eugenesis-text

‘What, Prime What can I do My forces are decimated and Darkmount’s in ruins. Much as I’d like
to storm Polyhex and reclaim what’s mine, I cannot.’
‘What are you saying You wish to remain imprisoned’
‘A proposal: I join you – temporarily.’
‘An alliance Freedom, yes, but collaboration… I don’t know.’
‘Why do you hesitate This is not the first time we have pooled our resources.’
‘It’s not’
Rev-Tone’s body parts hit the floor like building blocks, too dull and dented to catch the light.
Throwback hadn’t radioed ahead and so arrived at the Institute unannounced, his MARB hobbling with
speed fatigue. Red Alert had taken one look at the container under Throwback’s arm and headed for the
Reconstruction Harness (a.k.a. the Repair Chair), a straight-backed steadying frame used for heavy duty
rebuilds.
Autobots and Decepticons swarmed into the makeshift medi-bay - a cold, scraped-clean parts centre
underneath the Institute – to see what all the fuss was about. Perceptor pushed them back. Behind him,
Throwback rubbed his forehead and Red Alert cherry-picked scattered limbs.
The crowd soon lost interest and dispersed, and the medi-bay resembled the aftermath of a party.
Only the hosts remained, tired and over-emotional amid the metaphorical cans and ashtrays. Kup sat on a
circuit slab, hands in his lap, staring at the reverse autopsy.
The door opened and Soundwave entered with a Decepticon of equal size and build. ‘Fulcrum here is
a surgeon. He’s the best we have.’
‘Thank you, Soundwave.’ said Perceptor. It sounded strange.
‘We need all the troops we can get.’
Soon, Rev-Tone was taking shape. Like aeroplane wreckage, his remains had been arranged on the
slab to give the illusion of completeness. Perceptor ferried body parts from slab to chair, stood back and
watched Fulcrum cut, buzz and burrow, slowly adding layers to the skeleton.
The damage was patient and only revealed itself when ready. Paradoxically, the longer the operation,
the less complete Rev-Tone became: only when two parts were brought close together did the missing link
become apparent: an absent knee joint, half a forearm, a chest-plate torn by laserfire.
After several hours, Fulcrum attached Rev-Tone’s severed head to his shoulders. The Autobot had no
jaw, and the interior of his vocal aperture was covered in scorch marks.
Fulcrum stood up and retracted his laser scalpel. ‘He’s ready.’
Red Alert administered slugs of hi-grade fuel as bio-scanners began searching for life signs. Kup
crouched low, desperate to catch the first spark of life when it appeared behind Rev-Tone’s visor. In the
end, though, it was not his eyes that betrayed his recovery; it was the sound of his one remaining hand
tapping the arm of the Repair Chair.
Kup started laughing, a laugh that could not be controlled. Perceptor led him away.
‘Something’s wrong,’ said Throwback. The spasm in Rev-Tone’s hand had reached other parts of his
body. ‘What’s happening to him’
‘He’s in shock,’ said Fulcrum. ‘It’s a common reaction. Shall I shut him down’
‘No!’ said Perceptor. ‘We may not be able to resuscitate him again.’ He knelt down beside the chair.
‘It’s all right, Rev-Tone, you’re safe. Can you hear me’
Rev-Tone’s eyes shone like a dark and shifting spectrum. As he tried to speak, levers in his face pulled
his cheekbones sideways. He grabbed a scalpel from a nearby tray and began hacking at his leg. Paint fell at
his feet before a shocked Perceptor found the presence of mind to snatch the weapon away.
‘Is self-mutilation a recognised part of the repair process’ Soundwave asked Fulcrum in all
seriousness.
Before the surgeon could answer, Rev-Tone had grabbed another blade and started scratching his
thigh. Perceptor yanked the blade and this time stood well back. The patient rocked in his chair, straining
for another scalpel.
Soundwave unclipped his concussion blaster and unloaded an energon clip into Rev-Tone’s head and
shoulders. Motors and servo-joints twitched with a life of their own, spinning like radar dishes, determined
to outlive their host. This time Rev-Tone would not be coming back.