Inside the city of Aqaba, next to a public telephone.
Sam, Mikaela, and Leo had draped black cloth over their heads, closely surrounding Simmons as he held the receiver.
"Hey, William," Simmons said, straining his voice as he verified the identity of the person on the other end.
"It's me. Who is this?" a slightly magnetic male voice replied from across the line.
"Thank God..." Simmons let out a long breath, continuing in a riddle-like manner. "Listen closely, William. I once had a gun pointed at my head by you. A cold, unforgiving barrel, right inside a weapons depot."
"And that boy is right next to me now. The one with a lot of... personality."
"We need that truck. You should know exactly what I mean."
"We might have a way to bring that truck back to life, but we need you to transport it here first. The clue to our location is on the back of a one-dollar bill. It features a pharaoh and a pyramid."
"Airdrop that truck right here. We'll be waiting for you."
"And remember, make it quick. Those giant metal freaks have already spotted us!"
Diego Garcia, NEST Base.
Hanging up the phone, William immediately relayed the location clue he had just received to a nearby soldier. "Look this up!"
"Yes, sir."
A short while later, a soldier approached to report, "Colonel William, the coordinates are 29.5 degrees North, 34.88 degrees East."
"It's Egypt," Robert reminded William. "A strategic point on the Red Sea, right at the terminus of the Gulf of Aqaba."
"Listen, I've got an idea," William pulled Robert aside. He glanced left and right, ensuring no one was paying attention before whispering, "I intend to secretly transport Optimus to this location."
"Across half the globe?" Robert asked in disbelief. "Why? Have you lost your mind?"
"No, I haven't," William shook his head. "Robert, you have no idea who just called me."
"Who?"
William lowered his voice further. "The former director of Sector 7, Simmons. He's currently with the boy."
"It's him?" Robert looked startled. "Even if we can actually get Optimus there, can that boy really bring him back to life?"
"I don't know, but we have to trust him. Don't forget, Optimus sacrificed himself to save that kid."
"Alright, William," Robert stopped questioning him. "As long as you can navigate our current predicament, I'm with you, even as the deputy commander of NEST."
"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," William looked earnestly at his comrade, a brother-in-arms who had stood by his side through countless battles. "Just as you said this afternoon, the world is standing on the edge of a blade. We have to do something."
"It's certainly better than just rotting away in this miserable place, isn't it?"
"You're right, William."
William placed a call to his direct superior at NEST, Secretary John Keller. Through an appeal to reason and raw emotion, he finally persuaded Keller to agree to what was undeniably a massive gamble.
If they won, they would unite with the Autobots to defend their homeland.
If they lost... well, if they lost, there would be no need to worry about the consequences anyway.
Of course, William omitted any mention of Sam to Keller. After enduring the sudden order to stand down, his strategic awareness in certain matters had sharpened significantly.
"Mr. Advisor, we meet again."
Greeting Galloway for the third time, William forced a polite opening despite his internal displeasure. Although the Secretary had approved his request, it came with a condition: the President's personal advisor, Galloway, would be accompanying the deployment.
William knew the administration didn't fully trust the Autobots and had sent an observer who couldn't be easily ignored. While they didn't need to roll out the red carpet, they at least had to keep him from micromanaging and causing a mess. A layman directing experts was always a disaster, especially in theater.
"When do we deploy, Colonel?" Galloway asked expressionlessly, offering William no warmth whatsoever.
Every visit to this command post meant a previous directive had been overturned. He had every reason to be in a foul mood. Just days ago, he had delivered the order to disband NEST and wait, and now he was personally tracking them into active field deployment. It was the definition of shifting policies.
In truth, Galloway hadn't wanted to come at all. He lived a comfortable, sheltered life in an executive office; trailing a group of grunts into a black-ops environment was far below his station. Unfortunately, he was the only asset under President Mitchell who had direct operational experience with NEST, so the burden fell to him.
"Mr. Advisor, I plan for us to depart tonight."
As William spoke, he glanced at the evening sky. The setting sun bled across the horizon like open crimson, a grim omen for the peril that awaited them.
"Tonight?" Galloway looked perplexed. "While I maintain absolute faith in our Air Force, if time is of the essence, why aren't we wheels-up immediately?"
"If we charted a different vector, we could easily keep pace with the sun."
