The Diego Diaries: Aftermath (dd6 257)
-0-Home again jiggity jig
They walked in with gear and children, minus the biggest ones who were heading for the library to crack the books for a project that was due First Monday at school. They had helped load up the horses, children, other animals, stacks of empty boxes, and themselves, this time with Ratchet on the inside, rather than the outside of the runabout. It was a short jolly flight back to the airfield south of The Fortress and a jollier time loading up Ironhide to drive their slag home.
The little kids ran for their rooms as they entered the house. Ratchet walked to his chair to sit. Ironhide who dropped the stow away gear by the door which was stuffed into a big duffel walked to his, pulling Halo out of his hold. He grinned at her and she grinned back at him. He looked at Ratchet. "That was fun."
Ratchet grinned. "It sure was."
-0-Before everyone gathered to go...
"Before you slaggers go, you need to have your badges for the barbecue. I also have moocher merit badges for the rest of you," Ratchet said as he pulled a heavy sack out of the bottom of his 'grub box'. Everyone paused with grins for this portion of the insanity as Ratchet stood up. "For barbecuing above and beyond the call of duty, I have this badge for you to keep forever and become a family heirloom to be handed down through the generations." He smiled brilliantly, then took some out. He frisbeed them to those who had barbecued including Ironhide.
They were round and had an etched image on them. It was Optimus Prime in his (unconscious) Superman pose. He was standing with an apron on, a grilling fork in one hand and a beer in the other. He was grinning. Behind him, the figure of Prowl stood holding a whole dead pig with an apple stuffed in his mouth like they always showed on the cartoons. He looked burdened and sweaty browed. The images were in full color and around the rim it said, "First Annual Barbecue in the Valles, Autobot City, Primal Colony of Mars".
Huge laughter and clapping emerged from that along with a frown from Prowl and a loud guffaw from Optimus. Ratchet grinned. "Here is the Moocher Medallion of Dishonor for the rest of you." He tossed everyone around the area a frying pan shaped medallion that was just as 'tasteful' and filled with lurve as the other one. It had an image of a dumpster. Sitting inside, peering over the rim, Bumblebee, Sandstorm and Roadbuster looked out with sappy grins on their faces. A banana peel was perched on Bee's helm like a hat. It was in full color and had the words, "First Annual Moocher's Medallion, Barbecue in the Valles, Autobot City".
Laughter greeted that, then Bee stood up. "Thanks, Ratchet. I don't have a thing to give you back but if you want, I'll erase the twerking video I took when you shook your fanny in Ironhide's face."
HUGE laughter and requests for copies greeted that as Ratchet sat with a smirk. "Slagger."
-0-Home again
Ratchet laughed. "It was a lot of fun. We have to do that once in a while to break up the slag. The kids need memories and we adults need a few fun ones to replace the others."
Ironhide nodded. An internal message reached both of them as they sat relaxing. Because they were general staff, they were informed of all that went down. They acknowledged the message. It was Prowl. :We have a small group coming in from the trail, some who didn't get gathered by Dai. They're a colony that pulled up stakes and finally reached our outer sensor range. We're going to pick them up and bridge them in. They appear to be a mixed caste enclave with soldiers who bound together and built a colony out past the crown nebula. How they got that far, I don't know:
:Do you need us?: Ironhide asked.
:I would like Ratchet to go check them over, a general sweeping scan if nothing else. We need an overview of them for a starter. There's only about 10,000 of them and the Bureau of Refugees and Immigration already is organizing them for settlement. I'm going down but Optimus is staying with the kids:
:I'm on it, then: Ratchet said as he stood. :You expect trouble or is this just precautionary and evaluative?:
"Both: Prowl replied as he paused the elevator he was riding on Ratchet's floor. :We just want to take a sense of it. Magnus told me he has it organized. Someone mentioned a number of high castes. I want to nip anything in the bud that arises:
Ratchet walked out his door, slowed with a grin as he spotted Prowl at the elevator holding it, then walked down to join him. The door closed and they began to descend. "You don't expect trouble, do you?"
"Who knows? Every migration is a crap shoot anymore," Prowl said as they descended.
