eugenesis-text

‘Last time they launched parallel invasions,’ called Rewind from the floor. ‘Cybertron and Earth were
attacked simultaneously.’
‘Which is why we’re heading for Cybertron. There’s a possibility that the Quintessons have yet to
invade.’ Whoever scoffed covered their mouth before Magnus could look their way. ‘At the very least we
can assist the Autobots on Cybertron. We might tip the balance.’
‘Does Prowl know about the invasion’ asked Hound, noting his leader’s discomfort and offering a
direct question as a lifeline.
‘When we last spoke the Quintessons were not mentioned, which is why I believe Earth may have
been attacked long before Cybertron.’
‘For all your talk of facts,’ said Mirage, ‘we still don’t know the scale of the problem. The
Quintessons chasing us right now might be the sum total of their race. As you say, we have no proof of
their motives. Revenge Or a genuine attempt at colonisation’
‘I have someone who can give you the facts.’ Ultra Magnus made a small, almost embarrassed gesture
towards Death’s Head and let the mechanoid take centre stage.
‘I’ll keep this short, yes I’ve heard the Quintessons’ plans and witnessed them preparing for an attack.
I know what they want.’
‘Because you’re colluding with them, bounty hunter!’ shouted Smokescreen.
‘Come here and say that, eh’
‘Stay where you are,’ barked Magnus. ‘All of you – sit and listen. Death’s Head discovered their
operation by accident…’
‘They’ve built a deep-sea base on the ocean floor of the planet Aquaria. Nice and remote. They
intend to colonise Cybertron and wipe you out. They’ve been planning this for years. You saw the amount
of attack craft they used against you – I’ve seen ten times that number.’
‘Could you please explain to me,’ said Mirage scornfully, ‘exactly how they intend to colonise
Cybertron Sorry to sound callous, but after the last invasion there aren’t too many of them left, are there’
‘I saw thousands of them, Autobot. And sorry to sound callous, but after four million years of
pointless fighting, there aren’t too many of you Transformers left, either.’
The explosive charge, when he detonated it, reduced the engine casing to a tidy little crater. It
destroyed a portion of the comms-systems too, but not to worry: thanks to his wiretap, Q-2709 could still
overhear the Autobots’ conference on the bridge.
He carried only destroying the Ark’s trans-warp engines piece by piece. Every flurry of sparks made
him smile; every fizz-fuse and dynamite line left him satisfied. He wondered when Rodern and the others
would catch up, and checked that the tracking beacon he’d hidden in the corridor was still broadcasting its
persistent little signal, like a buoy pinpointing the Ark’s position in the hyperspatial ocean.
Images of an unexpected Quintesson boarding party mingled with vainglorious fantasies of General
Rodern giving him an instantaneous promotion (and with it a proper name – none of this rank-sensitive Q-
numeral business – you might as have ‘Cannon Fodder’ written across your back in huge white letters).
He stopped mapping his glorious career when Ultra Magnus’s voice returned to his ear. He registered
the change of tone and was about to resume his daydream when he realised what was being said. He
dropped the wire-cutter and pressed the earpiece deeper. This was too good to be true…
‘Magnus is right,’ protested Hound, craning to stare down the rowdy Autobot at the back.
‘Conserving energy should be our main priority, Snarl. For once in your life pipe down and listen!’
‘Voluntary systems shutdown for one day,’ repeated Ultra Magnus, flattening random mutters of
dissent. ‘Cybertron is still a long way off. Sitting around here chatting, no matter how cathartic, is a waste
of energy: we need to conserve our strength.’
Beachcomber raised his hand. ‘And if the Quintesson warcruiser attacks us in our sleep’
‘The Ark will be running on autopilot while we’re offline,’ said Silverbolt. ‘If anything crosses the
perimeter sesnors we’ll be awakened automatically.’
Ultra Magnus looked at his crew, hoping that this would be the end of the discussion. A few seconds
of silence signalled a won argument.