"It doesn't work that way, Mr. Advisor," William shook his head, explaining patiently. "We have to factor in the Decepticons. The dark is our natural camouflage; it's the only way to effectively mask our signature."
"Fine, it's your call," Galloway adjusted his ever-present corporate suit and pulled a thick stack of newspapers from his briefcase. He had prepared them specifically to ward off boredom during the flight.
On the airfield tarmac, the chassis of Optimus Prime was being towed toward the gaping hold of a heavy transport plane.
"Twenty-one hundred hours! Slow it down!"
William personally directed the transport hitch. To minimize their radar profile for this run, he only intended to use two Globemasters. One would carry Optimus Prime's frame and his primary strike team, while the second would transport Ironhide, Sideswipe, and the other Autobots.
"Gear check! All personnel, mount up!"
As the last traces of daylight slipped beneath the western horizon, fully kitted soldiers trotted up the loading ramps, taking their positions along the cargo bay walls. Resting silently in the center of the primary hold was the massive, lifeless form of Optimus Prime, secured tightly to the deck.
"Alright, let's move!"
With all checks finalized, the two massive transports roared down the runway and pierced the night sky.
Following a grueling overnight flight, the two aircraft reached their destination at precisely ten o'clock the following morning.
"Alright, people!" William emerged from the cockpit, grabbing his rifle. "We've reached the drop zone. Prepare for a high-altitude jump."
"What? A jump?"
Galloway, who had been flipping through his newspapers, froze. He looked down at his pristine suit, then at the soldiers who were already strapping into their parachute rigs.
"Hold on a minute!" Galloway threw his papers aside and scrambled over to William. "Why are we jumping? Nobody briefed me on this! Are you hazing me, Colonel?"
"Of course not, Mr. Advisor," William took a deployment pack from Robert and began fastening it onto Galloway without giving him room to protest. "Ever used a military rig before?"
"Of course I haven't!" Galloway's usual overbearing arrogance vanished, replaced for the first time by sheer panic. "I have never jumped out of an airplane in my life!"
"Congratulations, you're about to cross that off your bucket list," Robert remarked, flashing a wide grin that carried more than a hint of dark satisfaction.
"Wait a minute, are you the one orchestrating this behind my back? You expect us to just throw ourselves into the sky?"
"What are you saying?" William adjusted the harness clips around Galloway's waist. "There isn't a safe landing strip down there. This is standard protocol."
"Just as you always like to say, I'm simply following orders."
The two massive Globemasters shed altitude, circling over a wide expanse of desert as the tail ramps began to grind open, letting in a howling gale.
"Come on, sir, step up to the edge," William guided a trembling Galloway toward the open ramp.
"No, no, no!"
The reality of the drop had completely shattered Galloway's composure; he fought the harness, refusing to take another step. "I have a question! Why aren't you wearing a parachute?"
"I have to ensure our most vital asset deploys first. And without a doubt, sir, you're the highest-ranking official on this bird."
William secured his grip on Galloway's rig, shouting over the wind, "Alright, listen closely to my next words! Every chute has an integrated locator beacon to assist search and recovery if things go south."
"There's a deployment cord right by your harness. If you pull that cord hard, it will—"
"It will what?" Galloway asked blankly, his fingers wrapping around a blue deployment loop.
William subtly took two steps back. "It will release the main pilot chute deployment bag..."
SHWREEE—
"AAAAAH!!"
The white pilot chute blossomed instantly into the howling slipstream, the violent drag yanked Galloway clean out of the cargo bay in a fraction of a second.
"Well, that keeps him from breathing down our necks for the rest of the drop. Did he say goodbye, by the way?" Robert asked, walking up to the edge.
"No, he didn't quite get the chance."
"Wow, how unprofessional."
William kept his eyes locked on the descending white canopy until it shrunk into a microscopic speck against the sand. He turned back to his team. "Alright, everyone, our scout has cleared the zone."
"The ground is clear. Drop Optimus first."
Thirty kilometers outside of Aqaba, dozens of white canopies fluttered down from the sky, drifting toward the desert floor—among them were several massive, metallic titans.
An insertion of this scale immediately triggered an alert on a Decepticon orbital surveillance asset that had just completed its sweep over Egypt. Within moments, a convoy that had just departed the outskirts of Aqaba was also captured by the satellite's lenses.
[Lord Megatron, the boy's position has been established.]
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