-0-On the ground
The usual rush to prepare to receive refugees was in full swing and under control. They both remembered the early orns when twenty was a catastrophe. Now, they accepted millions at a time and their people rose to the occasion like the champions they were. They walked to the airfield and arrived as the first several ships descended from their parking orbit to land. The hatches opened and ramps were extended as the soldiers with them walked down carrying kids and those who were unable to walk.
Ratchet walked up to scan them and found them sound, but in need of attention. Their group had some skill and resources, using them to make their way. A soldier walked to Prowl and shook his hand. "Commander, I'm Commander Tulee of Nova Cronum. We're really glad to be here. We had to book it because of alien unrest in our sector. We're sort of crammed in and short on everything but hope."
"Welcome, Commander. We'll be needing any information you can give us about your area and journey," Prowl said. "Welcome to Autobot City."
He looked around the area, then smiled. "You've been busy," he said.
"We have. What is the caste make up of your party? We've outlawed the System and want to know if there's going to be a problem here."
He stared at Prowl for a moment, then looked at the civilians being taken off the ships. "I sort of left them for the last to arrive. We hoped to be able to avoid trouble and we still do. The high castes on the ships are … uh, very traditional and they have the attitude. They haven't been non cooperative but they have their ways. You know?" he asked with a wry expression.
Prowl nodded. "Thank you for that." They chatted a moment, then his family walked to him. "Why don't you help your family, then report back to help us take in the high castes?" He looked around, then waved a Home Guardsman over. "Please help this mech and his family to be settled, then bring him back to me here to assist with a problem."
The Home Guardsman, a young kid, nodded. "I will, Commander," he said. He turned to the mech and his tired family. "Come with me. I'll expedite you through Immigration and take you to your home. Then I'll bring you back and your family can rest there until you get back."
Tulee nodded, then followed the youngster with his family to the front of a line where they began to go through the routine. Ratchet watched him, then glanced at Prowl. "Trouble, do you think?"
"No," Prowl said firmly.
They waited and waited, the reclamation proceeding swiftly with the large number of intake officers working. Tulee came back after a while energized and surprised at the apartment for him and his family in the Crater District. By then, the last few ships were landing.
It was mid afternoon by the time the last three ships landed, slowing to a halt on the tarmac. The ramps opened and a number of very fine looking mechs and their families stepped out to walk down to the ground. They came out and hesitated as they looked around, their surprise remarkable on their handsome faces. They came toward Prowl, some of them recognizing him even now as the S.I.C. of the Autobot Armed Forces. One of them, a handsome bot, large and exquisite in his paint scheme paused in front of him with his family. "Commander Prowl. It's good to see you again. I am Treadwell of Polyhex. I knew your genitors."
Prowl nodded. "Welcome to Autobot City and the Reclaimed Empire. I'm here to welcome you in place of the Prime who is busy with his family. You'll be going through Immigration and the Bureau of Refugees will help settle you. As you know, the Prime has set the rules and upholds the Charter laws of Cybertron. The System of Exception is banned here and throughout the Empire which he has reclaimed from the Decepticons, many of which live here as full citizens. Cybertron and the Inner Planetary System is now under our control."
Treadwell and the group around him which continued to grow as more came from the ships stared at him with silence. Then Treadwell leaned closer. "Prime has Cybertron?"
"He does. It's being restored so none of you may go there for the duration. You will live here. The Bureau will help you with questions and other concerns. If you would join the lines, they will assist you." Prowl nodded to the lines formed beside them.
"When will we get to see Prime? I have many questions," Treadwell said as others nodded.
"You can make an appointment through his office and he will meet with you. He has many duties and demands on his time but he makes himself available for our people, all of them," Prowl said.
They stared at him, then Treadwell nodded. "Thank you. We will," he said. He looked at the lines, then his group. "Let's go to do this then." He looked at Prowl. "Thank you."
Prowl nodded, then watched as they walked toward the lines, a large number of mechs and a femme here and there. All of them were immaculate and some of them were familiar. Most familiar were two mechs who walked behind a group of tall sub adults. They glanced at him, then slowed. Prowl who turned toward Ratchet froze in place as he saw them over Ratchet's shoulder.
Ratchet who had no idea what was happening glanced at Prowl, then the two mechs he was staring at. Ratchet froze, too. Then he glanced at Prowl. "Prowl?"
