Less than three hours after the U.S. had suffered heavy losses, they managed to transport the necessary equipment from their base in Qatar. As C-130 Hercules aircraft landed with loads of supplies and over a hundred combat personnel, William squinted at the screen, chuckling coldly.
"Coming in so fast? Looks like they won't stop until they've turned that base inside out."
"Build two Decepticon prototypes on X17," William ordered.
Sunday immediately spoke up in caution. "Sir, I must remind you that we still cannot fully control Decepticon units. Deploying them now could result in irretrievable losses and expose the existence of your off-world base."
"Doesn't matter," William said indifferently. "I'm not planning to recover them. Think of them as disposable war machines."
"Understood, sir. Construction has begun. Estimated completion in two hours."
While William plotted his next move, the U.S. soldiers in the Sahara Desert were busy discussing how to probe the defenses of the mysterious base.
Thirty minutes later, a disc-shaped drone was remotely guided to descend slowly into the base through the breached metal dome.
On a monitor, engineers from Lockheed Martin watched the destruction left behind by bullets and energy blasts with pained expressions.
"All this damage... It's a damn shame," one of the engineers muttered.
However, before he could lament further, the Gatling gun that had previously gunned down four mercenaries suddenly popped out of a metal platform. With a flash of fire and a hail of metal, the drone was instantly shredded to pieces.
"It's that same Gatling gun," a soldier growled. "Use a rocket launcher and blow it up."
Following the order, two American soldiers positioned themselves on the dome's edge, hoisting a rocket launcher. They aimed carefully at the exposed Gatling turret and fired.
With a deafening BOOM, the explosion sent debris flying. As the smoke cleared, the turret's platform sparked wildly, and the Gatling gun itself was thrown a dozen meters away.
"Send a team inside," the on-site commander ordered.
"Wait!" another soldier interjected. "I doubt that's the only turret in there. Let's send another drone in first."
Ignoring the Lockheed Martin representatives nearby, the soldiers quickly deployed a second drone. This time, the drone cautiously hovered around the hangar area, completing several circuits without encountering any further threats.
The commanding officer finally gave the green light for personnel to enter. However, taking no chances, he ordered only two soldiers to rappel into the base for an initial assessment.
The two soldiers touched down and immediately sought cover, cautiously scanning their surroundings. After confirming there were no immediate threats, they radioed back to the surface.
"Try opening the main entrance," the colonel instructed.
"Copy that."
"Wait! Stop right there!" the colonel suddenly shouted through the radio. "Get out of there! Now!"
Without hesitation, the two soldiers sprinted back to the ropes, hooking themselves in. As they were hoisted up, they gave a thumbs-up to the observation team above.
"Colonel, what did you notice?" a Lockheed Martin representative asked, puzzled.
"Damn it... We almost fell for a trap," the colonel said grimly. "Think about it. Those alien robots stormed this base earlier, right? After a battle like that, the doors should either be destroyed or left wide open. But they're closed now. You seriously think the aliens politely shut the doors behind them?"
The room went silent as everyone broke into a cold sweat.
"Maybe the aliens hacked the base systems?" someone suggested hesitantly.
"It's not that simple," the colonel said, shaking his head. "I suspect the base has an automated repair protocol."
"That's impossible!" one of the engineers snapped. "Even if there were repair systems, fixing a reinforced metal door isn't something a handful of machines could do quickly."
"What if it's robots doing the repairs?" the colonel countered.
The mention of robots immediately changed the atmosphere. "Remember, William Devonshire publicly admitted to developing robots. He even said he had fully functional models ready but withheld them out of fear that widespread automation would cause mass unemployment. Do you think someone like him would lie about that?"
No one in the temporary command post dared to disagree. The implications sank in—this wasn't just a tricky problem anymore. Overcoming the base's defenses could require a massive number of troops or equipment, and no commander wanted to be the one to order a costly assault.
The room fell into uneasy silence. The Lockheed Martin representative sighed, muttered an apology, and stepped outside to make a phone call.
Meanwhile, back in his hidden observation room, William, who had been eager to see a few more soldiers meet their end, sighed in disappointment. "How boring..."
For the moment, a fragile peace descended upon the desert. However, on the other side of the Atlantic, tensions boiled over in a high-stakes meeting in New York.
Lockheed Martin and other defense contractors were furious. The Sahara base represented their best chance to acquire spaceship technology, and they knew time was against them.
With William scheduled to return from Mars in a matter of days, the base would either be destroyed or heavily fortified. The window of opportunity was closing fast.
A heated argument erupted, with executives and military advisors shouting at each other.
"Do you seriously think William Devonshire will hesitate to retaliate?" one official warned. "He's already eliminated three high-ranking officials recently. What makes you think he won't target us next?"
"Exactly," another chimed in. "William isn't just some billionaire. If he wanted to, he could wipe us all out and retreat to Mars or the Moon. No one could touch him."
"He wouldn't even need to hide," someone else added darkly. "After dealing with us, all he'd have to do is offer Mars mining rights to Benjamin Arthur and his administration. Plenty of people would cover for him just for a piece of that pie."
The room grew tense as the mention of resource rights ignited greed in the eyes of several attendees. They knew that even within their own ranks, betrayal was a real possibility if the stakes were high enough.
"Obadiah, what's your take?" one executive finally asked.
Obadiah Stane, calmly sipping his drink, shrugged. "What can I say? William Devonshire is a shareholder in my company—owns seven percent, to be exact. But he's never attended a single board meeting or caused any trouble."
Pausing, he glanced meaningfully at a bespectacled, short-statured man across the room. "And let's not forget—William has a track record of wiping out entire families. That's not just a rumor. If he hadn't done it before, our friend Justin Hammer wouldn't be here with us today."
(End of Chapter)
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