eugenesis-text

‘Well he wasn’t taken, was he – no one could fit inside that duct!’
‘You’re wrong, Jolup. I’ve seen some mini-Cybertronians on D-wing. Perhaps there are more of
them out there.’
‘They might still be in the shafts!’
Sevax barked into his wrist communicator: ‘I want all perimeter squads to purge the network of
maintenance ducts and—’
‘Full-flame cleansing!’ shouted Ryknia. ‘Nothing escapes!’ He knelt beside the open duct and peered
inside. ‘We’ll roast them…’
Chromedome and Perceptor strolled down the Institute’s outer corridor, deep in conversation. To
their right were rows of padlocked doors, each blocking a long-abandoned tech-lab or workshop. To their
left were sloped panes of glass, cracked by ceaseless blister-winds. As they walked towards the science block,
they crushed already broken glass underfoot.
‘Why the B/332’ asked Perceptor. ‘Surely there are more efficient frequency calibrators’
‘I dare say there are – on Hydrus 4. The only way I’m going to get our transmitter working is with a
332. This place hasn’t been lived in for millennia. I’m working with museum pieces. The com-banks
downstairs are fine for mid-range transmissions but they need to be upgraded if we’re to go global. Besides,
we’re not just sending a distress signal to all and sundry. We’re being selective.’
Chromedome stretched his servos. It was peaceful out here, away from the Quintessons, away from
the other Autobots. A slight corruption of the ocular filters was all it took to smudge the bullet holes,
smooth the walls and restore the Institute to its former glory. He remembered heading towards lectures
while chattering scholars slipped in and out of sunlight, in and out of rooms. He’d been happy here.
‘How’s Prowl doing’ he asked at length, having been alone with his memories for too long.
‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since… you know.’
‘You think he’s upset about the leadership thing’
‘It would certainly seem so. To suffer the Crisis Act… Even Grimlock escaped that.’
‘So why did you vote against him
Perceptor chose his words even more carefully than normal. ‘Prowl… is a good lieutenant. In fact I
would venture that in that capacity he is the most efficient and level-headed Autobot I have ever worked
with.’
‘But he’s no leader, right’
‘He is being rash, and not thinking clearly… I was hoping for a change in command.’
‘And who do you think should lead’
Perceptor pointed to a stairway. ‘Where does this go’
‘To a downloading theatre. I used to come here for lessons on forced probability. Come on.’
A flight of stairs led from the entrance door to the floor, dissecting rows of seats and worktops. On
floor level was an upturned chair, folded projection units and a lustreless monitor screen. Hollowed
computers were stacked against the screen in what looked like a half-hearted attempt to conceal the gaping
hole in one corner.
Perceptor descended the stairs while Chromedome took a seat and tapped a dead keyboard. ‘This was
my place,’ he said, scanning the room from an old perspective. ‘Brainstorm and Highbrow sat over there.’
Perceptor just nodded, preoccupied by the junk at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Optimus Prime lectured here once, Perceptor. Well, it was more of a recruitment drive than a
lecture. He stood where you are now and explained that the civil war was about to explode and that every
Autobot was needed for the cause. Hey, what did you just put down’
‘It’s a Series 2 BW modifier. Not what you’re looking for.’
‘Give it here,’ said Chromedome, meeting Perceptor mid-way on the stairs.
‘You said you wanted a B/332.’
‘I did, I did, but this might do the trick… Look, it has v-wave sockets and bi-locational node
capacity.’
‘Hmm, most irregular. Do you recall using teleportation equipment here'
‘In the Institute No.’ Chromedome looked himself over in the broken monitor screen. ‘Did you
ever lecture here, Perceptor’