Transformation Complication

[Big Daddy]

Chapter Eight

It was a singular collection of brand-new vehicles that raced through the network of residential avenues late that night before halting just up the street from the Foster?s mansion. They barked to a stop at the front gate, and the Foster?s residents exited the shiny new Camaro and sports car.

?Stay with ?em,? Frankie told her friends. ?I?ll be right back.? She took a step toward the house, was restrained by a thought, and turned toward the idling convoy. Looking past her friends, she addressed the vehicles with as much sternness as she could muster. ?Stay. Stay here. Stay.?

Making next to no noise she crept toward the front door of the mansion. She was convinced she had not made a sound, but that didn?t stop the giant rabbit that served as president of the house from appearing magically in the portal.

Doing everything she could to keep both herself and Mr. Herriman from glancing towards the front gate, Frankie smiled pleasantly and looked Herriman straight in the eyes. ?Uh?hey there, Mr. H!?

?Miss Frances, do you realize what hour of the day it is?? Herriman asked.

A slight crunching sound drew Frankie?s attention leftward, toward a dark part of the spacious backyard. One after another, huge alien robots were stepping over the steel fence surrounding the mansion and onto the grass. From where she was standing, Frankie could see them but Mr. Herriman couldn?t. This, she knew straightaway, was a good thing. She uttered a nervous laugh.

?Right?sure thing, Mr. H?I?ll be sure to get to those chores right away.?

?Miss Frances, I meant nothing of the sort about your chores. But now that the matter has been brought up, I must say that your absence from this house all day has lead many friends having to pitch in to take care of what you have failed to mend to.? Herriman sternly said. ?Now, if you shall pardon me, I must take out the trash cans.? He started to open the door and come down the steps. Frankie hurriedly banged it shut in time to block the rabbit?s exit.

?No, no, I got it! Seriously, my bad.?

Mr. Herriman studied her a moment longer. Then he turned and, shaking his head dolefully, hopped back further into the house. Frankie whirled and raced toward front yard. She was just in time to see the massive right foot of Optimus Prime turn some furniture into Frisbees While the other reduced a stone path into gravel.

?Will you guys watch where you?re going?!?!? Frankie yelled frantically, right before her friends came striding through the alleyway gate. Turning on them, she indicated the yard full of giant robots. ?I told you guys to watch ?em!?

?Well, you know, I don?t think patience is something they have on their planet.? Sean bantered.

Frankie put her hand over her forehead in exasperation. ?Man! This evening could not get any??

?HEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYY, EVERYBODIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!!? A voice came from near the front gate, which was soon followed by constant, irritating chanting.

?Horsey! Horsey! Horsey! Horsey!? A pale-yellow, somewhat madcap and dim-witted imaginary friend named Cheese was bouncing up and down on one of Ironhide?s feet as if it was a horse. Peering down, the mechanoid flicked the friend off his foot, sending him flying into a patch of flowers. ?DO AGAIN! DO AGAIN! DO AGAIN! DO AGAIN!?

Seeing Cheese and his companion, an extremely hyperactive friend of Mac?s who talks very fast and named Goo, Frankie felt as if she was just about to have another nervous breakdown. ?Oh, no.?

?Do you guys, like, have some new imaginary friends that are too big for the house? ?Cause they don?t look like imaginary friends. They look like big aliens from another world. And that?s cool, because it?s not every day when you, like, get visitors from another world. I remember watching E.T. one time and wishing that I could meet a real alien, only I imagined a friend that looked just like E.T. and ended up having to hide him from my mom, just like in the movie with that Elliott kid and his brother and his sister and his??

Meanwhile, Ironhide was tracking the unceasingly irritating Cheese who continued to dart in and out between his feet. ?I detect that you have a highly localized vermin infestation. Shall I terminate??

?No!? Frankie yelped wildly. ?It?s just Cheese, a friend of ours. A really annoying friend, but a friend nonetheless.? Moving Cheese away from the feet of Ironhide, Frankie then approached her friends, looking sterner than ever. ?Try to keep them composed, while I find those stupid glasses!?

After handing Cheese over to Wilt to watch over, Frankie dashed into the house through the backdoor and hurried silently up the stairs to her grandmother?s room. Anxiously she rummaged through the cluttered room. Behind her, an immense metal hand rose to the level of the open window. Unceremoniously, it dumped Mac, Goo, the Andrews siblings, and the imaginary friends through the portal and onto the floor of the room.

?You must help her look,? Optimus informed them solemnly.

?They really want those glasses.? Mac uttered.

Searching for a few minutes, Frankie?s expression darkened. She had cleared the entire room, but without finding what she had been looking for. ?It?s not here!?

Her friends stared at her. ?What?!?

?They?re just not here!? Frankie screamed. ?But it?s got to be here somewhere. Grandma just doesn?t let a family artifact like that slip away without noticing.?

?Let?s trash the room! Turn it upside down ?til we get what we?re looking for!!!? Bloo exclaimed.

Frankie shot him a dirty look before noticing the enormous, reflective face of Optimus Prime staring back at her. ?Have you found them?? the robot inquired worriedly. Even muted, the robot?s voice threatened to resound throughout the length and breadth of the house.

?No, I haven?t. I dunno where my grandma put them!? Frankie complained. ?Look, will you just?get outta here? If anybody in this house sees you, especially Mr. Herriman, they?re gonna freak. Go! Hide! I promise we?ll keep looking.?

Optimus turned to his companions. ?Autobots: fall back and cloak.?

?And be quiet,? Frankie ordered. ?Keep it down.?

