The Diego Diaries: Function Over Form 1 (dd6 1)
-0-On a ship flying toward trouble
"What is functionalism and these slaggers? They were before my time," Springer said as he sat checking his weapon. "Mind you, I can still ventilate them ..." He grinned at Ratchet who grinned at him.
"I'll be your alibi. Don't let anyone tell you your old ma doesn't love you," Ratchet said with a chuckle.
Laughter greeted that, then Hercy glanced at Hard Drive who was sitting nearby looking thoughtful. "That's pretty simple. They were The System before The System. They decided that what you were, you always were. Your form determined your function. If you were a big mech, you couldn't be anything but what that format entailed or they'd destroy your efforts including you too if necessary. If you wanted to paint, fat chance. You had to be heavy equipment. The more rare and unusual your alternate format, the more status you had. You could even be exempt. The more common, the less status and importance you had. You were equipment and called the 'disposable class'. 'Data sticks' as they were called, information models like you, Prowl, depending on what their design was fell into that category. You were totally expendable and when they were finished with you, you were finished.
"They had cops everywhere and they even used your own optics to spy. They have simple forms and one optic faces. They also invented empurata if I remember," Hercy said as Hard Drive nodded.
"They did. It's not by accident that Shockwave looks the way he does. That's what the functionalists look like. They had the ability to 'recall' disposable mechs and femmes. If you no longer had a purpose or you could be turned against them, they would 'recall' you. They destroyed whole groups of individuals that way." Hardie sat straighter. "Ratchet, they had chips installed in a mech's processor. They could destroy vast groups that way."
Ratchet nodded, then turned to the ship's databases. "Teletraan III, this is Ratchet, code 5B-xxx4-alpha-zeta, 42031-67251-beta-zeta-2. I need access to all mainframes both on board ship as well as Mars and Cybertron. All levels of security, emergency status search. Override enabled."
"Teletraan III grants access," a feminine voice replied.
Ratchet worked furiously a moment, waited for data, then arose. He walked to Hercy. "Sit," he said as he pulled a plug. Inserting it, he turned to the computer station. "Teletraan, scan for the subject indicated."
"Working," Teletraan replied. It was silent a moment, then the voice replied. "Affirmative. It is found in sector PC-31 of the subject."
"Frag," Ratchet said transforming a digit. He began to unscrew a panel on Hercy's processor. "Sorry, Hercy. I have to do this."
"Go ahead, Ratchet," Hercy said as the panel was removed.
Ratchet looked inside, scanned the local area, then transformed his digits into tweezers. Reaching inside, he pulled out a long rectangular chip. Holding it up, he called upon Teletraan. "Scan, Auntie. Tell me what this is."
A beam hit the chip in Ratchet's servo, a beam from the ceiling sensor grid. Teletraan replied. "It is a destruction chip placed there during the confusion that occurred shortly after the First Cybertronian Civil War nearly ten million years ago. It was a control device during the period of the Functionalist Council Dominion. It is estimated that conservatively more than a billion individuals were disposed of by activating the chip remotely. Those who died were considered expendable and therefore, the 'disposable class' was created. After the Knights of Cybertron left to find Cybertopia and spread peace throughout the universe, the Functionalists gained control of society through the Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy, a book that delineated what everyone was allowed to do and become. They have been missing from Cybertronian history shortly after the Civil War and opposition from the Anti-Vocationist movement."
"Who might have this chip, Teletraan. Speculate," Ratchet said with a growing grimness inside.
A pause, then the answer. "It is highly probable that anyone of a certain age on Cybertron or the Empire, anyone who might have lived before or at the beginning of the Golden Age carries the chip in their processor. It would require remote triggering to work, however, and can be removed. They were placed in the same processor slot, sector PC-31 for the efficiency of detonation."
It was as quiet as lead as everyone turned to Kup and Hard Drive. Ratchet motioned them over, then went through the process with both of them. They had chips as well. Prime watched with intense disquiet. "I knew you were elders but this changes everything. We have to assume that anyone of a certain age has this problem." He turned to Prime. "I would assume that it includes the elders of your family, mine and Ironhide's."
Prime's face was grim on a scale not seen among them since the moment it was clear that Cybertron would fall and they could do nothing about it. He thought for a moment, then turned to an equally grim Blaster. "Tell them, all of them, to come here."
Blaster sent the message and got a response. "One of Twelve, Four of Twelve, Ten of Twelve, and Eleven of Twelve are coming. They said the rest aren't necessary to a conversation or a negotiation."
