought again. ‘Roseville. Rose*ville*.’ “Doc, was that what you wanted to ask me?” Liberty asked, starting to get up. “I’m really tired and now with J.D. missing… it’s just so much to deal with. I… I just can’t.” “Yeah,” Dr. Archeville said distantly. He looked up at Liberty retreating to the exit. “Wait,” he called out, “there was one other thing.” As she turned towards him, Dr. Archeville lifted his right hand from the lab coat, his hand enclosed around the necklace. He held his hand out and let it drop loudly onto the table in front of him. The chipped Autobot symbol rattled for a second against the hard surface of the table with the frayed string draping itself over the top of it. Dr. Archeville watched Liberty gasp and reach up to her neck, finding it bare. For a moment there was a look of wariness, even fear, in her brown eyes. Dr. Archeville had a gift of deduction. He saw things differently than other people did. Some called it a sixth sense. Others thought it was dumb luck. Whitney called it “our golden goose.” Whatever it was, he was able to see things unfold in ways that others could not. Suddenly, this was no different. He knew, no matter how impossible it seemed. Liberty blinked and the expression shift from wariness to something like relief in that split second. “Where did you find it?” she asked innocently. “We found in the clearing in the forest this morning,” he replied evenly. “Near tracks that match your shoe size.” Liberty opened her mouth to say something and stopped. She stared at Dr. Archeville for a moment, as if trying to determine if he was telling the truth. “What are you implying?” Liberty finally asked through clenched teeth. “Only that you know something that you aren’t telling us.” For a long time, she said nothing. “I saw an Autobot kill J.D.,” she finally admitted. “Why didn’t you tell us before?” Dr. Archeville asked. “I don’t know,” Liberty said quietly. “I was afraid to.” “Afraid of us?” Archeville asked, keeping the questions coming in quick succession, watching for her reaction. “No.” Liberty looked up sharply. Quickly, she regained her composure. “I don’t know. I was afraid.” “Why did the Autobot let you go?” he asked. “She didn’t see me. I snuck away.” ‘She?’ he thought. ‘How does Liberty know it was a female?’ Keeping his eyes on Liberty, he asked, “Why were you out there?” “I followed J.D. I was curious as to where he was going. Why are you asking so many questions? Do think that I had something to do with this?” Dr. Archeville looked at her. She seemed to be honestly curious and her last question had just the right amount of incredulousness to make one think that the line of questioning confused her. But he now knew one very important thing. For the first time, he knew that Liberty was lying. J.D.’s larger footprints overlaid her own leading into the forest, not the other way around. “You’re from Roseville, right?” Liberty blinked and shook her head. “Yes.” “Southern suburb between Apple Valley and Inver Grove Heights?” “Yes,” she said, her voice a little louder in obvious frustration. “Why do you keep asking me that?” Dr. Archeville sighed. “Because I’m looking for the truth and you’re not helping.” She took a step forward and exclaimed, “I’m telling you all that I know!” “Except that J.D. left the bunker after you did,” he stated, his voice a bit louder. “His footprints were over yours. Or that you didn’t live most of your life in a southern suburb on Minneapolis. That town is not called Roseville; that’s northeast of Minneapolis. You’re thinking of Rose*mount*.” Liberty took a defensive step backwards. “Why would the Autobots attack us? We’re just a small group of humans, no different than any other. Why are we being singled out?” “You’re not being singl--,” Liberty started and quickly closed her mouth. For several seconds, she held Archeville’s gaze, her breathing shallow. “Fair,” she finally said. “You’re not being fair. I’m not some military expert. I just know what happened before and that it could happen again.” “What aren’t you telling us?” “I’ve told you everything!” she cried and turned to run, crashing into Shawn entering the room. He grabbed onto her arms to keep her from falling. “I’m sorry, Liberty.” His eyes narrowed slightly at the expression on her face. “Are you okay?” “Let go,” she said sternly. “All ri--,” Shawn said and began to release her. But not soon enough. “I said, ‘let go’!” With that, she tore her arms from his grip and backhanded him, sending him flying onto a nearby table. Liberty gasped sharply and whirled around toward Dr. Archeville. Though he was shocked by the strength that Liberty had struck Shawn, he was quick enough to have grabbed one of the energy rifles and leveled on Liberty. “You don’t understand,” Liberty said, stepping towards him. “Actually, I do,” he said calmly. “You’re an Autobot spy. Until just now, I thought you were a human, but it appears I was wrong. A rather ingenious disguise, I must say.” Tears welled in Liberty’s eyes. “You don’t understand,” she repeated. “I’m not an Autobot. I’m not like that. I’m like you. I’m a human, at least where it counts.” “You killed those forest people,” Archeville charged. “Only because they were threatening the others in the group. They were going to take some of the children. They’re monsters.” “You killed J.D.,” he added angrily. Liberty faltered and started to tremble. Suddenly, she sat down. The tears she had been holding back began to stream down her face. She hid her face in her hands and sobbed. “J.D. was my friend, Doc,” she said softly, her words muffled against her hands. “I don’t want him to be dead. I want him to be here. I didn’t kill him. The *bitch* inside me did.” Dr. Archeville glanced worriedly over at Shawn, who had slid off the table and limped over to the weapon storage, grasping the nearest weapon. “Why us?” he asked again. Liberty looked up, her eyes red. “Because one of you has been to the Decepticon base. And they wanted to find it.” Shawn stepped into Liberty’s field of view. “J.D. was the one who had been to the base.” “J.D.?” she whispered. She let out a humorless laugh. “Of course it would be him. Yes, of course. Because he’s the one you killed, Lib. Because that’s the way this whole mission has been.” She stood, prompting Dr. Archeville and Shawn to raise there weapons again. The shouting and the sound of Shawn crashing into the table had aroused some of the other people in the group. They were starting to gather in the hallway. Most of them looked confused at the scene, as if they were wondering what could have prompted them to have Liberty at gunpoint. A couple of them, having decided that Liberty had obviously done something bad, made a move to restrain her, but a warning expression from Shawn stopped them in their tracks. “I’m human now, no matter what you think,” she said quietly, “know matter what we did. I killed them because I had no other choice. If I could change that, I would in a second. Even those people in the forest.” The gathering group gasped and shouted with surprise as they watched Liberty’s body suddenly split in half and a small red and blue robot leap out. Within seconds, the robot had snatched the rifles from their grasp. She set the weapons down on a table out of their reach and looked at them. “Do you think it’s impossible for someone like me to be a human? Or do you think that this face on my shoulder means that I am only capable of being a killer.” Her voice was exactly the same as it had always been. Dr. Archeville could still not believe what he was seeing. A robot residing with a human frame, completely hidden from detection. His eyes flitted back to the formerly familiar form of Liberty the human, marveling that it looked startlingly real. Liberty turned her head, following Archeville’s eyes. “Look at her. She is so real. You would never guess by looking at her that she’s just a Pretender shell. You certainly didn’t, not until I messed up. You would still think that I was Liberty McLean from Minnesota who lost everything in an Autobot attack. Is being human really flesh and blood or is it what you believe?” Her voice was filled with emotion. “I could, if I desired it, destroy all of you right here, but I never would. A human would never do that. I want to help you, so I’m going to help all of you. To make up for what I’ve taken from you.” “Regular hero, aren’t you?” Archeville heard Dirk growl from the crowd. He locked eyes with both the black-haired young man as well as Konnie beside him, making it clear that he wanted no heroics from them. Ignoring Dirk and the murmurs of acknowledgment of his statement, Liberty walked back to the shell and took a small blaster from a holster on her back. “The Autobots are planning on attacking not just you, but several human installations in the morning. For all I know, some of the attacks are happening already. I was supposed to help a small unit destroy you and move on to the next target.” She regarded Dr. Archeville and Shawn. “I won’t be helping the Autobots.” The human form that Liberty called a Pretender shell split open again. After handing the shell the Autobot’s weapon, the robot stepped within it. After the shell closed, she continued. “Because I’m human.” She turned and found herself face to face with Lincoln. Dr. Archeville inched towards his weapon. He paused when glanced up at Lincoln’s expression, at the hurt and confusion in his eyes. He heard Liberty whisper an apology. Lincoln said nothing and continued to stare at her. Finally Dr. Archeville lunged for the weapon. Liberty sprinted out of the main room, shoving aside with an unnatural strength the few people who enclosed around her, and ran down the hall towards the main entrance. The group followed, with Dr. Archeville and Shawn rushing to the front of the group after grabbing their rifles off the nearby table. Before they could even raise their weapons again, Liberty was already out the main door of the bunker, with a surprised Cassie standing against the wall. After making certain that Cassie was well, Dr. Archeville leaned heavily against the wall and stared at the locked door. Shawn shifted his gaze from Archeville to the exit and back to Archeville. “What?” was all he said. “It’s not exactly what I expected either. I was hoping that it was just a misunderstanding. At worst, I thought that she was simply some nefarious person who plotted with the Autobots for some reason. That shell was… extraordinary. Ingenious.” “There might be others like her.” Shawn offered. “Maybe, but right now we have to get ready for this attack.” “You believed her?” “Yes, I think so. She sounded completely sincere. At any rate, we really don’t have a choice. We have to be ready for it and for her joining in the fight on their side.” He paused. “But there’s one way to find out for certain. Contact the Decepticons and give them a heads up on this. Ask them if there’s anything unusual happening and to advice. The floodgates could be opening up on them as well.”
