eugenesis-text

A small, crimson Autobot stepped out of the shadows. He was lithe but ill-proportioned, with
etiolated fins sliding from his biceps to a point well above his head. His muddy chest-plate doubled as a
bonnet in vehicular mode, and two headlights pointed towards a midriff grille. He was twitching.
‘Prime! Sir! I – I – I…’
‘We thought you were a Decepticon!’ thundered Rodimus. ‘Why are you following an unauthorised
route to the medicentre’
‘I’m on my way to visit Rev-Tone, commander. I, er, found a short cut. There’s a fresh crater a few
miles from here, near the outskirts of Helios.’
‘You’ve found an unprotected route that leads directly underneath Autobase! Please tell me that Red
Alert or Kup know about this.’
Quark’s hands were shaking. ‘Yessir. Red Alert’s writing up a report.’
Rodimus walked off, shaking his head. ‘Why am I always the last to know anything’
Soundwave stared at the door to Galvatron’s throne room. He could sense the twelve security
cameras bearing down on him, unblinking as they traced every plate and rivet on his freshly steam-cleaned
body. A laser doodled patterns on the back of his dark blue skull, waiting for an excuse to fire.
The door slid open.
Walking into the darkness felt like surrendering to a clammy palm, all troughs and ancient sweat. The
thin passageway was full of grey-stone effigies of dead Decepticon commanders, not all of them fondly
remembered: Trannis, Scarab, Shockwave, Thunderwing, Bludgeon, Scorponok. Even Straxus was there
(head and body). Only Jhiaxus was conspicuous by his absence.
As always, Soundwave wondered whether he would one day join those hallowed ranks and, as
always, whether he wanted to.
He walked into a central chamber that was closer in size and style to the famous Xerxes arena than a
war-room. Décor-wise, it was the usual: pensive up-lighting, glossy black metal and a gold Decepticon
symbol that floated like sunlight on the polished floor.
Galvatron sat on a throne that was ten sizes too big, his skeletal fingers curling over the arm rests. His
shoulders sloped under a corona of shadow. His head was scarred by two slits of red light, as if a knife had
been dragged across his eyes.
Soundwave assumed his usual position at the tip of the Decepticon symbol, folded his hands behind
his back and waited for Galvatron to acknowledge him. Behind the throne was a huge convex window and
a panoramic view of Polyhex, now little more than a smouldering wedge of metal; something Unicron
would stub his toe on.
As Soundwave stared at the precincts and sandpaper slopes he remembered Galvatron’s promise in
2009: ‘When the Autobot stain is removed, we can begin reshaping Cybertron to our specifications.’ But all he had
done since then was reinforce Darkmount, rearrange his forces, sit on his throne and stare. Soundwave
knew there were differences between Galvatron and Megatron, but one thing was certain: the Decepticon
in front of him fought a far more solitary war.
‘You seen preoccupied, Soundwave.’ The voice, far deeper than Megatron’s, bounced off every wall.
‘Not at all. As you ordered, I oversaw the relocation of three hundred troops to Sixshot in Helex.
The Leagus silo is now fully converted, and will house them comfortably.’
‘Do you trust him’
‘Commander’
‘Sixshot. Can he be trusted’
‘I… He seems loyal to the Decepticon cause.’
‘That’s not what I’m asking and you know it. Being loyal to the Decepticon cause and plotting to
overthrow me are two different things.’ Galvatron stood up. ‘You’ve read his mind - what’s he thinking’
‘Sixshot is arrogant and power-hungry, but he won’t betray you. He is grateful for the promotion but
thinks he is destined for greater things.’
‘Short of assassinating me, the only way he can assume a higher rank is by replacing you.’ Galvatron
turned around to take in the view. ‘Send Frenzy, Rumble and Laserbeak to Leagus and tell Sixshot that
they are there to bolster his forces. Have them report back to you on tactical decisions, battle plans -
anything that takes their interest.’