The Diego Diaries: Function Over Form (dd6 3)
-0-On a battle shuttle in the deepness of space
He gripped Eleven of Twelve by the neck lifting him off his peds. He kicked at Prime who bore the blow stoically. The others looked shocked but One of Twelve to his credit called out to Prime. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS! PUT HIM DOWN!"
Prime heard him even as he calculated what he was prepared to do. The specter of a billion or so of his own people falling to the ground dead filled his spark with rage but it wasn't a bonfire. It was a seething heat that didn't overcome his control. He gripped an arm of the flailing mech in his servo, then ripped it off. The spray of the mech's energon splashed his comrades. They raised their arms to protect themselves as energon sprayed out of the shoulder that flamed up, then shot out sparks. Prime flung his own arm backward with Eleven's arm in his grasp. It struck One of Twelve in the face pushing him into the other two. They staggered with his fall, then righted each other.
No one else moved. Most of them had seen Prime in battle and knew he was a combiner-level combatant. This wasn't something they hadn't seen him do before. He did what was needed and little more. All of them knew that this was a tradeoff that Prime had made inside with himself. The needs of the many outweighed the selfishness of the few or even the one for that matter. He was the embodiment of the agony of his people, who knew how many were dead by these mechs, and nothing would stop him from getting what he needed to save the rest.
He slammed Eleven of Twelve into the bulkhead, then let him go. Eleven slid down the side smearing the wall with his own energon. Turning to the others, Prime began to beat them with the arm he still gripped. Over and over, he rained blows down upon them until they were crouching on the floor. He paused the action as he towed over them, his affect murderous. They stared upward at Prime, then he leaned closer. "The device or I will beat you to death with your own arms and legs." He stepped back to wait, Eleven's dented arm hanging bloodily in his huge grip.
No one moved, not even Ratchet. They waited for Prime to get what he needed. Any device that could kill millions with a single press of a button was worth anything they had to do to retrieve it. None of them would stop Prime no matter how hard he had to press forward with this tactic.
Prime stared at the three as they discussed their situation amongst each other. He was calm inside oddly enough as the soothing energy of his patron, Lady Solus the Maker surged through him. He had heard her voice encouraging him to put aside the intrinsic decency that had made him special all of his life to do this disagreeable thing. She urged him to do what was a necessary but contemptable action to Prime's personal code of honor. The People were in peril and he had to act. She sent him energy from outside the realm of the third-dimensional plane upon which he lived and this moment was occurring. It tingled on his dermal layer and he knew it was her. It helped a lot that she did.
One of Twelve stood slowly and the others followed. "You must help Eleven. He will be harmed greatly."
"No one leaves this ship alive if I do not get what I want. None of you," Prime said in a dangerous voice.
One shifted, then nodded. "We activate it together. We have the codes and input them into the master computer which sends the signal. We recall absolete tech in that manner as per the wishes of Adaptus of the Guiding Hand."
"Don't hang that on Him, slagger," Raptor said darkly. "This isn't about religion. This is about bigotry and murder. You better cough it up or I'll volunteer to kill you myself. Slowly. Painfully."
One of Twelve stared at him, then Prime. "I told you how it works."
Prime turned to Ratchet. "Disable any function that they might have that will cause problems. Every system and function up to and including their sparks."
Ratchet nodded, drew a handheld, then pointed it at the three who turned toward him and put up their servos. "No!" Four of Twelve said before the group slumped to the floor offlined for the moment. He walked past Prime, clipped off the bleeding lines on Eleven's arm socket, then glanced at his leader. "I'll take the arm, Optimus," he said reaching for and retrieving it.
"Put it back up his aft where it belongs, Ratchet," Blackjack said with fury. "What now, Prime?"
Prime didn't answer. His consciousness was not in the room with them.
