The Diego Diaries: Redemption? (dd6 126)
-0-On a shuttle flying over Cybertron
"Some things are eternal," Burris ventured as the others sat silently, the intensity of the stares from the soldiers overwhelming at the moment. Only Burris, deeply oblivious Burris would be so clueless about reading a room so poorly.
"I agree," Ratchet said. "The sacrifice of Primus for ALL of us … my sons and daughters eternal belief and love for me is, all of them, right, boys?" he asked as he grinned at the twins and Springer.
"Slagging right," Sunstreaker said darkly.
Sideswipe and Springer nodded. "You got that right, Ada," Springer said.
Sideswipe leaned slightly forward. "We belong to him and Ironhide. Remember that, slaggers." He sat back.
"Didn't know that much handsome ran in the family did you?" Ratchet asked with a slight grin. "Most of the things that are eternal are based on love. They aren't rooted in darkness, in greed and high tone self love. Love is light and sacrifice and genuine selfless regard for others. My boys here," he said glancing at the three who stared at Burris with cold expressions, "are my treasure. All my children, they're the reason I get up every orn. That and Ironhide's snoring."
Chuckles greeted that, then it was silent again.
"Not all of us are that fortunate, apparently," Traachon said dryly.
"You have children. You have a bond. All of you do. Your kids and bonds are your gold. Why would anything else mean more?" Ratchet asked. "I'm a grandparent several times over. I wish you could know what it feels like holding the child of my children." He glanced sideways at Springer who smirked back. "Not everyone wants to be a parent or grandparent and not everyone welcomes the responsibility but I do. I'll never allow them to have a life like I had ever again. That's what you're facing, boys. All of us who try to put love first. Just like Primus, remember?"
It was silent, then they went low again, approaching a bright light outside. Lucien looked down. "Where is this?"
"The greater Kaon area. We house 30 million individuals here. We truck them in from other places because the area is so open. It's open because of the barrage but also because its one of the most neglected places on Cybertron. We don't have to bend camps around stuff because there isn't much. This was one of the most dangerous places on Cybertron, the headquarters for the Decepticons, and when we came it was as crazy as the Dead End."
They flew onward seemingly forever over the camps and the more than one dozen titans that worked here to make food, housing and other essentials. This was one of fifteen massed titan creation points for the subsistence relief programs. All they did was subsistence production around the clock, food, tents, amenities, and medical. Ratchet looked at the mechs staring downward. "We have our people here, bringing them in for medical and safety issues. This is the place where we make a lot of things that keep them all alive, everywhere. We have fourteen titans here, specialists in providing food, shelter and medical for large numbers. The supply line here is tremendous. It goes overland and by air to every place. Hundreds of thousands of shelters large and small leave here for the millions that are homeless. I lose recharge worrying over all of them.
"Most live in reclaimed rubble that we help improve against the arrival of good shelters. We're bringing them into massed areas, gathering sites that are set at strategic transport locii so that we can supply them on a regular basis without difficulty, where they're closer to the supply centers, the titans that we've got everywhere. Did you know they number over 1,200 now?" They glanced at him in surprise. "You should see the toxic sites, the destroyed places that our people are subsisting in. You'd be on your hands and knees helping if you could see it. We have teams that rove constantly to find them, then to touch back with them to keep them hopeful and allay fears that they've been forgotten. We bring food and candy, you know … little niceties for them so they can feel alive again. We set up communications so they can keep up with the news about Cybertron and more importantly, their own area. We have teams that see them on a regular basis, picking out talented or trained individuals to organize locally. We've pulled together databases of millions of those with talents we need who are the heart and soul of the local areas.
"Elders that need help are pulled out along with their families and what few possessions they may have saved, then transported to safety and attention. What they bring, we don't quibble over. They kept what they could from a life broken for millions of vorns. We aren't going to make that worse. Children, especially those who have no one are gathered and carried to safety and care. We're inventorying the wild areas, looking for plants and animals that need us. There's so much to do, we have to galvanize and utilize locals who can be trained to help or already are at what's needed. It's a logistical nightmare but its fragging organized now and we're holding everyone's helm above water. Thank Prime for that."
The mechs on board nodded, murmuring darkly to themselves as Jagged Edge leaned out of the flight deck. "What now, Ratchet? We're at the end of the flight plan."
"Take us home, Jag. We have a prison to visit," Ratchet said as he sat back. He smiled brilliantly. "Out of the frying pan, into the fire." They disappeared into the night time of space in the blink of an optic.
-0-Moments later
They stood at the big secure doors of the Autobot Military and Civilian Prison Control Center. They were waiting for Gee-Gee who wanted to come along. Some of the mechs grinned at the four ill-at-ease civilians. Sunstreaker who was leaning against the doorjamb smirked. "She's going to measure you for size. Just in case."
The four didn't find that remark funny. Everyone else did, though.
