The Diego Diaries: Reconciliation? (dd6 125)
-0-Dojo
Taking a break for a moment, Partition and Drift sat on the couch sipping beer. Partition, who's idea once regarding alcohol was to drink as much as you could before passing out, sipped his beer like the others. One had to have self discipline, so said the mechs, his master and Amma Lissie so he decided to practice it in all things. Talo walked in, then sat with a beer. "Where's Springer?"
"He's with Ada on Cybertron showing a pack of slaggers around," Drift said. He nodded to Partition. "One of them is his atar, just saying."
Talo glanced at him noting his tattoos. "Okay," he said. "No offense, kid, but the slaggers need to learn."
Partition nodded. "My genitors are good folks but they were raised in it, you know? So was I and I got over it."
"Good on you," Talo said raising his beer in salute. The others joined him.
Partition raised his, feeling ridiculously happy. "Until all are one."
They replied, then it was comfortably silent. On the mats, mechs were getting their clock cleaned by Willa and the mechs in the lounge would watch, then explain things to Partition. He would sit almost on guard absorbing the wisdom. It would be almost as fun to watch as the sparring partners.
-0-Later that afternoon
Edict walked from the school having completed his mission for the orn. He was now a 'lunchroom aide' and a 'nap room specialist'. That meant he would help babies and infants eat in the big colorful lunchroom, helping them to get their food, then sit himself. Sometimes, he would sit with them helping someone who wanted him to stay. Stories would blossom like flowers, funny convoluted kid stories that never failed to amuse. Sometimes, he'd wander among the tables on the lookout for someone who needed him.
All of them needed him.
It was tonic and it was wonderful. He was always here before school setting the nap room up for the babies, getting things clean and up to snuff before helping the teachers and other aides get the main rooms and side classrooms ready for the children. It was fun here, a place where he was welcome and had developed friends. Laret and Neo had included him in some of their extracurriculars and when Hobbes wasn't in need or at the prison, he made sure he went. It was fun and uplifting.
He was near his daughter, Bron-E who was a teacher's aide with older sparklings. Her pre-bond was a wonderful mech who loved Edict, included him in all their fun and games and was what he needed for kind hearted diversion. Things weren't that good with Hobbes yet but Hobbes was trying. The underlying tension when he was home was hard but didn't seem so huge as before. It was progress.
He hoped.
Edict entered the station and took a train to Metro Station #1 outside the Metroplex Administration Plaza in Autobot City. Heading along the street, then down the block to the Processor Hospital and Outpatient Center, he walked in. Pausing to chat with the desk clerk who liked Edict, as almost everyone there did, he walked to the elevator, then took it to the third floor. Standing in the lounge up there, a new privilege he had earned, Sunee was waiting. When his ada walked out of the elevator, he stepped into his son's arms with joy.
-0-On Cybertron
They flew onward into the night traveling to the Sea of Mithril. It was dark on the ground and seemed to stretch into infinity as they walked from the small airfield to the shores two miles away. The stars were out in force, more easily seen here without the glare of lights from a major urban center to pollute the view. The sound of waves, a force reaction to their moons indicated they were near the dark shore. A dock extended out, so Ratchet took it, leading the way forward. The rest followed, then paused at the end, gathering to stare out at a dark form in the water nearby.
"What is that shape?" Burris asked.
"That's a ship. Focus your lights that direction," he said as he turned his own on, specialized lights that could scan deep and far away. He looked at the group, then the form. "That's a ship that was shot down as it tried to leave with tons of latinum, uncounted treasures and riches from the banks in Iacon. "We've already looked into it and its still there but has been confiscated by the state. Did you know that all of your names are on the manifest? Instead of taking off-world our real treasure, our people, you tried to get your stuff away. It didn't make it."
"I don't suppose we can put in a claim?" Traachon replied with a calm droll tone.
"I imagine you could but I wouldn't count on it working. Besides, we're a cashless society now. We'd rather this not happen again, where stuff has precedence over individuals. We did take the art off and the books. All of the cultural items are safe and in the custody of the state through the Offices of the Primes as per modified martial law and the salvage rules of war. All the rest, the money and jewels and that sort of thing, its still down there in the deep."
"You really enjoy this, you savage. You love twisting the dagger in our backs," Burris said with fury.
"You may be right," Ratchet said in agreement. "I don't want you to live in your bubble without a ray or two of truth buzzing in."
"I'll tell you what, Burris," Springer said. "You give me half of what's yours and I'll dive down and bring it all up." He glanced at Ratchet. "Atar could use a new girdle."
"I'm telling him," Ratchet said with a laugh.
Dev grinned at Springer. "You better tell him first. Whoever owns the narrative controls the outcome." He looked at the four mechs who were solemn and tense as well as Hauser and Maddow who were watchful and intrigued. "That's the thing, boys. Whoever controls the narrative controls the outcome. Right now, the story line has slipped away from you lot and will never come back. There's too many things like this laying around," he said as he nodded to the wreck which was still poking out of the water after all this time.