Liberty stared up at the brown and orange leaves still remaining on the trees in the forest as they were waved through the air and floated slowly down to the ground, aided by a soft cool breeze. The morning sun was shining filtered through the branches and remaining leaves, illuminating her as she lay on along the trunk of a fallen tree. She did not move to block the rays of the sun from her optics. Her systems were more than capable of alleviating any discomfort from the bright glow. She simply stared unseeing at the sky beyond the tree branches with the same words echoing through her mind. *Regular hero, aren’t you?* “I helped them,” she whispered. “I told them about the attack that was coming so that they can be prepared. I told them so that they might be able to warn other humans somehow and save their lives too.” *Regular hero, aren’t you?* Dirk’s voice again resonated in her mind. “What more could I do?” she whispered to no one. “I’m small and weak compared to the butchers that they’ll send. I certainly can’t save them all.” *Regular hero, aren’t you?* the voice accused again. “But I do have to do something, don’t I?” she reasoned. “That’s really the point. Doing whatever I can. That’s what a hero is. And I can do more than the other humans can. I’m stronger. I’m faster. I have military training that could surpass any of them.” She sat up and stared back towards the bunker, which lay several miles through the forest and was separated from her by the energy field. “They hide behind weapons and believe that they are strong, but they need me to help them. They need me to show them what to do and how and when to do it. They are not the insects the Autobots would have us believe. But they still need me. They are still weak where I am strong.” She stood and started trudging through the forest. “I’ll show them what a hero is.”
“What in Cybertron?” Buzzsaw exclaimed quietly as he monitored the communications station. “This is so not right.” Ravage padded up beside his brother. “What is it?” "It's weird, Ravage," Buzzsaw stated, his head turning abruptly towards him in a nervous, bird-like gesture. "I've gotten three signals in the last five minutes. Two are from human groups saying they've some odd occurrences in the area and wanted to advise on possible Autobot activity and another from one of our scout patrols saying they stumbled upon an Autobot unit and were engaging." Buzzsaw shook his head. "It's odd that they should come in quick succession like that, isn't it?" Ravage nodded thoughtfully. "It could be a coincidence, but--." He was interrupted by an alert signaling another incoming message, this time stating that a human unit was under attack by an Autobot force. Buzzsaw turned back to his station and alerted a second scout patrol of the attack. He glanced back at Ravage. "I don't like it." "Tactical reporting," Long Haul's called through the base comm unit. "We've got an odd signal coming in from near the coast. From the looks of it, it's the Aerialbots." "Thank you, Long Haul," Ravage acknowledged, taking a position beside Buzzsaw beside and calling up the tactical data. He had just started to study the data when Trap stalked into the room, reporting for his shift in communications. Ravage was still not used to Trap manning a comm unit. He looked out of place, despite the fact that he was completely fluent with the station. Ravage knew it was likely because he had seen Trap on the battlefield on Cybertron all those millennia ago. It would be obvious to anyone who saw him action that he was made for warfare. 'Not something I would wish for,' Ravage thought sadly. Trap stopped as he approached the station. "Problem?" "We are not sure, my friend," Ravage said. "We have received several communications that describe ongoing or suspected Autobot activity and tactical is reporting a group of Autobots patrolling near the western coast of North America." Trap leaned closer to the screen. "Five units. Airborne." "Yes," Ravage stated, "it is likely the Aerialbots. They are recent additions to the Autobot forces. They seem to be patrolling." Trap frowned. "It's a holding pattern.” He activated his communicator. "Long Haul, scan for any anomalies elsewhere over this ocean's surface. It could be low-lying, so be sure to use a wide oscillation angle." He turned back to Buzzsaw. "Where's Megatron?" "He's a part of a unit in eastern Canada holding back the Autobots attacking a human settlement." He paused. "Two more distress signals coming in from Asia," he interjected. "We have a patrol nearby and they've been informed." "This is not a coincidence," Trap said, straightening up. "But these reports coming are talking about two and three unit strike forces sent in by the Autobots. It makes no tactical sense. If they are trying to eliminate any resistance, they would strike with a stronger force." "Perhaps they are underestimating the humans or our ability to reach them," Ravage offered. Trap activated a map of the incoming messages, searching for a pattern. He added the location of Aerialbots. Within seconds, Long Haul sent additional tactical data, a foreign craft in the ocean off of Japan's coast. Trap slowly shook his head. "Do we have enough Decepticons in the field to aid the humans under attack?" he asked. "Yes," Buzzsaw answered. "Some of them have to cover some distance, but they will be there to help." He turned quickly towards his station. "One of our energy stations in Russia was just hit. It's unmanned, just a warning communication. Man, and a scout patrol in the eastern U.S. just came under attack too." He turned again. "Is this some kind of mass assault? Trying to get rid of us all at once?" "I don't think so," Trap said. "If that was the case, the attacking force would be larger. It appears more like they are more concerned with the number of assaults rather than the quality of the target." He pushed back from the communications station and ran his hands along the console. "This is Soundwave's design, is that right? A variant on the old codified di-oscillating units used in Darkmount." "Yes," Ravage said, "that is correct." "Transmissions are absorbed by radar-cloaked transfer stations and retransmitted as a rarified energy pulse based on an encoded algorithm to the central location. Is that right?" "Yes. It makes it exceedingly difficult for the enemy to trace transmissions back here." "Unless," Trap said, "enough source transmissions are intercepted by the base comm station simultaneously. That would have been Soundwave's upgrade, to increase the security of the system. Do you know how many signals it takes before the system is breached?" "Twelve," Ravage answered, recognition of Trap's assessment dawning in his red optics. "Even with the incoming transmissions that have closed, we still have six open channels. Those patrols on either side of this ocean are awaiting further communications to narrow down the location of this base, where the source transmission are redistributed to. And it may not take twelve if they can extrapolate data from earlier transmissions. If they can get limited data from all transfer stations, it may be possible use a process of elimination to narrow down where we are. We need to--." "Guys," Buzzsaw said in his high-pitched voice, "you need to hear this." After entering a couple of commands, the voice of Shawn Berger came through the console. "This is Shawn Berger. We have received uncorroborated intelligence involving a possible Autobot assault today on a number of human interests. Our source was not clear on where or when the assaults would come. We have been told that we will be among the targets. We have weapons systems in place and activated that, while not battle tested, should serve as some defense against a small force. But if the strike force is strong enough to breach our weapons systems, we may need support, in addition to any other human groups with less defensive capabilities. Please advice if you have anything that may corroborate this report. And watch your backs. Repeat, this is Shawn--. Belay that, we are under attack. Repeat, we are under attack. We will advise on our status when possible." After a burst of static, the communication abruptly ceased. Ravage looked up at Trap. "It would seem that your assessment is correct. The Autobots are attempting to use the communications array to pinpoint the base." "We can't just cut off communications though," Buzzsaw said, nervously looking back and forth between Ravage and Trap. "We need to be able to talk to our guys out there, keep them informed on what's going on." "And we will," Trap said. "What we need is a mobile communications array, something that the Autobots won't be able to pinpoint no matter how many incoming transmissions we have. Is it possible to disengage the primary di-oscillator and interface it with a Decepticons' communications protocol?" Buzzsaw nodded. "I see where you're going. Your movement in the air will mess up their attempts at establishing a lock. And even if they do get one, which I doubt would happen, the data would tell them the base communications system in floating somewhere in the sky. But I have a better idea. We could install the back-up system instead. The algorithm isn't as complicated and it would be take fewer transmissions to identify the source location, but we can inform the Decepticons in the field of what's going on and have them keep the chatter to a minimum. Plus, then our systems are still active in case, well, something happens to you." Trap nodded. "An excellent idea. Let's do it." As Buzzsaw and Long Haul worked on upgrading Trap's communications systems, he turned towards Ravage. "What did the human mean when he said they have weapons systems capable of holding off a small force?" "Those humans are a particularly proactive sort," Ravage said. "They are one of the groups that have worked to implement Decepticon technology for their purposes." "I see," he said thoughtfully. "Are there any Decepticons that can assist those humans?" As Long Haul replaced Trap's outer armor over his communications array, Buzzsaw said, "A few. We can shift some troops around. It'll take a little time for them to disengage." Trap glanced at the tactical screen and frowned. It did not take him long to deduce that it would not be a wise course to take. "Wait," he said. "We're spread too thin as it is. I can get there in several breem. Inform Megatron that I am moving to engage the Autobots at that location and will require assistance when they are available." Ravage padded over to Trap. "If you are engaging the enemy in combat, you will require assistance sorting through the incoming data for retransmission to the field." Trap smiled warmly at the feline-like Decepticon. "Then let's go."
