Über die Autorinnen und Autoren

Hasbro, Inc. is a branded play company providing children and families around the world with a wide-range of immersive entertainment offerings based on the Company's world class brand portfolio. From toys and games, to television programming, motion pictures, video games and a comprehensive licensing program, Hasbro strives to delight its customers through the strategic leveraging of well-known and beloved brands such as TRANSFORMERS, LITTLEST PET SHOP, NERF, PLAYSKOOL, MY LITTLE PONY, G.I. JOE, MAGIC: THE GATHERING and MONOPOLY.

Hasbro, Inc. is a branded play company providing children and families around the world with a wide-range of immersive entertainment offerings based on the Company's world class brand portfolio. From toys and games, to television programming, motion pictures, video games and a comprehensive licensing program, Hasbro strives to delight its customers through the strategic leveraging of well-known and beloved brands such as TRANSFORMERS, LITTLEST PET SHOP, NERF, PLAYSKOOL, MY LITTLE PONY, G.I. JOE, MAGIC: THE GATHERING and MONOPOLY.

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Transformers Classified: Switching Gears

By Windham, Ryder

Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

Copyright © 2011 Windham, Ryder
All right reserved.
ISBN: 9780316186339

Chapter One

INITIAL ASSAULT

The three robots ignored the large metal signs that said RESTRICTED AREA. NO TRESPASSING. PHOTOGRAPHY PROHIBITED. The signs had been posted along the road so they could be read clearly by humans driving across the Nevada desert, but they didn’t have the same impact for walking robots who stood more than thirty feet tall. Even if the robots had bothered to read the signs, they had no interest in stopping or turning back. When they left the road that evening, crushing the signs beneath their massive feet, they were determined to reach their destination.

As for photography, none of them had any interest in that, either.

“I’m just itching to test my new gun arm,” said Tracer, a robot armored in sky-blue plating. Without breaking his stride, he flexed his right arm and his blunt metal fingers slid back to rearrange themselves around his wrist, revealing his built-in wide-barreled cannon.

“You call that a gun arm?” challenged Bombshock, whose highly reflective armor was dark green. “Check this out.” Bombshock threw both of his bulky arms forward, and they rapidly shifted into missile launchers.

“We’ll all get to use our weapons soon enough,” chided the third robot, Dropshot, who was clad in gunmetal armor with white streaks and spoke in a grinding metallic voice. “After we’re done with this job, you can compare firepower all night long. But right now, I’m telling both of you to keep your jaws closed and your eyes open.”

Clenching his metal jaws tightly, Tracer mumbled, “ ’S hard to tok wid yer jawz closed.”

Without moving his metal lips at all, Bombshock replied clearly, “That’s okay. I can understand you.”

“Shut up and walk!” Dropshot growled.

Dropshot, Bombshock, and Tracer were Decepticons, living beings from the planet Cybertron and followers of the ruthless Megatron. Their longtime enemies were another Cybertronian faction, the Autobots, who were led by Optimus Prime. Since arriving on Earth, the Decepticons had also managed to become the enemies of all human military forces.

The three Decepticons lurched forward, continuing onto the Nevada Test and Training Range, one of the largest Air Force facilities in the United States. The vast grounds contained several air bases, and the trio were heading for one in particular. They were so confident about their mission that they didn’t care about the trail of large footprints they were leaving behind, or about the series of thin trip wires that stretched a few inches off the ground ahead of them. Even after their feet swept through the trip wires, they just kept walking.

Just beyond the end of a long airfield, a young airman stationed inside a wooden guard shack that had been painted white saw a light flashing on his security console. He looked closer at the monitor and saw a winking red line, which indicated that someone or something had just broken one of the many trip wires along the air base’s perimeter. Noting the location of the broken trip wire, he grabbed his night-vision binoculars and stepped outside the shack to see if he could spot the trespasser. He began raising his binoculars to his eyes as he looked to the north. Seeing huge, hulking forms silhouetted against the sky about a half mile from his position, he realized he didn’t need binoculars after all. He needed help.

Like most Air Force personnel, the airman was acutely aware that alien robots had arrived on Earth and that they could disguise themselves as ordinary cars, trucks, planes, and other vehicles. The aliens’ ability to shift and change physical form down to every minute detail, creating vehicle and weapons forms, led some humans to call them Transformers, but most people who saw all the walking metal simply referred to them as giant robots.

Some robots were friendly, but others hated humans. The military worked in partnership with a few, but they had also engaged in recent deadly battles with others. Because the airman had not been notified about any robots visiting the airfield, he had to assume these three were hostile.

Keeping his eyes on the approaching forms, the airman tapped his headset and said, “Cactus station nine to base. I’ve got a visual on three giant robots approaching from the north. I repeat, three giant robots approaching from the north.”

A siren began blaring behind the airman. Then he heard a familiar noise of engines. He glanced back and saw the headlights of armored personnel carriers moving past the blinking lights of the airfield, and then a trio of F-22 fighter planes buzzed above him, heading north. Keeping his eyes fixed on the fighters, he turned his head to watch them race toward the approaching robots.

The first F-22 opened fire, launching a missile that streaked toward the lead intruder. The robot shifted his massive upper body with surprising speed to dodge the missile, which sped past him and grazed the leg of one of his companions before it traveled an additional five hundred feet and smashed into the ground. The F-22s had already peeled away from the robots when the missile detonated. The power of the blast was close enough that the airman felt the shock wave, which sent him stumbling backward into the door of his guard post.

When the airman recovered, he looked back and saw that the robot who’d been struck was down on one knee. The robot was close enough that the airman could see he was green. The airman watched the other two robots turn their huge heads to look back at their fallen comrade while they continued walking. The green robot rose, tested his leg, and then moved after the others to rejoin them as they continued their steady march toward the airfield.

“Cactus station nine to base!” the airman shouted into his headset. “Strike unsuccessful! Repeat, strike unsuccessful! They’re still coming!” Knowing that the metal giants would not have any difficulty reducing the guard shack to splinters, the airman ran for cover.

Dropshot paused to scan the night sky, then raised one long metal arm. His fist blossomed into a fireball of energy that launched into the darkness. The brilliant projectile streaked toward the jet fighter that had struck Bombshock. Dropshot leered with pleasure as the projectile struck its mark and blew it out of the sky.

The two remaining jets veered away from the explosion. Bombshock adjusted his targeting sensors as he raised his arms and crossed them in front of his armored chest, then fired two heat-seeking missiles to the left and right. The missiles zipped through the night sky, racing after the fleeing jet fighters. A moment later, two explosions rained shattered pieces down upon the desert.

“I hate organic life-forms,” Dropshot muttered.

“Nice shooting, Bombshock,” Tracer said.

Bombshock chuckled. “Swatting insects is fun!” Seeing human soldiers approaching from the air base, he said, “Oh, good! Here come more!”

“Let’s move,” Dropshot said. “Remember, those organics aren’t the only ones watching us.” The machines lowered their arms and continued to the base.

Far away from the battle in the...