The Diego Diaries: Going Forward (dd6 22) needs editing :D

-0-Early Afternoon

Prime sat waiting for a return call to his request. When Razorclaw's face appeared, the big mech was curious. "Prime. You called?"

Prime nodded. "I want to tell you about a situation that has happened and how it will play a part in the dynamic between us."

Razorclaw nodded. "Very well. I'm listening."

Prime sat forward considering his words. "We intercepted a migration as you well know before they crossed into the range of your scouts. They were a small group but they came from a larger one, one that was located in hidden settlements in Sector 221-B in the Benzuli Expansion, near the Great Rifts and the Dead Zone. We inspected their ships and had conversations. They were the Functionalist Council. Perhaps you have heard of them."

Razorclaw nodded. "I have. I don't like them. I don't think you do either. I think I'm not going to like the rest of this story either."

"It would be to your favor if you do not." Prime sat back. "There were 4,500 of them in the migration but we learned that there were 500,000 elsewhere who had been part of this group. We went to where they were in the Benzuli and found them."

"Dead," Razorclaw finished. "They … 'recalled' them did they?"

Prime nodded. "They did. Half a million of our people were murdered. When we tried to figure out what to do about it a confederation, a big and powerful one thanks to the leadership of this colony trading our technology to them arrived and said they would fight if we stayed. We had a standoff but in the end, there was nothing left alive to fight for. We had to prevent them from taking more technology and plundering the bodies of our dead."

"You destroyed things? I approve," Razorclaw said. It was one of the few things either side agreed upon wholeheartedly, the hatred they felt about the plundering of their people's bodies for tech by anyone.

Prime who was studying Razorclaw noted tightening around his optics, the hard set of the mouth and other tells as Razorclaw lounged seemingly calm and relaxed. "We destroyed the planets and left."

Razorclaw nodded. "I don't suppose you fired holes into them too?"

"No," Prime said. "I would think there is a remote danger to another encounter from them but one can never know. They are closer to Cybertron than here but in the end, who knows what technology was given and what was not."

Razorclaw nodded, then waited. Prime was smart and he had been the one who called. Prime was playing a hard hand, one designed to suppress his own side and options. Razorclaw would have to look alive to keep up. Right now, the power gradient was not in his favor.

Prime who was assessing him watched Razorclaw watching him just as closely. He sat back. "I am going to be taking any refugee group that comes to me from your direction. Everyone and every ship. You will allow it or there will be a fight. Given the armadas that I can field it would only be a matter of time … a very short time before you were unrelated molecules floating in space."

Razorclaw smirked slightly. "Perhaps, but you'd pay a price. I'm not afraid of you, Prime."

Optimus leaned onto his elbows again as if to reach Razorclaw in his redoubt. "You should be," he said softly.

Impasse held for a moment, then Razorclaw shrugged. "I have no need of refugees, Prime. I'll accept soldiers, pirates and other riff-raff that floats downstream to me. I know you take exception but that's what I require."

"I will police my sphere of influence. Imperialis learned to his costly detriment that same hard lesson. Understand, you do not represent a very great threat to me, Razorclaw, but to the refugees, you are an impediment. I want your word."

"You would trust my word. How the mighty have fallen," he replied with a grin. Sitting forward, the huge Predacon stared at Prime with a measured look. "Take the refugees, Prime. I don't want nor need them. I also don't like the idea of aliens using them for spare parts. I will assist you if it ever comes to that. You and I both know that if anyone has less than great fear of us, then we're all vulnerable to scavengers. It's the nature of our beast."

Prime sat silently a moment, then leaned in closer. "Swear on the Matrix, Razorclaw."

Razorclaw considered that. "I will swear on the Matrix that the refugees get a pass from us. I reserve the right to hunt for allies otherwise."

Prime thought about it long enough to see a tic in Razorclaw. "You have made an oath to the Matrix, Razorclaw. I would not break it."