One by one the visitors retreated into a copse of trees. All did so successfully?and, as Frankie had requested, quietly?until the preoccupied Ratchet backed into a line of wires. The top of his head brushed against a high-voltage line. Flaring in the darkness, sparks arced across his skull.

An involuntary electronic scream erupted from deep within the robot. Convulsing, he toppled over sideways, shattering a small glass greenhouse when he fell. Unsurprisingly, this concentrated calamity did not go entirely unnoticed inside the Foster?s mansion. As the house shook, Mr. Herriman was already rushing out of his office and screaming throughout the house.

?Earthquake! Earthquake! Evacuate immediately! Single file! Single file!?

The other friends piled out of their rooms just to watch Mr. Herriman loose his cool over a tremor. Some had gone back to see what happened outside through their windows and noticed a few things knocked over?possibly some of the neighborhood dogs.

Out back Ratchet sat up, shook his head, and gestured upward. ?Do not touch those! They carry throughout their length the potential for dangerous energy overload.?

Thirty seconds later the transformer mounted on the pole nearest the length of heavy-gauge transmission line Ratchet had inadvertently contacted blew up in a shower of sparks and seared metal. Every house in the immediate vicinity promptly went dark.

In the now-dark upper-floor room, Frankie spun a wild circle, then raced toward the only source of light: the window. The first thing she noticed was the complete absence of light in any other house visible from the room. The second was the complete absence of visiting alien robots in her backyard. In their place was a small fleet of vehicles?including a giant and thoroughly inappropriate-for-the-location eighteen-wheeler. Leading out, she yelled downward.

?What is it with you guys? Semitrucks parked in the backyard is not hiding.? She turned back to her grandmother?s room, still having to find the precious glasses. And if stress of the parked vehicles in the backyard wasn?t enough, Cheese began screaming over the lack of lighting in the room. ?Oh, please! No! Not now!?

END OF CHAPTER EIGHT

[Big Daddy]

Chapter Nine

Downstairs, the screaming from above was clearly audible as Madame Foster and Mr. Herriman both switched on flashlights. Immediately, Herriman?s gaze and attention turned upward. ?Miss Frances? What is happening up there??

There was no response from above. Herriman and Madame Foster exchanged troubled looks. On the way toward the stairs, Madame Foster spied a baseball bat that she picked up and gripped it with both hands, while trailing Herriman as he started cautiously up the stairs.

A pair of brilliant beams of light illuminated the interior of Madame Foster?s room like an atomic flash. It was just the thing to stop Cheese from screaming any longer. Blinking painfully, Frankie tried to turn in the direction of the lights being emitted by the eyes of a helpful Optimus Prime.

?TURN IT OFF, TURN IT OFF!?

Slowly making their way up the stairs, Mr. Herriman and Madame Foster heard Frankie?s frantic voice at the same time as they saw the incredibly intense light flare from underneath the door to the room.

?Miss Frances?? Mr. Herriman asked as he leaned close to the door and gripped the flashlight a little more tightly. ?Are you there??

?Uh, yeah, Mr. H,? she responded, as calmly as she could. ?It?s me.? Whirling on the beam-casting Optimus, she hissed anxiously, ?Turn it off!? The robot?s eyes obediently went dark. ?Now hide!?

Herriman tried the knob. It didn?t turn. ?Why is this door locked?? Flustered, he tried the knob again. Definitely locked from the inside. ?Miss Frances, open the door!?

?Be right with you!? she replied, even as she was bugging her eyes out at the now-eye-dark-but-still-staring Optimus Prime. ?Get outta here!?

The robot replied with single-minded insistence. ?But you must find the glasses.?

?Open this door now.? Herriman?s voice had gone from concerned to curious to borderline angry.

Something fumbled at the knob from the inside. There was a soft click. The door opened inward to reveal Frankie and friends retreating to stand by the single window, holding up arms to shield their eyes against the wandering beam of Herriman and Madame Foster?s flashlights.

?Hi, Mr. H. Hey, Grandma.? Frankie declared cheerily. ?What up!?

?What are you all doing in here?? Madame Foster inquired.

Frankie and the others just exchanged glances that seemed too suspicious for Herriman?s taste. Mac then replied, ?Just?hanging out?together.?

?What was that light?? Herriman asked, as he hopped into the room, heading for the window. Desperately trying not to look nervous, Frankie blocked his path.

?Light? What light? Wasn?t any light. Oh, you mean the flashlight light. That?s gone, isn?t it? Right, guys.? Her friends nodded in agreement, as Herriman leaned out the window to scan the backyard.

Lights were still out in the neighbors? houses, sparks still sputtered from the ruined transformer, and dogs were starting to bark everywhere. Herriman did not look directly downward or he might have seen several enormous bipedal metallic shapes pressing tightly against the side of the house.

It wasn?t long before the lights in the room flickered, then snapped back on. The power company, Frankie speculated, must have done a work-around on the destroyed transformer. ?See? Problem solved. No worries.? She stated before focusing on her current task. ?Uh, Grandma? You know those glasses that belonged to your grandmother that you often show me at times??

?Oh, yes, dearie.? Madame Foster remarked, as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the ancient artifact. ?Would you like for me to tell that lovely story again of how your grandmother??

Quickly snatching the glasses out from her grandmother?s hands, Frankie rushed past her and Herriman, with her friends following close behind. ?Sorry, Grandma! Don?t have the time! See ya!?

Tearing down the stairs, the group suddenly stopped as soon as they heard the front doorbell ring incessantly. Once he was downstairs again, Herriman moved to answer the door. The front yard was full of men and women. Some wore dark suits and busied themselves using strange instruments to scan their immediate surroundings. Others carried even more peculiar devices whose readouts occupied their full attention.