Gee-Gee walked out, slapped servos with Ratchet and half the mechs present, then looked at the four. "Welcome to my world, gentlemen. Let's go see our guests in the spirit of what the humans like to say … 'there but for the grace of God go I'."
Huge laughter and agreement over that remark was had as they walked out toward the main access gates where Roadbuster and his intervention crew waited. They traded slag, then the Officer of the Orn let them in, following them with the control device that activated nearly everything that mattered in the security system of the prison.
"This place has improved from before," Sunstreaker said as he glanced downward at Gee-Gee. "You juiced it up."
"Can't have them getting out. That wouldn't be seemly," she said with a grin. The towering mechs all around her, Ratchet's and hers, laughed loudly. The others minus Hauser and Maddow who grinned as well were too absorbed by the sights. They had been and some still were inmates but they were going toward the end of the prison where the bad mechs were, rather than the cell blocks were civilians were held away from genuine ultra violent badness.
They reached the main intersection which led three different directions … to the right where the specialist holdings section kept the most dangerous mechs incarcerated, straight ahead to the huge three story medical center and airport that served under the highest security in the prison outside of the alt lockup, and left which led directly into the vast maximum super-max prison of Autobot City itself. Ratchet looked at Gee-Gee with a grin. "You might explain what's what, Maestro."
She grinned at him, then turned to the four. They scoped out the amazing array of tattoos that she sported, military, prison, home town and colonial designations, Circle, Knight, and Missionary. She was beautiful and hard as nails when she had to speak to miscreants, even those who weren't hers.
Yet.
"This is my prison. I'm Gee-Gee, warden of the whole thing, a former drill and combat instructor in the Autobot Army and the first, middle and last word here. This is my jail. I'm the queen of this installation. I don't allow competing kingdoms and I run a fair, safe lockup which some of you know about already. That way," she said nodding to the right, "is where the extremes live, those who are so dangerous that to have them anywhere else is to risk the security of the prison and its inmates. This way," she said nodding toward the hospital, "is where our population gets their needs met and where we have ships ready to bring prisoners here from other places. If shoot outs happen here, we're sure no one gets hurt but them including our civilian population at the other airports. We get them from the migrations and we get them from Cybertron. We also get them from classified places, just so you know. We also run an underground train route that is ours and goes from here to the courthouse and the Medical Center in town. No one else uses it and its highly, highly secured. That way," she said nodding to the left, "goes into the prison itself with various lockup classifications but mostly general population. Punitive lockups are also available there, a device this short of special segregations," she said, pointing back to the right.
"We're going to take the tour of general pop, then ad-seg … administrative segregation where you go if you frag up, our special and political general population lockups, then the special group that way," she said pointing to the right again. "This is the last stop for too many but I have a skill that I apply. I've rehabilitated along with my team and the Former Decepticon Association tens of thousands of slaggers. If you ended up here, you'd be mine and I'd do the same until you proved to me that you're hopeless. I hate that word used here but sometimes you get someone who's too stupid, damaged, hateful, entitled, or mental to change. That's what we're here for, to protect and serve everyone, prisoner and civilian alike." She looked at Ratchet. "Lead on and we'll follow."
Ratchet grinned. "All the handsome mechs follow me," he said. "I bring the boys to the yard."
Huge laughter and snarky remarks greeted that after they made the correct computer generated searches. It was a rather upbeat group, mostly, that followed him to the left and the general population segment of the prison. It was a very short trip before reaching Bad Attitude Land. The mechs who were in the closest set of barracks came to the bars to watch the newcomers. They knew everyone of the soldiers but the civilians weren't well known. Everyone of those individuals worked behind the scenes pulling the strings that led to their miserable lives. Their anonymity was their shield against accountability and reality. That was being stripped away from them on this excursion. None of that stopped any of the inmates from exercising some fun.
"HEY! WARDEN! WHO'S THE NEW FRAGGERS!?"
"PUT THEM IN HERE! WE CAN SHOW THEM THE ROPES!"
"HEY, RATCHET! I GOT AN ITCH! COME AND SCRATCH IT!"
Ratchet glanced at the big mech who said that who was smirking as he stood at the fence, then laughed. "Hi, Pack-O. How ya doing? Any hope yet you'll be a good boy?"
"Nope," he said with a grin. "But I'm always here for you."
"ME TOO!" someone else said as the entire cell block broke into lewd commentary.
Ratchet grinned at the four civilians and a smirking Hauser and Maddow, both of whom had been in prison before as dissidents and knew the ropes. "Don't worry. I'll protect ya. That's what we do. Right, boys?" he asked the others.
"Is it?" Springer asked.
"I don't know. Given a shot at throwing them over the fence or protecting them, I'm still thinking," Sideswipe said with a wolfish grin.