"Where do we put our claims, as if you would tell us," Burris persisted.
"How about up your aft?" Smokescreen said with a gathering frown.
Burris glanced at him, then the wreck. "Prime prides himself on following the law. I'm sure he won't be unwilling to entertain claims."
"Maybe. It might be entertaining to him to turn you down. You can see that, right?" Splice asked as he glanced at Springer.
Springer grinned, then nodded. "I can. How about you, boys?"
Smirks and chuckles along with the nodding of helms greeted that remark, then they turned to Ratchet. He shook his helm, then turned to the sea. "This is a poisoned sea. There's life here but it needs help. No one has cared for it in ages. Did you know some of the micro habitats around the planet still have animal and plant life? Some of the wardens and guardians stayed to help them survive. We haven't lost everything but it wasn't for lack of trying." He walked past everyone, then the four followed after a moment's hesitation. Hauser and Maddow, mingling with the soldiers, brought up the rear.
They climbed into the ship, then lifted off. Ratchet leaned toward the flight deck. "Jag, you have the flight plan?"
"I do, Commander. I'll begin now?" he asked.
Ratchet nodded, so he turned to the job. They lifted up and flew into the dark sky, low and close to the ground on minimal thrusters to allow silent flight. Heading northwest, they flew onward until the lights below seeped into view. Ratchet pressed a button and the blast shields of Impactor's Revenge slid down opening the view 360 degrees. Lights were everywhere as below them like diamonds on a black velvet carpet, the lights of an organized camp lay out the grid that most of them attempted to follow depending on terrain and surrounding damage.
It was vast and enormous, almost pulsating with life as the ship soundlessly flew slowly overhead. The camp stretched on for what seemed an infinite distance before fading behind them. In the distance, the lights of a pair of metro titans added something against the darkness as they served the masses below. Lucien turned to Ratchet. "How many in that camp?"
"That one? About ten million. We have camps all over hosting tens of millions. We figure we have about 650 million in shelters that we made. That leaves about 850 million in less than perfect circumstances. They live in what they had though we have forty titans making only shelters. We make about 1,000,000 an orn and ship them out. We're spreading out. Medical and food reach everyone that hasn't hidden so deeply that we have to scout them out with metal detectors. We still find them. I wish you could know how much mental and emotional illness we're dealing with here."
It was silent.
"You have to have a spark, Ada," Springer said quietly. "Burris is going to put in a claim. How's that for judgment?"
Ratchet looked at him. "You know, this is like a test. Do you have what it takes to pass? I'm not sure about any of you but I'll be fragged if I don't show you what you did. How can you ever change if your bubble is so tight even light can't get in?"
They came down again, this time around the huge base at Nova Cronum. It held a camp that was divided into three parts around the busy shipping center that the base was and still would be. There were fifteen million bots here building towers like everywhere else and working on the smaller towns around the big military base. Here was the place where the Decepticons did most of their important ship maintenance, repair and manufacture. All of that was now working for civilian relief. It took a while to cover the area, then they flew onward.
'We've probably flew over 35-40 million individuals so far," Ratchet said. "You have to give Prime credit. No one else could have done this but him. No one would follow anyone else but him."
"Apparently, you did. To Earth," Lucien said.
Ratchet nodded. "It was Bee, Jazz, Prime, Ironhide, and me. Bee found the AllSpark and called us to come. The movie, the first one they made gets most of it right. Mostly. We found it, trounced Megatron and lost it again. It transformed and occupied Sam Witwicky's subspace. We stayed, moving to Diego Garcia and a hangar. They had no way to know what we needed to let us be comfortable. It wasn't until things got hot and heavy that we got autonomy. We needed to pay our own way so we went to court, got legally labeled sentient, then given the rights to our own intellectual property and the like. We could get patents, set up companies and make things.
"We employed humans decently, made products at very low prices and earned enough to take care of ourselves. That's when we got the land on Diego ... we bought it. Then we made it an embassy, had treaties worked out and signed them. We made them sign the Tyrest Accords so that nothing we had could be used by them against us or themselves. It was a long hard process but behind us now. We ended up calling for soldiers and getting them, including refugees. It was then that Prime decided upon Mars and began to build our lives there. It was arduous but worth it. Then you came along."
Springer smirked. "Imagine, coming from this which your ideas caused and thinking that no one would mind if you brought them to Mars."
"My friend's brother is a district representative in Tetriades," Splice said. "He's a young kid who wants to help in his district. He knocked on every door of everyone who lived there and talked to them about what they wanted and thought we needed. Then he stood for election and won. He goes to the district meeting of the city every time they meet and he's the kid that Tetriades, from all the delegates that live in all the districts there, that goes to the Central Committee for the whole city when it meets once every three decaorns with all the city delegates. He's formerly low caste and wouldn't have a fragging chance here back in the orn. He's smart, decent and works hard for everyone. If we took up your drum beat, he'd have to leave office and all that talent and desire would be wasted. How many do you imagine were wasted in the same way here?"