Standing by himself on the porch and facing Herriman was a tall, skinny, eroded-looking individual who bore an air of seriousness around him. Briefly, he flashed an impressively garish badge embossed with an insignia Herriman did not recognize and was not given time to study at length. ?Excuse me, sir. Name?s Simmons. With the government. Sector Seven.?

?Never heard of it.? Herriman responded.

?You still haven?t,? the agent informed him meaningfully.

Leaning forward, Herriman looked out as the bevy of disparately clad strangers paced and tromped and peered with great intensity of purpose all over the lawn and flowerbeds. ?What is the meaning of this??

?Frances Foster filed a stolen car report last night. We think it?s involved in a national security matter.?

?We got massive hits,? one agent called toward the porch, indicating the distinctive instrument he was wielding. Simmons looked back at him, nodding as if the observation was no more than he had expected.

?Get a sample and readings.?

The agent and a companion began ripping roses out of the ground, just as Madame Foster was coming downstairs with the bat still in her hands. ?Hey, you! Outta my garden! Get!?

?Ma?am, please,? Simmons said courteously but firmly. ?Drop the bat.?

Frankie and her friends soon entered the room, and Frankie shoved the glasses deeper into her jacket pocket as soon as she saw the agents. The alert Simmons noticed the gesture, but saw only Frankie?s moving hand.

?You. Frances Foster. We need you to come with us.?

Stepping back into the house, Mr. Herriman blocked the agent?s view of Frankie. ?I do not know who you are or what is going on here, but ?national security? or not, this is way out of line, dear sir.?

Simmons stepped into the house. ?Sir, I?m asking you respectfully, please back off.?

?You are not taking Miss Frances anywhere. There is something unusual about this ?Sector Seven? and I plan on getting to the bottom of it by calling the police.?

?Well, sir,? Simmons informed him, ?there?s something unusual about you, these people, this little house of Muppet rejects, and this whole operation in here?and my job is to get to the bottom of it myself.? Reaching into a pocket, Simmons withdrew a small cylindrical device. Leaning over, he passed it across the face of Cheese.

?Hi, Lady!? He told Simmons.

Ignoring the unusual greeting, Simmons turned to his fellow agents. ?Fourteen on the counter. Bingo. Tag and bag ?em.?

Straightening, he turned and gestured. From out of nowhere, agents seemed to pour into the room from every direction. Strong hands came down on everyone. Wrestled, manhandled, and hustled, they were all shoved roughly out of the house into the front yard, out onto the street, and into a waiting black SUV.

Struggling, Madame Foster yelled, ?We won?t say a word till we get a good lawyer! Ya hear? NOT A WORD!?

One by one the line of cars and SUVs pulled smoothly out into the street, accelerating in the direction of the nearest freeway on-ramp. As the last sped off, the neighborhood descended once more into the calm of late-night silence. From behind the mansion and among a cluster of trees, five pairs of deeply perceptive alien lenses stared out to follow the course of the departing vehicles.

END OF CHAPTER NINE

[Big Daddy]

Chapter Ten

Accelerating, the black SUVs swept through the night-cloaked town. In the rear seat, the residents of Foster’s were doing their best to keep their cool—and failing. Wilt and Coco were doing their best to compose Madame Foster and Mr. Herriman, as Frankie explained everything to Agent Simmons.

“Listen, this is like the mother of all misunderstandings. You know kids like me—we’ve all spent too much time staring at the computer screen. Makes your brain go all fuzzy.” She spread her hands. “Someone stole my car, that’s all. Maybe I embellished the report a little, but at the time it was, like, the middle of the night and I was kind of panicking. But it’s fine, everything’s fine now. It came back.”

Mac jumped in. “Not by itself, obviously. Cars don’t do that, that’d be crazy.”

Simmons said nothing. Instead he removed a peculiar lens from the dashboard glovebox. “What do you all know about aliens?” he asked unexpectedly.

“Cheese is one!!!” Bloo screamed, before Sean and Alissa subdued him long enough for Frankie to answer Simmons’s question.

“Aliens?” Frankie’s shocked response was maybe a bit over-the-top. “Like, Martians? Don’t believe in ‘em.”

Leaning over the backseat, Simmons jammed the monocle against Frankie’s face, using it to cover one eye. On the side of the lens facing the agent, her pupil dilated. “Tell you what else I find deliciously interesting, kid: pupil dilation, body language, flushness of your skin. Because taken together, they’re showing me you’re all lying.” With his free hand he pulled back the front of his jacket to reveal the same badge that had so puzzled Mr. Herriman. “See this? This is a ‘Do-Whatever-I-want-and-get-away-with-it’ badge. I’m gonna lock you away forever, erase you like you never existed.”

Everyone was staying quiet (or trying to stay quiet, in the case of Mr. Herriman and Madame Foster). Eduardo seemed as if he was on the verge of tears from Simmons’s threats.

But the silence was soon broken by the sound, sight, and shudder of an enormous metal foot slamming down on the hood of the SUV, crumpling it like tinfoil. The government vehicle spun to a sudden and violent stop. Repeated pounding indicated the presence of something huge and heavy walking around it. Within the SUV, an assortment of sensitive instruments went berserk as blinding illumination filled the interior of the car with light. Simmons threw up his hands. Frantically, the driver tried to accelerate forward. He failed because the vehicle had been lifted into the air and off the road.

There was a metallic ripping sound as the roof of the big 4x4 was pulled upward and peeled back like the top of a sardine can. Roughly remade into an instant convertible, the SUV bounced wildly on its shocks as it was dropped back to Earth. Revealed in their own light, several gigantic figures could be seen peering downward at it.

Optimus Prime and his cohorts.

