eugenesis-text

‘I guess we’re one of the lucky ones.’
‘What makes you say that You think we’ve seen the last of him’ Throwback laughed. ‘I’m joking,
Quark.’
‘Oh. Anyway, you look very well.’
‘That’s because there’s nothing wrong with him!’ scoffed Rev-Tone. ‘He’s only in here because
Perceptor scared to let him out of his sight.’
‘They want to run some tests on me in case I jump again. This might not even be my universe.’
‘Amazing,’ said Quark again, and swivelled to face Rev-Tone again.
‘Yes, give me some attention. Just because I haven’t visited an organic Cybertron or reached the
Omega Point doesn’t make me a less entertaining patient.’ He paused. ‘Or perhaps
it does.’
‘Stop moaning. I’ve brought you a present.’
Quark checked that First Aid was still chatting to Rodimus, unclipped his shin-guard and placed an
unlabelled cylinder onto the circuit bed.
‘A vial of Hypergrade!’ exclaimed Rev-Tone.
‘Shhh! If First Aid hears I’ll be court martialled!’ He smiled and watched Rev-Tone unscrew the lid.
‘I had to sneak it past Rescue. I thought it might make up for you missing the troop inspection.’
Rev-Tone unclipped his mouth grille and gulped liquid. ‘It’s tomorrow, isn’t it The biggest event
since Arklaunch and I’m hooked up to a med-scanner two miles underground.’ He set his drink on the
edge of the slab. ‘I wish I could be there.’
‘It’s not that big a deal. If Thunderclash has his way there won’t even be an inspection.’
‘Are you going’
Quark stared at the droplet of oil trickling down the ridges in Rev-Tone’s chin. ‘Well, yeah… but
only because I’m part of Kup’s squad.’
‘No, no, don’t worry about it. You go along and enjoy yourself. Make sure no one forgets about us
casualties of war.’ He thumbed the oil from his lip. ‘Heckle Prime for me.’
Quark stood up and set the chair straight. ‘I’ll visit again as soon as it’s over.’ He had reached First
Aid’s office when the cry lanced through the air:
‘Hey Quark! Thanks for the Hypergrade!’
Centurion felt the branding iron nibble his chest. Angry sparks leapt from the contact point and
smoke enveloped his torso. A hundred Autobots clapped politely, some looking at their feet, some looking
at the ribbons of rain outside the assembly hall.
He hoped the Rite of Autobrand would never end. For the first time in his life he felt accepted on his
own merits. He was no longer an ancient relic – his sacrifice against Megatron (a week ago to him, twentyfour
years to everyone else) meant no more shame, no more embarrassment. He looked at the other robots
- his new comrades - and counted red badges on chests and biceps. The familiar few – Blades, the
Dinobots, Wheeljack and Ratchet’s team – hogged the front row. The other faces meant nothing to him,
but that would change.
Ultra Magnus switched off the branding machine and waved the smoke aside.
‘Centurion, by the power vested in me by High Command, I welcome you to the ranks of the
Autobots. With the Rite of Autobrand comes the responsibility to regard life as the greatest gift, the
understanding that freedom is the right of all sentient beings, and the willingness to fight and die to protect
the innocent.’ He paused, and a shimmer of relief passed through a crowd who thought he was going to
recite the other twenty-eight Articles of the Autobot Code. ‘We are honoured to count you among us,
Centurion. May your lustre never dull and your wires never cross.’
The loudest cheers came from Grimlock and his Dinobots, but even the other front-liners –
Silverbolt, Bumblebee, Arcee, Carnivac, Ebony and Springer – shouted their approval.
Ultra Magnus reached for the ceremonial vial. ‘We have each given a portion of our fuel. It is a gift
that binds you morally and biologically with your brethren; a donation that, upon acceptance, will
symbolise your pledge to uphold the Autobot Code.’