Transformers Dark of the Moon (38 page)

But the go moment was nearly upon them, and Lennox started issuing orders through his comm unit. His words sounded in the radio sets of all the soldiers and the pilots as well. “Use Willis Tower for cover. We get altitude, we jump. Aim your descents toward the river. Follow tight. Wacker Bridge.”

“Clarification, sir,” came the voice of one of the pilots. “Willis Tower?”

“Formerly the Sears Tower.”

“Copy that.”

First it was the Sears Tower; now it’s the Willis Tower. Everything changes
, Lennox thought. Then he remembered the nature of the beings they were going to be fighting and realized just how apt that thought was.

Lennox looked out the front of the Osprey, and even though they were at the back of the diamond formation, he was able to see the ruins of Chicago spread out before them. There was still a thick black cloud hanging overhead, and …

“What the hell is that?” he said to the pilot. “At two o’clock?”

“Can’t make it out, sir,” said the pilot. “Big sucker, though.”

Their flight path wasn’t going to bring them near it, but whatever it was, it was drifting closer and closer to Chicago. One thing that Lennox knew for sure: It wasn’t going to be anything good for—

“Bogeys incoming!” the pilot suddenly shouted.

Hurtling toward them were several Decepticon airships, moving with incredible speed. Certainly far faster than anything the Osprey could achieve. They darted forward, and suddenly the air was alive with the alien ships’ firepower.

“Evasive maneuvers!” Lennox called out, but the pilot was already on it. The Osprey darted hard right, just barely avoiding a diving attack by one of the Decepticons. The Osprey to their right wasn’t quite so lucky. An incoming wave of fire from the Decepticons’ attack ship ripped away its port wing. Undoubtedly the pilot within tried to compensate, but he failed utterly, and like a crippled bird the Osprey veered off course, colliding with one of its fellows. The two planes erupted upon
impact, sending a fireball that cooked the air around Lennox’s ship and resulted in a ball of twisted wreckage plummeting down into the waters of Lake Michigan. It hit, sending up a huge splash of water, and then vanished from sight.

One of the Decepticons was darting downward to avoid a collision with another of the Ospreys and cut directly into the path of Lennox’s aircraft. Their onboard weapon, an M240 machine gun, cut loose at it, shredding the Decepticon, sending it spiraling out of the way and carving a path. The other two Ospreys leaped toward the gap and hurtled forward, reaching Chicago with Lennox’s own ship close behind.

“Where are the remaining Decepticon ships?” Lennox called out.

“Not picking them up, sir! Maybe they disengaged!”

Maybe. But he wasn’t buying it for a second. The Decepticons were relentless. There was no choice, though, other than to stick with as much of the plan as they could.

At least Chicago, or what remained of it, was providing them with some cover. The Ospreys hurtled with almost reckless speed through the concrete canyons, approaching the Sears Tower, which was, miraculously, still standing.

There was no more joking among the soldiers in Lennox’s ship. They were all grim-faced, determined, knowing not only what was at stake but that sixteen of their fellows had just met a horrible death without having the slightest opportunity to face the enemy in battle. They were aware that it could just as easily have been them.

And it could still be.

The Ospreys kept low, trying to stay below any tracking that the Decepticons might be doing of any incoming hostiles. Lennox watched on the array of monitor
screens, looking for some sign of life on the battered streets below. He wasn’t seeing anything. “God,” he breathed.

“Not even sure God’s listening right now,” said Zimmerman. It was a rather depressing attitude to have, but Lennox couldn’t entirely blame him.

They were rapidly approaching the Sears Tower. The first two Ospreys had already reached them and rotated their wings, enabling them to begin the vertical ascent up the side of the building. On reaching the top, the ships would hover within visual distance of each other and Lennox would give the order to jump.

With any luck, this mission was still going to be salvageable.

(The lead Osprey reaches the top of the tower. The pilot rotates the craft ninety degrees in order to allow the men a clear jump path. And as the plane turns, he comes face to face with Starscream, standing on the roof.)

