eugenesis-text

Nightbeat took him by the arm. ‘Optimus has given us a little errand…’
‘Magnus! Over here!’
‘What is it’ Ultra Magnus splashed over to Galvatron, who as usual was a few corridors ahead. ‘What
have you found’
‘My old cell. And my old cellmates. Look on the floor.’
‘Thunderclash! Longtooth!’ Magnus fell to his knees. Only parts of the Pretender remained: keepsakes
that would barely fill an open hand: scabs of paint, optic glass, a tusk. He was mingled with Thunderclash
like a double exposure, a mess of overlap and twin-space.
‘Leave them,’ said Galvatron, knowing he would be ignored.
‘Longtooth’s dead, but Thunderclash…’ Magnus separated the debris as if dusting for fingerprints.
‘What did they do to him’
‘They killed him, Magnus! Come on!’
Galvatron ran off, muttering to himself.
Ultra Magnus took off his Pretender helmet to get a better look. Thunderclash’s head was split in two
like a cleaved apple; one side was balanced on its rounded base, exposing the core. Just off-centre, studded
with thousands of neural feeds, was his brain module – a ripe pip, glossy and intact.
‘I know you can’t hear me,’ he said, flexing his fingers in preparation, ‘but you’re going to be alright.’
Thunderclash’s body was irretrievable, but his brain could be picked and pocketed. He switched his optics
to tight focus and watched his heavy Pretender glove move into view. Just a pinch and snip to detach the
central wiring, and it would all be over.
He touched the brain module with his wet hand. It disintegrated between his fingertips.
The wormhole shuddered as it deposited three Transformers into 2013. Frenzy was doubled up with
laughter, but stopped when he saw that the cracks in the temple floor had become fully blown ruptures.
They’d only be gone a couple of minutes and now the world was falling apart. Were those flames he could
see below
Thundercracker was next, utterly bemused. He held his hands above his head, muttering something
about self-destructing. Nightbeat prodded him off the altar with his photon gun. ‘Believe me, this will all
make perfect sense if you give me a chance to explain. Get the Autoshuttle, Frenzy. Thunders here needs
an escort to the Sonic Canyons.’
‘Where am I’ asked Thundercracker. One moment he was watching Bumblebee run for his life in
1986, the next he was being coshed over the head as he knelt to inspect a suspicious-looking ‘energon
crystal’.
‘You’re in a very bad place,’ said Nightbeat, looking at the tendrils of wormhole energy forcing the
landscape apart. ‘This is the Cybertron of 2013. Don’t worry, it’s not all like this. Not yet, anyway.’
Nightbeat watched Thundercracker board the Autoshuttle and noted how simple this abduction had
been, at least on an emotional level. Where was the angst and the existential hubris, the nagging guilt about
morality and ethics Perhaps it was easier with a Decepticon, although he hoped he wasn’t as prejudiced as
that. Perhaps tampering with time itself wasn’t as hazardous as he’d imagined. Perhaps everything was easier
second time around.
He wandered back into the temple to look at the new past: once the Ark, now a nondescript patch of
earthen rock face circa January 1986. He froze.
It wasn’t possible. Not now.
The portal had started to shrink.
‘No!’
Death’s Head ignored Siren’s scream and fired, but the advance warning, however unintentional, gave
Haxian a chance to hide. The technician crashed behind his workbench as a spear thudded into a spare set
of telearmour.
‘He’s wearing the Matrix!’ Siren hissed. ‘We can’t risk it!’