PROJECT EXCALIBUR: A CALL TO ARMS



By Matt TALON Kirkby

    "...and continue to bring the automated assembly lines into service as quickly as possible, Doctor Morgan. Talk to Doctor Swanford about speeding up his areas of research as well. We're going to need every fully functional bodyshell we can get brought into service as quickly as possible if we're going to win this war."
    "Certainly, Director." Jessica Morgan paused to brush a lock of reddish hair from her eyes. "I'll have Gregory send out work orders and shell schematics to the other factories immediately."
    "Triple encrypt them, Jessica."
    "Of course."
    "And send the orders and schematics via personal courier. Do not broadcast them under any circumstance. We don't know how thoroughly the Decepticons are monitoring our communications... but I think we can be fairly certain they will be monitoring some of them."
    "Of course, Director." Jessica Morgan nodded, then turned to one of her own staff who was trailing along behind them.
    Standing near the doorway, Matthew Kirkby smiled with pleased satisfaction as scientists and techs from Blackrock Enterprises, plus some of the top people from Microcosm Software and CyberTech Industries, scurried away from the head of the department and returned to computers and consoles. It was nice to see other people jump at his orders...a nice step up from smuggling stolen technology. Lots more profit for less work, and less chance of being found out. And the facility itself-codenamed Camelot-was state-of-the-art with equipment rumored to still be theoretical. But then he expected no less from Blackrock Enterprises.
    "Sir?" a soft voice asked from behind him.
    Kirkby turned, "Yes, Gwen?" He eyed his young secretary appreciatively. "What is it?" Beautiful and skilled-a perfect combination.
    The red-head deliberately ignored his appraising look by consulting her handheld comp-pad. "The volunteer response and training schedules have been downloaded to your private files, as you requested. Mister Blackrock would like you to give him an update on the Project before Friday. Stevenson wants to meet with you to discuss Camelot's security-he's clashing with the military liaison, as usual." She paused. "Plus, you have a priority vid-call to General Edwards scheduled for two o'clock this afternoon."
    "Thank you, Gwen." He paused to eye her again, grinning at the slight frown thinning her normally full lips. "I fear that I would be completely lost without you, you know." With that, he left the computer center and the busy scientists.
    Gwen sighed. Then, noticing the stare she was receiving from Doctor Morgan, she blushed and hurried into the hallway.
    Returning to his private office-located deep in a hardened subsurface portion of Camelot-Kirkby personally accessed the desktop vid-phons... Getting an outride line to General Edwards's current location required his input of five passcodes, obtaining two satellite up-links, and a total of nearly twenty minutes of waiting.
    "Yes?" General Doug Edwards snapped as his face finally appeared on the small screen. "Spill it! I'm a very busy man... there's a war on." His face filled most of the screen, and the background-a drab grey wall - gave no clues as to his current location.
    "Thank you for telling me that," Kirkby replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I had wondered just why I was building so many war toys. I thought perhaps we were having a parade."
    "Not over an open channel!" Edwards snapped, his expression darkening even more. "Is this line secure?"
    Kirkby shrugged. "As well as it can be." He smirked as he added: "Security is supposed to be among your concerns."
    Edwards frowned, but let the comment pass without comment. "I suggest that you refrain from stating any specifics during this conversation."
    "Fine." The General really had no idea just how used he was to making clandestine conversations-though this call had required far more precautions than his usual calls to Stone. "The Project is proceeding as planned, General. The first of our battle units should be on-line within ninety-six hours. Additional units will be activated as quickly as possible...my teams figure on an additional thirty-two hours before the first reinforcement squads will be ready."
    "About what my aides have figured," Edwards nodded. "Speed it up however you can." His face darkened. "These machines are trouncing us...they have forces less than two hundred kilometers north of your location. Looks like they're going after Sudbury though-probably after the mines and smelters-and not you. Not yet anyway. We're rerouting troops to try and slow them down, but it's not hopeful. Our only chance of success-" his voice trailed off for a moment as an aide bent over to whisper into his ear. "Major Fairbourne will liaison with you shortly...she'11 help you obtain whatever additional resources and supplies your team requires." His voice had lost some of its emotion. "The Council has given you carte blanche for this Project."
    "I am well aware of that. But even so, I am less-"
    "You've got better access to supplies than my front-line troops, Director. I suggest you make efficient use of them."
    That threat was scarcely veiled, but Kirkby wasn't scared. "I know the importance of a successful outcome to this conflict, General." Now to crack the whip. "I must get back to my work. I'll contact you later with another update."
    "Use secondary channels...Edwards out." The screen went dark.
    "Ah, the military mind," Kirkby mused as he deactivated the com-system. "So very limited when applied to another field." Chuckling, he accessed his computer…Gwen had downloaded the test data exactly like he'd requested. She'd even run a few preliminary comparisons! Clever girl. Results from the testing of the numerous volunteers scrolled across the monitor...lots of results.
