The Diego Diaries: Stuff (dd6 302)
-0-Later that night
They futzed around as they got things sorted out for the next orn. It had been a jam packed orn altogether. The new refugees were settled, some of them in the hospital for an overnight watch. Leaving their home, even one as endangered by location as it was, was a difficult thing for some. That they could bring their dead was the biggest possible blessing. But it came with another funeral. They would have it at the new Mausoleum On the Hill in the Crater District. The old one wasn't even close to being filled but there were going to be moments like this and they wanted to be prepared.
"How did it go on Cybertron?" Ratchet asked as he sorted through the tiny book bags and the bigger ones of the dreads. He was hanging them on the row of hooks by the mid door in the corridor, the door that used to be the main one for that co-opted apartment.
"It went well. I think I'm going to take Morius, Inweld and Partition tomorrow for a jaunt. I want them to get real world experience. The first two have applied for substation appointments and Contrail wants me to 'shake them out' under pressure," Ironhide said.
"Well, Contrail would know," Ratchet said with a grin. Contrail was his director of medics for the Watch and Emergency Services departments. The number of services that Ratchet ultimately controlled was amazing and wide spread. "Where will you be going?"
"We're going to go through the dead ends around the planet. There's rumors that some of the lesser … uh, the ones still messed up might be drifting back. What you know is better than what you don't know, I guess. I want to test them under tough circumstances," Ironhide said. "The Dead End, the Wasteland, the Dumping Ground outside of Capital City … those kind of places."
"They'll excel," Ratchet said loyally. "They need to know it all."
Ironhide nodded, then they walked down the corridor to the berth room where they crashed and recharged like the dead all night long.
-0-Morning, the next orn
They sat in a small cafe in Iacon eating breakfast together. Inweld, Morius, Partition with Lancer, Laslo, and Lucien were together enjoying a nice meal around a street side table. It was actually pretty good.
"Senior Commander Ironhide is taking us to Cybertron today," Morius said as he invoked Ironhide's full title. He wanted substance around something he was certain his genitors would worry and fuss about.
"Why, son?" Laslo asked. "Where will you go there? It must be so terrible. I know you'll be so helpful and useful with your training." Laslo was proud of his sons. They were respected and useful. They were doing things for The People and he told about them to his friends and those he met. Lucien was still shrouded, so he talked up their deeds when they came up.
"We're touring the dumping grounds where mechs and femmes were penned up when they couldn't do anything useful anymore," Partition said with an uncharacteristic edge. He glanced at Lancer. "You were there when they were liberated. Right?"
She glanced nervously at Lucien, then Partition. "I was. It was a nightmare," she said truthfully. "I've been at war a long time and I knew things were terrible in some of these places. We stayed on world a long time after The Fall to organize resistance and harry the 'Cons. But this was … unworldly."
"Lancer is a warrior, Atar. She's amazing," Partition said as he steeled himself. "I want to tell you that I want to bond with her. She's the one. I love her. I want both of you to know, too."
It was silent a moment, then Laslo smiled. "Why am I not surprised?" he asked as he squeezed Lancer's servo. She squeezed it back.
Lucien sat back. "Are you sure?" he asked his son.
Partition nodded. "I'm more sure of this than I am of anything else. I just want your blessing. You're my best friend and I love you … you and ada. I want this."
Lucien took it in, musing inside why it didn't blow his processor off his shoulders, then nodded. "Alright. Just make sure you're clear that once it happens it cannot be undone."
Everyone at the table stared at Lucien for a moment, then they exploded into joy.
-0-At the airfield next to the Ambassadorial Yacht
Lucien walked toward the colossally beautiful ship that bore the seals of the Primes, the city-states, Cybertron and Mars, the Autobrand and the Creed. It was stupefyingly beautify with all the colors that mattered to his former caste glistening in the cold morning sunlight. Emerald, luminous shades of dark metallic blue, copper, silver, and gold tastefully arrayed on its sleek and monumentally expensive body. He had ridden on such vessels in the past. His family was immensely rich but such a ship was outside of his range. However, it was now the official vehicle for the Ambassador and Secretary of State for the Prime of Cybertron and that knowledge didn't bother him as much as he expected it to.