(Starscream is amused. He lets the look of shock register on the pilot’s face. He wants the human to realize that he is dead and that there is nothing he can do to prevent it. He can almost taste the deliciousness of the moment. Then he reaches out and easily breaks the propeller off the Osprey. Whirling out of control, the vehicle crashes into the side of the building, raining fire, steel, and glass on the street below.)

(The second Osprey barely manages to avoid the debris that is filling the air around it. It is a formidable bit of flying. Starscream acknowledges the talent of the human pilot by personally blowing the vessel out of the air with his arm cannon. What better way to reward such skill than by giving it the honor of being disposed of by the mighty Starscream?)

(He then turns his attention to the third vessel and sees with mild annoyance that it is already darting away, heading as quickly as it can back out toward the body of water called Lake Michigan. He scowls at the cowardice of the pilot. In contrast to the other vessel, this one is not even worth the effort of firing his arm cannon at it. Not worth it, and not worthy.)

(Then he notices something, and there is a deep growl of annoyance within him. There are eight flying humans, hurtling away with amazing speed. They are wearing some manner of flight suit with black wings stretching along the sides. Quickly he tracks and fires at them, but he is unaccustomed to such puny targets. As a result, the blast explodes near them, and the subsequent shock wave sends two of them tumbling. But instantly they recover and seconds later have sped around the corner of the building and out of sight.)

(“Thunderation!” Starscream snarls, and immediately sends out an electronic command to the nearest attack ships. Seconds later they are in pursuit of the annoying humans.)

(Starscream remains at his station, scanning the sky to look for any further foolish intrusions on the part of the humans. He is confident that the attack ships will dispose of the remaining intruders. How difficult could it be? They are, after all, only humans.)

(The attack ships speed after the fleeing humans, trying to pick them off but running into the same problem that plagued Starscream: They are too damned small. It is difficult to lock on to them, plus they display an almost supernatural ability to get out of the way of any shots fired.)

(The humans have no way of knowing that in a strange way they are replaying a sequence of events that occurred millennia ago. Back then it was Sentinel keeping out of the way of assailants. It had all been a ruse, of
course, designed for the benefit of any onlooking Autobots. They had to believe that Sentinel was truly dead, his supposed mission an utter failure. It was part of the grand scheme to both demoralize the Autobots and lay the groundwork for the eventual triumph of the Decepticons on whatever world the Ark eventually landed.)

(On that day long gone, Sentinel had performed a series of daredevil maneuvers and the Decepticons had harried him and several were actually sloppy enough to die.)

(History repeats itself. That is a truism as real for the Decepticons as it is for anyone else.)

(The men dart and weave, moving through spaces between fallen or angled buildings that become smaller and smaller, making it an increasingly greater challenge for the attack ships to keep up with them. They fly around a sharp corner, and one of the attack ships banks hard to follow and crashes into a dangling overpass, exploding upon impact. A second ship tries to avoid the explosion and fails, erupting in flame when it comes into contact with the detonated vessel. The third attack ship moves quickly past the remains of the other two vessels and angles into an increasingly narrowing space between two buildings that are leaning, tops nestled against each other like a pair of lovers. The humans hurtle through the canyon, which becomes smaller and smaller. The attack ship has to turn sideways in order to fit, and then one of the flying men fires something, some manner of weapon. It strikes a building just ahead of them, and as the men pass under it, a huge chunk of the angled building’s upper section is blasted loose and tumbles down.)

(It strikes the attack ship as it attempts to get past it. The impact knocks it hard to the side and causes it to strike another building. The attack ship blows up. The building remains resolutely where it is.)

(Just like that, the attack is over.)

(Now comes the hard part.)

All seven of Lennox’s men landed atop the roof of a parking garage.

All seven?
Lennox couldn’t quite believe that those words had played through his mind. Eight men in total had survived, including him. He’d lost thirty-two men already. And if he hadn’t gotten off that shot that brought the building collapsing upon their pursuer, it was entirely possible that none of them would have survived. All seven? They weren’t “all” of anything, and he told himself that he would do well to remember that.

