The Diego Diaries: The Morning After (dd6 141)
-0-At the jailhouse (now)
They sat in their side-by-side cells watching the staff bring food trays around. They had gotten theirs already and ate surprisingly good food. Cybertronian jails, this wasn't. Very little of this whole set up seemed like Cybertron. They weren't flogged, ignored, starved, tormented, or endlessly interrogated. They were left in a comfortable cell with a decent bunk and good food. It was illustrative*.
They hadn't spoken to each other since the night before, there not seeming much to say at the moment. The 'jig was up' as the humans said in their infernal gangster films and they were caught hard and fast. It was interesting that they found out about the future plans and whereabouts of their families and colonies since they last spoke but it also meant that perhaps their relatives would end up here as well. They hadn't exactly been in the dark about activities that led to their ease and comforts in the past.
A mech came in with a datapad, then paused before their cell. "You two are getting arraigned in court. Get ready to get up and move. Any questions?" They stared at him stonily as he grinned back. "Now, don't be that way. You know we love ya. Right?" He walked off with a chuckle and their optics burning holes in his back.
It was silent but for a group of mini-cons down the row laughing about something. When a pair of guards entered the room, that group stood. Apparently, this was not their first time. "You little yahoos. Get ready to go," one of the guards said with a grin. He looked at the two, then nodded. "You, too. We're going by elevator to the courtroom of the magistrate. If you frag up, you get tazed. Observe the proprieties," he said with a grin.
Sherma and Momus stared at him, then stood. The bars dropped, they were led to a line with the mini-cons, then the lot began to march out to the elevator and a trip upward to The Reckoning, Part 1: The Enunciation (of the charges). Only half the group would be happy to see the magistrate.
-0-Sitting in the courtroom of the Right Honorable No-A
Optimus Prime and Prowl sat by the wall as the room filled up with the usual mini-con villages-families-bonds, etc, all come to hear the doom on their wayward infants. Ratchet and Ironhide trailed by Raptor walked in, then sat with them. "What's the story here, if I have to ask?" Raptor said as he leaned forward to glance at Prime.
Prime grinned. "This is the audience for the floor show. The main performance is after this."
"I believe that the French call them disvertissement." Everyone looked at Prowl who looked back with a smug expression.
"They do in ballet," Ratchet said signing off the internet. "How about you doing a little toe dance, Prowler?"
The expression of disdain that Ratchet received was so intense and so 1% that snickers were had by all. Ratchet grinned back at him. "I see you haven't forgotten how to give The Look."
Prowl's expression changed so fast it was debatable how his nose structure and optics stayed in his face. He shifted with discomfort. "I have NO idea what you mean," he said.
"Never change, Prowler. Never change," Ratchet said as everyone including Prime laughed loudly. The mini-cons almost as one turned to watch, then smiled brilliantly. The older and more sober (in every way possible) among them bowed their helms in Prime's direction. He returned the salute with his own nod and a big grin.
The door opened then, mercifully for Prowl, as a bunch of happy little hooligans and two very tense, uptight slaggers marched in under guard. They walked to the front, took the line like the professionals that they were (the mini-cons), then turned to face the judge. One mini-con turned to smile and wave at his amma, then back to face the music. Say what you will about mini-cons and micros, the little slaggers never slacked when it came to facing the magistrate. The other two looked mortified to this side of The Pit. It became silent.
Coln-2 along with a new defender and his aide, Certo and Kib, sat at their respective tables to do battle with the forces of good and evil. No-A who was chatting with Silver, the court clerk, finally turned to the group gathered. He grinned. "Well, it wouldn't be magistrate's court without mini-cons."
The little slaggers actually clapped including their elder appas. Their ammas glared at their bonds with anger and the adas and atars of the culprits glared at them with disapproval. It didn't matter. They all marched to their own drummer. That was when a tiny femme with little wings slid down from her amma's lap and toddled for the front of the courtroom. It took a bit of time for the tiny mite to make it to No-A who scooped her up. She sat on his servo and smiled. "BAI!" she said in the universal baby-speak for "Hi. I haven't seen you since last time my uncle was a knucklehead."
Probably.
It took a moment of chat and sweetness between No-A and the baby before he handed her back to her blushing ada. It was also a universal thing that adas and appas, ammas and atars loved to hear that their kids were darling. At least, this one was. The verdict was out on the other ones.
Literally.
Everyone in the room including the tall mechs enjoyed the baby, then it was on again. No-A looked at the lawyers. "Are we good to go?" he asked. They nodded, so he glanced at Silver. "Please begin, Silver."
