eugenesis-text

and Nova Point, the Terbium Plains no longer existed. Like the Manganese Mountains and the Mercury
Bayou, like Lonium and Helex and the Primal Chamber, they had become another as-yet-unchristened
portion of New Quintyxia; a slab of virgin topography with undecided boundaries; dotted lines and
contours on a bottle-green holo-globe somewhere inside an Aquarian council chamber.
And while the same brownish copper hills warped the horizon line and the same indolent noonday
sun drove shadows across the surface, everything had changed: they were Quintesson hills. It was a
Quintesson horizon. The sun warmed a Quintesson world.
Wheeljack, Sygnet, Mainframe and Centurion continued their trek towards the Sonic Canyons,
crushing their reflections underfoot. They had witnessed Xenon’s pronouncements but, as Wheeljack
pointed out, declaring control of a planet and actually controlling it were two different things. Where, he’d
said, were the thousands of shuttles honeycombing the sky Where were the patrol squads a thousand men
thick, scouring the landscape and removing all trace of the planet’s forebears Nothing had changed, he
argued. They were still alone. The Plains were still flat. The sky was still cloudlessly blue.
Wheeljack and Sygnet walked side-by-side, their broad shoulders close to collision. A notable distance
behind them was Mainframe and Centurion, dragging their heels.
‘Mainframe..’
‘…What’
Centurion looked at him bashfully. Over the last 50 miles he’d asked Mainframe about everything
from pre-Decacycle Tarnian pantheism to the bandwidth of the legendary Primal Spectrum; from post-war
population distribution to the etymological intricacies of the ’bot/’con suffix. His thirst for knowledge was
unquenchable; for Mainframe, it was also incredibly tiring.
‘Wheeljack and the Decepticon…’
‘Sygnet.’
‘Why are they talking to each other’ It didn’t seem proper, he thought. A few minutes ago Wheels
had actually laughed out loud.
‘Well let’s see… why do you think’
Centurion paused. ‘I suppose it’s because the planet’s been overrun. Now you have a common
enemy, the civil war falls temporarily by the wayside. Allegiances are forgotten, personal disagreements are
put aside and everyone is united in the name… in the name of freedom.’
‘Actually, they’re chatting because they’re friends. They know each other. We weren’t all poured into
Autobot and Decepticon moulds, you know. Sygnet was Wheeljack’s apprentice. They ran a construction
shop in Tene. When Megatron declared war, they joined the Autobot army as weapons specialists. Behind
their badges, they have a lot in common.’
‘So why did Sygnet defect’
‘I think he became fed up with Wheeljack getting all the praise. While Wheels was promoted to
Strikeforce Alpha, he was sent to Eocra to build biodegradable cluster bombs. I don’t know. I think he
offered his services to Megatron to get recognised.’
‘Then he’s one hell of an attention seeker.’
‘Yeah, he was our highest-profile turncoat after Skywarp. A few of the younger ones wanted payback,
but he disappeared from view. Chained to a workbench in Darkmount, I guess, devising ever more
elaborate ways of killing Autobots. He became the Decepticons’ greatest weapons engineer.’
‘And yet there he is, having a chat with Wheeljack.’
They reached the base of the hills and picked out a path between the slopes. Wheeljack beckoned
them over and pointed to the remains of a shuttle in the valley below. The crash had not been recent: no
smoke escaped the triangle of rocket thrusters, and the blast hole near the back looked stone cold.
‘It’s not one of ours,’ said Sygnet, climbing towards the crash site. ‘Fan out and close in. Shoot
anything that moves. We’re not taking any risks.’
Mainframe studied the blast patterns and concluded that a freak engine flare had brought the shuttle
down. He bit his lip at the carnage inside. Decepticon bodies had accumulated at the low end, spiked and
roasted, braised in oil. He activated his headlamps and saw softly glowing chains, Inhib Claws and rainbowcoloured
lubricant. It was a convict ship.
Behind a delicate tangle of body parts – foot/face/finger/head/hand/hip – he saw a cockpit door. He
shoulder-barged the perforated metal and crashed into the dashboard beyond. The dead pilot’s hands were