“You boys are in tuh-ru-ble now,” a juiced Frankie said in the direction of the car’s front seat.

Simmons and the driver drew their weapons. These promptly flew out of their hands into Jazz’s palm, accompanied by every other device on their persons that contained any ferrous alloy. The driver embarked on a futile attempt to hide behind the wheel.

With every passing second, the Foster’s residents (with the exception of Madame Foster and Mr. Herriman, who were both scared out of their wits) were feeling better and better. This was certain even as Mac said, “Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to our friend—Optimus Prime.”

“OUT OF THE CAR, PLEASE,” the leader of the mechanoids announced politely but thunderously. Simmons and the driver complied with alacrity. Crouched together on the ground, they recoiled as the massive mechanical head lowered to within a foot of their faces. Enormous lenses focused on Simmons, who would greatly have preferred to avoid the attention. “Your nervous system does not register significant shock,” the giant observed thoughtfully. “You are not surprised by our existence.”

“Look, uh,” Simmons stammered, “there are Sector Seven protocols that need to be observed here. Okay? I’m not authorized to communicate with you. Except to tell you I can’t communicate with you.”

“What’s Sector Seven?” Frankie asked him. “How’d you know about the robots?” Simmons didn’t say a word, and Frankie had to give him his props. He was still a jerk, but at least he was a dedicated jerk.

Sean then approached him and ordered, “Take off your pants.”

“For what?”

“Threatening us. What else?”

Glaring, the agent and the driver obediently dropped their trousers and to their boxers. Simmons’s legs looked as if they hadn’t seen the light of day in years. There was a power pole nearby. Sean soon had both agents cuffed securely to the post. Simmons did not take his eyes off him the entire time.

“My friend, this is the beginning of the end of your life.”

In the meantime, Alissa Andrews had retreated to the ripped-open SUV and recovered her purse. She was only slightly worried about what her brother was doing to the agents, fearing jail time would be a result of it. And as if her worries could not have increased more, the sound of several helicopters cresting the nearby hillside had her nearly freaking out. A moment later a small fleet of SUVs arrived, screeching to respective halts on several sides. Robots and escapees alike found themselves suddenly surrounded.

“Oh, no.” Alissa uttered.

High-intensity spotlights swept across Optimus Prime’s massive outline. Taking one giant step forward, he picked the Foster’s residents up (including Herriman and Madame Foster, who were still speechless over the whole sudden change of events), reached back, and deposited them on his shoulders.

“Hold on.”

Merging defensive sonics, the other robots emitted a collective pulse blast that simultaneously flattened the tires on every one of the SUVs. It was a disabling defense, but not one that was damaging to life. As multiple vehicle chassis hit the pavement, Optimus charged in the direction of the nearest cover. On his shoulders, the Foster’s residents held on for dear life.

One of the choppers immediately set off in pursuit of the fleeing robot. On the ground, agents used bolt cutters to free Simmons and his driver. Simmons displayed admirable determination as he alternately ran toward a descending copter while simultaneously trying to climb back into his pants.

END OF CHAPTER TEN

[Big Daddy]

Chapter Eleven

The systems operator in the first helicopter gazed in frustration at his multiple readouts. Given the amount of sensing gear on board the advanced chopper, it should not have been possible to lose the position of one running giant robot. Try as he might, however, he could not locate the alien machine. The chopper cruised low over hills, checked clusters of trees, and even flew underneath a high overpass bridge.

Since every instrument on board was aimed straight down, they did not detect the robot that was clinging to the underside of the viaduct. Possessing muscles made only of flesh, the Foster?s residents struggled to hang on to the upside-down robot. They were just barely managing?when the rotor wash from the helicopter passing directly underneath sucked Mac downward. Clinging on to the hand of Wilt, who was clinging on to the others in a long chain of helpful people, Frankie reached out with the other and just caught his right forearm.

?Don?t let me go!? he screamed, hanging on to Frankie?s forearm as he dangled over the pavement below.

The strain was evident in Frankie?s voice as well as her face. ?I?I can?t hold on, Mac!?

A second chopper followed the first under the bridge. Its draft proved too much for the grip between the two humans. Reaching for him, Frankie lost her own grip and, pulling Wilt and the others along with her, fell along with Mac, all screaming. Swinging out a long leg, Optimus tried to catch them. All the effort had done was slightly slow their fall. The eyeglasses slipped from Frankie?s pocket and she made a desperate, futile grab from them. Closing her eyes, she waited for the final impact of her body hitting the ground. It came and she winced?and opened her eyes again.

Frankie and her friends landed in one of Bumblebee?s hands, and not on the hard pavement beneath the overpass. With infinite gentleness, the robot set them down on the roadside. Almost immediately, a steel-mesh net launched from one of the circling copters looped his right arm while another whipped around his legs. Working in unison, the two choppers turned north, yanking the robot off his feet and dragging him across the asphalt. Heedless of her own well being, Frankie ran after the entangled mechanoid.

?Stop it! You?re hurting him!?

?Frankie, you can?t?? Mac began as he hurried after her. His words were cut off by the heavy hand that slapped over his mouth, as he and the others were subdued by agents. Catching up to Frankie, a beefy agent began wrestling her back in the direction of the waiting vehicles. But she bit down on one of the restraining hands, forcing the agent to let her go as he cursed.

Scouring the surrounding area, other agents recovered most of what had been dropped during the fall from the bridge. Alissa?s purse and its contents ended up in the back of another vehicle.

