eugenesis-text

The teleportee unclipped his helmet. His real head seemed far too small for the black suit of armour.
‘Lieutenant Ryknia, Lieutenant Sevax,’ he said breathlessly. ‘The Imperial Majestrix sends his greetings and
hopes you will forgive the delay.’
Sevax strode into the room. ‘Ah! I see the delivery boy is here, bringing much-needed supplies.’
The tele-armour fell away in generous chunks, and as it did so the lieutenants noticed the chrome
box strapped to the soldier’s stomach. Ryknia yanked it free and studied the contents.
‘Inhibitor Chips. Enough to enslave this race a hundred times over.’ He slid a finger through dunes of
granular metal and scooped out a mountain. Magnifiers in his optics drew the image closer. ‘Very nice…
Haxian has surpassed himself with these.’
‘This is all you need to implant them,’ said the soldier, handing Jolup a syringe gun.
‘Is this loaded’
‘Yes, sir.’
Jolup rolled the soldier into an arm lock and pressed the needle against his neck. ‘Then let’s test it out,
shall we’ He heard the satisfying crack of punctured metal and relaxed his grip. The soldier knelt among
the smoking tele-armour, pawing at his neck and looking as if he was about to cry.
‘Transform, then,’ said Jolup.
‘I’m sorry, sir, I cannot.’
‘Transform of I’ll tear you apart!’
‘I can’t! I swear I can’t!’
‘That’s enough. Jolup. Let him go.’ Ryknia looked up from the Inhibitor Chips. ‘There’s a time for
fun and games, but it isn’t now.’
Jolup looked at Ryknia as if his optics were about to spit laser and motioned for the soldier beside
him to stand. ‘Report to the commanding officer at the main entrance and have him send someone to
recharge your “spacesuit”.’
The soldier walked awkwardly to the door and froze when he heard Ryknia’s voice:
‘I intend to plant an Inhibitor Chip in every single Cybertronian that passes through these gates. If
any one of them – any single one of them – so much as semi-reconfigures, I will find you and I will kill
you. Is that understood’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. Dismissed.’
Jolup closed the door on the soldier and turned to Ryknia. ‘You talk to me like that in front of a
subordinate, in front of anyone, and I will shoot you where you stand. You are not my superior, Ryknia,
nor have you ever been. I would kill Xenon himself if he raised his voice to me.’
Ryknia looked as if he had already prepared a reply, but held his tongue. ‘My apologies, Jolup,’ he
said at length. ‘I didn’t realise you were so… sensitive.’ He closed the lid of the chrome box and held it out
as if it were a peace offering. ‘I merely thought we had more immediate concerns, such as paralysing an
entire race.’
Q-142 sat on a chromed hillside, surrounded by bobbing hoverbikes. The remains of the Yussian
Embassy stretched ahead of him like a sea of powdered grey, girders and stanchions waving for help as they
sunk beneath the surface. His troops trod the wreckage and prodded the air with bio-scanners.
‘Found something,’ said one, and grabbed a bright yellow elbow. A deactivated Sunstreaker slid from
his hole like a gold ingot. Nearby, another Sharkticon tugged at Hoist and Grapple.
‘Three out of five isn’t bad,’ said Q-142 as his men slung the Autobots over the backs of their
hoverbikes. ‘What about the big one and his friend’
‘Dead,’ concluded a Sharkticon, folding up his bioscanner. ‘These things can detect life signs and
Vorcodes within a ten-mile radius. There’s no one else.’
Q-142 straddled his bike and revved his engine. ‘Oh well. We’ll head for Polyhex and dump these
three in the first Transit Pod we come across.’
‘That was close. Yes, that was a definite approximation.’
‘An approximation of what’