"You know me …" He grinned. "Anything else?"

"This will do. For now," Prime said.

Razorclaw nodded. "Alright. The refugees are yours."

"All of them. If you hold anyone who isn't a soldier or a criminal, if you have any civilians who were caught up by you on your journeys, send them to me. If I learn that you held even one I will come for you myself."

"You assume we have them?" Razorclaw asked disingenuously.

"Send them now," Prime said coldly.

"We had a few fall in with us, usually those who had no way to travel around. I will send them as a peace offering, as a symbol of the effort I've expended to be a good neighbor, Prime," he said with a grin. "You don't seem to understand it goes against my nature to be one."

"You do not seem to understand that I am not the same Optimus Prime you remember. I want them now. Send them," Prime said with a coldness that was new to the big Predacon.

Razorclaw nodded. "You'll have them. I don't want anyone on my side who isn't in the game, Prime."

Prime nodded. "Everyone of them."

Razorclaw turned to one side a moment, then back to Prime. "They're coming. Anything else?"

"Not at the moment. Prime out." He cut the transmission, then sat back. That was when he noticed Prowl standing in front of his desk.

"Good job. You got civilians and a Matrix oath out of him. He's either getting soft or he can count," Prowl said drily.

Prime nodded. "It is more the latter than the former, I am afraid. Have the Center crew watch for them. We need to get them quickly. Some of them are the children of locals. Do not tell them we have them back until they get checked out, Prowl. We have all suffered enough."

Prowl nodded. "I will. How are you? We have to talk, Optimus."

"We will, Prowl, but not today," he said tiredly. "Later."

"I will hold you to it." Prowl turned, then paused at the door. "I love you and I'm sorry."

Prime nodded. "Me too."

Prowl walked out. Prime stared at his desk where the preliminary reports were stacked about the genocide. He didn't want to see them but he pulled them forward. He was Prime. He had to.

-0-On a street bordering the children's park at Metroplex

They watched a mob of children running and chasing, playing like nothing had happened. School was out for nine more orns so their genitors who were also for the majority off as well were with them here. They gathered in groups talking quietly, almost as if to be too loud would damage something. There was a pall over the colony, a place usually filled with good energy and activity.

"Those kids are cute," Drift said to Springer as they halted to watch. They were on their way to Watch Substation Six and their job. Who knew what the night would bring so they came to get a jumpstart on it. Home Guard and regular army were loaned to them, ready to respond if called up. Right now, every single Day and Night Watch officer was on the beat and would stay so over the next three crucial orns.

"They are," Springer said. "Look at that one. The one in the tan onesie."

Drift turned to look at a baby just learning to walk. He was in a highly padded suit, hat, and mittens. His expression was rapturous as he tottered around his genitors, a young couple with tattoos for the Missionaries, Circle and a clan found in the Manganese Mountains. They were with other youngsters and their children were playing all around them. The baby was on everyone's radar but he was also enjoying the concept of space + movement = nirvana.

"I never asked you," Springer said. "I'm too lazy to dig for it through the link. Are you Clavis or Temple or what?"

Drift shrugged slightly. "We weren't really anything when I was growing up. We were too poor and bent out of shape to care one way or the other. We were sort of sore at the Pantheon for allowing so much slag and poverty. I was too busy fighting and stealing for the finer things and ideas. You?"

"We got to go to school for a while. Mid-caste and all," Springer replied with a trace of bitterness. "We were Temple. We went to the shrine on the holy orns. We went to Simfur during Festival twice. I never felt anything and neither did anyone else. Nova and Nominus didn't have Their audial it would seem. Then Sentinel banned them as subversive gatherings."

"He was an idiot. You can't kill an idea. I remember that. I remember thinking about it when I was really drunk. We had just knocked over a banker's house and had a lot of shanix. We spent it all on booze and … well, you get the picture," Drift said.

