The Diego Diaries: Function Over Form (dd6 9)
-0-Out there
The three shuttles flew forward bristling for a fight, following a spread formation that would make them harder to kill in one swoop. Flashing onward together, they made their way toward a big group of ships. As they did, more came out of the darkness. They were all of a type though the markings didn't mesh on all of them. It would appear that there were several species gathering.
"Prime, either their markings mean something else or we have four species at least gathering against us," Hercy said calmly.
Prime nodded. "Scan what you can, then return. If they shoot, return fire. They shoot first."
"Affirmative," Hercy said. He looked at the screen where the tense faces of Kup and Springer shared the monitor. "Well, this is interesting. How about we go see what they do?"
Springer nodded. "Follow me," he said, then his ship stepped on the gas.
The other two followed flying an arrow head-shaped formation. They flashed forward toward the gathering group, then veered slightly to turn their undercarriage toward the aliens. Lines of sensors, data miners, and other intel devices took images of the vessels, the scope of their formation, and other sensor accountings of the group which had detached three vessels to confront them back. They flew after the shuttles which arced together to return to Prime. By the time they were halfway back shots were fired by the pursuing ships. Hercy glanced at his gun crew, all of which were sitting in turrets waiting. "Shoot them back, boys."
They grinned, then sighted in. Blasts went out and scored hits. Two of the shuttles were struck in structurally critical places with one spiraling away trailing debris. The other also hit was still capable of flight while the last one was missed on purpose. That ship pursued then broke off, moving back to the other two. One was listing badly as the other trailed fuel. The intact ship moved in to help them.
"Nice shooting, infants. I may just keep you," Hercy said with a grin. Loud laughter greeted that along with a number of profane remarks. Boys would be boys.
Prime sitting on Xantium watched without comment. He was already formulating plans for what he expected to be a shootout. He glanced at Prowl. "Bring the secondary fleet in."
Prowl nodded, then sent the message. It would take a few moments but the bridges would bring in a fleet the size of the current one.
-0-At the Family Tower, Autobot City, Primal Colony of Mars, Cybertron and the Empire
They gathered at the windows as ships came in to the Military Airfield from the depot 200 miles away to settle on the flight line. They lined the runways nearby as well waiting while lines of soldiers and Seekers gathered to board them. With them were tanker ships for energon and munitions vessels, those with the heaviest armor in the fleet or perhaps even the known universe. They would resupply guns and ships with every kind of bullet, bomb, and rocket, thus, they were as armored as it got.
"You were right about this, William," Glenn said as he watched the mass of movement below. "Something is up. I wonder if Megatron has come back?"
A chill went through the room, then a child called out. "There's a message on the television." Everyone turned to the screen to see Jazz on the monitor.
"This is Commander Jazz of the Prime's Senior Staff," he began. "We've come to the rescue of a migration which had nearly entered the territory of Razorclaw. We were given information that a lot of our people were still in the Benzuli Expansion in colonies that were created there long ago by these same refugees. We went to their rescue through space bridges and came into contact with four different species that resent our presence.
"There's some kind of loose confederation in the area among them. Shots were exchanged but no one was injured. Two ships from the other side are going to have to be repaired, though," he said with a grin. "Right now, Prime's showing the flag. He wants overwhelming firepower to show them that they have to leave or they'll have more trouble on their hands than they can believe. This force is coming to show that we can bring the pain. As of this moment, we're in a standoff. The aliens are blocking our path to the colonies. We want access to four worlds that have our people. If we have to fight, we will but for now, its standoff. We'll tell you more as it comes. Don't worry until we do. Jazz, out." The Emblem of the Primes filled the screen, then The Hourly News 'Breaking News!' edition appeared. Everyone drifted back to the lounge to listen. The soldiers, however, Morshower, Epps, Lennox, Graham, and Fulton, stood by the windows.
"I wonder who could give Prime this much trouble that he needs more guns?" Epps asked.
"I don't know," Fulton said grimly. "I'm glad I don't have to be there to find out."
