The Diego Diaries: Playah (dd6 218) needs a check over
-0-Out there
They landed on the planetoid at the coordinates that each commander had agreed upon. It was cold and dark but the lights from his shuttle lit up the area. Soon the others would come and they would do whatever it was that would come of this, a gathering of homeless troops seeking territory alone or in tandem with Razorclaw. They had been in contact with him, all of them, having heard his messaging for troops as well as Prime's. He was the reason they were coming together first to discuss strategy among other things. Only with numbers would they be able to meet the force of nature that mech represented. They also needed to have better information about Prime. He had taken over Cybertron, that much was known. Now they had to assess threat and go from there.
As he stood on the rocky cold surface of the planet, the lights of other ships coming for the rendezvous could be seen over head.
-0-At the homestead
Ratchet walked to the hospital. Everyone was on their way and the morning was young. Overnight, the news was coming in more swiftly. The size of the forces coming in and their intentions thus far were clearer. They were big forces. The ships, if they were running optimally in relation to crews, would add another 75,000 troops, 10 battleships, 15 cruisers, 11 fighter transports, an indeterminate number of support ships, and a boost in confidence to bad guys everywhere around here that Prime didn't want them to have. They were gathering to talk which in and of itself was strange. But then, they were deciding what to do in an extremely secured local cluster. If they could make it to Razorclaw, there was always the danger of the big smart mech. No one came to Predaking without a swift and decisive exit plan in place.
It was not gong to be easy for them. They weren't big and strong enough to take on Prime either with Cybertron or in the Sol System. They would make a butt load of trouble, however, if they combined and set up shop in the fringes. He would have two moldering hot spots in his sphere of influence. But better the location of the enemy you knew than the vaguely understood position of the enemy you couldn't see.
Ratchet entered the hospital, chatted his way to the top and entered his office. Lee-Lee walked in with datapads, a hot drink and a plate of snacks. Updating him swiftly, she hurried out to do eighteen million other things. Checking his digital desk chart of the hospital building, he saw that Lucien was hard at it. He sat and began, hoping to keep caught up, hoping that the slaggers would frag off and not make a problem here as he considered the rush of Christmas Surprise events and things that were ahead. Frag them if they messed up this, Halo's first Christmas Surprise.
It was quiet in his office as he worked.
-0-Ironhide and the family
They gathered at the corner seeing off the last of the kids to school. Halo was stowed in Ironhide's chassis as the big mechs waited for Keystock and Cargo to come. It was cold, sunny and bustling around the neighborhood as mechs swept their storefront sidewalks and others set up for the orn's business. A bus filled with humans drove past, taking pictures and waving madly in their delight to see such famous Autobots. They waved back.
Emerging from the Metro station, Keystock and Cargo walked their way. They had their usual expressionless faces as they halted in front of the group. Raptor picked up the backpack from the ground, then tossed it easily to Keystock who caught it. Slipping it on, the two stood silently side-by-side as they waited for the orn's program.
"There's a huge munitions dump at the pole that needs sorting out. I sent the sappers in to survey it. It's a depot that was abandoned when Megatron left. No one kept it up but it apparently isn't in bad shape. We need to extract detonators, then send the stuff into a star. It's not stable anymore. Age, wear and tear make it unsalvageable. What we have to do is clear it and about four others in that latitude. We can't have anyone stepping on some slag after all this," Raptor said.
Hard Drive nodded. "We have to make a new place to take the dead. We filled up the allotted space in the midlands." It was silent a moment as that sunk in. "That's our job today, helping the priests find another site. We're entering them into the main plat book so that we can turn all of these places into a memorial site eventually. It's the least we can do."
Keystock shook his helm. "The least you can do."
Hard Drive stared at him as the others bristled in offense. "You fled. What's the least you can do?"
Keystock stared coldly at Hard Drive but he said nothing.
:Not to worry. This mech is going to be some wisdom today: Hard Drive told the others.
The other three, Raptor, Blackjack and Ironhide glanced at Hardie, then nodded.
Ironhide glanced at a horse patrol going past, then they waved. "I have to prepare the inventory to meet the design of the fleet that'll meet these slaggers if they make trouble. Right now, we're four by four. You three will be on Cybertron today?"
"We will, infant," Hardie said. "Meet us for a break if you can. Signal all of us. We can work out the situation together when we add this to the master plan. I want to touch base about 1400 hours on the TMC as per the Iacon time piece," he said referring to the clock that was kept at the ops center in Iacon that was used to sync with Mars.
