eugenesis-text

Ultra Magnus stared blankly at the wreckage, unable to think of anything to say. He remembered
approving the plans for both the new bridge and the Ark’s underground hangar; he remembered the
months of backbreaking work it had taken to extend the City downwards, excavating the natural caverns
and catacombs that riddled the area, making a massive detour after a near-hysterical Red Alert, on loan
from High Command, claimed he had found fault lines in certain no-go areas. He thought of the Ark right
now, enveloped in darkness, fastened to a million tonnes of scaffold, sitting on the launch pad, ready for
use.
‘We won’t leave without a fight,’ declared Wheeljack, recovering the microscope. ‘I’ll confront High
Command if I have to, even if it means—’
He was interrupted by the buzzing intercom. Blaster’s face appeared on the monitor as Ultra Magnus
approached, his fists balled with tension: he wasn’t in the mood for another impassioned plea to extend the
Comms Level. ‘What is it, Blaster’
‘I think you’d better get down here ASAP. Rewind’s found something… unexpected.’
‘On my way. Magnus out.’
The picture was instantly replaced by the head and shoulders of a Powerbot and a cluttered cockpit.
‘Commander Magnus, this is Heatwave of the Cybertronian exploration vessel Thunder Raider requesting
permission to land.’
While Heatwave was speaking, a familiar figure crept up behind him and mugged at the vidcam. ‘And
this is Ratchet saying, “let us in.”’
Ultra Magnus grinned. ‘You’re free to land, Thunder Raider. Use the central landing strip.’ He
looked at Ratchet. ‘I’ll see you in a moment.’
‘I guess this is it, then,’ said Wheeljack, slipping the newly repaired microscope into his belt.
Ultra Magnus pressed his forehead against the window and watched Thunder Raider sweep elegantly
towards the landing strip. ‘I guess we have to be hospitable. If you could meet our guests at the hangar, I’ll
see you in Blaster’s office in five minutes. Turn the lights out before you go.’
Wheeljack watched him disappear down the vacuum lift and wondered why everything was so
impermanent. Ever since the outbreak of war, when he’d fled Tene with his apprentice to enlist in the
Autobot army, he’d felt homeless. Evacuated from underground bunkers, lying low in moonbases, biding
time in volcanoes and orbital hideaways – his life had been a catalogue of displacement. He felt the usual
twist of sadness at the thought of abandoning another base.
He pressed a wall pad and let the lights drain from the room. The windowpanes seemed to
disintegrate, revealing a vault of stars. He wondered how many more times he would admire the view.
Ratchet and Mirage picked their way down the Thunder Raider’s disembarkation ramp to see
Bluestreak, Trailbreaker and Hound waving from a balcony.
‘It’s nice to feel welcomed, eh Mirage’
‘I suppose three out of a hundred isn’t bad.’
‘Make that four,’ said Wheeljack, strolling into the hangar. ‘Nice to see you, doc. Hi, Mirage.’
Ratchet shook his friend’s hand, one of many human mannerisms that the original crew of the Ark
had appropriated over the years. ‘It’s been a while. Too long.’
‘Yeah. We thought you’d forgotten about us.’
‘You’re always in our thoughts,’ said Mirage, looking away.
The planet Cybertron is known throughout the galaxy, but for many different reasons.
Ancient races such as the Guardians and the Nightstalkers can recall its Golden Age, a time when the
Cybertronians were regarded by many pre-Ascension races as evolutionary miracles, their name
synonymous with culture and intellectual vigour. When news of a civil war spread to nearby quadrants,
even the most astute political commentators could not foresee the downfall of an entire race. But what
began as a tit-for-tat exchange of proton bombs escalated at alarming speed, eventually claiming the lives of
billions.