"I sorta wish I was," Lennox said quietly. They stood together watching the show down below with disquiet.
-0-Out there
Ratchet stood by the viewport on the command deck watching the confrontation before them. He was on the Phobos which was the main hospital ship for the venture. As both sides sparred, more enemy ships began to show up. They were Cybertronian in design and it was clear that this could be a real fight. It was only amongst each other that The People ever really felt challenged. Now, this might be different. As he watched the growing number of vessels coming from the far side of the planet in dispute, he recognized two of them. He blinked with surprise, then called Xantium. "Ratchet to Prime."
"Prime here."
"Optimus, I see two mother ships from the acid monster aliens."
It was silent a moment, then Prime was back. "We scanned and have them marked, Ratchet. Prime out."
Ratchet stared at the ships with dread, then considered how far ranging that species actually was. They were around Mars and they were around here. Which one of the two groups was it he wondered? He was fragged if he knew. Around him waiting nervously, a number of doctors who had never been on a mission looked at him with dread. He grinned at them. "Don't worry. We have big guns too. All you kids have to do is go into the hold if something happens just like practice. And nothing is going to happen. I have a big gun and I know how to use it."
"We can help you, Ratchet," a young mech doctor, one who specialized in child trauma said.
"You aren't rated to fight, infant. All you have to do to help me is your job and obey me instantly and without question when I tell you something. If I tell you to abandon ship or to go to the shelters, do it without question. Okay?" Ratchet asked gently.
They nodded, then the young mech stepped slightly closer. "Will that happen? My bond is … we have a baby that would need ..."
Ratchet hugged him tightly. "That infant of yours is going to sit around the campfire some fine orn and hear your tale of this adventure. Don't worry. We're on a slagging battleship. They will protect us."
"Who will protect them?" another asked as a flight of Seekers streaked past to land on the hull of the Xantium nearby.
"We will, infants," Ratchet said darkly. They stood together by the viewports watching the game board as both sides set up their teams to play.
-0-Prime
Data was flowing in as the big armada formed itself into a defensive line with the rest of Prime's battle group. It was impressive but as they did, the alien ships kept coming. They were also formed into a line, though it wasn't as thought out as Prime's own. He had the advantage of having worked with his team for eons. This might be a first for the other side. "Blaster, any breaks in the translator?"
"It's coming," Blaster said.
"Prowl, bring One of Twelve here now." Prime was ice cold as he stared at the screen. More and more ships were coming. Their light was growing in the distance. It might be that they wouldn't be able to go to the planets any time soon and his fury at that realization was growing by the second.
Prowl called for the prisoner to come and in seconds One walked onto the deck with a hulking guard and a grim-faced Warden Gee-Gee. She stopped by his chair. "How may we serve you, Lord Optimus?" she asked formally as she stared at the images from the outside.
Prime glanced at her. "I need to know the species before us and their capabilities. They are coming in numbers and they bear our tech. I need that information now and I am unconcerned how you get it."
She nodded, then turned to One of Twelve. "I'm Gee-Gee, Warden of the Prime's prison and an instructor in hand-to-hand combat. I'm someone who serves our people and Prime with all I possess. I wish the information requested or I shall extract it. If that means I break off small bits of you until nothing is left, then I'm fully rated to do so. Don't leave out anything or I will make you suffer. Do you understand, One of Twelve?"
He stared at her, then the back of Prime's helm. The big mech was giving him the ultimate insult one male Cybertronian could give another. Turning one's back on your foe in a warrior culture was the ultimate contemptable dismissal, indicating that nothing about you was to be feared or respected. One looked at her, then nodded. "I will."
"Then begin. Now," Prime said with the coldest tone that anyone on the deck had ever heard from him.
Prowl who had walked to Gee-Gee with a datapad to record One glanced at Prime. He was incandescent with rage but held true to his greatest personal virtue. He didn't let his emotional condition interfere with his duty to his people. He was molten with rage but it would not be an impediment to his decisions and leadership. "We're ready, Warden," Prowl said.