Weird.
He walked up the ramp with his satchel of stuff for the meet up and headed for the lounge. White on white, the ultra status décor of his former caste greeted him. It was luxurious on a scale even he hadn't seen in his endless travel for the Primes during the orn. He set his bag down on a glass coffee table, then looked around. Walking to the windows nearby, he watched the airfield outside as things were organized. It was as busy as ever, a thrilling sight to an urban guy who liked airports and travel. The city glistened in the distance along with the Temple roof. He felt a momentary surge of pride that they had accomplished this, his great people, then he felt it fade. It was almost like he was subconsciously quashing anything that didn't meet the standards for his usual thoughts.
Maybe that was part of the high caste conditioning Vinn liked to mention ALL THE TIME.
He caught himself thinking that, then shook his helm. He was mad, he thought. Stark raving mad. Then he saw Ratchet walking toward the ship with Ironhide, his sons, a number of soldiers, and a few of the workers from the office who were coming along to assist. They were laughing and horsing around, something that instantly made him feel jealous. He didn't do that. It wasn't done. You were supposed to be …
He caught himself. What were you supposed to be? He didn't know anymore but he knew that the easy fun and laughter that rolled out of Ratchet was almost impossible for him. He watched his sons with a hunger he never knew he possessed. They were easy and laughing, too, then Partition hugged Ratchet. He. Hugged. Ratchet. Then his sons and Ironhide walked off with a laugh. They were walking to another ship to go to Cybertron. Ratchet snarked with a few of the ground crew, then walked to the ship. He was easy, confident, happy, relaxed, liked …
Liked.
Ratchet was liked.
By everyone.
And respected, too. Respect was given because he was liked and ...
It stung, strangely enough, as he turned to the door to watch Ratchet prance up, trade slag with the pilots, then walk into the lounge with a big smile trailed by soldiers who seemed delighted to come along. He smiled brightly at Lucien. "YOU MADE IT! I worried I'd have to send the hounds after you. Or maybe, just Hound. See what I did there?" He waggled his optical ridges as he grinned at Lucien.
"I'm here," Lucien said with the ghost of a grin. "When do we go?"
"Why, Lucien," Ratchet said with a dazzling smile, one that even a mortal enemy could recognize as brilliantly beautiful. "We're going now because I, numero uno of the blab squad have arrived."
The mechs with him laughed uproariously, trading slag and insults. Ratchet smirked at them taking no offense. "Slaggers," he said before flopping into a beautiful ultra comfortable white chair. It was white like everything in the vast lounge that wasn't metal … copper, of course … or glass.
Lucien sat, then the pilot came over the intercom. "We're ready when you are, Ratchet."
"I, Ratchet of Iacon, am ready to make my latest stunning and enormously well reviewed entrance onto the world stage. Take it away, my good man," he said with enormous good humor.
The pilot laughed, then the doors began to close nearby as they got ready for lift off.
Lucien smirked slightly. "You seem inordinately, even disgustingly happy today."
"I am," Ratchet said. "My daughter, Halo, said her first word. Guess what it was."
The big mechs with them smirked. One of them, Sandstorm, leaned forward. "Was it 'frag' or was it 'beer'?" he asked.
HUGE laughter.
Ratchet smirked at him. "I'll have you know, Halo of Autobot City can sit up, smile without bribing, say 'ai' and eat a cookie like a pro. She also for the first time, mind you, said 'ada' this morning."
Applause broke out. Then Sandstorm grinned. "I bet Ironhide's fragged."
"HE IS!" Ratchet said with maniacal laughter. "Serves him right, the slagger. I told him to take her to the shop but I know he has her with him. Slagger has no sense. It's one of his many alluring charms."
"I heard that Praxus and Orion have already been to Cybertron," Racket said. He was a very grizzled soldier who was expert in hand-to-hand on a scale with Hercy.