Down the road, Bumblebee detected what was happening and redoubled his efforts to free himself from the entangling nets. Around him, camouflage-clad commandos were zip lining down from a newly arrived chopper. They carried no guns, no explosives. The packs on their backs were filled with a unique super-cooled carbon-fiber liquid held under high pressure. Hovering just out of reach, they began spraying the struggling robot from head to heel. Encased in the rapidly hardening material, Bumblebee took a step, a second?and then toppled forward as the substance hardened to form an unbreakable shell around his entire body.

?Get the heck away from him!? Frankie howled as she neared the scene. ?He?s not gonna hurt anyone!?

On the bridge high above, the other robots arrived. Crawling over the side of the bridge, Jazz hung upside down to face Optimus. ?We have to help him!?

The bigger robot?s voice was heavy with resignation. ?We cannot engage a situation like this without harming humans!?

Racing ahead, Frankie reached the place where the commandos had touched down and were continuing to spray the increasingly motionless Bumblebee. Kicking one from behind, she ripped the nozzle out of the startled soldier?s hands and pointed it at his leg. The man howled as cold plastic enveloped his lower limb. A moment later, agents swarmed Frankie and yanked the device out of her hands. They were less gentle this time as they threw her in the back of a different SUV, practically on top of her friends.

As the car screeched away, Frankie and her friends fought to sit up. Turning to look out the back window, they were just in time to see a pair of helicopters lifting the netted Bumblebee off the ground and swinging away to the north. The last of the choppers was gone. The commandos had been picked up and whisked away. None of the black SUVs remained. It was quiet again beneath the bridge.

Optimus Prime dropped from the underside of the bridge to land heavily on the pavement below. Continuing to harden on contact with the air, tendrils of the special liquid plastic coated parts of the street and the nearby hillside. There was also something else. Something the human agents had missed.

Bending low, the robot plucked a small, almost insignificant object from the ground where it had fallen: a pair of eyeglasses. With the touch of a surgeon, enormous metal fingers delicately picked up the pair of shabby old spectacles gleaming in the light from his eyes. Straightening, the massive robot looked first to the south, then to the north. They had the glasses.

But they had lost something else.

END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN

[Crash-N-Cortex]

The story's looking good... That's all I can say, for now...

[Big Daddy]

Just wanted to let everyone know that there's more story coming real soon. I have just been trying to get through real life as of late--it's really been kicking me in the butt. lol!

I appreciate all of the comments I've been getting on it. You all really know how to show your appreciation for something.

[Big Daddy]

Chapter Twelve

It was very early and the sun was just raising its scorching self above the sere brown rocks of the desert horizon. These first rays found the three big army choppers traveling low and fast over the desiccated terrain. Each carried a different human cargo. Each component of that cargo had its own perspective on the incredible events of the past several days.

Frankie, Mac, Goo, and Bloo sat on the bench on the left side of the middle chopper?s cargo hold, while Mr. Herriman, Madame Foster, and the Andrews siblings sat on the other. All wore advanced radio headsets that for some time now had told them absolutely nothing. In one other chopper, the other residents of Foster?s (Wilt, Eduardo, Cheese, and Coco) were in the same position.

As the sun rose sharply, its intensifying rays struck gold off the surface of Lake Mead, behind Hoover Dam. The Foster?s passengers sought windows to look out, as the three choppers began to descend. Frankie, Mac, Goo, Bloo, Mr. Herriman, Madame Foster, and the Andrews siblings exited the second chopper, while the third disgorged Wilt, Eduardo, Cheese, and Coco.

From the first chopper stepped out the secretary of defense, Sector Seven agent Banachek, and Agent Simmons, the latter looking even more gaunt than usual. The sight of the secretary of defense there in the flesh was quite an overwhelming sight for the residents of Foster?s.

For a while, Alissa Andrews had paused to admire the view of the vast lake held back by the dam. As she was doing so, something hopped out of her purse, which had eventually been returned to her, and disappeared among the concrete and scrub.

At the base of Hoover Dam, a wheeled platform surrounded by heavily armed Sector Seven agents was being drawn into an access tunnel. Tightly bound to the moving platform, a yellow-and-black mechanical shape struggled ineffectively against its bonds. Mobile platform and its robotic cargo disappeared into the base of the great curved weir.

On top of the dam, the Foster?s residents were being ushered forward by Simmons and his minions. A tall agent joined them with a gleaming metal briefcase cuffed to his left wrist. Banachek glanced at the group. ?Listen to me carefully. Some really bad things have happened this past week. There are some really bad things going on right now. People have died. More people could be killed?maybe a lot more. We need to know everything you know, work together, to stop those things from happening.?

Frankie calmed down?but only a little. ?Not till you promise me you won?t hurt him?my car, I mean. It?s the only way I?ll talk.?

Banachek nodded understandingly. ?Deal.? He then gestured for the others in the ensemble to join them. ?Follow me. Time is of the essence.?

As Banachek led the group past the humming generators, Simmons was finally able to unburden himself of some classified information. ?Here?s the situation insofar as we have been able to determine it,? he told them. ?We appear to be facing war against a highly advanced technological civilization far superior to our own.? He nodded to Frankie, then her friends. ?You?re here because in one way or another, you?ve all had direct contact with the NBEs.?

Sean looked uncertain. ?NBEs??

?Non-biological extraterrestrials,? Simmons told him. ?Try and keep up with the acronyms.?

A massive door loomed ahead. It would not have been out of place fronting an airline hangar?except that it was hundreds of feet underground. Though out of time, Banachek still tried to prepare them.

?You?re about to see something few people know about and even fewer get to experience in person. Don?t forget to breathe.?

