eugenesis-text

Magnus found Galvatron near a rundown fuel depot on the fringe of the Proton Crater, a
thermonuclear bite mark so big it deserved to be a proper noun. Barely twelve years old, it was visible from
space; in fact, it was practically visible from the other side of the planet.
‘Get out of here, Magnus,’ said Galvatron without looking around. ‘I don’t need a chaperone.’
‘I’ve learnt never to let you out of my sight if I can help it. What are you up to’
The Decepticon fumbled among the rubble and pulled open a hatchway. ‘I’ve no intention of bailing
out, if that’s what you’re worried about. I remembered a little something I’d kept aside for a special
occasion.’ He dropped below ground and Magnus followed.
The subterranean membrane was glass-plated, the panels buffed to a giddy gleam. Galvatron kept a
few steps ahead and deactivated hidden defences one by one.
Ultra Magnus accessed the historical files that he’d downloaded after his Flamebirth in 1986. The
original proton bomb, the one that had sparked the Great War, had flattened the underground utility ducts
in the area, and the ‘stabilising’ bomb that Megatron had used to return Cybertron to its original orbit in
2000 had worsened the damage. The Decepticons had obviously rebuilt this area, but for what purpose
There were no rooms, no connecting corridors, just a passageway with glitter ball walls.
‘How long is this going to take, Galvatron We should have broken orbit by now. Optimus Prime
may have already launched his attack, and he’s relying on us to stem the flow of reinforcements.’
‘If it really is Prime, he won’t be relying on anyone but himself. Anyway, we’re here.’ Galvatron
opened a trapdoor on the floor, found a keypad and punched in a 600-digit code. Hundreds of layers pulled
back until a pinprick of light signalled the end of the tunnel. Galvatron jumped in and Ultra Magnus once
more found himself playing catch-up.
At the end of the shaft was a room made entirely of glass: ancient plexi so dense and multi-layered
that the walls seemed to flinch and tremble. At the centre of the room was an orb seemingly held in place
by a shaft of light.
‘Relax,’ said Galvatron. ‘It’s not what you think. If I had a Decepticon Matrix, do you really think I’d
seal it underground’ He turned away and said to himself, ‘No, I’d use it to kill every last one of you
Autobots.’
‘We didn’t come all this way for you to stare at a museum piece. Take what you came for and let’s
go.’
Galvatron grabbed the orb and thrust it close to Magnus’ face. There was something inside: a small
creature trapped inside a stasis field. ‘You may not have seen one of these before,’ said Galvatron, realising
why his companion had not recoiled. ‘It’s a Scraplet: a global cyanide pill that I hoped I would never have
to use.’
Ultra Magnus calmly accessed the relevant data-file and tilted his head to get a better look at the tiny
red creature. Coiled at an embryonic tilt, it looked feeble and innocuous, when in actual fact it was a selfreplicating
robo-carnivore responsible for the collapse of entire cybersystems. ‘Where did you get it’ he
said, aghast.
‘After the Great Plague Trannis arranged for a single Scraplet to be frozen in stasis for research
purposes. He wanted to know how they reproduced instantaneously. All but one of our scientists refused to
take part in the experiments, arguing that the material was too hazardous. It seemed that they’d rather be
killed by Trannis than suffer death-by-digestion. The Scraplet was eventually sealed down here.’ He strung
the gleaming orb around his neck. ‘It doesn’t like glass.’
‘You’re bringing that thing on board!’
‘Would you rather I leave it here, ripe for Quintesson discovery They’re threading their way
through the planet, Magnus, not just across it. Soon, every sub-level and duct network will be cleansed –
from the Primal Chamber to Subterrania. This weapon isn’t falling into their hands. If some Sharkticon
gear-head breaks the seal Cybertron will be dead within weeks.’
‘But that’s what you plan to do, isn’t it Break the seal, I mean.’
‘Oh god yes. But only when the time is right.’
The last gunshot rang hot and hollow on C deck, a feeble coda to the crescendo of violence that had
swept through Kledji. The place smelt different now; the smoky tang of plasma and crisp metal mingled
with the syrupy bite of warm lube-juice, threads of which were all over the walls.