They nodded, then Raptor turned to Cargo. "Get the lead out, infant. We have a lot of inspections today. We have to find all of our people and help them." He nodded to the others, then headed for the airfield briskly.
The others watched the two leave, then glanced at each other. "I'll be there at 1400. Signal me where you are and I'll bridge directly there," Ironhide said as he stepped out to head for the Metro station which would take him to his office in the armory below their peds.
Blackjack turned to his grandfather, then grinned. "I have to go to the office for a while, but first, I have to see about something that Trooper and Scout want to do. They want advice," he said. "See you at 1400." He walked out heading for the cab stand where he would take one to the Performing Arts Center west of Terra which had opened and had become a hub for their colony. He disappeared swiftly.
Hard Drive watched him go, then turned to Keystock. He looked at him appraisingly, long enough to see discomfort in the mech. "We have to go. Maybe when we're there, you can point out the things that you've done for Cybertron other than leach more than your share of unearned resources from those who actually created them." He stepped off the sidewalk and headed toward the airfield.
Keystock watched him go, then followed. He was sphinx-like in his outward appearance.
-0-Elsewhere
"So. She's a big femme."
"That goes without saying," Chromia said as she sat outside at a sidewalk cafe in New York City with Maelstrom. They had traded her bachelor apartment in Iacon for a two berth room apartment in the colony named for a much respected city on Earth.
"And?" Maelstrom asked as he smirked at 'his girl'.
"And nothing," Chromia said. "She's going to figure it out. I just never figured Lancer would settle for a high caste."
"Partition is turning out alright," Maelstrom said.
"I suppose so," Chromia said as she smirked slightly at 'her mech'. They were two peas in a pod, both of them, a perfect match of aggression, friendship, common interests, and intense loyalty. "We're not due on Clipper today. What do you want to do?"
"I don't know. There's a card game at Club Hoyle. The races this afternoon. Dinner at the steak place in Bern?" Maelstrom said, outlining for him the perfect orn.
Fortunately for him, it was also the same for Chromia.
-0-On Cybertron: Hard Drive
Hard Drive stepped off the transport ship and walked out onto the broken ground that surrounded the badlands of Kaon. They were going through a series of major fracture inspections. There were all over the world, places where the barrage of bombing had been too much even for the armor of Primus. The lines were sometimes just small but deep while others were long and deep, long and shallow, and wide and bad. They were given extreme attention because the repairs took a lot of skill. Crews were bivouacked on site so they could continue around the clock to effect the repairs, something that had to be done before anything else. Things were only as stable and strong as the ground they stood upon.
The camp was nearby and so were piles and mounds of materials to make the repairs. The crews were the typical kind, all manner of mech and femme working carefully and well together. They had a job to do that was helping THEM and they got good food, shelter and their self respect back. They had no one standing over them with a whip and they were FREE. Hardie stood on the lip of a break with Cargo beside him. They stared down inside which was lighted with arc lights to illuminate the area. The wounds were being repaired along with all the deep down infrastructure that made life the miracle here that it was.
They listened to the overseer speaking about this and that thing, pointing out this and that thing as Hardie's adjutants took notes. They would need this and that thing, this and that skill, this and that recheck of the plans. He listened knowledgeably. He had been a worker drone way back in the beginning so he had a lot of these kinds of skills himself. When the crew had shown what was done and expressed what they needed, Hardie took his leave and with entourage in tow, walked to the ship. Before they reached the next place, ships would be landing here with what they needed. Their next stop would be to meet with priests and find another grave pit for the stacks of bodies that were waiting for a final place to rest. It would be a grim business altogether.
-0-Full Circle, Terra, Autobot City, Primal Colony of Mars, Cybertron and the Empire
Edict and Anders worked to put the newest merchandise onto the shelves and hangars of the big expanded store, the flagship of the Circle of Light. It was here that artisans offered their wares, some of them extremely rare and vanishing, families got materials for their children in the prep schools that the group founded, books, art, conversation, and advice. Setting up her loom, Joon chatted with the merry group that was now staff at this, the hub of their social life and that of hundreds of others.
"Well, that looks lovely," Madura said as he smiled at a hangar that was holding a beautiful weaving in colors of gold, silver, white, and yellow. "So beautiful. Did you do this one, Joon?" he asked.
"No," Joon said as she peered at the display in the main window. "That was done by Hobie. He's a weaver from a long line of them. That's a very rare design. It took him four years to make it."