    He had to shake his head in amusement. For sometime now, applicants from all over the planet had been visiting Blackrock-sponsered research centers, to be linked into top-line simulators to see how they would handle being bonded with TransFormer-based bodyshells...the current results seemed to hover around one out of every five applicants as being suitable, which was still an impressive number of potential HeadMasters. The original plan had been to design a low-level bonding to give Humans control of TransFormer-sized bodies for use in construction and mining work in space or underwater, and for jobs in dangerous environments. Not true sentient HeadMasters, but mere drones under the complete control of their Human master.
    And now that technology could prove to be Earth's salvation.
    Kirkby's blue eyes lifted from the monitor to stare grimly at a monitor on the wall. Purple dots speckled a map of the Earth's surface…every dot pinpointed a Decepticon attack in this recent campaign.
    There were a bloody awful lot of purple dots.
    "Director?"
    Jolted out of his thoughts, he turned towards the open door. "Yes, Gwen?" he asked, his voice calm, his thoughts masked.
    His secretary walked forward-using that trademark wiggle of hers-and set a steaming cup onto the desk, "You have vid-call on channel five. The caller is refusing to provide his name however. He claims his business with you is urgent though." She sounded miffed. "Shall I hang up on him?"
    "No, I'll take it. Thanks." He picked up the herbal tea and inhaled, feeling it relax him. "Smells almost as lovely as you, Gwen."
    Gwen giggled, "Keep talking like that and I'll have to have you up on charges," she teased. "Modern day assistants aren't supposed to accept talk like that."
    "But you love it," Kirkby countered. He kept smiling until the door had closed behind Gwen-her walk was even better when viewed from behind, and that dress did interesting things to her trademark wiggle--then he set the half-empty teacup back onto his desk. His mysterious caller could only be one person: "Mister Stone," he said as the vid-phone screen lit up, "what can I do for you today?"
    The man sat shrouded-as always-in shadows. "Well, Kirkby?" he replied in his whisper-soft voice. "I trust things are going well for you, out there at Camelot? You're certainly moving in rarified heights right now."
    Kirkby frowned. "How did you-"
    "Never mind that. It's been over a week since you promised me some top-line Transformer tech." He paused for a moment. "So...do you have my delivery ready for me yet?"
    "No, it'll be another ninety-six hours at least."
    "I see." Sounding a little disappointed, Stone reached for a control on his desk.
    Kirkby gnawed on his lower lip. "Stone, I'm no longer sure about our...deal."
    "Oh?" It was as impossible to read the exact emotion in that one word as it was to see the expression on Stone's face.
    "Do you have access to the military picture?"
    "Of course," Stone sounded amused by the question. "I know a great many things about the current situation, Director."
    Kirkby ignored the mocking way Stone pronounced his title. "Then you know that Decepticons are rampaging virtually unchecked across the planet. This Project is the only hope for-"
    "Excalibur's success will hardly be affected by the results of our little deal. It will actually be enhanced!" That boast --so unusual for Stone-hung in the air. "I am confident that my small alterations to the Project will ensure the best outcome for the planet. Victory-and victory is all that need concern us- will see an Earth free of TransFormers...forever." He paused before adding: "One way or another."
    "You sound confident," Kirkby replied suspiciously. He disliked deals being altered as casually his partner often did.
    "I am." Again Stone reached for the vid-controls.
    "I'm getting tired of our working in shadows," Kirkby told him. "After this deal, I want to meet you in person."
    "I don't think so."
    "Afraid of something, Mister Stone?"
    The profile shook as Stone chuckled. "Security remains an important concern for me, Kirkby. I am an important man and simply cannot spare the effort right now for a meeting. The Decepticons are taxing my security resources, just like those of everyone else."
    "Always some good excuse." Kirkby understood the need for security as well as anyone-better than most considering his usual line of work-but Stone's reliance on security bordered on paranoia.
    "Enough of this chatter. I have no time. Director, concern yourself with running your precious Project, and limit your thoughts about me to seeing about providing me with some of that TransFormer tech you promised me earlier. 'My own private army’ you claimed, did you not?" He paused for a moment. "And forget about these second thoughts. This is no time for an attack of conscience." The vid-screen went dark with grim finality.
    Staring at the dark screen, Kirkby swallowed the rest of his now-cold tea.

    G,B. Blackrock left his private office-unable to continue simply sitting and staring through the armored windows at the distant horizon, waiting for the first Decepticons to appear on it-and took an elevator down to his 'public' office.
    Unlike his private penthouse office-where he spent far more time simply thinking than actually running his global business empire-the other was on the ground floor of the facility and geared for meetings with both his Human and Autobot associates.
    As he walked across the carpeting towards the well-stocked bar, he noticed but didn't consciously register the four silent mechanoids sitting in some of the TransFormer-sized chairs until he had almost reached the bar. Then his eyes bulged and his dry mouth worked a few times without making any sound. Finally he managed to ask: "Who are you guys?" His eyes noted the red emblem each wore, and he relaxed somewhat.
    "We're the GoBots, Mister Blackrock. This is Firecracker, that is Blowout and Double Clutch, and I am called Motormouth." The speaker held out a hand in the native fashion-he figured the Human would just shake his finger-but the Human was too shaken to accept it. "We're here as advance scouts," he continued. "Our commander told us that we should contact you in the course of our mission here."
