eugenesis-text

Quintesson, stocked with a thousand Sharkticons. We’ll spread across the globe and establish our own citystates.
How does that strike you, Ryknia Your own city! This must be what the Harvest was like!’
‘You’re really taken in by the Grand Scheme, aren’t you And there was me thinking that we were
the sane ones. It all sounds very plausible inside a meeting chamber, Sevax, especially when you’re gawping
at the sound and light show: holo-prints, liquid grid-maps, speed-line projections, full-flow topography.
Quantax had the equipment, a captive audience and a speech he prepared earlier. And you bought the
whole thing.’
‘Ah, but he’s already found a location for the recycling plant, and the central spaceport is already
designed. Any day now Xenon will arrive with the Cargo, and we can begin moving into the new cities.’
‘Look below you, Sevax.’
The Polyhexian landscape was little more than a flaking corkboard, stubbled with millions of
thumbtack holes. Continental slump was pulling the city-state apart at the seams.
‘You expect us to rebuild a world like this overnight’
‘One minute to voluntary systems shutdown,’ called Ultra Magnus, wandering through the upper
decks like a Town Crier. Ratchet was leaning over Arcee at the end of the corridor, digging his hands into
her stomach.
‘Ratchet, I think—’
‘Primus!’ He fumbled the laser scalpel and a surge of sparks climbed the wall. ‘What are you doing,
trying to give me a fuel-pump malfunction!’
‘I called you – I’m sorry. I thought you heard me.’
‘No. I’m very busy.’
‘I know. That’s why I want you to shut yourself down like everyone else. You need to conserve your
run-time.’
Ratchet was already shaking his head. ‘I’ve got seven more Autobots to tend to. I’m not resting ’til
they’re stable.’
‘I know for a fact that you’ve stabilised every injured soldier on board – you’d practically reset their
CPUs before we entered hyperspace.’ They both looked at Arcee. ‘You’re performing secondary ops now,
and they can wait.’
‘But the more I repair, the more—’
‘Look at you, doctor – you can barely stand! I realise how much you want to get the others up and
running, but you’re killing yourself. I’m ordering you to rest.’
Ratchet laid his scalpel aside. ‘Okay. Okay.’
Magnus walked away and turned when he realised that Ratchet was not following. The medic was
propped up against the wall, as if bolted to the spot. Ratchet met his gaze with wide, guilty eyes and quietly
slumped onto the floor.
The steel chairs were arranged in a rigid block: four deep, seven wide. Up front, Silverbolt activated
autopilot, grabbed a seat and looked about hopefully for a companion. Autobots arrived in twos and threes,
filling the back rows first. Trailbreaker, Mirage, Bluestreak and Hound found four empty places in a row.
Death’s Head stood alone in an alcove, pretending to be interested in his fingernails.
Ultra Magnus burst in with Ratchet slumped over his shoulder and arranged him on the nearest chair.
‘He burnt himself out,’ he explained.
Mirage carried out a cursory examination: back of the neck, optics, mouth, chest plate. ‘He’ll recover.
Just give his internal repairs system a few minutes to reboot his CPU.’
That was good enough for Ultra Magnus. ‘Everyone to your places,’ he said. ‘Ratchet’s condition
underlines the importance of conscientious energon rationing.’ He ran an invisible finger over 21 seated
figures and frowned: he was one short. Smokescreen was leaning against the doorframe, staring at his feet.
‘What’s the matter You’ve activated voluntary systems shutdown before, surely’
‘Of course I have,’ said Smokescreen, drawing Magnus into the corridor. ‘It’s the bounty hunter I’m
worried about. We’re shutting ourselves down and expecting him to do likewise What, out of courtesy