“Weapons status,” he said briskly, giving no indication of the feelings roiling within him. “What have we got left?”

Zimmerman was right on top of it. “Twenty nine Bot Busters. Twenty piercing D-bots. Frags, but no rockets. No launchers.” That seemed a bit of a downer, but Zimmerman immediately rallied. “But ass-kicking attitude,
sir.
”

Despite the overall seriousness of their situation, Lennox couldn’t help but permit a small smile to let the soldier know he appreciated his enthusiasm. Then the smile faded, and he gestured for all of them to come closer. “Listen up,” he said. “For our brothers, let’s make this trip worth it.”

“Hooah!” the soldiers shouted, and Lennox returned the shout.

They ran out into the streets of Chicago.

It was called the Galileo Building. Apparently they specialized in producing equipment for astronomical endeavors, but now it had an additional meaning that was remarkably appropriate: Galileo, according to legend, performed a famous experiment involving the dropping of objects of varying weights off the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Now it’s going to serve another purpose
, Sam thought.
It’s going to help us stop an alien race from beyond the stars. Galileo would have liked that. At least I hope he would have. Hell, for all I know, he was a disguised Decepticon. I don’t know what to believe about anyone anymore
.

Sam, Carly, Epps, and his merry band of mercs were making their way up as quickly as they could. Naturally, taking the elevator was out of the question. The power was out, and even if it wasn’t, this was not a situation in which to trust oneself to some rickety contraption.

So they took the stairs.

This was not the easiest of endeavors. First, clambering up forty flights of stairs was something of a challenge in and of itself under ordinary circumstances. The building’s angle served to make gravity an additional factor.

Sam felt as if he were perpetually on the edge of falling over. He clutched on to the railing with a death grip,
making his way up the stairs, hauling the Hellfire missile, which seemed to be getting heavier by the second. Others offered to carry it, but Sam, through gritted teeth, insisted that he could do it. It was a matter of pride by that point. Foolishly stupid pride that had meaning to no one but himself, but pride nevertheless.
Pride goes before a fall …

He glanced down the dizzying stairwell and gulped.
Don’t think about falling
.

“We have a problem!” came Hardcore Eddie’s voice from ahead of them.

“Just one?” Epps said sarcastically.

Up ahead of them, the way was blocked. Not only was there massive debris, but a sputtering power line was dangling in front of it, swinging gently back and forth, seeming to invite them to take a whack at trying to dodge it.

“We’re at the thirty-fifth floor,” Carly said, tapping the entrance door next to her. Sam couldn’t believe it. She didn’t seem the least bit out of breath. He was starting to think that maybe she was part machine. That would explain a lot of things.

“It’ll have to do,” Epps said. “Open it.”

She pushed it open and almost slid right out. With a startled yelp she grabbed on to the doorknob, her feet nearly going out from under her.

“Carly!” Sam shouted.

“I’m okay! I’m okay! But boy, thank God I’m not wearing stilettos … Sam, you know the ones I mean.”

“Yeah … yeah, I do.” He grinned, his mind suddenly going to a much happier place, and then he yelped as someone hit him on the shoulder.

Ames scowled at him and rumbled, “Focus, kid.”

“Right, right. Sorry.”

One by one, they made their way out into the office. It was the most surreal thing Sam had ever seen. It was an
open area so that he had a clear view of the skewed office landscape.

Carly was now in a crouch, as if she were tentatively making her way down the side of a mountain. “Nobody move too quickly.” She made her way out the door, crab walking as she went. The others followed suit.

It appeared to be some sort of graphics design office. A vast bullpen area stretched out in front of them, dotted with art boards and high chairs. There was also one long, flat table that might have been used for conferences or perhaps simply as a communal gathering place to eat or discuss things. Some of the offices, presumably those of the higher-up guys, had glass partitions.

There was an entrance to another stairway off to the left. Sam made a mental note of its location, just in case.