-0-Elsewhere on another dimensional plane
Prime blinked as he came to awareness. He was on a patio deck which bordered the Sea of Mercury. The undulating beauty of the sea was nearby, down from a beach of silver sand. A house was behind him with open doors, a beach house that only the wealthy could afford. The wealthy and Primes. This was the beach house that the Primes used on the seashore. There were two chairs on the deck facing the silvery beauty beyond and Solus Prime was sitting in one with a smile and two drinks in her servos. "Sit, my dear brother. We have to talk."
He hesitated, then sat. She held out a drink, one oddly enough with a small umbrella sticking out of it like those from Earth. She grinned. "I think some of the things humans do are very cute. Sit back and sip your drink. I'm aware that you did something outside your normal behavior and I don't want you spending a decaorn punishing yourself."
"I do not believe in gratuitous violence, Lady," he said as he stared at the drink. He took a sip. It was cold and delicious.
"You defended millons, maybe even billions of our people just now. They cannot be trusted, Optimus. Their logic is that of the machine, without compassion or dignity. When a bolt wears out and has no further function, they have no problem extracting it, then tossing it away. Their philosophy is counter to that which is taught by those they say they venerate. They have done much wrong. You did the right thing." She grinned. "Does it help you to hear me say that?"
He looked at her, then nodded. "It does, Lady, but it still feels wrong."
"It is but the need outweighed the moment. What if they didn't tell you and somehow managed to send a message for recall? Would you be upset about four mechs making a small downpayment on what they owe or would you rather see millions lying around dead?" she asked. "First, the Quintessans, then them, then The System, then the war, and near extermination of our people. It's a straight line, brother, from one hell to another. You are the one who breaks the pattern."
"I will do my best," Optimus said as the scene began to fade.
"You always do," came a whisper that faded even as reality began to come back into focus.
He blinked, then he was back. Prime looked around, wincing slightly at Eleven who was lying on the floor with the others. "Please take care of them, Ratchet. We have to take out the others. What about their ability to function as a unit. Are they offline or will they be able to help the others if they retaliate?"
Ratchet stood up, consulted the device in his servo, then turned to Prime. "They register only the most minimal life support features. I think if we take them out of here it'll help us in case there are features we don't know about."
"Do it. Raptor, film them on the floor. Perhaps if they have a special function we can find out when we show the others the images," Prime said as Raptor filmed the silent mechs and took several pictures. He sent them wifi to Blaster. Prime watched as Ratchet called for stretchers. The bridge brought them in and the bridge took them out. He consigned them to repair under Gypsy and First Aid's care, then heavy detention in the security ward of Metroplex Femme. They were under Primal seal which meant only Prime or his designees could enter the ward. "Blaster, open a channel to the Ingot," he said.
"They no longer have a mediator," Ratchet said with a slight grin.
"Good," Prowl said grimly.
The screen reappeared with a one-opticed face, that of Nine of Twelve, the Inquisitor. "Lord Optimus. We cannot raise our colleagues."
"I know," Prime said as he sat down in the command chair once more. "They are indisposed."
The eight remaining mechs glanced at each other. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Show them the images," Prime said as he stared coldly at the mechs on the screen.
Images of the four councilors laying side by side on the floor, energon splashed and with one missing a limb filled the monitor, then were replaced with Prime's cold stare. They were silent a moment, then Nine of Twelve, the Inquisitor, straightened his posture. He was the one who intimidated and probed. He was assuming that role once again it was evident. "We are astonished. We wish to have our colleagues back, Prime. We demand that you send them now."
"No," Prime said.
The mechs on the screen stared at him, then each other. They were conversing when Prime turned to Blaster. "Sheer off the tail section of the most damaged ship. Beware if anyone is there."
Blaster nodded, then walked to fire control. With a careful scan and calculation, he put a beam of light into the tail section of the damaged listing ship. It exploded spewing shrapnel into the sides of two other ships before the fire flares died.
Nine glanced sharply back at the screen. "What did you do?"
