eugenesis-text

The six robots ran through the cold stasis corridor, ignoring three new puddles. They negotiated a
monotony of badly lit passageways, crashing through closed doors as if they were tissue paper.
‘We’re going ’round in circles!’ cried Bluestreak.
‘Not quite.’ Ratchet pointed to an exit hatch at the end of the corridor. A platform was slowly
lowering outwards. ‘Autobots, transform!’
Five vehicles launched themselves out of the Fortress in a scribble of smudged rubber. Centurion
activated his boot jets and executed a perfect touchdown while the Autobots scraped to a halt at the bottom
of the slope.
Having retreated to a safe distance, they braced themselves for the explosion.
It didn’t come.
After a full five minutes, Ratchet growled, ‘I don’t believe this. There wasn’t even a bomb!’
Hound raised his hand apologetically. ‘My fault. I altered the computer’s chronometer. There was a
bomb – it was just counting down at a much slower rate than normal.’
Ratchet stared at him, amazement and anger vying for control of his features. ‘So when is it going
to—’
‘I dunno. I wasn’t even sure if it would work.’
‘It took us three point eight minutes to escape,’ said Bluestreak. ‘If you hadn’t tricked the computer,
we’d be dead… but then being dead would probably be less painful. That was quite a fall. I’ve got lube
spill, abdominal buckling, endoskeletal lacerations and—’ He pointed to an exit platform jutting out of the
Fortress. ‘What the hell is that’
Three triad jets rocketed away from the Fortress and disappeared into the clouds.
‘Damn. I must’ve released them when I hacked into the mainframe.’
Ratchet shrugged. ‘You weren’t to know, Mirage. Shall we pursue’
‘No. Our shuttle’s half a mile away and they’re obviously fast. Besides, Trailbreaker needs an energon
boost.’
Without prompting, Centurion picked up Trailbreaker and followed the group of tired, damaged
robots back to the de-cloaked shuttle.
The Fortress exploded behind them.
Six heat-seeking proton missiles split the ocean’s surface and zeroed in on Death’s Head’s spacecraft.
They mimicked its movement, weaving jet trails between the sea and the sky.
Death’s Head engaged full-thrust and flung his ship in another direction, hoping to disorientate the
missiles’ guidance systems. It didn’t work: they regrouped and accelerated. He recalled similar situations,
and how they always ended with his body being scattered over a large area.
He rebooted autopilot, set a collision course with the sea, and clambered into the deep-sea pod
strapped underneath the spacecraft. The pod dropped and hit the water just as the spacecraft exploded. He
always liked to cut it fine.
Directional thrusters slowed his descent, and spotlights gave depth and grain to the water. He cursed
himself for underestimating the enemy, whoever they were, and for the first time wondered whether he
would return to Hybridia unscathed.
‘Mission log 535,’ he whispered into his thumb-mic. ‘750 metres below the Hybridians’ drop-off
point and, as yet, I have detected no trace of life, indigenous of otherwise. May have triggered automatic
defence mechanisms on arrival; may not necessarily be anyone down here.’ He looked out the window.
‘Yeah, right.’
‘According to the tox report, this entire planet’s covered in aqua fortis. Bad news for most mechanoids
– thankfully, I am impervious.’ He paused to catch the reams of data sliding off screen. ‘This stuff’s lethal to
Abraxians, Scarvixians, Cybertronians, Junkions… hundreds of robotic races. It’s been on the GPO blacklist
for years.’
The search beams shuddered as the pod fell towards an abyss. ‘I can see no outposts or installations.
Heading into a fissure now.’ He cut all thrust, and as the pod slipped into freefall he had another look
around.
In the distance he saw hundreds of metallic creatures. They moved as if responsive to the threads and
currents of the sea, a few of them peeling away to chase the walls of the abyss. They were ugly, even by his