Chapter 5

Doctors rushed around him, some carrying other soldiers on stretchers, some wheeling away those who had been confirmed dead to the morgue. He blinked in the harsh white hospital light, hooked in to life-support machines, EEGs, and IVs. One of them hovered over his face, making exaggerated movements with his mouth, obviously trying to talk to him.

White rolled his eyes. He'd explained a thousand times: he couldn't hear anything. Yet they still tried to talk to him. He sighed.

Suddenly, a man in a black suit burst in. He showed the doctor his identification, and began to speak quickly. The doctor replied to what seemed like questions, but White still couldn't hear anything.

But- now that he thought about it, he almost could. The man in the black suit spoke much more quickly than White had thought, seemingly worried. This was only supported by the short glances the man cast in White's direction. The man seemed familiar, like a famous CEO or something. Then White noticed an emblem on the man's jacket. There was a stylized "B", which he recognized to be that of Blackrock Industries.

But… why would G. B. Blackrock be concerned with something like this? He was a technology mogul, not an intelligence agency director.

He couldn't make out any words, and the man's voice was muffled, almost like he was listening from underwater.

"So, have you confirmed the attacker?" Blackrock asked grimly.

"Not yet. There were no physical remains left," the doctor replied. "Only an empty crater and the wreckage."

"If it's related to my cargo, I want military protection immediately. This thing is too valuable to just hand it away."

"Sir, as soon as we have confirmation, my superiors will send you a unit or two, but for now, we have no idea what attacked them."

"What about him?" Blackrock said, gesturing toward White.

"He's gone deaf from the shock. It might be weeks before he gets his hearing back."

"Then why don't you try writing?" Blackrock glared at the military doctor.

"We tried that, too. He doesn't seem to know."

Suddenly, a man in a black suit burst through the door. "Blackrock, Shane Korosky, FBI," the man said, flashing his badge and extending his hand. Blackrock shook it, and the agent gave a curt nod to the doctor. "By the order of the United States Government, you are all under quarantine."

"What?" Blackrock said, his eyebrows raised in an incredulous expression.

White still couldn't make out what the three men were saying, but he chuckled to himself at Blackrock's reaction.

"We have reason to believe that your 'cargo' and this attack are somehow related."

Blackrock rolled his eyes. "Really?"

The agent sighed. "Sir, I'm just following orders. We're currently tracking three objects similar in size and shape to the last three, plus whatever you found in the basement. Intel's gone into a frenzy and DEFCON Two has been declared."

"Wait- DEFCON Two? That's not that bad, is it?"

"You shouldn't always believe what you hear in movies, Mr. Blackrock. You've heard of DEFCON Five as being the highest, but it is, in fact, the lowest. DEFCON One is the highest."

"Well…" Blackrock stuttered, at a loss for words. "Damn."

"Just call your truck and tell him not to pick up whatever it is. Don't tell him anything else."

"It may be too late for that, but I'll try," Blackrock said, nodding. He produced a cell phone from his pocket and dialed in a number. The phone made a hissing noise, and the call cut itself off.

"That's odd," Blackrock said, furrowing his eyebrows. "Just a hissing noise."

The agent pulled out his own phone and pressed a button, and held it to his ear. A moment later, he pulled it away from his face and shut it, and then jammed it back into his pocket. "It's down."

"What does that mean?" the doctor asked.

"It means we should go. All communications could be down. I don't know," the agent answered.

"Look, Mr. 'Kofofsky', or whatever the name they gave you is, do you really think there's an alien… attack or something coming?" Blackrock asked.

"The FBI thinks so, from all the information we've obtained." Korosky turned to the doctor. "Can he walk?"

"Physically, he's perfectly normal. Vital signs stable, no bone fractures, no muscle tearing, no-"

"Can he walk?"

"We don't know. Probably."

"Put him in a wheelchair, then. And take out all of those IVs."

"But it's not-"

"Now."

"Proper procedure…" The doctor abandoned his attempts at arguing with the man. He sighed, and quickly removed all of the tubes and needles attached to White's skin, and hoisted him into a waiting wheelchair.

"So you're telling me I can't even pick up this phone and call my family?" growled the President. His bloodshot eyes glared at Agent Korosky, and he picked up the phone in front of him, but only heard static, so he returned it. His hair was largely grayed, and five o'clock shadow littered his worn face.

"Whatever they're doing, they're getting away with it, and there's nothing we can do," Korosky responded.

"It's all his fault," the President said, jabbing his finger in the air toward Blackrock. "It's all because of that stupid… whatever it is. Alien."

"All due respect, Mr. President, but that thing could prove to be a gold mine of technology if we can reverse-engineer it," Blackrock said.

"You mean it could've. This project of yours is terminated."

"What? You can't do that!" Blackrock shouted, indignation showing on his face.

"You don't understand, Mr. Blackrock. This is a matter of homeland security now. We've got aliens at our doorstep, and what do you want to do? Dissect one of 'em!" the President retorted. "I don't believe this. I come to California to give a speech about economic something or other, and suddenly, we've got ETs running around everywhere!"