Rumbling, the door began to move aside. As soon as enough of an opening had appeared, Banachek led them inside. The underground silo was immense. Multitiered gantries and girders leavened with strands of tubes containing liquid nitrogen surrounded something frozen in blue-tinted ice. Something huge, ominous, and?bipedal. Another robot. As big as if not bigger than Optimus Prime, an awestruck Mac decided. He could not take his eyes from it as they were led inside. Neither could Frankie or the others.

Banachek offered more detail. ?We think that when it approached our world, it came in too low over the North Pole. Maybe there was an especially active aurora at the time, or maybe it miscalculated the strength of our gravitational field, or maybe a sudden solar flare screwed up its navigational instrumentation. It was fairly clear from the position and attitude in which it was found that it did not make a controlled touchdown. We surmise that it crashed into the polar ice, was seriously incapacitated, and subsequently became frozen in place by a series of active cross-current pressure ridges.? He looked over at Frankie and Madame Foster. ?Samantha Foster made one of the greatest discoveries in the history of mankind.?

?Old Grammy Sammy sure knew her discoveries, that?s for sure.? Madame Foster said with a chuckle. ?She made it a few times in the Guinness Book of World Records, you know.?

?Who knew she would discover Megatron himself.? Frankie uttered, and all of the agents? eyes focused on her. ?Leader of the Decepticons, as we would call them.?

?Basically, the bad guys,? Mac added helpfully.

?In case you kinda didn?t get that from the name.? Sean stated.

As they conversed, a tiny mechanical spider-shape was working it way around the perimeter of the enormous open space. When workers threatened to come too close, Frenzy merged into the background until they had continued on past. None of the passing humans noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Meanwhile, Frankie was continuing with her explanation. ?The reason they came here to Earth in the first place was to find the Energon Cube. Mr. Megatron here is like the harbinger of universal death. Pretty much wants the Cube so he can transform all machine ?life? and take over the universe one technologically oriented world at a time. Starting with ours.?

Banachek and Simmons exchanged a fleeting glance. Frankie was no trained psychologist, but the meaning behind that look was easy enough to grasp. She gaped at them both as comprehension dawned.

?You guys know where it is, don't ya?!?

END OF CHAPTER TWELVE

[Big Daddy]

Chapter Thirteen

The chamber that held the Energon Cube was brightly lit with the Cube itself hung in the center, swathed in a web of umbilicals that both supported and monitored the alien artifact in their midst. Visitors and technicians alike could observe the Cube from an observation deck walled with panels of transparent, double-thick polycarbonate.

All of the sudden, the floor rocked beneath them. Not enough to knock anyone off their feet, but sufficient to indicate that for a locality that was supposed to be technologically inert, something was badly wrong. If they could have seen the approaching transformed bots, from a F-22 Raptor to the MH-53 assault helicopter to the eclectic assortment of oddly perfect vehicles that was presently rushing the dam, the Foster?s residents would have felt considerably worse.

Mac gazed anxiously at the alien relic that was the Cube. It was completely covered in static alien glyphs?except that some of them now seemed to have acquired a slight shimmer. Nothing more than a trick of the artificial lighting?he hoped.

Sean was looking upward. ?Those are concussion blasts. Could be terrorists?or something else.?

The Secretary of Defense, John Keller, bit his lower lip. ?Terrorists could never get this close to the dam. Security is too tight. Has to be something more than that. Bigger than that.? The secretary did not have to further identify the unstated ?something.? Everyone in the lab knew whom he meant. Knew what he meant. Turning, he looked toward the chamber that held the silent, pulsing Energon Cube. ?They know it?s here.?

Sean didn?t know about the others, but he for one was not about to wait around toothless for the next strike. Terrorists or Decepticons, he was not about to go naked into the good day. He had experienced with weapons from his days at the shooting range in town, and he could use a gun right about now. Turning, he put himself right in Simmons?s face and demanded:

?Where?s your security armory??

Meanwhile, in another room that was much larger but not very far away, power to a special cooling system failed. Emergency backup immediately came online. Initial panic among the technicians began to subside. It resumed full-bore when backup power, too, suddenly vanished. Essential readouts were frantically checked, vital monitors scanned. The junction where the flow of backup power had been cut could be located, but could the key failure be repaired in time?

Not if the spidery mechanoid called Frenzy had anything to do with it. Unseen and unchallenged, it roamed through the most sensitive concatenations of circuitry and linkages, snipping cables, frying microchips, and generally wreaking nonstop havoc with the intricate system that maintained the vast room at a specific predetermined temperature.

That room was beginning to warm up.

With the power to them now cut off, clamps and cables holding the huge mechanoid steady and stable in the center of the room began to retract. Some of the technicians began to flee the observation deck, running like mad for the elevators.

Sean Andrews and the others had no time to flee. But the security armory was close by. He felt much better as soon as he was cradling one of the high-tech handheld rocket launchers in his arms. His sister was more than surprised to see him doing so.

?I never really placed you and guns together, you know.? Alissa stated.

?Yeah, well?get used to it, ?cause you?re gonna be packin? yourself.? He said, as he handed a weapon to his bewildered sister who nearly collapsed under its massive weight.

Nearby, Bloo had been holding a gun out of the arsenal himself. ?My dream?s finally becoming a reality! I?m gonna be the most awesomest of awesome road warriors the world has ever seen!? As he was aiming the weapon in all sorts of directions, he soon found it snatched away from his hand by Madame Foster, who grinned confidently as she held it herself.

?Nellis Air Base is fifty miles away,? Keller remembered. ?They can have air support here in ten minutes.?

Frankie had been employing every kind of work-around she knew to try and coax a response from her phone?to no avail. ?Communication?s been out for hours now. And I?m still not getting anything.?

?You wouldn?t get a signal down here even if they were working, Frankie.? Mac said, gesturing upward with an index finger. ?All those football fields? worth of concrete, remember??