Lincoln peered out from behind a rock outcrop outside the bunker, watching another volley of some weapon too advanced for him understand impact against the Autobots. Or rather impact against the forcefield that one them had activated after the resistance cell had fired back against the initial attack. When the attack started, Lincoln was among the group of seven outside the bunker making last minute adjustments to their defenses. It was Konnie who had seen a glint of light bounce from the rising sun off some piece of metal. They quickly activated their rifles and bounded towards cover. They were too far from the bunker now to realistically have a chance at reaching safety. Instead they waited and watched for an opportunity to attack or run. Lincoln knew what he wanted. He wanted a fight. It would get his mind off of Liberty. It would help him forget what she was and what she had done. At least for little while. There were five Autobots in all. There was no fanfare and grandiose gestures. They simply attacked quickly upon exiting the forest. A couple of them fired energy blasts which were absorbed harmlessly by the rock. Dirk glanced over at Lincoln with a questioning look but quickly waved it off. No doubt he suspected what Lincoln did; it was some other miracle cooked up by the two mad scientists inside. Another one launched a missile towards the bunker. The ground shook as it impacted, but the reinforced bunker withstood the blow. With that, they fought back, putting one of the energy weapons to its first real-world test. It was a success. The smallest of the Autobots, a red menace that Lincoln recognized from the first time they had were forced into a fight, took the brunt of blow. The blast launched the Autobot into the air and deposited him on the ground ten feet back. As the other Autobots turned in surprise at the counterattack, a black Autobot activated some sort of forcefield, deflecting the next series of blasts. Now the Autobots were attacking the bunker through the barrier, seemingly taking the patient approach to the assault and using their technological advantage to continue their assault. Lincoln turned and looked back at the group. He saw fear in their eyes, but that was to be expected. He also saw resolve. After all the years with the group, he expected that as well. “What do we do?” Dan Donnor asked. “We wait,” Lincoln responded. “For what?” Konnie asked. “They’ll just wear our guys down hiding behind that barrier. There has to be a way to get around there and take that thing out somehow.” Lincoln shook his head. “That’s a suicide mission and we certainly aren’t that desperate yet.” Dirk frowned across the clearing. “You so sure about that?” Lincoln turned and followed the young man’s gaze. Despite his best efforts, a series of conflicting emotions rushed to the surface. Liberty was waiting just inside the forest next to the clearing, intently watching the Autobots.
Camshaft fired a couple of rounds from his blaster at the human encampment. He ignored Trailbreaker barking orders at Brawn to use his energy weapon against the humans, something that the diminutive Autobot obviously had no intention of doing. His attention was on the human base. When the orders came down for Camshaft and Downshift to join Trailbreaker’s crew for the attack, he had been told that minimal resistance was expected and that the humans were technologically inferior in comparison to that which they possessed. He glanced back at Cliffjumper struggling to stand up, still affected by surges of some sort of electromagnetic weapon. ‘Decepticon tech,’ he thought. ‘I’d bet my commission on it.’ Something Camshaft found more disturbing was the fact that there was supposed to be a spy involved with the mission as well. Camshaft had worked with enough Autobots in the intelligence community to know there was no such thing as a trustworthy spy. As a special agent in off-world affairs, he had always been able to exploit a spy’s inherent capacity for seditious enterprises to his benefit, often pinning the nefarious exploits that Lord Magnus demanded from Camshaft on some foolish agent. The way that Camshaft saw it, if a spy did not have the wits to thwart such an effort, that spy deserved his fate. The fact that the humans had unreported weapons that continued to assault them only enhanced his conclusion that the spy in the humans’ midst was no longer on their side. But Camshaft could not simply state this to Trailbreaker. After all, the goon believed that Camshaft was a simpleton working as a thug for Overdrive in his investigations. A thug rarely had the insight that Camshaft was blessed with. While Overdrive worked on some aspect of his investigation into an Autobot traitor and any connection he had with a troublesome group of off-world Autobots, Camshaft and Downshift were deemed expendable for this mission. Camshaft would have much rather stayed with Overdrive and kept an optic on him. Camshaft, after all, had a job to do. But could not object without drawing further suspicions, which he already knew Overdrive harbored. After the briefing and observing Trailbreaker's reaction to it, Camshaft had started to think that this mission would be an interesting exercise into the study of the mid-level Autobot warrior. The kind of warrior who was completely loyal and not in the least mindless. A warrior like Trailbreaker. The group that Trailbreaker was ordered to lead had one primary mission: attack a group of humans and make certain that they must call for help. Efficiency was expected, but the attack was to be timely as well. When Trailbreaker asked what that meant, the answer drove him to complete silence for duration of the briefing. They were told that they were essentially to toy with the humans for a time to be certain that they send a distress signal, more than one if possible. Camshaft would have given a month's worth of energon for Trailbreaker to just ask why. Instead, the large Autobot silently left the briefing room with a forced neutral look plastered across his face. Something was bothering Trailbreaker, something he did not allow himself to show. “Um, Trailblazer,” Camshaft said, shaking off his reverie. “For the last time, it’s Trail*breaker*,” the Autobot growled. “And what?” Camshaft forced back a smug smile. Playing a rube for the masses was almost too easy for an agent of his skill. “You said there was going to be someone else here when we got here, right?” Trailbreaker was silent for a moment. He fired a powerful blast from his arm cannon through the forcefield with no ill effects on the field itself. “Oh, I never planned on counting on her,” he answered cryptically. “Trailbreaker, I’m hurt,” a voice called from their left. “I’m more trustworthy than your average Autobot.” Camshaft looked towards the voice and saw a human walking towards them. It was the first time he had seen one in person. They were looked as insignificant as the video feeds he had seen of them. Still, this one knew who Trailbreaker was. His surprise almost overcame him as he realized that this was, in fact, the spy. ‘A Pretender?’ he thought. ‘Fascinating.’ Brawn and Downshift were already moving to eliminate the human, but Trailbreaker raised an arm and stopped them. “Keep attacking,” he ordered. “I’m about down with these games.” He turned his attention back to the Pretender. Camshaft fired another round, but listened intently. “Holding out a bit on us, weren’t you, Liberty?” Liberty shrugged. “A good spy can’t give away all their secrets.” She smiled fearlessly at Trailbreaker. “Want to hear another one?” Trailbreaker growled. “Slagging games! I don’t need anymore information. The bunker is reinforced and armed with weapons well beyond their meager understanding. They are in a good defensive position. *We* are in a better one.” He turned his weapon towards her. “And I’m through with you.” “Don’t worry about me,” she said with a smile, her eyes glancing briefly behind them. “Worry about her.” Before Trailbreaker could turn, he felt something leap onto his back. Before he could resist, it sliced through the energon distributor to his overhead forcefield generator. Trailbreaker cringed as generator erupted in a small fireball. As the forcefield disintegrated around them, he wheeled around and watched Liberty’s robot form transform into a hovercraft and zoom away. The human-like Pretender shell leapt onto the hovercraft and waved mockingly at the attacking Autobot force. “Defensive positions!” Trailbreaker shouted. “Focus the attack on the weapons systems on that bunker.” Camshaft and Trailbreaker jumped behind a rock outcrop on the outskirts of the quarry, firing towards them base to cover their move. “That was unexpected,” Camshaft said innocently. Suddenly, Trailbreaker grabbed him and slammed him against the outcropping. Camshaft’s optics grew wide as he found himself pinned by a much stronger Autobot and that Autobot’s weapon inches from his face. “I’m slagging tired of this,” Trailbreaker whispered menacingly. “Windcharger played games. Overdrive is playing games. And I know *you* are too. I don’t care one bit what those games are, but play them around me and you’re going to find yourself in Perceptor’s research kit. Got it?” Camshaft could do nothing but briefly nod. “Good. Now take out those weapons. I want this done.”