"I applied logic to my problem, formulated a plan, then enacted it without emotion or concern for others. Sound familiar?" Prime asked.
"What do you want, Prime? We came here for sanctuary at your call," Nine said as Two of Twelve stepped forward to stand next to him.
"I want you to do what I require the way I require it and if you do not, I will take you apart bolt by bolt. I want your surrender. I want you to put down your guns and surrender. How difficult is that?" Prime asked.
They stared at him, then turned to each other. They discussed their situation, then Nine turned back to the screen. "We are withdrawing. It was a mistake to come here."
"You will not go anywhere," Prime said. "I am the Prime of Cybertron and you will obey me. If we have to slice your ships apart meter by meter, I will order it so. Surrender to me. Shut down your ship's non-essential systems, put all weapons in lockers, then fuse them, and prepare to be boarded. Are there any questions or do we stop playing here and I tell my crew to destroy all of you one-by-one?"
It was silent a moment as they stared at him. "You give us no choice. We can't fight your firepower."
"How does it feel?" Blackjack asked. "How does it feel to be an empty?"
They stared at him, then Prime. "We shall comply."
"I wouldn't trust them, Prime. They have no honor," Raptor said with a poisonous tone.
"We will destroy them if they do not comply. You tell your people, Nine. Tell them that death is the only alternative to obedience," Prime said coldly.
It was a stand off for a moment, then Nine nodded. "We have no choice but to comply."
"Do it," Prime said with an edge to his voice. "We will have you on sensors. If you do anything but comply, we will destroy your group. Every ship, every spark. Understand?"
Nine nodded. "Understood."
"Mute the sound but keep the screen open. Send for boarding troops, the tougher, the better," Prime said glancing at Prowl. "I want shock troops to do this swiftly. Secure the databases. If they look like they are destroying anything in your scans, tell me. I will personally go there and rip them to shreds myself."
Raptor nodded, then turned to a console to make it so.
-0-On the runway at Autobot City Military Airfield, Autobot City, Primal Colony of Mars, Cybertron and the Empire
Ships settled on the ground brought up from the ship depot two hundred miles from here. There, in the shadow of a huge crater's broken eroded rim, several hundred ships were parked waiting to be called up. They were all military including three hospital vessels of battleship size. They were the response armada of the colony for migration, intruder, natural disaster, and transport emergencies. There was always a number of ships fitted out and ready for flight on the flight line here in The City as well. They were the emergency squad that formed the core of the response. Anything more, they came here to Mars Depot #3 to get what was needed and necessary to assist.
The new commander and lead mechanic was none other than Roadie, newly promoted and deliriously happy with a base of his own, every conceivable kind of ship and mechanical problem, along with a massive hangar and administrative complex. He had a great office but most often, he was inside the guts of a ship nearly every orn. A bridge brought pilots as he stood outside with the Master of the Muster sending them to the proper ships that he had okayed to leave. They would go to the Military Airfield Flight Line in Autobot City to get their soldiers, then leave for Prime's location.
It would be fast, then it would be over as the ships disappeared into the sky. Roadie watched them go, then walked toward a big hangar nearby where a special vessel was being built, one that would have the capacity to transcend dimensional rifts. It was the brainchild of a number of very smart, very adventurous young physicists in Sciences. If it worked, they might be able to go to Soft Space and pay their respects to the titans resting there. Roadie hoped if they did, he could go along as a mechanic.
The sun was warm on his receptors as he walked into the hangar and the choreographed chaos of mass construction.
-0-On the way to Mandalay …
"Well, this sounds weird. What I know about the Functionalists you can cram into a teacup," a big mech said as he sat by the bulkhead sharpening a long knife with a whetstone. He was a gnarly bot who had been a Wrecker. He was no one's fool and Primus help those who thought otherwise. The rest of the time he was a dedicated bond, ada to three tiny girls who ruled his Casbah, and painter.
Of houses and interiors.