"Talk, One," Gee-Gee said calmly.
He did.
-0-Moments later discussing the intel as outside, the enemy kept coming
"What do we have, Prowl?" Prime asked as he stared at the screen with an unwavering gaze.
"We have four main species of different aliens who have lived here forever. They have peaceful alliances between their respective empires and that didn't change when the Functionalists came here. In fact, it strengthened with the addition of our technology and weapons. Their ships are in probability 62-79% our tech and construction. Though they don't have our alloys and steels, other metals they've smelted and developed that would ensure a very strong Cybetronian-style level of ship armor have been devised to meet that need. They have a good tensile strength. They could take a beating from us before blowing up.
"The four main aliens have a confederation. There are a number of other species as associates. Apparently, they developed this over the eons to secure the sector which has weird anomalies and aliens scattered around. They all viewed this set of colonies as their tech depot and personal armories. The first and most intellectual … that is, the ones who are the strategists are called the Hur-Gon. They are small, very small … about 4-9 feet tall depending upon age. The individuals are proportionally distinct from humans … large helms and smaller bodies. They have a body suit that they wear the color of which indicates their occupation. They have deceptive strength. They can rend something to pieces without much effort, though they look weak and small.
"Their next ally is a species called the Vargo. They are tall lizard-like creatures with thick skin that makes them look like a solid leather object. They have sharp teeth, are very smart and tactical and like to make good alliances then keep their word. In fact, their word is so important they will die before breaking it. They have red optics, no discernible ears, and trend one color … a variation of brown with the darkest colors earned with age. They also trend tall, 19 feet or more. They are brutally strong but are heavily invested in the arts. It's their cultural basis for unity apparently. They bear tyne-like spikes that run from their helm to their lower back and down the backs of their arms. They appear to be more ornamental than defensive and appear by size according to age. The older the being, the larger the tines. They can raise them when angry but they don't serve a purpose beyond display, apparently.
Their next ally is a flight-capable species called the Tor-pei. They have wings for flight, thus rendering their bodies and bones light. They have incredible speed, ferocity, and strength. Their facial features are snake-like but they aren't reptiles. They have feathers that cover their helms and run down their arms and back. The more colorful the plumage, the older they are. They are telepathic and range from 14-19 feet in height. They are very religious and family-centric. They are the flight and crack troops of the alliance.
"The last group are the most problematic. They are called the Seyth. They are organic to a degree and are evolving into a bio-mechanical species. They are ultra smart, feed on ambient energy directly from the air, have golden skin, and resemble humans if humans were golden half robots. They are about 15 feet tall and represent the tech portion of this confederation. The word is that all of them are unshakable in their allegiance to each other. Apparently, they worship the same gods who command amity among those who follow them. Their gods are part of the rifts here. Their unity is part of their system of belief.
"Other groups are allied, those who travel through here or live nearby. These are the four major factions but there are others. They're armed, rugged, tactical, ultra smart, and believe they're guided by their gods," Prowl concluded.
It was silent a moment as everyone present or on screen digested that bit of news. Then Prime glanced at Blaster. "What about communications, Blaster?"
Blaster worked madly. "Give me a moment, Prime. Nearly there. It won't be the greatest translation. But I think it'll do."
"They can communicate telepathically," Prowl said as he studied his datapad. "Advantage to them."
Prime nodded, then Blaster turned to him. "You can speak now, Prime."
Prime nodded, then sat straighter. "Send my image."
For a moment there was no response, then the screen changed to the image of several beings. One was small with a large helm, another reptilian with bird-like features. Beside them, a big mech stood, one that looked like a leather human with the darkest thickest skin and row upon row of bristle-like spines running from the top of their helm downward out of sight on his arms and back. Sitting before the console, a golden-skinned humanoid with metallic optics and a silver plate on half his skull stared back.
"I am Optimus Prime," he began with the coldest tone of voice that any of them had heard from Prime in nine million years of operations and friendship.
-0-TBC 5-17-17 edited 5-18-17