"I'll help you. You need an alibi, Sideswipe?" Splice asked as they ambled past the riotously rude cell block toward so many others that they disappeared into the gathering night time.
"Sure. What about you, Roadie?" Sideswipe asked the huge mech with a blank expression walking beside him almost comically laden with guns and ammo.
"Don't need no stinking alibi," Roadbuster said as the entire group minus four mechs howled with laughter.
"Roadbuster, you're adorable. I think you must be the love child of Grimlock and I say that in the most worshipful way," Ratchet said with a smile.
Roadbuster considered that, then grinned slightly. "Thanks," he said to howling laughter and back slaps.
"Too bad your son isn't here, Lucien. He'd love this," Ratchet said. "I'm taking him on rounds here tomorrow."
"My son doesn't belong in this sort of work. He's meant for other things," Lucien said with a stubborn tone.
"You don't find value in keeping these predators caged? Or that maybe some of them wouldn't have turned out this way if they had half a chance?" Ratchet asked as he looked over his shoulder at the four.
"I don't want to know and frankly, I don't care," Burris said with disdain.
Ratchet slowed, then walked to the fence where a horde of very menacing mechs gathered. "Hey, Cordon. Where are you?"
A huge mech stepped forward, one covered in scars and modifications, all of which were made to hold now missing weapons. "What?" he asked with a smirk on his still handsome face. His red optics were scary-looking indicating the level of menace from which he would probably never recover.
"What did you do in the 'Cons?" Ratchet asked with a smirk.
"Besides kill Autobots?" he asked as the others laughed loudly.
"Yeah," Ratchet replied. He was aware of his looks and the effect it had on other mechs. Even though in a million vorns, the humans would never get it, there was no one on either side of the bars that didn't get or see that Ratchet was outstandingly good looking. Everyone of them got it. Clearly. He knew they would talk to him longer than most because of that and he used his looks to his advantage in moments like this a lot. It was a strategy.
"I was a road rage gangster who lead ship boarding teams," he replied proudly. The group acknowledged him with a prideful murmur.
"What did you do before that? During the civilian orns? Before the war," Ratchet asked.
It was silent a moment, then he shrugged. "I was homeless. I joined a gang. I was from Slaughter City. There wasn't any way to get a different life when you were alone. Why?"
"Just curious," Ratchet said as he turned to the four. "These mechs were in charge of everything. They made the rules and we had to live them. They don't think they owe anyone anything for what happened. I thought maybe you could straighten them out."
The tone of the gathering, amusing but deadly changed immediately. The entire group inside the fence looked at the four who tensed. Cordon shouldered a mech aside to stand in front of them, his rage-filled expression and imposing menace frightening to see. "So … you're the slaggers who got to go first."
The four, for their part, stood without expression. Even Burris was intimidated into silence.
"Let them in, Warden. It would do my rehabilitation good to have a 'chat' with these slaggers," Cordon said as the others murmured. He bashed his fists together in his anger. He looked at Gee-Gee, then Ratchet. "Why did you tell us this? Why aren't they in here, too?"
"Some of them are," Gee-Gee said. "Some of them are out on sufferance."
"Let them inside. We can discuss sufferance together," Cordon said as some of the mechs slammed their fists together in anger as well. "You know you wanna." He leaned as close to the bars as he could to look at the four who stepped back from his malicious, heated aura.
Ratchet considered that. "But for the good teachings of my ada and ammas, I'd agree. Unfortunately, I'd have to paste them back together and I'd hate to sully my servos. Is there anything you want to tell them about your life? About your suffering? Maybe how if you had a better chance you might have amounted to something different?" Ratchet added with a grin.
Cordon glanced at Ratchet, then grinned slightly in spite of himself. "Slagger. How about letting them be hungry and homeless. How about them losing their whole family and having no one to turn to but the gangs. I regret few things, Ratchet," he said with a serious tone. "I do regret not killing every high caste on Cybertron." The others agreed, some of them loudly. Then it was silent again. Cordon stared at him, then Ratchet. He nodded ever so slightly to Ratchet, then stepped back, staring at the four with murderous intentions.
"Take care, boys," Ratchet said as they turned to move onward.
"HOW ABOUT YOU COMING IN AND TAKING CARE OF MY 'THINGS' PERSONALLY!?" some wag in the back called out.
Ratchet looked back with a grin. Everyone in the cell block but Cordon was laughing loudly. Ratchet could feel the big mechs optics on his back all the way down the road.
-0-TBC 9-13-17 edited 9-14-17
ESL:
quibble: argue and fight over something that in the end doesn't matter very much
super maximum prisons: these are end-of-the-road lock ups where prisoners usually are alone in their cell 23 hours a day with one hour out to exercise alone. They can drive an inmate into madness and suicide. You shower maybe twice a week and have no one to talk to the rest of the time. Some of the worst people alive are in them and they usually stay there until they die.