Frankie quickly thought of an alternative. Approaching Simmons, she said, ?You gotta take me to my car!? She was doing everything but kicking Simmons in a frantic effort to get the agent?s attention. ?He?ll know what to do with that Cube!?

The agent finally deigned to notice her. ?You nuts?? After asking that, another concussion coursed through the ground under their feet.

Sean Andrews then confronted the agent. ?Listen, I?ve seen what these things can do. If whatever is here now is anything like what we?ve encountered a day ago and they get hold of that Cube?s energy, we?re dead anyway.?

Glaring at both of them, Simmons protested loudly. ?She?s a delinquent! You expect us to believe a??

Grabbing the agent by the front of his jacket, an enraged Sean lifted him off the ground and slammed him up against the wall. Immediately, the Sector Seven agents in the armory drew their weapons, while Madame Foster and Bloo (grabbing another gun off the rack) aimed theirs at the agents. Alissa aimed hers at the agents as well, even though she had no idea why.

Sean?s tone was low and tight, his words careful and distinct. ?Listen to me. I?ve been having a real bad week, so you do not want to test my patience. I?m so ticked off that I?m willing to waste these things without fear or hesitation, and you haven?t got an idea what to do next. So take my friend?s freakin? car!?

The tension in the armory was thick enough to cut with a knife, except that it would have upset the shaky balance of power. Simmons?s expression changed from natural defiance to a resigned sneer as he relaxed in Sean?s grasp. ?All right, sure, why not? Hey, you wanna lay the fate of the world on the goodwill of a girl?s Camaro? That?s cool.?

While the agents and visitors in the lab tried to decide how best to proceed, the now-unclamped and fully defrosted monster in the silo not far away was starting to awaken. Electronic synapses pulsed with renewed energy. Permanently self-lubricating joints began to stir. Enormous limbs ran checks on the condition of their long-dormant extremities. Dark irises expanded. Consciousness was returning to Megatron, and the cosmos would be the worse of it.

Optics began to focus. On the floor and within the observation deck, techs and scientists and maintenance personnel were now fleeing in all directions as they scrambled to reach the nearest exits. Behind them, the first electronic utterance to emerge from the gigantic long-quiescent mechanoid was accomplished with the expenditure of a barely measurable amount of energy.

?INSECTS.?

Contemptuously shaking off the last of the restraints that had held it in place for so many years, the first of the great metal limbs began to move forward.

END OF CHAPTER THIRTEEN

[Big Daddy]

Chapter Fourteen

In a separate containment area, Bumblebee remained secured to an examination slab. Lights of different wavelengths bombarded both the platform and its imprisoned occupant. Mists that had been treated with various chemicals drifted over the struggling subject and were drawn into multiple collection tubes. The venue was loud and unpleasant.

Frankie had to yell at the top of her lungs as the door to the examination area burst open and she rushed in, followed by her companions and the group of armed agents.

?Stop! You gotta let him go!?

Banachek had hurried over to the researcher in charge. Flashing a badge, he nodded in agreement. ?It?s okay, release him. My authority.? The lead researcher relayed the necessary orders.

Study lights winked off and the cloud of sensing gas began to dissipate, sucked away by concealed fans. Bindings and clamps were withdrawn. When the last of them had pulled away, the robot on the rack sat up as Frankie raced over to check on her friend. ?You okay??

The Transformer looked down at the young human. The song that emerged from within the metal body was perfectly appropriate to their reunion.

?Yeah, yeah,? Frankie responded, ?It?s great to see you, too, but listen to me. The Cube?s here, so is Megatron, and we?re pretty sure the Decepticons are coming for both of them!?

Instantly the yellow-and-black robot was on his feet and racing for the access door. With shorter strides and considerably more apprehension, the growing knot of humans and imaginary friends followed. Halfway to the exit, Keller spotted the secret installation?s central research room.

?National Guard radio may still be up and functioning. We can try and get word out over rudimentary frequencies.?

Goo had been listening to the security of defense?s suggestion and considered it. ?No sweat. I?m a natural when it comes to hotwiring some old gear to transmit simple Morse.? While running, the others turned and looked in her direction with odd expressions. ?What? I can hook up an Xbox 360 all by myself, but I can?t do some hotwiring every now and then. I?m smart. Gimme a break.?

?Hey, I?m cool with that.? Sean said. ?Just make contact with Nellis if you can. Get some air support, then when we get wherever we?re going we?ll find some kind of transmitter and Alissa can vector ?em in.?

?I can?? She remarked with surprise.

?Of course. You?ve been specializing in all sorts of technical stuff for years now.? Sean stated. ?You can do it, babe.?

At that moment, the group separated, with Keller, Goo, and Simmons heading for the research room (with Madame Foster tagging along as backup, Mr. Herriman just coming to avoid any more giant robots, and Cheese for no apparent reason at all).

Meanwhile, the group made it to the Cube-holding chamber, where Banachek?s role as leader of Sector Seven came in handy of a hasty handover of command. It was much harder to convince the technicians charged with monitoring the Cube to step back to let an alien robot take control.

Bumblebee reached the Cube. For an instant he hesitated and simply stared. The artifact before him was, after all, the original source of all life energy for his kind. As the robot extended both hands toward the Cube, the ceaseless hum that emanated from it began to rise and fall, to stutter rapidly as it responded to the proximity of a Transformer.

Tendrils of energy suddenly arced between the Cube and Bumblebee?s fingers. Some type of contact had definitely been made, but it was contact of a kind that could never be known to mere humans or imaginary friends. The robot and the Cube were talking with light.

