eugenesis-text

Prowl continued studying the dust patterns on his desk. ‘How can we find out if Delphi has a linkup’
he mumbled.
‘We’re waiting to ask them. Chromedome’s found a way to send a scrambled messages.’ He
pretended to scrape oil from his fingertip. ‘Forgive me, Prowl, but I thought you’d be pleased.’
‘I’m just worried about Kup and the others. Aren’t you’
‘Of course. But there’s nothing we can do.’
‘Yes… it’s too late to do anything. Thank you, Perceptor. Dismissed.’
Throwback was waiting nervously outside as Perceptor left the room. Prowl gestured at the visitor’s
chair.
‘Sit down, Throwback. What’s the matter’
‘I knew about them, Prowl. Going away, I mean. I was involved.’
Prowl stiffened. ‘In what way’
‘Kup tried to recruit me after the, er, vote. He didn’t say where he was heading. He didn’t need to.’
‘Did you tell anyone’
‘No. I was going to tell you. I should have. I wanted to. But… but when I turned Kup down, he
swore me to secrecy. I didn’t think he’d find anyone stupid enough to join him, and then the next thing I
knew the alarms went off.’
Prowl said nothing. He knew Throwback would misinterpret his silence as anger but he didn’t care.
Even now, facing a guilty soldier – a soldier blaming himself for someone else’s mistake – he felt an
overwhelming detachment.
‘I felt sorry for him,’ Throwback added as a weak epilogue.
‘It doesn’t matter. You’re not at fault.’
‘I am, commander. I should have reported Kup the moment he approached me.’
‘I wouldn’t have been able to prevent what happened.’
‘Why not You’re in command: he would’ve listened to you!’
Prowl’s chair creaked as he leant forward. ‘Kup No. He called an emergency meeting because he was
unhappy with my command. He would not have listened to me.’
‘Okay, maybe not Kup – but the others Definitely. And the whole enterprise would have been
undermined. So by my reckoning, if I’d said something to you at the time, they’d still be here.’
‘I disagree.’ [You’re right.] ‘Nothing you or I could have done would have stopped them leaving.’ [Yes
it would.] ‘You shouldn’t blame yourself, Throwback.’ [Blame me instead: it’s my fault, it’s my purpose: I absorb
guilt, I digest pain. I have monopolised suffering. Give me your anguish and watch.]
‘Thank you for your confession,’ said Prowl, but somehow the words reshaped themselves as they left
his lips, and came out as: ‘Thank you for your report. Dismissed.’
Throwback stayed his ground, entranced by something on the desk.
Prowl looked down and saw that his hands were shaking.
Part 1: The inner hull of the Ark begins to ripple and swell, bulging against the barrage of firepower. My ragged
assembly of Autobots - my army of the scuffed and scorched - can only stare, mute, as comm-ports fizz and cables snap. I
tighten my grip on the concussion rifle and stride towards the wall. ‘Our hull is breached!’ I yell… and the picture bleeds
itself white.
[It’s trying to get in, the outside world. Trust me.]
Part 2: Face-up and eye-fried I stare at the ceiling. It twists in muddy loops and plaits. It stings my optics with
detail. Someone is shouting. I sit up and immediately count my wounds (force of habit); I’m in a temple and in front of
me, his back turned, there is a Guardian robot with fists like lava husks. My hand snaps into focus as I reach for a
weapon.
[Well I’m ready. I can’t keep you out much longer. I’m used to you. I know your prod poke push
pinch by now. Come on.]
Part 3: The Quintesson ship stinks of darkness and the architecture of pain. Lime light coats control boards and
keypads. Robots I barely recognise jam-pack the sticky neon fizz. I am pistol-whipped to my knees and jostled with fists
and laser burns. The blows increase in force and ferocity, and I decide to jump ship. I’ve had enough.
[And so have you, it seems. Real-life pain floods my system and once more I lunge towards freedom
without flexing a muscle.]