eugenesis-text

‘Wait!’ Ryknia raised his hands. ‘Why are you talking about gratitude Why do you “deserve”
something from us, Quantax What could we possibly owe you’
‘Everything. Your lives. Your bodies.’
‘What do you know about our bodies’ asked Sevax, suddenly interested.
‘General Quantax! I think you should see this.’
‘Not now, 281!’ Quantax dragged his finger down Jolup’s cheekbone. ‘For four years you three
existed as balls of cerebral circuitry – low-maintenance brain modules bobbing in liquid, chained to life
support. How we laughed – Xenon, Rodern and me – as the foot soldiers wheeled you about the Royal
Court, locked away in your pristine little fishbowls. Did you never stop to think why you were left as you
were when Xenon had thousands of bodyshells in the vault’
‘What are you saying’ demanded Ryknia. ‘That Xenon didn’t want us revived’
‘On the contrary. Xenon often talked of giving you new bodies; he even commissioned prototypes.
Each time I managed to convince him that you weren’t yet ready. I said you were still too traumatised.
Eventually, my persistence paid off: he lost interest, and devoted his full energies to the Cargo.’
‘And yet here we are,’ said Jolup, ‘in these Decepticon forms.’
‘Ultimately, I was the one who encouraged the transplant. I even requested that you be posted under
my command. I felt I could use some lackeys – powerful but slavishly loyal.’
‘Loyal Is that why we burst in here and put guns to your head’
‘No, Jolup, but it’s why you couldn’t pull the trigger. While the three of you were on life-support I
had Ferrax – how can I phrase this – modify you a little. Under my guidance he made some minor cerebral
adjustments.’
‘You lobotomised us!’ Ryknia lunged forward and was restrained by guards. They need not have
bothered: the onrush of sickness would have stalled him anyway. ‘You tampered with our brains!’
‘From your perspective, it was just a temporary, painless glitch in the life-pod systems – a few
moments off-line. From mine, it was ten cycles of microsurgery and a whole new aspect to your
personalities: the inability to cause me harm.’
Q-281 pushed through the crowd. ‘With respect, sir, I’m afraid that this cannot wait.’
‘It can wait, 281,’ Quantax said, waving a gun at him. ‘It can wait.’ He turned back to his prisoners. ‘I
see that none of you doubt my words. You all experienced the side effects when trying to
shoot me.’
‘What else did you do to us’ asked Ryknia.
‘Nothing. In some small way, I trusted you. I gave you an opportunity to exercise free will and
pledge your services to me willingly. Don’t worry. A few sparks of a laser scalpel and you’ll be my willing
slaves for… well, forever.’
‘General Quantax, I must insist that—’
An energy bolt dissolved Q-281’s head and shoulders. Quantax waved the smoke from the barrel of
his handgun and saw a movement inside 281’s chest cavity. On looking closer, he realised it was his
mistake: a fat blip on the scanner scope was reflected in the wound to give the illusion of movement. No,
not one blip: a hundred.
Quantax did a double take. A hundred blips on the scanner scope ‘Something’s heading this way!’ he
yelled. ‘On screen, now!’
Brushing the edge of the picture (gold and battered and pounding towards the fortress) was the Ark,
surrounded by the massed aerial ranks of the Cybertronian Alliance. He didn’t know which Transformers
had appeared on horizon, or how they’d survived the meticulous Antiholocaust, or why they’d chosen this
moment, this sharpened, hyper-real moment, to launch an attack; but none of that mattered.
‘I want every Tenderiser, am-tank, sky-swatter, ACG and rail-gun outside now!’ he screamed,
prowling the command room, clawing at the air. ‘Every squadron, every recon unit, every frontier team,
every ranger battalion: return and regroup! Surround the fortress! All Tridents - take to the air!’ He pressed
a comm-chip to his audio-receptor, ready for the onrush of progress reports, and looked at Ryknia, Sevax
and Jolup, still ringed by guards.
‘Well, what are you waiting for Get outside! Meet the enemy head on!’