Prowl blinked, then glanced at Ratchet. He didn't say anything, but he walked forward, stopping before the two familiar strangers. He looked at a loss for words. Then one of them, a big mech who looked remarkably like Prowl straightened his posture. "Prowl. You survive." He was formal and awkward, his emotions tightly in check as he stared at Prowl. The other mech with him, someone with similar colors and design looked equally as surprised. He said nothing.
"You … I did. How did you? The city was destroyed. It was wiped out. I went to your house but it was obliterated," Prowl said.
"We weren't home," the big mech said.
It was silent, awkward even, so Ratchet stepped forward and scanned them, breaking the impasse. "Well, you're both in good condition. I'd say some rest and good food will do it for both of you." He looked at Prowl who looked like he had just seen a ghost. "Prowler … who are these mechs?"
Prowl stared at them, then Ratchet. "They're … uh … they're my amma and appa … Zenith and Shadow."
Ratchet stared at Prowl, then the two. "Oh," he said with surprise.
-0-Moments later in the conference room of the Ops Center
They sat silently, staring at each other over the table, two formal mechs and their grandson, the Gothic Rebel usually known as Prowl of Praxus. These two were scientists and inventors, mathematicians of the highest order, wealthy and influential in the glory days of Cybertron before The Fall, owners of many homes, bonding together two great families, and clueless about the changes in store for them. They were the genitors of Miler of Praxus, a sweet spark who loved his son and family and worked hard for everyone, everyday. What this meant to that was still unfolding.
Heavy treads broke the strained silence as Optimus Prime walked in. Both rose and bowed their helms. "Lord Optimus, it is Primus Blessed to see you again."
"And to see you," Prime replied in the formal salutation. "Please … sit and let us talk together." They did and so did Prime. "What a miracle that you are here. Are you well? Do you require anything?"
"We are well and apparently, we shall be taken to our new home shortly," Zenith said.
Prowl sat silently, staring at them with an odd mixture of emotions on his face. Prime glanced at him, then them. "Has Prowl told you very much about life here, about his life here?"
"No," Zenith said. "He mentioned that The System is dead and that the Bureau of Refugees would assist us with our life here."
"We shall as well." Prime squeezed Prowl's servo. "Prowl and I have a bond."
They glanced at both sharply, then recovered completely. "I see. Congratulations are in order then," Shadow said as Zenith nodded.
"We have infants. Several. We have grandchildren. Several," Prowl managed.
The two stared at him, then Prime. "That is … unexpected. But then, all of this is," Zenith said as Shadow nodded.
"There's more, Amma, Appa," Prowl managed. "Ada and Atar are here. They survived and reached us. They live and work here and they have another son. They call him Prima."
Zenith and Shadow sat back to absorb the new information. "I see. Miler … is alive then?" Shadow asked.
Prowl nodded. "He is, Amma. Do you want me to call him to come?"
Zenith and Shadow glanced at each other, then Prowl. "I think … that would be agreeable."
Prowl nodded, then made the call internally.
Ratchet and Ironhide watched them as they talked together off line. :This is not going well, Ironhide:
:I know: Ironhide replied as he sat silently beside Ratchet. :I saw them and met them once. They're very conservative and really high tone. I don't know if they changed but this is going to take some unwinding:
"Have they been given their home yet, Prowl?" Prime asked quietly.
Prowl glanced at him, then shook his helm. "Not yet, Optimus."
"Grandchildren. We have them?" Shadow said. "Tell us about them, Prowl."
Prowl stared at them, at the pair who never seemed to understand even the smallest thing about him, who wanted him to conform to their caste and its demands and felt the urge to say no. "We have several. I have an adopted son who with his bonds have three children, a mech and twin femmes. Optimus and I have four other sons, all young, and two daughters who are babies."
"You say that Miler has another child," Shadow asked.
"Yes," Prowl replied. "A son named Prima. Ada wanted another ..." He paused on the word 'chance' for a second. "He wanted another child and Atar is very happy about it, too."
The pair nodded, then a rap on the door signaled someone coming. Prime stood and turned to the door as Miler and Venture stepped in. They smiled at him. "How can we help you, Optimus?" Miler asked sweetly. Then he glanced toward the others. Freezing in place, Miler of Praxus saw his ada and atar, Zenith and Shadow of Praxus rising slowly from their chairs. It was excruciatingly tense and suspenseful in the room.
-0-TBC 1-26-18 edited 2-2-18