"They're like The System slaggers but at transwarp speed," another said. He was a brutishly big mech with a no-nonsense personality that cloaked a good-natured and jovial off-duty persona. He was a Day Watch mech who worked the jails. Everyone else bagged them, he transported them to the main lock up at the Courthouse or the prison. His bond was a Seeker, one of the rare mixed couples and they were the proud genitors of three college boys.
"Great. I apologize in advance if I break one of them. Accidentally," another big mech said. He was a bachelor who worked heavy construction, like to have a drink (or five) with friends after work, was a shop foreman for his union, and built models of ships in his spare time. He was a great guy (when sober) and a demon on the battlefield. He was a former Decepticon.
The others laughed. They agreed. Their ship flew onward into the darkness of space heading for the Trigger and a short jump with eight more vessels to Prime.
-0-Metroplex Elder, Femme, and Youngling Hospital, Metroplex Administrative Plaza, Autobot City, Primal Colony of Mars, Cybertron and the Empire
They were wheeled in, all of them but Eleven who was taken into surgery. Gee-Gee had come herself as her deputy wardens and others worked out the prison ships for their new haul in the new migration. The three were taken into the high-security detention ward and placed on berths. Energon bonds gripped them by the arms, ankles, and chest. They were hooked up to monitor for their condition, then everyone walked out.
"Let us know what you need, Gee-Gee," Gypsy said as they walked down the corridor. "We can keep them as long as you want. We'll put the other in here when he's out of surgery. We're matching another arm to the missing place."
"Prime must have been wonderfully angry to do that to them," Gee-Gee said with a slight grin. "Poor things."
Gypsy grinned back. "I don't remember much about their faction but I've never heard anything good."
"You never will," Gee-Gee said as she nodded, then walked out to lead her three prison ships to Prime's location.
-0-At the Monastery of the Clavus Aurea
Cyclonus read the message with a frown. It appeared that the Functionalist Council had made their way here and perhaps required their support. After all, their Pantheon was the same as his. The Guiding Hand was the center of their practice, this alternative version of creation. The two sides lived side-by-side without much rancor over the eons with Primus and the Pantheon in opposition to Unicron becoming the dominant belief system for the majority of their people.
The Guiding Hand was a smaller, more demanding practice, including intense scholarship with a bit of self denial thrown in. They were respected and consulted, especially here and everyone therein took their roles very seriously. They were looking for Omega Keys, helping restore the culture and historical-religious context to their lives once more, as well as adding an important point of view to the mix. He was Master of the Monastery, a role that filled his spark with meaning and joy. It was his job to ensure that the teachings were accurate, their outcomes beneficial to The People and to answer any challenges, threats or other aggressions personally.
This was one such moment. He glanced at the group who were gathered around them. They were the council that ran the facility, developed its educational and public outreaches, and organized the scholarship and now, relic restoration that was undertaken here. "I will go to Prime and see what this is about. I will report to you. If it's a problem, prepare to meet when I get back to discuss this." He turned to the Gatekeeper. "You may have the keys while I am away."
The Gatekeeper bowed his helm, then all watched as Cyclonus walked out the door onto the platform outside, transformed, then blasted upward to disappear in the sky. The Gatekeeper turned to watch the others disperse back to where they were before. He would run the facility and answer all the many different voices that required this and that thing done. He would be defacto Cyclonus until the Master returned. He stood on the platform outside for a while looking at the panoramic view of the colony before heading back to his post near the door. He would spend his afternoon working on a commentary for a scroll on the economics of the Golden Age around Iacon and answer questions for visitors. Most of them he would allow to go inside.
-0-Out there
Springer, Kup, Hercy, and Drift caught rides on the backs of Seekers, heading with them to the big group of silver ships that floated nearby. Gee-Gee and her prison ships had just come into view and were waiting near Prime's ship for customers. They would get some shortly.
-0-TBC 5-11-17 edited 5-12-17
NOTE: The Functionalists and their slag are canon for Transformers. :D