eugenesis-text

glimpse of the Other Side. Another world had been superimposed onto the landscape, like cinefilm on a
whitewashed wall.
‘I programmed the other half to materialise next to the Jekka amphitheatre, a few miles from Helios,’
said Wheeljack. ‘The power surge alone should get Prowl’s attention.’
‘Then what He sends reinforcements’ Mainframe looked at the chronometer on his wrist. ‘Isn’t that
a bit of a long shot’
‘Yep. Got any better ideas’
Rodern stopped playing with the crosshairs (what next, he thought: a head shot or a full-on body
blow) and frowned as he saw the Space Bridge. 'They’ve activated some sort of portal,’ he whispered, half
to himself. ‘They’re trying to escape! How long before we’re recharged’
‘Right about… now.’
The second blast sliced through Metroplex’s midriff like a bullet through rice paper. A column of fire
spewed from his stomach and he crumbled, hugging the hole.
‘They’re killing him!’ said Centurion. ‘Do something, Wheeljack!’
Wheeljack leant into a microphone. ‘Metroplex, it’s me. I know that you’re in pain. I’m going to
make it stop.’
The room shook as a dozen Tridents dumped their payload into Metroplex’s open wound.
‘The Space Bridge has materialised, co-ordinates 050900. I want you to head towards it, Metroplex.
Start walking towards it now.’
Metroplex did as he was told. He walked. He was slower than usual, and the sunlight speared his
body, and the Tridents picked at the gristle, but he walked. The Space Bridge, meanwhile, was smudged at
the edges and losing focus. Cybertron was growing pale and emaciated.
The Enslaver turned forty-five degrees in preparation for the next shot.
‘Ignore the Quintessons,’ said Wheeljack calmly, ‘and keep moving.’
Metroplex’s placed his boot on the lip of the Bridge.
Rodern fired.
The laser snapped Metroplex clean in half. Smeared with flame and blissfully off-line, his upper body
toppled headfirst into Cybertronian airspace and crashed into the Rust Sea. When the Space Bridge
disintegrated all that was left behind were the giant’s legs. They looked like twin tower blocks, bone-white
and derelict, as if they had been there for decades.
For Metroplex, the war was over.
Soundwave strode towards Darkmount’s communications centre, admiring himself in the mirrored
floor. He liked the way the overheads laced his face with gossamer, the way his shadow fattened him out.
Yes, it was good to be in command again.
The culmination of his second term of office (2008-2009, after a few months in the mid-’80s) had
seen the Decepticons claw back quadrants of Cybertron that Shockwave had once deemed irretrievable:
Ibex, Korten, Vasc, Londor, Tene: all but one of the main Autobot city-states had fallen while he was in
charge. Without Galvatron’s rampant paranoia (two hundred innocent Decepticons murdered for taking
part in non-existent plots to spike his energon) and Shockwave’s fragile, house-of-cards strategies (sixty days
trying to push an 87% success projection up to 88%) the army had grown robust and confident…
Conquering Cybertron would have been but the first step.
Oh, and they had come so close… as always, Iacon was the last remaining stronghold (he often
thought the Autobots would sacrifice all of Cybertron to hold onto their capital). By late December 2008
he was ready to launch the decisive attack. Iacon’s weak points were mapped and memorised and the army
was carved into regiments. Even the Primal Prophecies seemed to be on his side, speaking of ‘the great
apocalypse’. He’d taken the Terrorcons to Earth to siphon the energon needed to power the Detonator