eugenesis-text

‘Via hyperspace’ Silverbolt counted on his fingers. ‘About an hour. If we phase back into regspace…
maybe one, two days.’
‘We don’t have the luxury of choice,’ said Ultra Magnus. ‘We break out of hyperspace immediately.’
The Quintesson guardsman Q-6 sat in the corner of Haxian’s workshop and savoured a feeling quite
alien to his emotional make-up: self-satisfaction. Several weeks ago he had feigned an internal rust rash to
avoid being selected for General Rodern’s strike force. Excluding Haxian’s scientists, Ferrax and the Cargo
(which didn’t really count – not yet, anyway) he was one of only a handful of troopers staying behind on
Aquaria while the Imperial Armies conquered Cybertron.
But evading conscription was only the first part: Xenon was now looking for volunteers to transport a
sample of aqua fortis to New Quintyxia. All of the original teleportees had died shortly after their interstellar
leap. When the cry went up for another, he had told Haxian that his fellow shift-worker, Q-12, was eager
to get involved with the war campaign.
He watched Haxian prepare the bulky telearmour while Q-12 grew less and less enthusiastic.
Watching a soldier count down to certain death was far more entertaining than guarding Aquaria’s prison
population. Last time he had checked, the sole surviving inmate - a Cybertronian leader, apparently – was
hanging on the wall shouting his own name.
A particularly plaintive scream ended with Haxian slamming his scalpel onto the work surface. He
stared at Q-6 through his goggles. “I can’t work with Galvatron making all that noise. Go and shut him
up!”
Q-6 snapped to attention, slung the pulse rifle over his shoulder and marched into the corridor,
annoyed that he might miss Q-12’s last words.
The noise had stopped by the time he had reached the cell.
It was empty.
He swept a torch beam over the far wall, hoping that it would graze a body in the corner and the
nightmare scenario would suddenly correct itself. There was something in the corner, but it was only a
mound of commingling metal: Thunderclash and Longtooth had become a hybrid corpse, their torsos
looped like magician’s rings. Galvatron was nowhere to be seen.
Q-6 looked around, suddenly afraid. The corridor was empty; there was no half-glimpsed movement,
no shift in the shadows. With his plasma rifle still propped against his shoulder, he shut down the cell bars
and stepped inside. He could find no sign of a forced exit. He unhooked his communicator and went to call
Haxian, but a noise froze his fingers. He fumbled for his rifle.
The noise had come from the bodies in the corner. He crouched to inspect the mix ‘n’ match torsos,
wondering whether one of them, against all odds, was still operative. Thunderclash’s chest was gaping and
hollow. There was no way this one could be alive, he thought, bending closer.
Galvatron burst from Thunderclash’s chest, transforming from gun mode to robot mode. He plucked
the guard from the floor, drove a fist through his chest, grabbed the plasma rifle and ducked into the
corridor, wondering which way to head.
Having landed a safe distance away from the foot of Mount Novum, the four Micromasters were
continuing their journey to the deserted Manganesian Autobase on foot. Sunrunner led to way, waving a
navigation console as if it were a pathblaster.
‘According to Siren’s co-ordinates,’ he said, looking up at a blank cliff face, ‘the entrance to Fortress
Maximus’ old pad is right about here.’
Phaser grabbed the navi-console. ‘I knew you couldn’t read maps,’ he grumbled. ‘You’ve probably
had this thing upside-down the whole time.’
Blastmaster ran his hands over the bronzed mountain wall. ‘You two don’t get out of Delphi much,
do you I was posted here back when I was an FS – had some interesting times.’
‘You were a full-sizer’ said Sunrunner, snatching the naviguide back. ‘When did you have the op’
‘1990, a few months after Xaaron’s Scaledown Charter. Shot down near Ibex. They didn’t have
enough materials to rebuild, so I opted for the snip.’