Lennox took a pull from the nozzle of his Camelbak. The cool water ran down his throat, giving him a little relief from the harsh heat of the Qatari desert. He was about to take another swallow when Simmons's satphone rang.

"Spartan," the agent answered. "Right . . . Understood . . . We are expecting more company . . . their friends . . . Roger. I'll be standing by."

Simmons shoved the phone in his pocket.

"That your friends from Area 51?" asked Donnelly.

Simmons snorted, not answering the sergeant. Instead he walked over to Lennox. "Those were my superiors. All CENTCOM forces have been ordered to stay away from this area until further notice. The last thing we want is someone launching a missile by mistake during a first contact situation."

"Good." Lennox got to his feet and brushed sand from his gray-green-tan pixeled ACU – Army Combat Uniform. "Now all we have to do is wait for this Optimus Prime to get here."

"He should be here shortly," said Bumblebee. "With our hyperspatial drives, we can traverse great distances in very little time."

"I figured you guys had FTL drives." Donnelly used the acronym for Faster-Than-Light. He then looked at Simmons. "How about it, Agent Simmons? You hiding FTL drives at Area 51?"

"If we were, I sure as hell wouldn't tell you."

Donnelly scowled. "Dick." He didn't bother keeping his voice down.

Lennox chuckled to himself as Bumblebee came over, his footfalls vibrating through the sand. "I believe you will like Optimus. He is not only a great leader, but a great warrior as well, much like William the Conqueror or King Leonidas of Sparta."

"You really have studied our history."

"I have spent sixty-two years on your planet. I have picked up some tidbits here and there."

Bumblebee's mouth twitched into something of a smile. Lennox couldn't get over the fact he was watching a robot smile.

"Sixty years is a long time to be here. You gotta miss the other Autobots."

"For us, sixty years is not very long. Transformers can live for more than four hundred thousand years."

"Four hundred thousand years?" Lennox stared at Bumblebee, mouth agape. He thought about his grandfather, who passed away at age 88. Lennox had thought that was a long life.

"You aren't the first species to react that way. It is our experience that organic lifeforms exist for only a fraction of our lifespan." Bumblebee paused. "You are right, though. I miss my friends. Though there are times . . ." He turned his head slightly away from Lennox.

"What?"

"There are times I do enjoy my time on Earth. The war with the Decepticons has been all any Autobot has known for forty thousand years. It is nice to have a respite from the fighting. Though when I think that, I feel guilty, knowing that my friends are spread across the galaxy, fighting and dying, while I amuse myself with your TV shows."

"Believe it or not, I know what you mean. This is my second time in Iraq, and I did a tour in Afghanistan. I'm always glad to be home with my wife, but I still feel guilty about friends of mine dodging enemy fire and sleeping on rocks while I'm having dinner with Sarah or sleeping in an actual bed."

Bumblebee nodded. "Can I ask you a question, Captain Lennox?"

"Sure."

"We Autobots have no choice when it comes to our war. We either fight the Decepticons, or we die. Your enemies, while dangerous, don't threaten you with imminent extinction. The people of your country even have a choice whether or not they want to serve in your army. So why did you choose to be a soldier when you could be safe at home with your wife?"

"It's because of my grandfather," Lennox answered. "He fought in World War Two with the OSS."

"OSS?" Bumblebee's paused lasted barely a split second. "Oh yes. The intelligence organization that preceded the CIA."

Lennox raised both eyebrows, impressed with Bumblebee's knowledge of U.S. history. Then again, he probably had some kind of advanced computer for a brain, making him a walking version of Wikipedia.

"After everything he saw during the war," Lennox continued, "he kept telling me that freedom wasn't something to be taken for granted, that there were people in the world who wanted to take it away, and that other people had to stop them. Grandpop was just one of many men and women to put on this uniform and stand up to evil. I figured I should do my part, too."

"That's very noble of you, Captain Lennox."

"Thanks." He stared up at Bumblebee. How unbelievable was this? He was conversing with a giant robot from another planet as casually as he would with one of his men. And they actually had things in common! Bumblebee had probably been around since human beings were carrying spears and painting on cave walls. What had this robot seen and experienced in all those years? How many different planets had he set foot on? How many other aliens had he encountered? What were they like?

Well now's your chance to find out.

Lennox opened his mouth to ask his first question.

"Incoming aircraft," Powerglide announced.

"What the hell?" Lennox brought up his rifle, as did the other Spec Ops soldiers. He looked at Simmons. "I thought our forces had orders to stay away from here."

"They do. Whatever's coming our way isn't American."

"It could be Decepticons," said Bumblebee.

Lennox hurried over to a small dune, pulling out his binoculars. Epps joined him a few seconds later, also with binoculars in hand.

"Two helicopters," said Powerglide. "Ten miles and closing."

Lennox stared through his binoculars. He spotted two dark shapes coming in low over the desert. "I can't ID 'em."

"Maybe this will help." Tiny laser beams shot out of Powerglide's eyes. They formed holographic images of the two choppers. Both had oblong fuselages and enclosed tail rotors.

Lennox recognized them immediately. "They're Gazelles. The Qatari military flies them."

"The Qataris also fly Mirage 2000s," said Epps, "and one of them turned into that Decepticon."

Lennox's finger hovered near the trigger guard of his grenade launcher. He turned back to the wreckage of the Stryker. His throat clenched for a moment, thinking of Fig.

That remorse was buried quickly. If these were more Decepticons, they needed to be ready.

"Use the Stryker for cover," he told his team. "Be sure to aim for their faces, like we did with Dirge."

"Hang on, Captain." Powerglide held up a hand. "I'm picking up human radio transitions in Arabic. They're Qatari military, not Decepticons."

Lennox let out a sigh of relief, then stopped midway. Concern swept through him.

"Simmons!" He jogged over to the agent. "Didn't your bosses tell everyone to stay away from here?"

The other man's face stiffened with tension. "They must have only told our forces. They probably didn't think to pass it along to the Qataris."

Lennox turned back to the approaching Gazelles. The Qataris must have seen the smoke from the battle with Dirge and decided to send scouts to investigate. He then glanced at Bumblebee and Powerglide. His guts turned to ice. He had an idea how the Qataris would react when they saw two giant robots in the middle of their desert.

Something orange flashed on the side of the Gazelle on the right. A contrail shot over the sand.

"Incoming!"

TO BE CONTINUED