eugenesis-text

‘Okay. You win.’ Nightbeat rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling, which was thick with dead
bodies. ‘I’ve had enough of your proselytising. If you’re going to kill me, do it now. Just no more
conversation.’
Guardian cocked his head. An array of slicers and serrators sprung from his fingertips and he pushed
them timidly towards Nightbeat’s face, suspicious.
‘Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Aren’t you going to read me my Last Rites’
Guardian froze, and his head fell off his shoulders. It hit the floor with a dull thud.
And there he was, standing over the decapitated droid, holding a piece of jagged piping and looking
mildly annoyed.
Nightbeat passed out.
‘All squads assume defensive positions! A to F, man the perimeter as planned! Back-up teams reinforce
the supply lines. I want it tight and tidy: no distractions! Air Corps stay inside - you launch on my signal!
No one breaks cover!’
Prowl took corner after corner, smashed by strobes, decibel-deafened as the klaxons came and went.
He barked orders as he ran, practically chewing his wrist communicator. His words bounced back at him
through the tangled Tannoy, a steady echo that matched him step for step, vowel for vowel.
‘Squads G to M assume priority positions on the artillery deck! I want you ready with blanket fire if
needed! I want all rec ‘n’ research rooms shut and sealed, I want every troop route lined with hi-ex, and I
want every Autobot who can hold a gun—’
‘—to fall into fight-formation and get to their assigned area - NOW!’
Rev-Tone started pulling wires from his engen regulators. ‘You heard him: “Every Autobot who can
hold a gun.”’ Fresh pain studded a system he thought had healed, a system that had grown used to detoxshots
and joint-relaxants. The ward wobbled as he touched toes with the floor.
‘Squads N to Z fall into back-up formation and chain gang the proton packs! Scouts and surface sentries
regroup—’
Ammo frowned. ‘First Aid won’t discharge you in that condition, Rev.’
‘He’s right, you know,’ said Red Alert, hidden between medical equipment the size of monster
trucks. ‘We’re no use to anyone out there.’ There was a low mumble of consent: the other patients felt
more comfortable siding with a member of High Command.
‘—designated ammo carriers! Prepare to repel the first assault in six point eight two minutes, I repeat—’
Rev-Tone rubbed his temples and counted at least six-dozen servo-failures. ‘I can’t believe I’m
hearing this! The Quintessons are invading! An extra soldier is an extra soldier!’
‘What’s going on in here Rev-Tone! Sit down!’
Everyone watched First Aid stride down the aisle, Search and Rescue trailing behind him.
‘—point eight two minutes! Head for your squadron leader on reaching ground level and clear bandwidth for inter-
Autobot updates! Remember that—’
First Aid nodded to the throbbing speaker. ‘Somebody switch Prowl off.’
‘But the Quintessons!’ pleaded Rev-Tone, fighting off Rescue’s attempts to hook him back up to the
slab. ‘We can’t hide down here while the others are getting slaughtered!’
‘Some of us have no choice,’ said Red Alert.
‘If I thought that any of you were capable of walking from here to Autobase and then engaging in
frontline combat, I would have discharged you days ago.’ First Aid turned on his toes as he spoke, making
eye contact with every patient. ‘As it is, anyone who makes that walk will be dead before they reach
halfway. You weren’t even fit for the troop inspection, Rev-Tone, and yet now you want to wade into
battle No. No way.’
Rescue took the punch on the chin as a signal to back off. Rev-Tone stood up with as much dignity
as he could muster. ‘I hear what you’re saying, doc. But as long as I can stand up, as long as I can pull a
trigger, I am going outside to fight. You can’t hold me here against my will.’
‘Lie down.’