Dr. Archeville's head shot up instinctively as a series of explosions shook the bunker. The encampment was designed to withstand most known types of artillery and he was grateful that it had seemed to be holding up to the barrage of alien technology as well. Dust floated down onto his upturned face, shaken loose from the vibrations that ripped through the base like an earthquake. This explosion seemed different from the other Autobot assaults. It somehow felt and sounded closer to the heart of the bunker, though Dr. Archeville did not know if that was a because it was or because of some worry echoing in his mind. He did know one thing. It had come from the direction of one of the weapon systems. "No," he said quietly, as if that would be enough to make the inevitable untrue. The Autobots had managed to break through the small forcefield that protected the human operators and the weapon. He tapped once the small communicating device lodged delicately in his ear. "Thomas, what happened up there?" He received no reply. "Rita," he barked in the communicator to the woman leading the two-person crew manning the other primary weapon, "can you see what happened to Thomas and Gavin?" "They were hit," Rita replied over the din of the weapon near her. After a pause, she shouted, "Whoa, incomin--." A second explosion rocked the bunker as the transmission abruptly ceased. 'This is not going well,' he thought angrily. For years, they had worked on finding ways to put Decepticon technology to use in a defensive location. They had toiled to create weapons that the former Golden/Arch Technologies could only have dreamed of a mere five years ago. They were weapons that would have been the envy of any government around the world. And they didn't stand a chance against a relatively small Autobot force. Dr. Archeville clutched the rifle in his hand with a strength he did not know existed in his 58-year-old hand and felt a sorrow he knew he hadn't felt in all his life. 'I led them here,' he thought. 'They trusted me and I failed them. How many of them have died over the years because of my failures?' He glanced around at the dozen men and women around him. 'How many more will before this is over?' "Doc," Shawn said as he ran down the hall towards the small armed force Archeville was preparing to lead out of the bunker on an assault run. His face was streaked to dirt and fresh cuts on his weathered face. Obviously, he had been near one of the weapons system when it was hit. "Doc, the weapons are gone. Rita and the others are..." his voice trailed off, as if he was unable to finish the sentence. "The bunker is built to withstand a lot of damage, but eventually the Autobots are going to realize that it'll be faster to just tear the doors off and finish us in here." Dr. Archeville nodded. "Any word from Lincoln?" "Not yet," Shawn replied, "but I'm taking that as a good sign. The only thing resembling a human out there is Liberty." He left unsaid the unexpected fact that she was harassing their Autobot attackers rather than joining in the fight against them. "Can you contact Lincoln without tipping off the Autobots?" Archeville asked. "Let him know we're coming out?" "Yes." "Do it." He started to turn back towards the door and paused. He turned and looked warily at Shawn. From the look in the other man’s eyes, Shawn knew what he was about to ask next. "Any way of contacting Liberty?" he ventured. "No." Archeville nodded. He had suspected as much. And perhaps it was for the best. The revelation of that she really an Autobot was still weighing heavily on his mind. Could there be others like her out there? Autobots disguised as humans, actively working against the resistance from the inside. It added another disturbing angle to the problem, one that needed a solution and needed one quickly. But not now. "Well," he said to the armed people around him, "the time for big, flowery speeches is over." Whitney cracked a wide grin. "Then why are you still gabbing at us?" Dr. Archeville smiled in return. He could not help it. Even in the face of death, Whitney was his usual irreverent self. "Let's go," he said, hoping his voice carried more conviction than he did himself. He knew that the second they stepped out the door, any one of them could die. "Wait!" Cassie's voice echoed through his communicator. They all froze in their tracks. "We just got a message from Ravage. He said that if we can hold off for another ten minutes, reinforcements were on the way." The dozen in the armed force all sighed with some relief at the news. Dr. Archeville made a mental note to thank Cassie for thinking to bring the outbound communicator with her. It had been a struggle to convince her to load up on weapons and stay deep in the bunker. While a part of him certainly wanted to be certain that she stayed safe, he also knew that if anything happened to them in battle, someone would be needed to lead the survivors. Only then did she grudgingly agree to stay behind. "I'm betting that they'll figure out we're defenseless in less than ten minutes," Shawn said warily. "Maybe some of us can go up top and fire at them," Whitney said. "Make them think they missed weapons before, it would at least buy us some time." Archeville shook his head once at the suggestion. 'I won't let anyone else die up there.' Suddenly, he looked down the hall in the direction of Whitney’s lab. "I've got a better idea."
“That’s not exactly the small force you were expecting, Lib,” she whispered to herself. Liberty zipped briefly into the forest several hundred yards from the bunker, the Shell effortlessly keeping her balance as she shot back towards the Autobot attackers. Many things had caught her off guard in this assault and the fact that six Autobots were supposed to attack this one location was just one of them. Perhaps it was because the second target they were to move to was supposed to be a more robust foe. Perhaps Trailbreaker had met up with a different unit and pooled their resources. It did not matter. They were here and they had to be stopped. ‘Because that’s what heroes do,’ she thought proudly. Liberty was also surprised at the weapons the other humans were using. They were certainly more powerful than she had expected. Cliffjumper, she knew, would likely attest to that. ‘Serves the little troll right,’ she thought. If Trailbreaker had not been there to throw up his forcefield, there would likely be a few more of the Autobots trying to stand without needing support. Liberty fired a few rounds of ammo at the red Autobot lurching to a standing position, the attack sending him right back to the ground. Liberty laughed. The Pretender shell echoed her glee. The glee was short-lived as the two main weapons on the bunker erupted in a large orange fireball. Liberty skidded to a stop for a moment. As the smoke cleared, she saw a pair of holes where the weapons had once been located, but the rest of the bunker still appeared to be intact. The Shell stared at the group of Autobots, spotting a small white Autobot that was apparently the source of the attack, despite the fact that he was showing absolutely no emotion whatsoever. Liberty thrust forward again, racing towards the Autobot as her Shell fired round after round of her weapon at him. ‘My friends,’ she thought. ‘How many more of them are dead because of them?’ She was enraged. She barely noticed as the Shell was struck on the arm and spun off of her position atop Liberty’s hovercraft mode. Coming to her senses, she quickly looped around another barrage of weapon fire and swung passed where the Shell had leapt to her feet. After the Shell jumped back on her vehicle form, she sped back to the relative safety of the forest, evading rifle fire as she did. When she entered the woods, she took a moment to take in the scene. Cliffjumper was till lying on the ground, semi-conscious. Trailbreaker, Brawn, and the white Autobot were continuing to assault the bunker, seemingly focusing on the main door and the empty, charred gun ports. Slowly and surely they were chipping away at the bunker. Liberty did not know if they would be able to bring it down. She also noticed that the any sort of counterattack had ceased. Her gaze shot around towards the Autobots. Trailbreaker was talking to the white Autobot. ‘Damn,’ she thought. He had noticed as well. It seemed that another red Autobot, one Liberty thought she recognized but was not certain who he was, was ordered to keep her from disrupting the others. He had certainly been successful in his task. Other than her initial attack on Trailbreaker and her continued harassment of the largely defenseless Cliffjumper, she had accomplished little else. “Time for that to change, Lib,” she said as she transformed back to her hovercraft mode. She was about to dart back into the field intent on having the more attention turned her way, when she stopped. The Pretender shell started to slowly shake her head in disbelief as she watched Dr. Archeville and several others walk into open as if they were completely oblivious to the Autobots nearby. Before she could yell at them to get to cover, Trailbreaker fired directly at Dr. Archeville. Liberty screamed in terror.