"That slagger didn't fall far from the cyber tree. His genitors took both of them there. They got to stand around on the planet. Alie told me that both of them decided to go for the wall and they had to chase them down to get them back. Slaggers. No sense in that CNA pool," Ratchet said. "Tons of fun but no sense."
"Those two are hilarious but then, Blackjack is Raptor's son," Sandstorm said. "He didn't have a chance."
"No, none of them did. Delphi and Hardie are straight as a die but the rest? Things sort of went south with each new generation," Ratchet said as they all laughed and nodded. "Guess what Orion calls Cybertron." He smiled.
They stared at him, then shrugged. "Little mech is a wonder but I don't know. I can only know that its cute," Racket said.
"Foofer."
HUGE sustained laughter.
"I can see it," Smokescreen said. He was along to check on the grandson.
"Funny enough, so can I," Ratchet said as the pilot came back on.
"We're here, Ratchet. We're coming in to land. I suppose you better check your make up," he snarked.
HUGE laughter.
"I hate to tell you, Cospo, but this face doesn't require much," Ratchet said as he stood. "Just some spackle and a shammy cloth." Huge laughter erupted as Ratchet glanced at Lucien. "Come on, Lucien. Time to get famous," he said as they began to walk to the door. There was no sensation of landing or taxiing but they were finally at their tie down. Ratchet turned to the others. "Remember, we're here for Cybertron and the dignity that you display will reflect on the Prime and all of our people. Dignity, sobriety, and honor for Cybertron," he said as the hatch slipped back.
On the airfield were reporters and network people from all over the world. Cameras were stupendous in number and reporters equally numerous. Literally the entire off duty base was there to greet one of their favorites back. Ratchet grinned at the group with him, some of whom were already snickering, then stepped forward with Lucien in tow. Out into the light of a zillion cameras and recording devices he stepped, then he lounged against the door frame like an old time movie star. Emoting for them, he then began to descend to the tarmac, posing and preening like an over the hill debutante all the way down.
The crowds outside roared and applauded, laughed and cheered as he minced, pranced, emoted, and generally made a spectacle of himself all the way down. Standing on the tarmac, he struck poses, blew kisses and profoundly blew Lucien's mind. He was behind Ratchet and had to be prodded to continue, so stunned and amazed was he by Ratchet's 'performance'. Ratchet knew he would be and the others were used to his antics here. He loved this place and its people and its people adored and loved him back. This was why he was the most well-liked and personally accessible of the entire Autobot Nation. This was why in polls stating, 'which Autobot would you like to have a beer with?' Ratchet won with a crushing plurality.
Sam Witwicky, Warren Roberts, Mikaela Banes, Carly Brooks-Spencer, their aides, the base functionaries along with both Fultons roared with laughter as they watched. They knew Ratchet well and knew he was tactical and smart. They knew he knew how to make humans comfortable around their species and thus, he always put on a show. Everyone who knew on base always came when Ratchet was on a special mission to watch as well. Some of the most viewed videos on websites on Earth were of him having a bit of fun when arriving for something important.
He reached the bottom and walked toward Sam and the others. Following were a dazed Lucien and a lot of hard boiled soldiers striking their own poses for the punters. Flexing their 'muscles', stopping to glower in a soldierly manner, chatting up the odd soldier, sailor, airman, civilian, and marine who called out to them, they did what they did when they came on missions with Ratchet … they helped him help the humans be comfortable.
Getting famous and having themselves on videos on Youtube didn't hurt either, the slaggers.
"Hi, little people," Ratchet said as he knelt down. "Are you ready to rumble?"
"Born ready, Ratchet. By the way, we're having a barbecue this weekend at my house. Can you come? Its a celebration party for the Primus Cup," Warren said. "A lot of interesting people will be there and it might be a way to judge the zeitgeist in the ambassadorial and political community without being known to be alien."
"That sounds awesome. Message me," Ratchet said. "I'll get old mech into something sexy and we can charm them the slag to death."
"Come as handsome boys together," Warren said. "Some of them are bastards if you know what I mean."
"Done deal," Ratchet said with a dazzling smile. "You know I love challenges like this. I'll bring my red shoes."