"Ratchet," a voice said.
They turned to the computer who was still running a search program since Auntie hadn't been asked to discontinue. Ratchet walked to the computer. "Teletraan, this is Ratchet."
"Commander, it is determined by a search of files that are partially destroyed from age and warfare that the Functionalist faction when they conquered Cybertron nearly ten million years ago used a chip system of control for all members of society, especially those who were deemed 'disposable class'. They used a primary and secondary chip given that the Anti-Vocationist League had begun to splinter their power and their responses began to escalate."
Ratchet started. "Come here, Hercy."
The little mech walked to Ratchet, then sat as Ratchet plugged in. "Teletraan, rescan this subject and tell me if there is any tech of that sort still in him."
A beam shot out of the ceiling scanning Hercy from stem to stern. "Affirmative."
A cold chill went through the group as Ratchet began to get ready to remove it. "Teletraan, scan everyone on all the ships in this group as well as the Seekers with us for this chip and the backup measure. Report when concluded."
It was silent a moment, then Teletraan did. "None of the Seekers carry the chips. No one on the shuttles bears the chips. The three previous subjects have the backup system. No one else on board this vessel has one but for this vessel and the one called Gamma Supreme."
"WHAT THE FRAG!?" a deep voice said. Loudly.
"Teletraan, please scan Xantium and Gamma. Let me know what is happening to them regarding this measure."
Ratchet removed another chip, one carefully hidden. It was scanned and confirmed. By the time he had removed the chips from Kup and Hard Drive, Teletraan was back. "I have detected similar chips in the processors of the vessels named Gamma and Xantium. They are not backed up with another chip but are designed to kill the vessel with the first. They can be removed."
"Frag that. DO IT NOW!" Xantium replied.
"Ratchet, this is Gamma. Are we a hazard to this mission? If so, should we leave?" Gamma asked in the usual manner of their frame. His concern was for others first. Xantium having lived a less sheltered and more 'real' life felt otherwise.
"We need to transfer to a shuttle and get them out of here, Optimus. They could be detonated," Ratchet said.
Prime rose and nodded. "Transfer to the City of Praxus and Impactor's revenge. Link me in to Ingot when we get there. I want both you and Xantium to return to Mars, Gamma. I want vast distances between you and this place." He looked at Ratchet. "Are these three safe?"
Ratchet nodded. "I have the six chips." He held out his servo where six silver data wafers were held. "I don't know how they work but their efficiency is legendary," he replied with great bitterness.
Prime nodded. "I know," he said. "Come with me, then both of you leave swiftly, Xantium."
"No problem, Prime," Xantium said with fire in his voice as the group on board headed to bridges to disperse. When they were off, the two arced around and left swiftly.
Walking to the command seat of Impactor's Revenge, Prime said. "Put me through, Blaster," he said with a cold voice. Blaster did. Prime sat back calming his spark. "One of Twelve, this is Optimus Prime."
:Lord Optimus, I am honored to hear your voice. The last Prime that I remember was Nominus:
"I have asked you to come aboard my ship, all of you. Xantium and Gamma had to return to base. We are here between our sanctuary and a massive Decepticon build up. They are led by the Predacon, Razorclaw, who is a ruthless and tactically advanced individual. I am requesting your presence on this ship. Transfer to it so we may discuss how to bring you and your people into safety." He glanced at Rem, the pilot. "Are the two clear?"
Rem nodded. "They bridged away a moment ago."
Prime nodded, then turned to toward the window to watch the array of ships before him. "Are there any ships there without sentient lifeforms? Scan carefully. We do not want a mistake."
Rem scanned the ships deeply and carefully calling upon Teletraan-Nexus, a node that was on the Proxima Centauri Deep Space Array that would access with great swiftness the massed sentient data entity that was all of the Teletraans wherever they were. 'Auntie' could now assist those who were out in space with all of their data and sensor problems. It took a moment, then Rem pointed to a small tanker that was near the midway space on the outside leading edge of the group. "That ship is supply and has nothing aboard that registers any energy remotely related to sentient."
"That is assured?" Prime asked.
Rem nodded. "Teletraan rates the scan at nearly 100%. The margin is not complete due to the generation of static energy by some of the systems aboard. It's a supply carrier tied into their systems and follows on a drone program."
Prime nodded. Then One of Twelve was back. "We are aware of the Decepticons, Lord Optimus. We would like to speak with you, the four of us. We are prepared to come to your ship."