"Wow," Madura said. "I'm not sure I have the patience." He walked to the little cafe that was at the other end of the building and began to get the baked goods and other items ready for the 'regulars', mechs and femmes from the neighborhood who came here to chat, read, study, catch up on things, and hang out.
Anders grinned. "Me neither. I love the colors. I'll get the others from the back," he said as he walked though the store to get more.
The door bells jangled as a mech walked in. He smiled. "Hello. How's everyone today?"
Madura glanced at him, then smiled. "Hi, Sturba. How is the family?" he asked as he wiped the counter of the little diner with a clean cloth.
"They're just fine and dandy, Madura. My son is finishing up a construction project in the Crater District. Then he's going to work on the modules for the war world space station being put together at Saturn," he said as he sat at one of the three little tables with chairs that fronted the little cafe. "What's good this morning?" he asked with a smile.
"I have something called fruit danish, stollen, and a number of really pretty Christmas Surprise cookies," Madura said as the door opened again. It would be a nice morning chatting with the customers as Madura served them, Edict handled the retail end of everyone's purchases and Joon wove to her heart's content. Groups of students including those of Olivia Bowers would come in for lessons in the life views and philosophy of the Circle of Light. It would be a very peaceful orn with the group stepping out for lunch at The Confectionaire nearby.
Madura, Anders and Edict had found their niche.
-0-On Cybertron: Raptor
He walked through the jumble of broken and tangled metal, wires and other bits and pieces of what once was a hometown for someone. Now and again, they would walk past a florescent piece of tape that had been tied around something to flag a body that would require digging out. There were a lot of flags. Keystock walked with the heavy backpack and the mass of aides and other soldiers and worker bees that came with Raptor when he went looking for their people.
They found them sometimes, half mad, hidden away, startling at every sound. Sometimes, they sat staring numbly once they were gathered, saying nothing because they had nothing left. Sometimes, they found someone who never left a body that was someone they loved. It was hard to get them to move so Raptor would grab the steel and lift it, his gigantic strength and resolve augmented by the rest of them. The body would be pulled out whole or in pieces, wrapped up, then taken with them. Often, he carried someone in his arms or on his back, never shirking from the demands and horror of the scene around them. Sometimes, Keystock would have to help. It was numbing work.
They walked into a clearing where a number of mechs waited, their tattered dignity reminiscent of what and who they might have been once upon a time. He paused before them. "I'm Raptor. I came at your signal to relieve you of your post, General," he said to a tall mech who looked worse for the wear. Others around him had the dull look of the starved and shattered. They were all his age and there were no children or younglings. "We came to take over your duty."
The mech who was a civilian by all appearances straightened. He nodded. "Very well. We've stood our posts. We turn the detail over to you."
Raptor bowed. "I am honored to assume your duties and hope to be as distinguished and honorable doing so as all of you are now."
The mech wavered, then held out his servo. They shook, then he looked around a moment. "This is a good base, young mech. You will find it very adequate."
"I can see that," Raptor said. "If you go with these mechs," he said nodding to a solemn faced medic and two soldiers, "They can take you to headquarters and you can report."
"Thank you," the mech said. "I will," he said. "Let me gather my command." He turned to the others, then gently took the servo of one of them. "Come. We get to stand down," he said quietly. The others stood, some of them unsteadily, then began to follow their leader, a mech from the neighborhood who had fended off the horrors of war as he defended everyone of them. They were friends and family, all of them in bad shape but soon they would be in comforts and aid. Their long vigil and ordeal had pushed them almost too far and they had coped as they could.
They walked past Raptor who saluted them. They paused to stare at him, then nodded. They continued onward until they were gone from view. The mechs with Raptor sagged with emotion as they gathered around their general. "This is so fragged, General," one of them said with misery in his voice. "So fragged."
"It is," Raptor said, "But we have to do our best. They deserve the best we can give. They are why we work so hard. We have to find everyone," he said. "Let's go." He walked onward and by the time they got ready to meet Hard drive and the others at 1400 hours in Helex, they would rescue 127 others too weak and confused to rescue themselves.
-0-TBC 12-14-17
NOTES
Stollen: (Christmas bread in Germany, I believe. I love it madly) Stollen is a fruit bread containing dried fruit and often covered with powdered sugar or icing sugar. The bread is usually made with chopped candied fruit and/or dried fruit, nuts and spices
A plat book is a book of deeds to land that make up an area. A plat book for your town shows deeds of ownership for the land in it. A deed or title to a piece of land is called a plat and is registered by the local political entity … county, borough, parish … to show who owns what.