eugenesis-text

Centurion poured the sluggish lubricant through a wrist aperture and shuddered at the rush. The
crowd clapped and began to disperse. Grimlock stomped over, Dinobots in tow, to smack the newest
Autobot on the back.
Wheeljack stood on the sidelines, adjusted his tool-belt and watched Mirage sidle over to Ultra
Magnus, who was patiently folding the branding machine away. Separated by a wedge of noisy Autobots,
the engineer could not hear what was being said. Magnus frowned and ushered Mirage into a nearby office.
‘What’s going on there’ asked Hound.
‘I don’t think the party atmosphere is going to last much longer,’ said Wheeljack, beckoning Ratchet
over. ‘Mirage is here to assess the City, isn’t he’
‘Yes. I’m sorry, Wheeljack. Nothing’s been decided yet.’
The office door slid open and Mirage stormed through the crowd. ‘Come on, Ratchet, we’re
leaving.’
The other Autobots noticed something was wrong and stopped talking – all except Grimlock, who
continued chatting loudly to Centurion about ‘old bucket-head’.
Ultra Magnus pressed his forearms against the doorframe and waited until the Dinobot had reached a
full stop.
‘Autobots,’ he said, ‘I’m afraid I have some bad news.’
Black.
But a vibrant, giddying World of Black, smothering and sticky.
There was no passage of time, no progression, no temporal leap from point to point; there was no
cause, just effect after effect after effect; a world of Before and After with no dividing line.
Ah, but there it was: an aberration, a crack that let light in.
And with light came sound, tinny but persistent. The darkness receded and the light became infused
with colour, and colour gave the light form, and the sound gave the forms clarity.
He became aware of noises and recognised them as words. The forms merged into a cohesive picture,
and the words became a facet of the picture, and suddenly Death’s Head knew who and where he was.
His wrists had been tied together with electro-chains. A Quintesson gatekeeper used a pole topped
with a steel noose to keep him on the ground. The whitened metal gave him love bites as he looked up at
Xenon, who was hovering above a rostrum.
‘I will not ask you again,’ said the Majestrix. ‘Are you one of them’
Death’s Head turned the other way. The ‘courtroom’, such as it was, consisted of a Sharkticon
Deathpit, empty spectator boxes and a podium. Nearby, General Rodern and a look-alike were tending to
a life-support machine – a block of smooth machinery that contained three transparent spheres. Inside each
one, suspended in pale green liquid, was a brain module, as dark and delicate as diced meat.
Xenon’s tendril left a shallow scar across the back of Death’s Head’s neck. ‘I can tell you’re not
listening, because this really is a matter of life and death. You see, I was rather rash before – I thought you
were Cybertronian. Having had a closer look, I’m not sure. You’re too crude, too basic – too ugly.’
‘That’s rich coming from a five-faced egg, eh’
Xenon grabbed Death’s Head’s horns and forced him to make eye contact. ‘I’ll be honest with you.
Even if you tell me what I want to know, the chances are I’ll kill you. It will be a swift and painless death –
but then I always say that.’
‘The name’s Death’s Head. I’m a freelance peacekeeper. I was hired to explore this planet.’ Catching
Xenon’s eye, the gatekeeper loosened the noose and allowed Death’s Hand to stand. ‘I hitchhiked my way
into your base and I intend to reveal your nefarious plans to the highest bidder.’
‘Anything else’ asked Xenon.
‘Yeah, just one more thing: release me or I’ll break free and kill every last one of you. In alphabetical
order.’
‘Oh, Death’s Head. It seems almost a shame to kill someone so deluded.’ Xenon slid an oily tendril
around the mechanoid’s neck and held him aloft. ‘General Quantax Run him through.’
Rodern’s look-alike snatched a trident and plunged it deep into Death’s Head’s chest. The bounty
hunter collapsed but did not scream, not even when the weapon was ripped out dragging oily streams of
circuitry. He hugged the floor as the spikes broke his armour a second time, and a third.
Rodern clapped in the background.