Prime stared at the scene outside the window with a growing fury. He nodded to Blaster who transmitted the message. Down ship, the bridge purred into life as four mechs walked through it. They were met by Ironhide who led them to the bridge where Prime sat with Prowl and Hard Drive standing behind him. The others sat or stood around the big room as the four walked to Prime and bowed.
They were eerie mechs, the four of them. Three of them were some version of yellow with one blue. They had the same simplistic shape and format with the same helm. It was a basic format but held only one optic. Their optics were yellow and glowed. It was clear that the belief they were responsible for empurata was borne out by their own appearance. Shockwave was destroyed by their ideas and practices. One of them spoke. "I am One of Twelve, Lord Optimus. We seek sanctuary. Our system of worlds has become dangerous and inconducive to life."
Prime nodded. "So it would seem. I am not unwilling to allow you to come if you do so under my own set of requirements. Anyone who comes to our colony or to Cybertron must surrender their databases, all of them to a scan and archival. We do not allow any devices to get a pass from this requirement. We are trying to recreate our culture and history. Thus, we scan and copy all informational devices, returning them to their owners when that is accomplished. That is also the rule with any literature, art, music, and film that might be in your possession. We also require a full and complete download of any navigational databases, ship travel logs, information about space that you have traversed, and other data to be determined. We are trying to build a picture of the galaxy in this sector. We have many enemies and few friends. We also have very little data in the sectors from which you appear to come."
The four turned to each other to discuss offline what Prime had said. They leaned slightly together with their helms in close proximity. It was unsettling to see such a machine-like set of behaviors out of mechs who weren't drones. They concluded, then turned to him. "We are unable to complete all of your requests, Optimus Prime. We decline access to our data. Our flight plan will be granted, of course. We concur about the area in which we inhabited but only the flight plan itself. None of the areas in which we have inhabited will be disclosed."
"Why?" Hard Drive asked. "Why not tell us unless you're hiding genocide too?"
The tension was tremendous in the room as both sides stared at the other, then Eleven of Twelve stepped forward. His function was the mediator, so he stepped in to debate the issue. "We understand your interest in the sectors we have called home for generations since the Golden Age. We have left it behind and we do not wish to revisit a past that was hard and unproductive. Surely, you can understand our reluctance to revisit that area now that we have left it."
"Surely, you can understand how some of us remember what it was like to live under Functionalist rule," Hercy said. "I remember it. What about you, General?"
Hard Drive nodded as his son and grandson stepped closer to stand on either side of him. Raptor looked molten and Blackjack looked brutal. "I remember. Who can forget?"
"There will be no negotiation," Prime said quietly. "You will surrender your ships and crews to me. I will accept nothing less." He glanced at Blaster. "Mute this vessel and the others in our flight to any signal transfer. Have the Seekers offline their signal reception."
Blaster sent the messages, then turned to Prime. "It's done. The Seekers are unable to receive. If we want their assistance, we have to signal them in another way."
Prime nodded. "We are aware of your 'recall' methods. I want to know how you accomplish this and have the mechanism handed to me. Now."
One of Twelve glanced at the others, then Prime. "If we decide that isn't productive?"
Prime considered the matter of genocide, the vulnerability of his colonies, home world, and everyone there. If they could fulfill this function around their own people, it was possible that every member of their species of a certain age who still bore this abomination without their knowledge would die immediately as their processor burst from the explosion. It could mean the death of millions. He glanced at Blaster. "Take out that ship."
Blaster moved to fire control, sat down, then sent the message. A stream of light shot out and engulfed the small ship. It blew up and threw its shrapnel into three other vessels. One imploded on the damaged side while the others flared with fire which then winked out.
The four mechs stared at the drama out of the window, then turned to Prime. "That was unnecessary," One of Twelve said with indignation.
"Give to me the device by which you remotely destroy our people or I will tear Eleven of Twelve into confetti," Prime said in an even cold voice.
Eleven of Twelve shifted, stepping back a bit as the others glanced at each other. Then One of Twelve gathered himself. "You won't do that. You're a Prime. You don't kill like that."
Prime considered the figure before him, one that had probably killed without conscience maybe a billion or two of their own people over the eons. As he rose, as he reached for Eleven of Twelve, a stray thought flashed through his processor along with a whisper from out of the ether. One of Twelve was wrong as hell the thought said and a soft feminine voice spoke of Her support as his big servo closed around the Functionalist's neck.
-0-TBC 5-10-17 edited 5-12-17
ESL: ether:
a : the rarefied element formerly believed to fill the upper regions of space
b : the upper regions of space : heavens