"Millions. Billions … zillions," Sideswipe said coldly. He looked at Ratchet. "If you'd been anything but a doctor with that kind of aptitude, they wouldn't have bent the rules for you, Ada."
"No, they wouldn't have but I'd have been a doctor. One of the millions that learned how to do things anyway. It was in the cards," Ratchet replied. "My genitors were and are geniuses. Do you know RTR Tools?"
Burris shrugged. "I suppose you'll tell us."
Splice pulled a glistening knife from his subspace, then held it out blade first to Burris's face, nearly touching it. It was beautiful, perfectly shiny, had a crimson hilt, and a verse from The Chronicles etched on its razor-sharp blade. "Let me show you then. This is a knife from RTR Tools. NO one makes them like this. They make the best blades ever attempted on Cybertron."
"They never got the benefit from it. They were ripped off all their lives and they never became bitter or cynical. I watched my genitors make Sentinel Prime's favorite sword once upon a time. They prayed Primus into it but you can see how he listened," Ratchet said. "I have to give them credit for trying."
The knife went back into subspace as Splice sat back. Lucien glanced at Sideswipe, then Ratchet. "I am aware of them and their work. They were placed in museums and were prizes most of the soldiers and wanna-be soldiers collected. That's your family then?"
Ratchet nodded. "Yes. They have the shop they deserve on Mars and the line is around the block of those who want something they make. Half the show weapons that Prime has came from them."
"The best set of tools I have came from them, too," Sideswipe said.
Ratchet nodded. "They aim to do their best and they do it old school. They say the prayers at the right moments and etch the blades with comments from the holy books just like they're supposed to. It honors and protects soldiers, so they say." He looked out the window. "We're passing over Protihex. Ten million more living there, waiting for the world to become normal again, when you can go about your business, work and go home to a nice place." He sat back again.
"When Prime was given the go-ahead to build above ground, it came from the Pantheon. They never spoke to Sentinel, Nova, Zeta, or Nominus. They spoke to Prima and Guardian. 'Build above ground', they said and we did. Prime said everyone had to have comforts and big homes. A home that had room for families to grow, for each child to have their own room and a berth that was soft and comforting. There had to be energon coming through the system into the home if they couldn't or didn't want to go out.
"There had to be towers for bachelors, for elders and young people. He told me that we had to have a home care system for those who couldn't get out. There had to be amenities and activities, swimming, bowling, theaters, sports centers, shooting ranges, private airports for private ships, clubs … every city has them. We have teen centers and elder centers for them to have fun with their own friends and age group. Swimming pools for fun and recreation, grocery stores, take out places, restaurants of all types and clubs … racing tracks too. We had to have them for our people.
"The crime rate here, given the circumstances, is ridiculous. Fighting, drunkenness, the odd emotionally traumatized person stealing food to horde … that's about it. It's a miracle that it isn't worse," Ratchet said as Springer nodded.
"We built schools, a university and a system for tech and adult education. The school we started in a small room at Diego is a massive system here. Everyone could come. Children have to. Everyone has to have a chance to get their dreams. Businesses started and as need arose, our people met it. There are places for our people to get any legal thing done, to get good and plentiful food ... even high caste food, to enjoy games, books … we have more bookstores here than most major cities per capita on Earth, healthcare, private or public and libraries. We have free ranging newspapers and outlets, a film industry that anyone can help with, all manner of pass times. We have a life here … clubs, the race tracks, stadiums with sports, a stable with hundreds of horses and private airports,, an entertainment system that serves everyone. We have camping facilities and parks everywhere. You can travel the TransWorld Highway and stay at parks or hotels all the way around the world.
"We did this for everyone. No matter who you are or were, you are one here. We are all one. No one pays for anything. They get what they need and contribute what they can. It's more productive here than it ever was in the Empire because we work for ourselves and others we love. We do the work and get real return on the investment. We started cashless and we're staying that way. It's what we want," Ratchet said as he leaned forward. "The System is just words on a paper, you know. The only way they matter is if enough of us agree that they do. You can point guns to enforce this unwanted thing but we'd shoot back now. There's just under a million individuals in the Home Guard alone who would. When people, the majority, agree that something is not worth bothering with, it disappears. No one here agrees that The System is a law anymore. Prime agreed and abolished it. Since no one agrees, its moot. I'd think even you would grasp that. This isn't holy writ handed down from The One. This is slagging crap designed to create slavery from the Quinessans. Why would you push for a system that was devised by aliens who enslaved us?"
The lights of the camp below faded as both sides stared at the other.
-0-TBC 9-12-17 edited 9-13-17
:D