"I'm sure I could if I just thought about it a bit," Springer said with a slight grin. "I won't but I could. If I wanted. But I don't."

Drift snickered. "Slagger. I learned about the Hand and when I became a student for the Circle, I decided that was the path for me. The peaceful path of the Guiding Hand and the Knights … it made sense to me. It helped me a lot about a lot of things."

"I'm glad. I believe what I believe and the more They show up at Festival, the better I understand Them. I'm glad that They're here," Springer said.

Drift nodded, then grinned. "That little femme and that mech with her, they remind me of our kids."

Springer nodded. "I noticed that."

"I never asked you. Remember when we talked about going to the Well … we are going to the Well some day, right?" Drift asked.

Springer glanced at him sharply. "We are. I'm not an idiot like Sunny."

Drift chuckled. "Me either. When we go to the Well someday … not now but somewhere down the road … a bit of a way down there … so far that I need special optics to see it," he said as they both grinned. "Are we still up for three? A femme and two mechs?"

Springer nodded. "No waiting. I want to see them grow up together."

Drift nodded. "What about names?"

"I don't know. What's your tradition?" Springer asked. "Any?"

"Most of my traditions included a crowbar and a handy windowsill," Drift said. They both grinned again.

"My atar's name was Lehto. My ada's name was Cobalt. What's yours?" Springer asked more for conversation than information.

"My ada was named Sasa and my father's name was Flew. Like the bird." He grinned. "When my grandfather wanted to frag my atar off he would say there was a Seeker in the family tree."

"That fragged off your atar?" Springer asked with surprise.

Drift nodded. "My atar was mad at the world and considering how hard he worked to support us, I don't blame him."

"Do you think your brother is still around?" Springer asked.

Drift shrugged. "I don't know. We sort of drifted apart. He was straight as a die and I was a criminal. I hope so and I hope he has a great life."

"I do too," Springer said. "We can worry about names later. How do you want to raise them? The tradition?" He glanced at Drift. "Is Clavis Aurea off the table or not?"

Drift grinned. "I'm not that strict or conservative. I think both. We can explain how things work with everyone making up their mind. You do know don't you that there may be many paths but they all lead to the same door."

Springer grinned. "I do now." He glanced around. "I'll tell you that as long as we're crammed into Substation 6 there will be no kids. I don't intend to have them cramped up in the office."

Drift nodded. "It's tight. Until Metrotitan returns, we're stuck."

"Frag that." Springer put in a call. :Springer to Prowl:

:Prowl here:

:WHEN IS MY OFFICE FLYING BACK HERE!? I'M TIRED OF THE CUPBOARD WE HAVE NOW! When is Tyke coming back?:

Drift dialed in to listen. He grinned.

:You assume that I can just make things happen, Springer. Titan has his work and you do too. I received your plan and find it sound. Go do it: Prowl said relishing the angst in Springer's tone.

:I want Titan back, Prowl. I need the space, the labs, did I say the space? How the frag are we ever to have infants if there's no space in the office for them?: Springer grinned. He played his ace card. It was up to Prowler to bite.

Prowl blinked. :Is that so:

:IT IS. SPRINGER OUT!:

Prowl turned to a console to punch a button. "S.I.C. Prowl to Metrotitan."

"Titan here, Prowl," the big mech's voice said as it drifted over the intercom in Ops Center.

"Titan, I'm changing your orders. I'm recalling you to Mars to take up your station again. I will have Commodus take your place."

"Thank you, Prowl. I look forward to it. It's been a while since I was home," Titan said.

"I know. Recall is immediate. Commodus just left the shipyard after refit and will take your place," Prowl said. "Your pad crew will be alerted for the landing and hook up. Prowl out."

Prowl stood by the console with a slight grin on his face. "You thought you could play me, did you? Well, Springer, I just called your bluff." Prowl would feel lighter in spark for the rest of the orn.

-0-TBC 5-30-17 edited 5-31-17