Silver looked at his computer, then the miscreants. "First case is The Prime Brief versus Flim-Flam, Hopalong, Sipple, Pokey, and JimJam."
:I think I'm in love with mini-cons. They'll name their kids anything, the crazier, the better: Ratchet said to the others who snickered. Everyone in the audience looked at them and smiled. Then they turned back to the main floor show.
"Are you here for these infants?" No-A asked Certo who he liked a great deal. He was a nice kid who could play a terrible hand of poker. Kib was his steady 'beau', apparently. He had to catch up on the courthouse gossip.
"We are, your honor," Certo said as Kib nodded. That mech was tall and handsome, loved flying gliders and hanging in poker clubs with Certo who had zero talent for the games.
"Colie? You're for the Prime?" No-A asked.
"I am," Coln-2 said as he grinned at the kids. They grinned back. Everyone knew everyone and everyone liked everyone. Some of the ammas out there took to bringing baked goods for Coln, No-A, Silver, and the bailiffs, not as bribes but because they liked the court group. The court group liked them back.
"Very well," No-A said. "Silver? What are the charges?"
Silver consulted his computer. "They're charged with drunken and disorderly, loud lip noises aka disturbing the peace and loitering." Silver grinned at the group, they grinned back.
"What do you plead?" No-A asked.
They turned as a group to Certo who stood. "They plead no contest, your honor. There were extenuating circumstances and they wish to take their punishment as mini-cons according to The Code."
The Code or WWMD? … What Would Micronus Do? … was obviously over the years in development among the slick little slaggers and a 'thing' now. It was the usual blather of machismo, hyperactivity, short mech syndrome, excessive joyfulness when the drinks limit was overachieved at a bar, a fondness for celebrations over the least little thing, poor impulse control when out of sight of your ada, and a combativeness built into their little processors as a defense mechanism toward getting stepped on. The Code had developed in the jailhouses and cell blocks of Stir over the course of the life of the colony and was now cited in the moment of truth, usually magistrate's court the morning after.
No-A grinned as did everyone in the room without exception. All of them knew about The Code, a sort of parody of those that were older and highly honored including the Praxian Elite Code of Conduct. "Do tell. I want details."
Certo glanced at the little slaggers, then one stepped one step forward. "I'll be glad to do that," he said with a gigantic smile.
"Your name for the record," Silver asked with a grin.
"I'm JIMJAM, SIR!" he said, then smiled. "I'm in the Home Guard."
"What's your specialty there, infant?" Coln-2 asked collegially as he leaned on an elbow, settling in for the show that always followed 'volunteering'.
"I'm going to be infantry. SIR! YES, SIR!" he said, then smiled gigantically.
HUGE applause erupted around the room signifying HUGE buy in from the home crowd, then Raptor who couldn't contain his amusement leaned forward. "Infantry?"
He looked at Raptor, at his details and tats, then straightened to attention. "YES, SIR! SIR!" he smiled brilliantly.
Raptor quashed a HUGE desire to laugh, then leaned back with a grin. "I can see that. Carry on, soldier."
The kid looked ready to explode with delight, then gathered himself, turning back to No-A. "Sir, we were celebrating our graduation from basic training. We're moving into the ranks and learning our specialties now. SIR!"
No-A grinned at the kid, then noted that everyone in the room was popping their buttons over the kid's achievement and his genuine delight at being a regular rank now. "What about the rest of you?"
"SIR! YES, SIR!" Then Pokey leaned forward. "We all graduated, Judge."
The big mechs watching were howling with laughter together off line while the courtroom held to decorum, even if most of them were beaming their delight at their youngsters. One of them stood. "Your honor, I'm Patsco, the Appa of half these infants. I want you to know that we're proud of these kids for doing their duty. Why, when I was their age I was in the army, too. I could tell you stories," he began before his old bond pulled him down.
"Later, Patsy," the bond said to riotous laughter.
Huge laughter and applause greeted that as the room celebrated a moment, the old and the new. Then it settled again. No-A who was basking in delight looked at the others. "Flim-Flam, tell me what happened. Don't live up to your name."
A murmur of laughter greeted that as the kid looked around the room with a puzzled expression. Apparently, he didn't know the multiple meanings of his own name. He turned toward No-A and began. "We went to the bar, Club Cybertron, and when the thing happened down the street we were stuck. We didn't mean to get loaded but we did. We just graduated from basic training and it was a big thing. Right?" Flim-Flam asked as he looked at the others.