They all laughed uproariously, then Ratchet stood. He turned to the crowd. "HELLO, LILLIPUTS!" he called out. The crowd roared, then settled. "I, Ratchet of Iacon, bid hello to Earth and all the rest of you little slaggers. I'm here to make crooked things straight," he said before the roar drowned him out. When it settled, he grinned. "I want you to meet my aide, Lucien of Iacon," he said as he turned to the handsome utterly startled mech behind him. The crowd cheered and clapped. "THESE OTHER SLAGGERS I BORROWED FROM THE JAIL!"
Bedlam broke out as cameras, network and hand held devices ate it all up.
Ratchet grinned. "There's no place like Diego. There's no place that means as much to me on this planet as here. We started here, five of us, and when we think of home this place and you are included. I hope we all walk away with a smile today, but for now, I think I need a swim. SEE YA! WOULDN'T WANT TO BE YA!" he said as he walked forward through the bedlam and undying love of those he knew and didn't know. It would take a while to reach the Embassy but when he did, he would curtsy and walk in with his howling mob.
The crowd would stand outside waiting. Of all the bots in the garrison, Ratchet was always the one who would come out to play.
-0-Inside
They walked in together, pausing as Ratchet razzle-dazzled the garrison. They crowded around for news and the inevitable cans of candy he stocked up in his subspace. Tossing them around, he walked into Ops Center. As he sat, the monitors around the room switched to the smirking slightly judgmental face of Prowl. "Hello, Loon."
"Hi, Miss Priss." Ratchet smiled a dazzler as he sat at the control table with his peds up. Having tossed cans of candy to everyone there, no one was feeling anything but mellow. The five humans who served here sat back to enjoy the show. Everyone knew about R v IH but only a shift crew were fully versed on R v P.
"Well … yes," Prowl said crisply as Prime and others popped up on screens.
Prime who was chuckling shook his helm. "You do that so well. I salute you."
"He's a loon. He's … not well," Prowl said with a bigger smirk. "I warned you. Remember that I did."
"He did, didn't he," Ratchet asked as Prime nodded with a smirk of his own. "He does that because at spark, Prowl is a good girl."
The Ops Center erupted into laughter. Lucien who was sitting across from him with a can of candy, oddly enough his favorite, watched with almost a dazed amusement. This was not like diplomacy or command/control on Cybertron in the orn. No one would dare to speak or act like this around Sentinel or Nova or Zeta even.
"Are you ready to do business, Loon?" Prowl said as he sat back.
"I am. I have my trusty side kick here, Lucien, and these handsome slaggers," Ratchet said as he nodded to the soldiers who were hanging around eating candy as well. So were the operators on shift.
Prowl nodded with a smirk. It was amazing how much slag you could put into subspace.
Smokescreen who was leaning against the console beside Smokey chuckled. "This is great."
Smokey grinned at his grandfather. "I love candy."
Everyone in the room turned to the kid and gave him an 'aww' moment. He smirked back at them. "I do," he said.
"So do I," Ratchet said as he stood up and stretched. "How about going out and getting some from the humans? AMIRITE?" he asked with a giant smile and widely spread arms.
"Loon." Prowl smirked in spite of himself. When they got back there would be a mass funeral. This was a good interlude. "Whatever you do, Ratchet, do not … twerk." He remembered an ill attempt the last time they were slag faced and somehow it came to mind.
Unfortunately.
Ratchet grinned. "We're going now. Stay tuned in." Ratchet nodded, then walked toward the door with Lucien following. They snarked through the rec room, then entered the bright sunlight and 82 balmy degrees of Diego. Behind him carrying his back pack, Lucien and the soldiers along with some of the garrison who were off duty followed. Ratchet paused to look at the gigantic massed crowds who were gathered along with cameras from all over the world. This was an enormous and enormously important worldwide and interplanetary event. He grinned again. "HEY, LITTLE PEOPLE!"
They roared back, clapping, laughing, smiling at this most personable, unpredictable and unpredictably hilarious individual. He grinned at them, "Guess what? I CAN TWERK!"
And he did.
-0-TBC 3-18-18 edited 3-31-18