Revenge of the Fallen by Alan Dean Foster

Author:Alan Dean Foster [Foster, Alan Dean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-8041-8052-8
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2014-06-11T00:00:00+00:00

The pair of huge metal orbs came screaming down from space, tearing through the atmosphere so fast that their arrival barely had time to register on a few scattered monitors and telescopes. Not that anything could have been done to stop them even if their presence had been recognized and their respective vectors plotted sooner. They were moving far too fast.

The first came down over the open Atlantic, but it did not plunge into the dark green waters. It slammed straight into the flight deck of the U.S.S. Lincoln, traveling so fast that no one even saw what had struck the ship. Torn apart by sheer kinetic force, steel, aluminum, alloys, and carbon fiber were shredded like tinfoil. A series of explosions ripped through the guts of the huge vessel, sending planes, equipment, and personnel flying.

Hulled completely through, the carrier began to inhale ocean at a rate no shutting of watertight doors could forestall. Total destruction had overcome it so fast that there had not even been time to sound the Abandon Ship. As the two halves sank beneath the waves, men and women fought to surface, struggling to attach themselves to hastily inflated life rafts, preservers, or anything that might float.

One figure needed no such puny artificial support. Standing on the screws of the rapidly sinking stern of the carrier, Megatron surveyed what he had wrought with cold satisfaction.

Ron Witwicky was holding his wife’s right hand and staring into her eyes when the glasses on their table began to shake. The vibration intensified, spilling her wine and his beer.

“Earthquake?” She eyed him uncertainly.

He was openly doubtful. “In Paris? Never heard of an earthquake in Paris.” The shaking grew worse, and he gripped the sides of the table to keep the remnants of their meal from sliding off. “Never heard of an earthquake in France.” A bright light made him look up and to his left.

The sky was screaming.

Coming in at a much less acute angle, the second metal orb streaked past the Eiffel Tower and without slowing, sheared off the top of a building before splashing into the Seine.

More identifiable screams filled the surrounding streets and shops and cafés as pedestrians and diners surrendered to panic. Cars crashed in the streets as gaping drivers forgot what they were doing to gawk at the destruction. Gendarmes stared, then fumbled for their phones to report that they were witnessing the impossible. The boulevard and side streets began to fill with fleeing, terrified residents and tourists.

Ron grabbed his wife’s hand as they ran from the restaurant. But to where? What might happen next? Was there a safer place to be?

Their hotel. It wasn’t far, just a few blocks around the corner. As good a place as any. In any event, the only place they knew. But the street was packed, and drivers were beginning to accelerate in defiance of every law. Trapped, some motorists started driving on the sidewalks, heedless of the danger this posed to those on foot. Better, Ron decided, to get away from the increasingly treacherous traffic.

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