Trailbreaker lowered his gun arm in momentary confusion. His attack on the human was flawless, yet when the smoke and steam from his blast had cleared, the human was still alive and lining up to fire across the clearing. He angrily raised his arm to attack again and cried out in pain as an explosive shell struck his shoulder, sending a polarized current through his subsystems. Shuddering from the blow, he wheeled around to face his attacker but saw no one. He turned again to the humans moving across the field and launched another volley of laser fire at them. Again, there was no effect. And again, it was followed by a several more shells launched at them from some unseen foe. Brawn shook off one that struck him. Trailbreaker had evaded those that were meant for him. Downshift, however, was struck with three of them, but the Autobot continued his offensive against the human encampment. The only thing that seemed to indicate any notice of the attack at all was a soft angry growl emanating from deep in his vocal processor. Trailbreaker turned towards the humans in the field again and watched them fire. Their aim was all over and completely atrocious. It seemed like each of them was aiming in a completely different direction. He watched as they pulled the triggers on their modified weapons and felt a crushing heat of laser fire strike against his side. He wheeled around and, without bothering to aim, fired in the direction of the attack. He heard a few shouts of surprise, perhaps a moan of pain, and that was enough. He opened a comm channel. “Autobots, they seem to have some sort of illusionary device in play. They aren’t where they seem to be. Sweep the area, leave nothing standing.” As he prepared to fire again, several more of the shells attached themselves to his back. He lurched as the EM waves raced through his circuits, leaving him open to Liberty sweeping through again and launching her own offensive. Trailbreaker dropped to one knee briefly and growled, “They are going to pay for this.”
“Damn, I didn’t think those things were working yet,” Konnie whispered gleefully. Dirk cracked a wide grin as he watched the dozen or so people from the bunker continuing to harass the Autobots, from as close to safety as any of them were going to see in the battle. The devices that Doc and Whitney had been messing around with seemed to be working perfectly. They were invisible to the Autobots. They were constantly moving and as they passed in and out of other oscillation fields, the false images of them kept disappearing and reappearing in different locations. The Autobots were spinning in circles, firing randomly out into the field, seemingly in disarray. Lincoln motioned them forward. Keeping low, they moved to the fringe of the forest, making certain they were not visible to the Autobots. Dirk could not help but think that it probably would not matter. At this point, it seemed like the Autobots would not believe they were real and would fire somewhere else. “All right,” Lincoln whispered. “We’ve got to help them out, but we have to be careful. Spread out, attack formation three. Always keep moving, drop deeper into the forest, and return to attack in a new location. This isn’t the random pattern we seem to be using out there right now and they might deduce the pattern if we’re not careful. On my signal, switch to formation seven, then four. Hopefully those Decepticon reinforcements will have arrived by then, but we’ll regroup back here regardless. Understood.” Dirk nodded in assent with the rest of the crew, but something else was on his mind as he looked out into the clearing. Liberty had jumped back into the fight. Dirk did not like Liberty’s role in all of this. She seemed to be helping them as her attacks were completely focused upon the Autobots. He was forced to admit that she was being of great help, but that did not erase what she was. Or what she did. She killed J.D. If she could kill him of all people, she was capable of killing any of them. What if she decided to fight for the Autobots again? What if she simply went on a killing spree? How would they be able to stop her if she was able to surprise them, like she did in the bunker? There were too many things that could go wrong with siding with an Autobot. It did not matter to Dirk if it would end up the sole reason that any of them survived the attack. Dirk swore that she would never have the chance to do hurt anyone he loved again. No matter the outcome of the fight, it was not over until Liberty was dead.
Camshaft ducked behind a rocky outcropping and began to adjust an open data board linked to his overhead weapon. The launcher was a common type used in Autobot infantry, normally firing a standard issue missile. Camshaft’s had that ability as well, but it was modified so that it served other purposes as well. In all his time off-world, dealing with the biggest scum the universe had to offer, it was the one thing he could always count on in a jam. Now he just needed a few seconds to make the proper adjustments without some invisible human coming across him. Camshaft had made the same assessment as Trailbreaker just moments earlier. They seemed to employing some sort of device that not only generated holograms of the humans, but also shielded them from detection. It was not a common device, but he had run across a Free Trader that used a similar device not long before his current assignment. All it took to disable the cloaker was the right frequency amplified through his modified missile launcher. Liberating the cargo and destroying the Trader was simple enough after that. He did not see how these circumstances should not have a similar outcome. All that was needed was a little tweak to the plan. Instead of dealing with one organic, here they were coming out of the woodwork. It required a new strategy, one that Downshift most certainly would be able to help out with. Camshaft closed the panel to the board and leaned against the outcropping, prepared to counterattack if any of the humans were to stumble across his position. He activated the personal port to Downshift’s communicator. “Primus, don’t you just hate these battles,” he whispered hoarsely over the channel. “They always send ‘bots like us on them too, don’t they? Don’t worry, they say, it’ll be nothing. Never is though. Oh no, it’s something more, something worse, something they’d rather throw us at then deal with themselves.” Camshaft paused. He heard the air from Downshift’s intakes moving more quickly through his system and smiled behind his facemask. All most beings ever saw of Downshift was the quiet, competent soldier. They thought nothing about throwing him into every battle because they never heard him complain. But Camshaft had seen another side of him. When he buries too much grief and pain from his role in the war and how much he despises it, it erupts in a burst of beautiful chaos almost too frightening to observe. That is what Camshaft wanted. He wanted the unbridled fury that was buried inside him waiting to be released. That would assure maximum enemy casualties. “Those damn cowards,” Camshaft continued. “Sending you out to be shot at by these loathsome primitives.” He heard Downshift grunt in pain as static coursed through him from another assault. He peeked around the outcropping and watched Downshift continue to fight through the pain of six of the EM bombs attacked to his armor. “What do they care if you get shot at?” he said, more intense. “Why should they care how much pain you feel in the battles they should be fighting? They have you to fight for them, so they don’t have to. They hide behind strategy and plans and think they are more valuable than you are. You,” he nearly shouted, “are nothing.” Camshaft heard pained scream from Downshift as the walls finally broke down. He stood and activated his weapon, sending disruptive waves at multiple frequencies out across the battlefield. Suddenly, the humans shifted positions again and this time stayed put. They started to run for cover as they realized that they were in mortal danger. Camshaft laughed as they scurried about, trying to dodge the manic attack from Downshift. The white Autobot was seemed to firing everywhere at once. Several humans fell, but not enough for his liking. Camshaft leveled his blaster on one of the humans providing cover for the others. He fired.