"You don't understand… If I can get my specimen to the lab, we might just find a weakness."

The President sighed. "You're persistent."

The four masses streaked through the pink sun-stained clouds, blasting away the tiny water droplets that had yet to condense. There was a grim silence between them, and, other than the roar of their entry, they were silent. They had all feared this day would come: the introduction of their war, their mistake, into the world of innocent and ignorant bystanders. And what was worse, these bystanders were extremely fragile.

Extremely fragile… Those had been Prime's words before they'd left Sol 4. The smallest of the four Autobots approaching Earth's surface, white with blue and red accents here and there, the celebrity, Jazz, knew fragility all too well.

It had happened back at Uraya, on Cybertron. A lower-class city that grew around the massive Energon refineries established shortly after the beginning of the Second Golden Age. The towering structures straddled the city like a colossus, obese curving cylinders scratching through the thin atmosphere of the metal planet.

The train surged along the elevated track, startling the tiny cybernetic wildlife. Jazz watched as a petrorabbit shot out from its nest in the rust-holes in the titanium anchoring the track's support struts. Its speed astonished him, although it was sluggish compared to himself and his companion seated on the opposite bench in the cabin. Jazz smiled to himself, and glanced over at the gleaming golden trophy.

The rush of traveling at such speeds as he was capable of hadn't been the original draw to the many Cybertronic racing circuits. It started as a reluctant way to support himself and his family. He chuckled quietly, remembering clearly. The first race in the massive sewers beneath the city, spraying up the arsenic-saturated water high into the subterranean structures, the revving engines… It was one of those races where he'd met and begun his friendly rivalry with the blue 'bot opposite him.

The train experienced momentary sweeping darkness as it passed through a hole in the mighty walls encircling the city, a silver dart passing like a ghost through the super-dense defenses.

An explosion rocked the train, sending the back of the train shuddering off of the tracks, dragging the rest of the train with it as the engine transformed, turned, and planted his hands firmly into the frame of the following car and then slammed his feet into the track. There was a thump and Jazz twisted and watched in horror as the train continued, sucking the engine robot beneath and shattering his body under the magnetic force.

Jazz turned back to the other racer, but he was already on his feet, racing down the corridor to evacuate any other passengers. "Blurr!" he called.

"Don'tworrythere'!" the other racer called back.

Jazz sighed. "Can't you at least slow down your speech patterns?" he said to himself. He leapt into the corridor, shifting in mid-air and racing down toward the front of the train, dodging sparks and shattering glass. The gray steel seemed like a death trap to Jazz, and he chanted lowly to himself, "faster, faster, must go faster," urging himself forward. "Faster, faster, faster…"

He shot like a lightning bolt from the open front end of the train as it slowed to a tilting crawl, and finally fell from the track, slamming into the ground a few feet below with a muffled thump. At the other end, he saw Blurr ushering out what few passengers had been riding over blackened debris and burn marks etched into the titanium streets by the rear cars as they were dragged along.

He immediately converted back into his humanoid form, bounding to the overturned train to help out anyone remaining.

A flash of red flared directly in front of him, and he was hurled in the opposite direction before the thunderous sound registered in his audio receptors. He hit the ground, bounced, hit again, and screeched to a halt against a building.

He staggered back to his feet and gazed around himself for a moment, dazed. Another blast to his right shook him back to reality as shrapnel rained down on the street. The train passengers were racing down the street toward him, turned down another street, and disappeared from his field of vision.

Then he called out, "Blurr! What's going on?"

True to his namesake, Blurr was speeding up and down parallel to the wall, occasionally leaping to astonishing heights in the air, trying to get a better view. "We'vegotDecepticonsintheair! Decepticonsatthegates! Decepticonsatthewalls! Ifwetake'emoutatthegatesthey'llstillbeintheair! Ifwetake'emoutintheairthey'llstillbeatthewalls! !"

As if on cue, the white and red Decepticon Air Commander, Starscream, streaked over the wall, transformed, landed lightly on his feet on top of a building, and deployed a missile launcher from his hand. The Decepticon symbols on both wings gleamed, a menacing sight even from that distance.

Jazz rolled his head on his neck. "I'll be paying for this when I'm older," he grumbled to himself. Three missiles where already screaming through the thin air when he leapt forward, rolled, and converted into his vehicular form. His engine gunned, and he shot under the missiles' path and into safety. Before he'd even reformed himself into his true form, Blurr had leapt to the top of the building and roundhouse kicked Starscream and raced off again.

Starscream leaped into the air, performed a perfectly-executed back-flip while converting into his alternate mode, and shot off after the blue racer, who had converted into his own alternate form. Blurr raced into the open air, landed elegantly on the ground, and made a u-turn. Starscream growled, pursuing him with deadly intent, enraged that he could be sucker-punched and then out-sped by a grounded civilian.