Contact came to an end. There followed a moment of silence that was shocking in its tranquility. Then both Cube and robot began to transform. Frankie, her friends, and the captivated agents looked on as Bumblebee bent and twisted before their eyes, first contorting in upon himself, then thrusting blades of metal out and forward, until finally there was nothing more complex and alien than a simple car.

As for the Cube, it had begun the process of transformation by folding in on itself, sides and glyphs and symbols shrinking and contracting, becoming a steadily reducing succession of concentric squares, until at last it had shrunk to something that was no bigger than a football. Resting in the backseat of the car, it presented an appearance that was both harmless and unimpressive. A seat belt rose up seemingly of its own accord to lash it down. Doors snapped open, and the car?s horn honked anxiously.

END OF CHAPTER FOURTEEN

[Big Daddy]

Chapter Fifteen

There was the usual traffic on the highway leading to Vegas, but not enough to dangerously inhibit the convoy. Flanked in front and behind by the shepherding Sector Seven vehicles, the Camaro purred northward away from the dam and the Colorado River. They were headed for the complex of military bases located just outside the city. Once there, they would be far better equipped to protect the Cube and deal with anything the Decepticons could throw at them.

Inside the Camaro, Mac turned to look into the backseat.

“Is the Cube okay?” Frankie asked him.

“Yeah,” he assured her.

Riding in one of the Sector Seven vehicles, Sean noticed an exotic sports car suddenly appeared in the passing lane and accelerated to slide in beside the Camaro. He couldn’t have been more relieved to see Jazz arrived in time. But he wasn’t alone. Other escorts soon made their appearance. Jazz dropped back behind the Camaro to allow an emergency vehicle to take up a flanking position. Then came the tricked-out black GMC pickup and the blaring eighteen-wheeler.

There being no direct access to the military complex on the other side, the convoy would have to negotiate some of the city’s poorer outskirts before clear access and additional freeway allowed them to enter the air force base. The alternative was going a dangerously long way around.

As they entered an area of the city speckled with small stores and family businesses, Sean directed the driver of his vehicle to pull over and park. While pedestrians gaped at and commented on the decidedly odd mix of vehicles, Sean raced around to the driver’s side of the idling Camaro. Alissa was close on his heels while Frankie looked up at him in confusion.

“Gimme a second to find an old radio!” Sean yelled in at her and Mac. “We need to be able to relay our position.”

Frankie was no military strategist, and she was very surprise to hear Sean talk as if he were one. She figured it had to have been from playing enough games to know how to think that way. “What if no one’s been able to call out our air strike?”

Sean almost grinned at her. “Well, that would suck.”

Mac leaned toward him. “Shouldn’t we keep going toward the air force base on the other side of the city?”

Sean shook his head. “Not good tactics to split up, Mac. Not here. Please, just a minute.”

Frankie was still uncertain. “Where are you gonna find an old radio?”

Sean turned and pointed. Following his lead, Frankie and Mac saw the old pawnshop that had drawn his attention. The barred windows were crammed with an impressive assortment of cast-off junk, some of it fairly recent. That was hardly surprising in a city like Las Vegas, where sometimes it seemed like every other piece of personal property in town had at one time or another been pawned to pay a gambling debt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An agitated Goo was already ripping the back off a computer. Keller joined Simmons in searching for a tool kit (with Cheese offering somewhat of assistance), smoldering equipment—anything that could be used to join wires and unfried microchips. Keller dumped some tools on the table beside Goo, who picked up a small screwdriver as she went to work in earnest on the computer’s interior.

All of the sudden, something slammed into the metal door that led to the access tunnel outside. Everyone stopped what they were doing except Goo.

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear! They’ve found us! They’re coming to destroy us all!” Herriman cried, while hiding beneath a table.

The banging and hammering resumed with precise ferocity. Ignoring it, Goo wired an antenna Simmons had found directly into the hastily revamped guts of the old computer.

Keller and Madame Foster were shoving a heavy cabinet toward the doorway. A portion of the door bent toward the inside and a skinny robotic head and upper body managed to wedge their way through the gap. Swiftly scanning the room to evaluate its contents and occupants, Frenzy flexed its torso.

A trio of silvery discs shot from the robot’s chest. Keller tackled a startled Madame Foster as two of the discs whizzed over her head to rip into books and files. The third disc shot over the keyboard of the computer Goo was modifying, smashing into the computer behind her.

“What is that freaky-lookin’ thing?!” Goo shouted.

“A monster! That's what it is!” Herriman yelled from his hiding place.

Recovering, Simmons stumbled over to a glass case filled with Sector Seven emergency equipment. Pulling out a riot gun and a box of twelve-gauge shells, he handed both to Madame Foster, who had already been equipped with another gun. Simmons took out a small, very portable device whose compact tank was filled with jellied gasoline under pressure.

A flash of sparks caused Goo to flinch back slightly from her work. She was not displeased by the effect. “Hey, I got it! I got it! We can transmit.”

The secretary turned to Goo. “Send exactly what I say. This is Secretary of Defense John Keller calling NORTHCOM. Authenticate emergency response Blackbird one-one-nine-five-Alpha.” For someone used to typing well over a hundred words a minute (as well as speaking as many), it seemed prehistoric to be using only two keys of the keyboard.

Driven back by the heat from Simmons’s miniature flamethrower, Frenzy had been forced to retreat. Now it was back, and the angry pounding on the barrier had resumed. Every time a flailing metal limb tested the opening in the damaged door, Simmons bathed it in fire and it hastily withdrew.

But if the door came down, he had already decided, they would have about thirty seconds in which to kill the thing before it started ripping into them.

END OF CHAPTER FIFTEEN