Lincoln cursed when he realized that the diffractors the others in the field were wearing at stopped working. He signaled the others in his unit to return to the rendezvous point as he rushed forward, intent on helping the others get to safety, but he felt a strong grip on his arm stopping his momentum. He turned and looked at Konnie. “Not without me, bubba,” the young man said, a steel resolve in his eyes. “Or me,” Dirk said stepping up behind Konnie. “No way I’m letting Konnie go out in a glory charge without me. I’ll never hear the end of it.” “It’s too dangerous,” Lincoln said sternly. “All the more reason to have us as back up,” Konnie said. “If you think we’re going to do something stupid out there, then you really have no faith in your training ability. Or our need to stay alive.” Lincoln looked from Konnie to Dirk and back again. Finally, he nodded. “Okay, but no heroics. The Decepticons should be here at any moment. Cover fire only to get our guys back and out of the field. Got it?” Dirk and Konnie nodded once and Lincoln turned back to clearing and moved smoothly around the tree branches, hardly making a noise. His instincts from his days in the Special Forces had taken over. Without stopping, he surveyed the battlefield. Most of the Autobots were still in a group near the middle of the field. One of them was closer, using a rock outcropping as cover. The dozen or so in Dr. Archeville’s crew were in a staggered semi-circle, retreating back to the bunker. Three of them were injured badly, he noticed, and were providing cover fire for the others. Dr. Archeville was near shelter and was also shooting at the Autobots, forcing them to abandon their firing angles to avoid the EM bombs. Liberty was still weaving around on the other side of the Autobots, keeping their attention from being completely focused on the retreating unit. Lincoln motioned Dirk and Konnie to take up positions on the right side of Dr. Archeville as he slid to the left. He rested his rifle on a fallen tree stump and prepared to fire. Just before he pulled the trigger, he noticed the red Autobot set apart from the others turn his attention in his general direction. He did not have to follow the line of sight down the Autobot’s weapon to know that he was aiming at Dr. Archeville. Lincoln fired, striking the Autobot’s weapon just as a bolt of energy launched from the gun, throwing the aim off slightly. But not enough. He glanced quickly at Dr. Archeville and gasped as the old man’s left arm was cut off at the elbow by laser fire. Lincoln stood, aimed, and fired again, just as the Autobot did the same. Again, Lincoln’s attack struck the Autobot just as he fired, shifting path of the laser again. The Autobot’s blast struck several feet in front of Dr. Archeville, sending him flying backwards into the bedrock behind him. As Dr. Archeville’s head struck the rock with a sickening thud, Lincoln rushed forward, enraged. He switched his rifle from the standard laser output to the EM bomb launcher and fired. Off to his right, he saw Dirk and Konnie to the same thing. The three bombs attached themselves to the Autobot simultaneously, Dirk’s bomb striking his face. The Autobot convulsed and fell. Lincoln began running towards Dr. Archeville. He could see him lying in a heap, the bedrock near his head bloodied from the force of his impact. He fired around his body at the Autobots and weaved around a few trees. He heard someone call his name. ‘Liberty?’ he thought. He turned and ducked, barely avoiding laser fire aimed at him. He watched Liberty’s human form leap towards his attacker, jumping higher than any human could, and land on the black Autobots shoulders. She tried to shoot him in the head, but he spun and she went flailing to the ground. The human shell rolled to its feet and backflipped away from the Autobot and towards Lincoln. The black Autobot suddenly stopped firing and turned his attention to the robotic Liberty and fired. Her vehicle mode barely evaded his attack. He ignored the shell’s attempt at turning his attention back to it. Lincoln raised his gun and fired, an EM bomb grasping onto sparking wound on his back. As the shell exploded, Lincoln ran to help Dr. Archeville. Suddenly, he stopped. His chest was burning, but he felt no pain. Lincoln looked down and frowned in confusion at the small hole in his chest and at the clothes burning around it. He looked up at the white Autobot, turning his rifle from Lincoln to another target and understood. The Autobot had shot him. He was dying. His legs felt weak beneath his body. He listed to the side, his eyes still locked on the Autobot that had killed him. With the last of his strength, he raised his rifle again and fired at the Autobot as he was about to attack Dan Donnor. The blast struck the Autobot’s arm, throwing off his aim. Dan scrambled away and dove to safety. Lincoln fell.
Liberty transformed and stared down at Lincoln’s body. She reached out and touched his arm, not believing that he could be dead despite the fatal wound that was still eating away at his body. She reached down and touched his face. She looked into his unseeing eyes looking in vain for any spark of life in their steel blue. She wanted to shake him, to try to force him to wake up, but she knew it would be useless. Such a wound could be fatal to a Transformer. Certainly, it would be for a human. Still, holding Lincoln’s hand, Liberty looked up towards Dr. Archeville, who was being attended to as best they could by Shawn Berger and Whitney Golden. Dirk and Konnie were positioned nearby, firing intermittently as the last couple of humans clamored their way to safety. Through the shell’s eyes, she surveyed the battlefield. Five other humans were lying in various locations that she could see, none of them moving. They were most likely dead as well. Trailbreaker was focused again on the bunker and had ordered Brawn and the white Autobot to do the same. Cliffjumper and the other red Autobot were both down, only moving from an occasional surge of energy rippling through their limbs. Liberty turned again towards Dr. Archeville and was met with a smoldering glare from Dirk. She nearly recoiled from the look in his eyes. Gone was the veiled distrust. Instead, there was nothing but pure hatred radiating from his brown eyes. She wanted to look away but she could not. She believed that she deserved to be on the receiving end of such raw emotion. She had killed her friend. *His* friend. She betrayed them when they had done nothing but welcome her openly into their lives. She deserved his hatred. Liberty turned and watched the shell drop down beside Lincoln. The shell’s hair fell over her shoulder as she gazed down at him with pure grief. Liberty wanted to cry over the death of this man and was thankful that the shell was able to do it for her. It was not right that he had to die. He helped save the lives of the humans in the battlefield. Should so noble an act warrant a death sentence? Anger began to pulse through her. It was not fair that he should be the one to die when creatures undeserving of life waited so nearby, trying to crush the life out of the rest of them. Simultaneously, the heads of both Liberty and shell turned back towards the attacking Autobots. Enraged, she leapt back into battle.