They stood at attention. "SIR! YES, SIR!" -all of them
Flim-Flam smiled at them, they smiled back, then all of them smiled at No-A. He grinned back. "Continue."
"That's about it. When we could go, we were crawling on our hands and knees. The Watch across the street gathered us up and here we are. SIR!" Flim-Flam said standing at attention. The others did the same.
Coln, Certa and Kib who were sitting with amazement and delight listening to The Tale were only matched by Blackstone who was in the audience, coming down from his office to watch the mini-cons get arraigned. All of the courthouse staff loved the mini-cons.
"Well, Certa … is this the whole story?" No-A asked as he studied the datapad with interviews from servers at Club Cybertron and others on the street along with amusing police reports that had been filed.
"It is," Certa said. "I'm begging for mercy for them." He smiled and No-A smiled back.
The kids watched both with hopeful expressions. So did the two village neighborhoods and four families going back three generations watching the show. Even Coln-2 looked lenient. No-A grinned at all of them, then pulled his ace card. "Will the senior elder please stand?"
A tiny mech did, Alejate, atar of Ramcharger. His little bond sat next to him, both of them ancient and small. Everyone in the room stood a moment, then sat. This was a serious legal moment and they accorded him his superior status over them by doing so. He grinned as he leaned on his little cane. "Hello, No-A. How is your amma and appa? I didn't see them at bingo last week."
"They're having work done on their peds," No-A said. "You know how it goes. They should be dancing by next bingo night."
"That's good. I do love them both," Alejate said sweetly. "Let them know I missed them." Everyone grinned.
Everyone.
"I will. Abba," No-A said as he bowed his helm respectfully. "I need your wisdom. What do you think is a good course for these infants? They're not sneaking out of their actions. They want to move forward."
Alejate thought a moment. "That's good of them," he said. "They're very good infants. They finished their course and will be good soldiers," he said as they straightened into attention. He looked at Raptor. "General, what do you think? I think they should apologize and go home to think of their wandering ways. They were, after all, just singing."
Raptor grinned. "That speaks of wisdom, Abba. I think I concur." He looked at the kids who jumped to attention. "Soldiers, do you promise to be more moderate and think of your abba and his feelings next time?"
They all looked at Alejate with startled expressions, then turned to Raptor. "Yes. I don't want Appa unhappy," Flim-Flam said as the others nodded.
Raptor nodded back. "Then I concur with Abba Alejate, your honor."
No-A glanced at both, then the kids who snapped to attention. "I hereby relegate you to your families. Take your Abba's words to spark and sin no more," he said to a relieved row of kids. "By the way, congratulations on your graduation."
They smiled like the sun, then hugged their lawyers. Giving props to Raptor, Ratchet, Ironhide, Prime, and Prowl, they walked to their families, engulfed their elders and walked out together. A big mech who was an in-law to a relative somewhere on the floor gently picked up Alejate and his bond, then left with them in arms. It was hilarious and sweet.
Everyone loved the mini-cons.
The room settled, then everyone turned to the two mechs standing side-by-side on the line in the front of the courtroom. It was now time for Sherma and Momus.
-0-TBC 9-28-17 edited 10-04-17
NOTES: (I will fix the odd thing with Hero and her sisters. The shootout erupted and they had to come.)
ESL (For Leoness and everyone else. :D:D:D I may have retired from teaching a while back but the reflex mechanism teachers have that tell thing something needs a bit of an explanation won't shut off. I want everyone to get everything. :D:D:D Love you, Missy Leoness! These two are for you.) :D:D:D:D
The jig is up: whatever it is, is over and you lost. Everyone knows or its found out. Old expression.
divertissement: di·ver·tisse·ment /dəˈvərdəsmənt/ noun 1. a minor entertainment or diversion: "as a Sunday divertissement Wittgenstein would play Schubert quartets" For ballet, its a short dance piece that is part of a bigger one, usually. The short appetizer for the main course. Vaudeville was one long minor entertainment after another.
Illustrative: (il-us-tri-tiv) Something that demonstrates or shows something about something. Having a good jail v a bad one is illustrative of how good or bad the other thing is.
Beau: (bo): if someone, in this case, is your beau, he's your sweetheart. Its an old fashioned Americanism about having a boyfriend. It's used for males. Its also a boy's name. :D:D:D
machismo: (muh-chis-mo): exaggerated masculinity, bluster combined with combativeness in some cases. Sort of fits the average mini-con.
Stir: old timey American slag for jail.
Flim-flam: slang for lying or leading someone on without telling them the truth. Blather is another word for it and when you do it a lot, you're a flim-flam artist.