Jazz instantly realized what Blurr's intent was. He grabbed a shard of blackened metal and waited for his rival to lure Starscream into range. The instant the Decepticon Air Commander passed in front of Jazz, the makeshift spear had already left his hand. It smashed into Starscream's wing, knocking him off course and into an evacuated store front.

A shell exploded above Jazz as Blitzwing came to a stop in tank form. He hadn't even seen the Decepticon descend from over the wall in his jet form. "Maybe I'm not as hot as I thought," he muttered to himself, returning to his vehicular form and speeding off in the opposite direction.

"I'll squash you like the pest you are!" Blitzwing growled, converting back into his jet form. The roar of the Decepticon triple-changer's engines drowned out the gunning of Jazz's own, and Blitzwing bore down on the smaller being laughing boastfully. "All of you insignificant pests will serve us or die! It is the right of the superior beings!"

Jazz sped past traffic signals, directing Blitzwing away from the fleeing civilians. He chuckled to himself as he transformed, grabbed a signpost, swung around the corner of a building and transformed again, racing down a street he knew ran under the magnet train's tracks. He chuckled quietly to himself, "You just keep on following me, Decepticreep, dig?"

Jazz could see the tunnel ahead of him. "I'll tear you apart myself, you insignificant insect!" Blitzwing screamed behind him, gaining more and more ground with each second passed.

"Almost there…" Jazz muttered to himself, pushing for every last ounce of energy running through his circuits. The silvery ground seemed tarnished by the betrayal of the Decepticons, scorch marks and blast craters blemished the formerly pristine streets, and he felt as if his spark were screaming from the immense effort. He couldn't hold out forever.

Just as Blitzwing's shadow enveloped Jazz's alternate form, he was shadowed by the tunnel beneath the tracks. "Hah! You think I would be stupid enough to crash into mere train tracks!" But as he uttered the words, he realized his mistake.

"No, just stupid enough to get caught between a rock and a hard place!" Jazz laughed, transforming into robot mode. The tips of both of Blitzwing's wings had left trenches in the sides of the tunnel, and he himself was stuck. His engines blasted at full force, digging him deeper into the metal.

"RAAAUGH!" Blitzwing screamed, shaking violently with effort, trying to free himself.

Jazz turned and exited the tunnel on the other side. The sky was dyed red and fires raged throughout the city. Columns of smoke loomed menacingly above. Jazz watched in terror and awe as a silver jet darted through the black veil, transformed, flipped forward in the air, and landed gracefully on a suspended catwalk on the outside wall of one of the Energon refineries.

"No…" Jazz gasped, and he knew in that instant who the Decepticon was. Megatron roared triumphantly on the catwalk. His hand clenched into a fist and detached from the wrist, dangling from a chain. It began to glow purple as it heated up, and the air above it shimmered like water, distorting the path of light through it.

Jazz tapped a button on his right arm, and began speaking. "Are there any Autobots within range of the communication? Hello, hello! Mayday!" Jazz called, converting back into his alternate mode. "Any Autobots… at all?"

On the catwalk, Megatron smashed through the wall with his flail, and was quickly joined by the blue Thundercracker and the black and purple Skywarp. "This cannot be happening…" Jazz said to himself. He felt despair creeping like a virus throughout his body, and prepared himself to take on the enemy himself.

"State your position, soldier!" came a voice over the communication waves.

"I am approximately seven blocks from the primary Energon refinery. We got Decepticons like the Quintessons have faces! Who is this?"

"A friend." Suddenly, a red blast of energy slammed into Megatron, knocking him from his perch. He transformed in midair, and descended to the street. Optimus Prime leapt from the tracks above Jazz, legs bent and feet facing outward, arms in front in a defensive pose.

"Leave this place, Megatron. You've caused enough damage here," Prime said. Jazz recognized his voice as the voice from the communication.

"This Energon will lead us to victory, Prime," Megatron growled, jabbing a finger at Optimus. "I will not ignore such an opportunity!"

"Then it must be done," Optimus declared. His own hand folded back, and an axe flipped forward, heating the air around it. "I will stop you from harming these civilians!"

Megatron leaped forward, slinging his flail around him. Optimus blocked it with his axe. "Get away, soldier," he said to Jazz.

The vision of Cybertron faded as Jazz returned to the present, smashing into the ground and sending up a cloud of dust. Clods of dirt rained down around him as he climbed out of the crater. Optimus, Ratchet, and Ironhide would be somewhere near, but not in the immediate vicinity to avoid attracting attention.

He surveyed his surroundings, looking for any vehicle to disguise himself as. But there was nothing. The highest limbs of a tree he'd almost smashed were smoldering with embers. Several more were untouched. The dust and dirt thrown around had snuffed out any fires that might've started in the thin and haphazardly-distributed grass. Nearby was a dry shallow trench that bore the wavy carvings of water.

"Just gotta find me a sweet ride," he said to himself, slipping away silently in the dying sunlight.