“What is that human doing?” Trap asked as he began to swoop down over the battlefield. “And who is the Transformer with it?” “I truly have no idea,” Ravage answered. “On either count.” “Doesn’t really matter at this point,” he said evenly and accelerated towards the ground. “We’ll just have to make sure that their quarry is out of commission before they can engage him.” He opened fire at the landbound Autobots, tearing up the bedrock around them and forcing them to dive for cover. He fired a missile at Brawn, who was eagerly waiting for the tiny Transformer and the human that were racing towards them. The missile nailed Brawn in the side, sending him sprawling to the ground. As the small Autobot struggled to gain his footing again, the small human launched herself at him, driving him back into the ground, followed by the Transformer accompanying her. ‘Odd,’ Trap thought. ‘Humans are not that strong.’ He turned his attention back to the other two active Autobots. He dropped several cluster bombs at his lowest point of his dive and arced up and to the right as they exploded around the Autobots. One of them had the wherewithal to return fire. ‘Trailbreaker,’ Trap noted grimly, remember his last encounter with the Autobot. He dodged around the laser fire that erupted around him as he quickly scanned the battlefield, taking note of the location of the humans, including the foolish one moving to engage the Autobots. There were several lifeless forms scattered around the clearing and several others injured with little in the way of shelter. A handful of the others, those not attending to a few wounded, were firing their rifles at the Autobots, providing cover fire for Trap during his assault. “We have to make haste,” Ravage said, noticing the loose grouping of humans bent over a pair of their wounded. “I fear the wounded may need immediate attention.” “Right,” Trap said. “I’m going in. Are you in or out with this?” Ravage, still in his cassette mode, was busy accessing and redistributing the communications for the various Decepticon and human groups fighting off the Autobots. The small forces the Autobots employing in their gamble were slowly succumbing to the counterassault the Decepticons were engaged in. Trap was only keeping a cursory optic on the incoming data, providing Ravage with any assistance he may need in regards to strategy and other countermeasures. Ravage, however, was engrossed in seven open channels. “It must be ‘in’”, he said after a moment. “There are several key initiatives in process and they need have continuous communication available to them.” “I understand,” Trap said as he turned and raced towards the ground again. “Hold on tight.” Trap quickly transformed, evading several blasts from the Autobots on the surface and absorbing a few others. He pulled his rifle and sword from their holsters. The human and the small Autobot were busy harassing Brawn, who was foolish enough to remain away from the others. With such a small force before him, he knew the battle would not last long. Trap landed hard on his feet, dropped to a crouch, and launched himself towards the unknown white Autobot. The Autobot blocked a swipe from his sword with shout of rage and aggression that surprised Trap, even from an Autobot. However, the Autobot overextended in the blow, leaving him open to Trap’s rifle. He was in stasis lock before he hit the ground with a smoking wound in his back. Trap turned to Trailbreaker, who was on top of him quickly. The Autobot grabbed at Trap’s sword, but Trap brought the hilt up quickly and struck him on the chin. Trap raised his rifle but it was knocked aside by a surprisingly strong punch. “No,” Trailbreaker growled, “you’re dead! I killed you!” Trailbreaker punched Trap in the chest, who staggered back several steps. “I killed you!” Trailbreaker leaped, but it was a move that Trap was ready for. He fell to the ground as Trailbreaker jumped. He brought his feet up and launched the Autobot into the air, in the opposite direction of the humans. The Autobot rolled to a stop and staggered to his feet and raised his gun arm. Trap fired first, striking him twice and knocking him to the ground. Trap turned towards Brawn and shot him as well. The small Autobot dropped unconscious to the ground. The human and the other Transformer scrambled away from the fallen Brawn, trudging backwards through the snow together, wary of any movement from Trap. Trap placed his weapons in their holsters again and held his hands out in the most unintimidating manner he could. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’re not going to hurt…you…” He trailed off, finally noticing the Autobot symbol on the Transformer’s shoulder, small even for so small a Transformer. Trap quickly grabbed his rifle again as the human turned and ran, with the Transformer in tow. As the Autobot passed through his firing vector, the human suddenly split in two down the middle and the Autobot jumped into the form as it reformed. Trap looked on in shock as it raced away. “That’s a Pretender,” Trap said, taking a step towards the forest that the Cybertronian had disappeared into. “And not one of ours,” Ravage said sullenly. “That is certainly not good news. But she seemed to be fighting on our side,” he added doubtfully. The feline Decepticon ejected out of Trap’s communications array and transformed. He turned his attention from the Pretender to the humans near the bunker. Someone was frantically waving at them to come over. Without pause, Ravage sprinted towards the humans. Trap followed.
Dirk walked from the bunker towards where Lincoln’s body lay, his rifle hanging at his side. He was still shocked by how quickly the battle had ended. Twenty-three humans had fought the Autobots for twenty minutes and managed to knock out two of them. And only then with help from Liberty, who most certainly was not a human being. Then a single Decepticon arrived and finished off three of them in a matter of two minutes. Somehow, it made Dirk feel inadequate. It only reinforced the feeling that they were not meant to be in this fight. ‘Not that not being meant to join a fight ever stopped me from getting into a scrap or two,’ he thought. Just minutes before, Trap had airlifted Doc and a handful of others to the Decepticon base. Without any reliable human hospitals available to them anymore, the Decepticon base was really the only place that Doc stood any kind of chance at recovering from his injuries. Dirk shuddered when he thought about Doc’s unconscious form lying on the wet ground, his left arm mostly gone and his head fractured. Even still, he would certainly have been dead if it wasn’t for the actions of Lincoln. He had essentially sacrificed himself to save Doc. Ravage stayed with the rest of group, mourning the dead and working to strip down the bunker for anything that was still salvageable. Even if it was possible, there was no way that any of them wanted to stay in the bunker any more. Just minutes ago, Shawn had told all of them that he and Doc, ever the proactive types, had an area they could basically move to right away. It still marveled Dirk that they were able to do all of that from their position of relative weakness and all without any of the rest of them knowing about it. Dirk paused and stared off to the north. Beyond the stark gray and white of the snow-covered quarry was a vast field. It was covered with tall grass or overgrown crops, he couldn’t tell which one. He did not know it was just the anger and sadness or if it was the years of living in tents and caves, but he suddenly felt claustrophobic. He wanted to run out into the field. He longed to run away and towards freedom. Instead, he thought of Lincoln and what he had told him while they sat in the gun battery just yesterday. He knew he could not run away now. He had a fight to finish first. Lincoln had known that. Shaking his head, Dirk continued in his trek. After several moments Dirk pulled to a stop, noticing Liberty standing next Lincoln’s corpse, staring down at him. Her brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, lying limply over her left shoulder. Anger rose up through him again. He felt his hands begin to shake almost violently. He wanted to leap onto her and kill her with his bare hands. She had killed J.D. She had known that the Autobots were aware of their location. She knew about the assault that had just ended. Despite what she did on the battlefield, it did not erase the fact that every single one of the dead that were being laid to rest far away from their homes and families could be alive if she had acted differently. If she acted more like the human she claimed to be. Dirk took several silent steps closer to her. She did not move. He raised his rifle slightly, ready to fire if she made any sudden moves. Still, she continued to simply stare down at Lincoln. From where Dirk stood watching her, he could see ash covering her face. She looked tired and for all he knew she was. She had fought hard. He could see her lips moving. As he moved closer, the words drifted to his ears. “I really don’t understand this, Lib,” she said quietly as she gazed down at Lincoln’s still form, oblivious of Dirk’s presence. “Before I came on this mission, I was told that humans were nothing but insects. I was told that I shouldn’t pity them. But I’m standing here right now and I don’t feel pity. I feel grief for those that died. I feel sorrow for those that were injured and I want to will them all to be okay. “None of that is right. I shouldn’t feel like this, but I do. I should know that I’m an Autobot or that I’m a human. I shouldn’t have to remind myself that I’m one or the other. What does that make you, Lib, huh? You’re caught between two worlds that are not compatible. You were built as a member of one, but feel drawn to the other. You know your superior to the humans, yet you want nothing more than to just be a normal person. I don’t want to see the fear in their eyes like I did yesterday. Or the hate. Or the betrayal that Lincoln felt. God, did he really love me? Is it even possible to love an Autobot? Maybe that’s why I’m human. You can’t love an Autobot. “But what should I do know? They couldn’t possible want me here anymore, not after what I’ve done. Should I hide what I am or use it to all of our advantage? Should I stay, fight, and probably die horribly at the hands of my former comrades or should I hide and wait? Can I ignore that I’m still an Autobot, no matter how much I want to be a human? God, I just don’t know.” Dirk watched her grab Lincoln’s lifeless hand. “I wish you were here to tell me, Lincoln. I wish you hadn’t died. I know you could have helped me. Maybe you even could have loved me, in spite of the killer in me.” Dirk stepped closer, making enough noise so that she knew he was there. Without looking up, Liberty asked, “Is Dr. Archeville going to be all right?” She still held onto Lincoln’s hand. “All Ravage could say was that they would do everything they can for him. They seemed hopeful though.” “That’s good,” Liberty turned at looked at him. Tears were streaming down her face. Even after all that had happened and all that she had done, he still had to remind himself that none of it was real. The tears might mean something, but they were not from a real human. Her grief might be real, but it sprang from circuits instead of her heart. “Dirk,” she continued, “you have every right to hate me. I hate me right now for all that I have done. I want to believe that I was a hero out there, but I really wasn’t. I was a soldier and that’s all.” She pointed down at Lincoln. “He died saving Dr. Archeville and the others. He was a hero.” “That he was,” Dirk responded, his voice catching in his throat. He paused for a moment, looking down at him. His blonde hair was wet and flaxen, his face white. The hole in his chest had stopped burning, but was still ugly and black. His tattered cowboy hat was threatening to blow away with the wind that was starting to increase, blowing from the northwest through the edge of the forest. “That he was,” he repeated. “You fought well out there too, Liberty. You’re right. You were a soldier, just like the rest of us out there. I can almost here Lincoln telling us we did a good job in that usual berating manner they must have taught him at jerkoff-cop school. Even you. Even after what you did. He might even have given you a second chance.” He raised his rifle and aimed in at her. Liberty did not move. She simply stared up at him with sad, knowing eyes. “But I’m not Lincoln. Since I can’t be sure you will always be the good soldier for our side...” He fired three times into her chest. She looked at him for another second before her eyes glazed over and she dropped, a limp mass, to the forest floor. “You have to go,” he whispered, doubt creeping into his voice. He stood watching her for several moments, his brow furrowed tightly as conflicting thoughts ran through his head like a Mack truck. Dirk stooped down beside Lincoln and closed his sightless eyes. He glanced over to Liberty’s unmoving form and closed his own eyes. ‘Did I do the right thing?’ he wondered. Liberty would have been a strong ally if she stayed allied with them. ‘If,’ he repeated. ‘She’s an Autobot. How can we trust any of them after seeing what they are capable of?’ His head hung, Dirk quickly pulled Lincoln’s body onto a makeshift gurney and started walking back to the bunker, intent on giving him a proper burial with the rest of dead. As he walked, his mind continued to reel with too many unanswerable questions and thoughts of too many dead loved ones.
