eugenesis-text

‘Dear, dear. Your fuse is as short as ever.’ Now the voice was meek and mortal, with a specific point
of origin (behind the nearest wall) and conversational intimacy. ‘No need to get testy, Wheels.’ A computer
port bulged and shimmered, and a robot emerged from the hologramatic soup.
Wheeljack shielded his eyes. ‘Sygnet’
‘Who else’ The circle of weaponry remained in place, fencing the newcomer off. He paced around
the circle and pointed at Mainframe. ‘Don’t tell me, don’t tell me… Mainwire. Mainline Mainframe!’ He
cocked his head at Centurion. ‘I don’t know you, though. Have we met’
‘His name is Centurion,’ Wheeljack sighed. ‘Shut down the weapons, Sygnet. It’s getting boring.’
‘Last time I checked we were mortal enemies, but… oh, very well.’ The weapons folded themselves
away. ‘I wasn’t going to shoot you, anyway. You just triggered the automatic defences.’
‘Ultra-sensitive pressure panelling with redraw decoys,’ said Wheeljack, looking at the floor. ‘Plus
some sort of trigger membrane under-running the floor. Did you use a bioscanner or a clip-chip’
‘A bioscanner Out here Are you crazy You’d be lucky to find a P827 in this dump! A bioscanner!’
He pointed to hair-thin fissures around Centurion’s feet. ‘I kick-started a 3D engex radar.’
‘Modified’
‘Standard calibration. Did the job.’
‘Not bad. Should have recognised your handiwork.’
‘You set all this up yourself’ Centurion sounded impressed, although he wasn’t sure if it was
appropriate. Sygnet was a Decepticon, but no one was treating him as such.
‘Yeah, I’m quite pleased with the defences. I used materials from downstairs to knock together the
weapon units and placed some weight-sensitive tiling outside.’ He nodded to the Autofacsimile. ‘Then I
rigged this decoy - who, I must say, looks remarkably like Huffer before the Strikeforce Alpha upgrade -
finger-spliced a holowall, jack-knifed the vox-synth between quad-speakers and bang! A home-made
defence den.’ He drummed his fingers against his chin. ‘It’s the vox-synth I’m least happy with, to tell the
truth. I wanted my voice to be bigger, more… commanding.’
‘Any more “commanding” and I’d have sworn we were in the Primal Chamber,’ said Mainframe,
pushing his way towards a bank of computers. ‘This all genuine’
‘Yes. Not much use though; outdated isn’t the word. I’ve seen more advanced stuff in a Dead End
squat.’
‘Give me a few moments,’ said Mainframe, seating himself at the keyboard.
Wheeljack turned to Sygnet. ‘So. How come you’re out here’
‘Two words: Quintesson invasion. They hit Polyhex yesterday morning. We were no match.’ He
shook his head. ‘We did our best, but… an entire fleet. Thousands of them. It was a massacre. What about
you Why the Terbium Plains’
‘Same reason as you. We’ve just come from Autobot City, or what’s left of it. I’d thought that we
were their first target. We’re trying to reach – oh, it doesn’t matter. How come you’re not leaking to death
back in Polyhex’
‘What can I say I ran. I made for the skies the moment Soundwave got it in the neck.’
‘Soundwave’s dead’
‘Yeah, how about that The ground troops are always the easiest targets. When Darkmount went up
in flames… well, let’s just say it pays to know when to cut your losses.’
‘You always were a coward, Sygnet.’
‘Hey, I wasn’t the only deserter. What was left of the Air Corps flew in all directions. Half of them
were losing fuel or being pursued by those – oh, what they…’ He snapped his fingers, lunging for the right
word. ‘Tridents! I was one of the lucky ones. I managed to make it across the border. I may be a coward,
but at least I’m a fuel-efficient one.’
‘If that’s how the entire Decepticon army fared against the Quintessons, I dread to think what’s left of
the Autobots on Earth.’
‘I never said they attacked all the Decepticon army. Sixshot’s group haven’t been…’ He pressed his
hand over his mouth. ‘Heh-heh. You make me forget myself, Wheels. They’re out there somewhere, about
two hundred of them. I’ve been trying to get in touch but they’re not responding. I know the Comsat stuff
in here is rusting to death, but…’
‘There’s still Prowl,’ piped up Centurion, who had been listening with mounting unease, ‘and
everyone else in Diaclone.’