    Blackrock sighed aloud and collapsed into one of the padded chairs. "Please tell me that Ultra Magnus is currently sending reinforcements to Earth!"
    The Autobots exchanged troubled looks.
    "What is it?" Blackrock demanded. He'd caught their looks and his heart trembled.
    "Ultra Magnus was killed on Cybertron," Motormouth said after a long, uncomfortable moment of silence. "A Decepticon attack, timed to strike while our attention was focused on Earth."
    Blackrock slumped deeper into his chair. "Oh, dear God!" he moaned softly.
    "What can you tell us?" Firecracker prompted. "We were sent here to gather intelligence on-"
    "Please, give the Human time to accept-"
    "What about Optimus Prime?" Blowout interrupted. "Where is he?"
    "Dead," Blackrock said dully. His mind was still focused on the unexpected news of Ultra Magnu's death. "Galvatron killed him back in Autobot City."
    "That can't be!"
    "Optimus Prime can't be dead!"
    "You're wrong, Human. It's a mistake. It must be. Just an easily explained case of mistaken identity. You see, Optimus Prime is a tall red and blue mech-"
    Blackrock sighed. "It's no mistake," he told them, "I've seen photos of his body." He looked at his Autobot guests sadly, though his expression suddenly seemed more interested. "Hey, who is leading the Autobots now? When can we expect to get some kind of reinforcements?"
    "That could be difficult to say," DoubleClutch admitted.
    "We don't really have a firm leader right now."
    "Grid Iron is in charge of our base," Firecracker told him. "Bumblebee has some rank, as does Nightbeat, Hosehead has much potential, but no one has been in contact with him for several days now."
    "What about Prowl?" Blackrock interrupted. "Or Perceptor?"
    "They're still missing." Motormouth shrugged. "Since the destruction of Autobot City and the Cybertron disaster, we're all kind of distracted right now. I'm sure that once we catch our breath, as you Humans say, then we'll get a counterattack mounted and save you."
    Blackrock felt hope departing him. "So Earth is on its own?"
    "For now."
    "At least until we can-"
    "Don't lie to the Human, Motormouth, his race deserves to know the full extent of the current situation."
    Blackrock stared at his guests. "What situation?" His thought's suddenly focused on their earlier statement about Ultra Magnus and his face paled. "No! You can't mean that-"
    "The Decepticons have driven us from Cybertron," Blowout nodded grimly. "It was a full-scale attack from bases hidden on two of the moons...we Autobots were routed in total disarray. Heavy casualties in the battle, and in the forced retreat. A real massacre." He shook his head. "We've regrouped at a secret base-I'm sorry, but we can't tell you where it is-and we four- plus two other comrades-were sent here to gather information and try to contact Optimus Prime and the others here." He shrugged, "None of us knew just how bad it was. For the Decepticons to have attacked both planets at once...."
    "And now that Cybertron has been attacked by a second group of TransFormars, things are even worse." Motormouth shook his head grimly as Blackrock looked questioningly at him. "Our info on them is still sketchy, just a few reports from Autobots still free but now trapped on Cybertron, and a handful of intercepted Decepticon transmissions. The 'Disciples' proclaim their loyalty to Primus, yet appear to be utterly ruthless in battle against their enemies-and they count anyone who opposes their version of Primus's will as an enemy-and are extremely powerful."
    "And that makes any survivors of the Decepticon invasion even worse off now," DoubleClutch muttered.
    "At least they're not allied to Galvatron or Shockwave," Blowout countered. "Those few reports between Decepticon units that we've intercepted indicate the Decepticons are taking heavy losses from fighting them…no matter what we think about the Decepticons, they are fighters to the end."
    "Yes, but neither invader is good news for us," Motormouth reminded them, "Whichever side wins, we Autobots are still screwed."
    "And with Megatron back in charge of things here-" Blackrock began.
    "Megatron?" DoubleClutch gasped.
    "I told you that news broadcast said 'Megatron’," Blowout crowed. "But oh no, you wouldn't believe me. 'A misheard word,' you said. Well, I was-"
    "Be quiet!" Motormouth snapped.
    Blackrock spoke up, "Can't you guys-"
    "We must go and report this news back to Grid Iron at once." Firecracker's comment cut off all other conversation. "I am sorry, Mister Blackrock, but Earth will have to wait for a while longer...we just don't have the resources right now-"
    "But later will be too late!" Blackrock followed the four Autobots towards the door as they stood up and walked across the carpet. "The Decepticons are-"
    Motormouth shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry...there's just nothing we can do right now. We'll come back as soon as we can." With a surge of blinding light, each of the four mechanoids vanished into nothingness.
    "I've not seen that trick before," Blackrock muttered-even now he was interested in new technologies-then sighed loudly. "If they can do that, then surely they could do something..." Shaking his head, Blackrock walked back into his office. He poured himself a stiff drink from a bottle and, after downing it in one swallow, he activated the vid-phone. "Buster?" he asked, "Can you come to my office? We've got an even more serious problem on our hands than we had even feared." He cut the line, paused for a moment of thought, and then poured himself another drink.
    He didn't put the cap back onto the bottle.