Dr. Archeville stood in Decepticon Headquarters, staring out at the dark ocean on the other side of the window. His hands were clasped behind his back, his new left hand feeling cold and foreign to the touch. He looked again at his reflection and the metal plate that covered his head. His gray hair shot out from the sides and back of his head as always. The metal on the top of his head looked like the strangest case of male pattern baldness in the annals of medicine. His left hand was no different, replaced with a cybernetic and fully functioning device that looked in every way like a human hand, except for the bright sheen of metal that covered it in place of skin. The Decepticons had said that they could cover the metal potions with a synthetic skin, but Dr. Archeville had declined. He thought back to the offer still wondering why he had said no and opted for the metal to remain exposed, but he had no good answer. Perhaps later he would take the Decepticons up on the offer. But not now. He turned slightly towards the door behind him as it hissed open. He smiled when he saw Whitney Golden stride into the room. Dr. Archeville glanced up to the ceiling as his friend crossed the room to the window he was standing beside. The room, like everything else at the Decepticon base, was enormous. The ceiling stretched dozens of feet into the air and was yet called on of the smaller rooms in the base. The Decepticons had put Whitney and Cassie in the room while they worked on Dr. Archeville, but neither stayed there very long. For the two days that Dr. Archeville was in a coma, they spent more time tirelessly, nervously walking through the base, too anxious to stay in one place for very long. When Dr. Archeville awoke, however, Cassie was there in the room with him. He remembered the absolute love he felt as his eyes focused on her face. He swam in the love that was returned to him with her embrace. Now, finally, she was asleep. Whitney also must have heard that he had awakened. “What are you doing up already?” Whitney asked. “Two days in a coma not enough time?” Dr. Archeville asked with a smile. “You know what I mean,” he countered. His serious tone sounded almost foreign coming from his mouth. “You should be resting.” “I will again soon.” Dr. Archeville turned towards his friend, who was standing back looking at him. Finally, when his gaze returned to Dr. Archeville’s face, the crooked grin that was so often on Whitney’s face had returned. “And while we’re at it, Gray, that look is going to do nothing for your mad scientist reputation.” Dr. Archeville chuckled and slowly turned his gaze back to the ocean outside the window. It was dark, with the light from the room only penetrating out a couple of feet from glass. He ran his right hand over the surface of the window. Of course, the material was not glass. It was something else, something which human beings would not discover for decades if they discovered it at all. “We can’t keep fighting like this,” Dr. Archeville said suddenly. Whitney looked at him for a long moment and slowly nodded. “We had weapons that would have made the most technologically advanced government in the world envious,” he continued, “defensive measures that no human could conceive of five years ago and twenty-three capable people willing to lay down their lives for each other. For years, we prepared for the day the Autobots would find us again and we still weren’t ready. Cassie told me that they killed ten of our people, almost half of those that went out to fight. Ten! And we killed none.” “I’ve been thinking the same thing for the last two days,” Whitney said sullenly, rapping his fist softly against the hull of the submerged Decepticon ship. “This place is chock full of crap that we couldn’t even wrap our heads around. We toiled over light diffractors for weeks and they’re rendered useless with a simple interference pattern that they can activate with a mere thought.” Dr. Archeville nodded. “Our enemy might use brutal and straightforward tactics most of the time, but they are still capable of thinking outside the box and they have the technology to make just about anything possible.” “You’re talking about Liberty,” Whitney scowled. Dr. Archeville turned sharply towards his friend. Whitney shrugged, knowing what the look meant. “She’s gone.” “Gone?” Whitney nodded. “Can’t even be more specific. She vanished after the fight and no one has said anything about knowing where she went.” He shook his head. “I think that Dirk knows something though, but I really doubt that prying is going to help any. “The simple fact that she existed at all is what bothers me the most though. It’s a creative way to keep tabs on us and to try to wipe us out. The Decepticons think that the Autobots might try it again, despite what happened this time and I’m not one to disagree with that deduction.” Dr. Archeville turned away from the window and ran his metal hand through his gray hair. “We have to work more closely with the Decepticons. We have to come up with something creative ourselves if we’re going to make it through this alive.” Whitney smiled in spite of the serious conversation. “You’ve got something in mind, don’t you?” “Maybe,” he responded, looking around the room again, “but I want to get back to the others for now. They’ll be missing your irascible wit.” Whitney shrugged modestly and cracked a wide smile. “Yeah, what can I say?” Dr. Archeville turned towards the window again and sighed tiredly. Distantly, he heard Whitney comment that he should rest and he knew his friend was right. He was very tired, and not just physically. He was not a fighter. His long career was focused with laser precision on creating the devices of war, but he was not a warrior himself. Still, he found himself in the middle of a fight that none of them wanted. He knew that they could not surrender. Surrender meant death when the enemy was the Autobots. He trudged to the bed and lay down beside Cassie. Still asleep, she rolled over and draped her arm across his chest. Dr. Archeville closed his eyes and wanted to weep. They had been fighting for five long years. Yet he knew that the fight had only just begun.
Epilogue: Helen Richter kept the aim of her revolver steady on the young woman standing in front of her. Helen was 61 years old but did not look a day over fifty. Her hair was jet black, but hiding in the woods for two years had helped sprout a number of gray hairs through it. Her husband said she looked distinguished. She wanted to smack him when he said that. Distinguished was another word for old, she had always said. “Please,” the young woman said softly, “can you help me?” “Help you what?” Helen asked suspiciously. “Please,” the woman repeated. “I haven’t seen people all winter. I just want to stay you for a little while.” Helen squinted at her. “What happened to you?” “The people I was with,” she stuttered, on the verge of tears, “they started acting really strangely. They started yelling and fighting at each other. One of them went nuts and started killing people. I ran away. Please, ma’am, please help me.” Helen slowly lowered her gun. “Don’t call me ‘ma’am’,” she said. “The name’s Helen. Before we head back to camp, you and me are going to have a little chat. You’re going to tell me everything. Everything. And don’t try to pull any wool over my eyes either. I can sniff out a load of crap from a mile away.” Helen motioned to nearby tree stump and the young woman sat down. Helen sat across from her, the gun still pointed in her direction but aimed at the ground so that it did not seem as threatening to the woman. Helen looked around at the budding trees around her and took a deep, cleansing breath of cool spring air. She looked back at the young woman, who was regarding her with curiosity and wariness. Her hair was long and brown, tied back in a ponytail. She did not look a day over twenty-one, but her eyes seemed older somehow, like she had seem more than anybody had any business to see. “How about we start with a name?” Helen said. “You got one?” The woman nodded. A soft smile formed on her face. “I’m Liberty McLean. But you can call me Libby.”
The End
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