eugenesis-text

would reduce the Institute to cinders. Soon, Transformers of all colours and sizes were filling up the
downstairs hangar. Perceptor screamed as the teleporter refused to power up. Pounce stood behind a lectern
and wrestled with controls while Wingspan’s feet poked out from dismantled engine casing.
Two stasis pods had become detached from the main crowd and been abandoned like lost luggage.
Only the Decepticons peered inside, as intrigued by the concept of preservation as the identity of the offliners.
Prowl and Hot Rod stared back with glazed eyes. Hot Rod was an embalmed fossil, caked in crust.
Prowl was stewing in a ferochloride syrup.
Wingspan rolled clear, Pounce thumped the lectern, and a ring of fairytale lights appeared around the
portal. Energy raced to fill the gaps, stretching like cling-film or soapy water.
Outside, everything went quiet.
‘The ground troops are moving in,’ said Frenzy, eager to dispel any false hopes.
‘About 900, to be precise,’ added Soundwave as he led the final batch of Autobots and Decepticons
into the hangar. ‘They’re advancing on the west wing.’
‘Why don’t we stand and fight’ demanded Razorclaw, looking around for support. ‘We can take
them!’
‘But could we take the second wave’ asked Soundwave. ‘Or the third Or the fourth’
‘A counter-attack would be suicide,’ agreed Perceptor. ‘We have an opportunity to preserve our
forces and relocate.’ For a moment, listening to the sneers and grumbles in the crowd, he imagined what it
had been like for Prowl. ‘Of course those of you wishing to preserve this valuable strategic standpoint are
welcome to stay behind and fight.’
‘Co-ordinates are set,’ announced Pounce. ‘We’re ready to go.’
Pincher and Swerve found Siren in the corner of the shuttle hangar, chatting to Nightbeat beside a
dusted-down teleportal. An Autoshuttle and six MARBs had been pushed to the side of the hangar to clear
space, as if a runaway train would burst from the portal and pile up.
‘What’s the matter’ asked Nightbeat, meeting the sprinters halfway. ‘Is it Optimus’
‘No!’ said Pincher. ‘The liquid samples from Aquaria…’
‘We were running tests,’ interrupted Swerve, ‘and Galvatron walked in, and—’
‘The liquid doesn’t harm Pretenders!’ finished Pincher quickly, eager to reach the end of his report
before his partner.
In the background, the portal was filled with pale green energy. No one noticed.
‘It’s because my Pretender shell is biomechanical,’ continued Pincher. ‘It’s a synth-suit.’
‘Can you extrapolate a formula to create a protective alloy’ asked Siren, ignoring the warmth on his
back.
‘Yes, given time. But it’s simpler to recreate the Pretender process and generate a fresh set of shells.’
‘I wore a shell for several months,’ Nightbeat said to Siren, as if recommending the procedure. ‘I’m
sure Delphi has the necessary equipment. We may even have access to the original shell designs… Is it
getting hot in here’
Red Alert burst through the energy portal like a cannon ball, stretching the transwarp energy into
phosphorous streams. He landed with a roll, weapon in hand. As the others rushed to his aid, the portal
disgorged a second figure, Dirge, and a third, Throwback.
Perceptor beckoned Scattershot and Lightspeed to the run-up point. The hangar was emptying fast
but the gunshots outside were growing louder. He knew the Sharkticons had reached the upper level, but
he didn’t know whom they were firing at – probably the shadows, or each other.
Behind him, Autobots and Decepticons lined up and dashed towards the cathode scowl of a teleporter
in flux. They leapt headfirst into the whirlpool, breaking the surface like bullets.
Kup jumped the queue, pushing Hot Rod’s hovering stasis pod into Lightspeed’s launch path.
‘Somebody get him out of the way before I shoot him,’ ordered Soundwave, and took Perceptor
aside. ‘We outnumber you Autobots two-to-one. The jump queues should reflect this: two Decepticons
leave, then one Autobot.’