eugenesis-text

pitiful standards - lime-green eyes, scalene fins and a fat body that tapered to a spiked tail. He was so
engrossed that he almost missed the fact that one of the creatures was swimming towards him.
He grabbed the controls and tried to change direction, but a jutting ledge blocked his ascent. There
was no time for aggressive action, no time to look for weapon systems he knew did not exist. He grappled
with the airlock but his fingers would not behave: they were stocky and stubborn and refused to bend to his
will. When the hatch finally opened, the creature outside was already widening its jaws.
He swam away as the pod was swallowed whole. The searchlights having been extinguished, the
creature somersaulted against the current and darted back to the others.
‘Talk about shedding skins,’ thought Death’s Head. ‘First the skimmer, now the pod. Nothing left to
lose, yes’ He landed on the seabed and pondered the enormity of his situation. It was impossible to swim
to the surface (he would burn out long before halfway), even if he managed to maintain an upward course.
In the end, he decided to fumble around on foot – what else was there to do Sit down and seize up
He’d wandered the abyss for several hours before light appeared in the distance. A monstrous
submarine slid past, nuzzling the seabed, its trunk-like body spiked with turrets. Sensing his ticket to ride,
he swapped his left hand for an axe and clamped himself to the vehicle.
Time passed, and eventually the submarine’s search beams hit a smooth metal wall built into the cliff
face. Access plates slid back and the sub slipped into a cavernous docking chamber. Drainage hatches started
to gulp water, lights came on, and Death’s Head realised that he was inside.
Inside what, he did not know.
Jazz lay on a circuit slab inside Autobot City’s medi-bay, his head reduced to a jawbone and a brain
module. Ratchet and Fixit leant over the body, frowning. It was raining outside. Shadows were projected
onto every surface; the walls looked like they were bleeding.
Ultra Magnus, Mirage, Hound and Wheeljack watched the operation from a glass-plated gallery.
Mirage clenched and unclenched his wrists, rooted to the spot. ‘I still – can someone explain this to
me – I still can’t quite understand how this happened. I mean, three Decepticons… It’s Autobot City,
for God’s sake!’
‘It’s partly my fault,’ said Wheeljack. ‘I’d shut down the defences to make repairs. Whether they
knew it or not, they attacked at the right time. One of them, the green one, wrestled a rifle from Jazz and
put him down with one shot. One shot, right through the forehead. The rest of his team were beaten
unconscious – minimum fuss, just a few well-placed blows. They made off with our best shuttle before I
could intercept them, and then cloaked themselves before the Aerialbots could pursue.’
‘Who are these Decepticons, anyway’ asked Ultra Magnus. ‘And how did they end up in cold
storage’
Hound pulled the gold disc from his waist compartment. ‘I think it’s time we found out.’
Nightbeat stood up and rubbed his chin. He looked around Longtooth’s quarters – at the recharge
slab, the laser rifle, the battered copy of the Autobot Code (complete with red-lined amendments and
crossings-out), the swivel chair and the six energon clips arranged in a tight tetrahedron. There was nothing
out of the ordinary here, just the usual generic personal effects. Only the Pretender shell stood out – stashed
in the corner, upright and unblinking, its two battered halves were as bright as pantomime scenery.
‘No sign of any scuffle or altercation,’ Nightbeat said at length. ‘No upset objects or damaged
surfaces.’ He prodded the floor with his foot, looking for the hidden trapdoor, the winding staircase.
‘This is how I found it,’ said Doubleheader from the door. ‘What are you thinking’
‘Before I arrived I was thinking personal warp gate… but if someone warped out of a room this small
– which I doubt is even possible – I’d expect to see an exit pattern. And it would smell of carbonite or
petrolene.’
‘So what can we do I know Longtooth wasn’t the most popular Autobot, but he was my friend. Are
we just going to forget about him’
Nightbeat felt he should offer some words of comfort or pat his team-mate on the back and reassure
him that Longtooth would be found, but the words would have sounded glassy and hollow. ‘I’ll write a
report for Rodimus,’ he said instead. ‘I don’t know what else I can do at the moment.’ He ushered