eugenesis-text

Xenon had, via Quantax. He had not built it: the framework had been erected by a sprawling team of
Sharkticons and Reddies.
Closing his eyes, he remembered a past life: a different body, a different purpose. He used to tear
down cities, not erect them; he used to spearhead global bombing raids, not rehab programs. For the first
time since leaving Aquaria, he felt a twitch of unease. The planet was theirs: good. But what now
He opened his wrist-comm and said, ‘Quantax The Recycling Plant is complete and operational.’
‘Excellent. Gather your troops and move on to the old Sirrom Mining Complex. I’ve found a perfect
site for the second plant.’
‘Second plant What are you talking about I’m standing on a smelting pool the size of a birthing field
and you want us to start building another We don’t need two!’
‘Correct. We need hundreds, one on every border, ready to melt every scrap of useless metal on this
planet!’
‘No. I refuse. I’m not a glorified sub-contractor.’
‘You cannot “refuse”. You’ll do as I say or you die. If I so much as click my fingers you’ll be stripped
and boiled in acid.’
Flame curved through the air and landed at Ryknia’s feet. He stepped back from the brink. ‘I
understand, General. Ryknia out.’ He wrung his hands and fought the urge to re-establish contact. A voice
nearby broke the spell.
‘Lieutenant Ryknia, sir, one of the Reddies has collapsed.’
Sharkticons had crowded round Spooler’s body. The other Grade As made no attempt to intervene as
Ryknia checked the Decepticon’s tiny eyes for life-signs.
‘It’s dead,’ said Ryknia, looking up at the crowd. ‘Who did this’
‘No one, sir. It just toppled over. Honestly.’
‘Hmm. No blast marks or lesions.’ He pressed his fingers along Spooler’s spinal strut, searching for a
wound. The back of the Decepticon’s neck was oddly textured, as if a message had been written in Braille.
He tossed the body into the smelting pool, where it purpled like an ageing bruise and dissolved.
‘Fatigue,’ Ryknia declared, turning to the Sharkticons. ‘Pack up and return to Kledji.’
Soundwave closed the cell door and folded his arms. ‘This is an unusual place to meet,’ he said
quietly. A week ago he wouldn’t have dreamed of opening a conversation with Galvatron in such a flippant
way, but commandeering the Decepticon army had boosted his self-confidence. He was reluctant to slide
back into second place.
‘No one will bother us here,’ said Galvatron. ‘What use is a prison cell when everyone’s on the same
side’ He picked up his old neck brace and wondered where to start. He wasn’t used to talking to people,
not even his second-in-command. All too often conversation was seen as a sign of companionship, and
companionship a sign of weakness. Besides, the voices in his head usually kept him company. ‘What
happened, Soundwave’
Soundwave described the Polyhex Massacre, the fall of Darkmount, the routing of the Autobot
resistance cell and the missing Matrix, embellishing his summary with first person accounts lifted directly
from witnesses’ minds.
‘What happened to Sixshot’
‘I killed him.’
‘Oh Why On second thoughts, it doesn’t matter. I’m sure you had your reasons. I’m more
concerned with the reappearance of Optimus Prime. Is it really him’ Galvatron looked away quickly,
embarrassed by the emotion in his voice.
‘I cannot say. The Autobots I have scanned so far are just as surprised to see him as we are.
“Optimus” certainly believes he is the genuine article.’
‘With he and I in command we will crush the Quintesson squatters.’ Galvatron nudged metal
shavings with his foot. ‘You know, Soundwave, there are occasions…’ He looked up suddenly, as if it was
someone else who had spoken.
‘You were saying, commander’
‘Nothing. Dismissed.’