The Diego Diaries: Crader (dd6 488)

-0-Femme

"DON'T LET THEM REGAIN SENTIENCE!" Ratchet yelled as the big mechs from the quarries and shops gripped the mechs stirring on the floor and began to wrap them in every cuff and shackle that the hospital and prison teams as well as the Watchmen had in their company.

Five bodies lie in a pile nearby as Ratchet worked feverishly on the sixth. It was slow going but he could see the flickering light of the spark inferno inside through the panels. He looked at Perceptor and Wheeljack. "Can you disable their arms and legs so they can't move? At the nodes? I can't … DO THIS, PERCY!"

Ratchet turned toward the shaking quartet of maniacs who were nearing total sentience. He dug through a drawer nearby, then found what he needed. Hooking it to his arm, slotting it into the specialist jack there, he called up every neural disrupter program that he possessed. Then he began to hobble toward the group which were in the grip of the workers. Ironhide spun and grabbed Ratchet to hold him as he reached out to the first. Touching him, a series of flashes at the mech's joints appeared swiftly, then he fell to his knees like someone had cut the strings from a marionette. With Ironhide's help, he touched the others, two of them twice before they fell down. Checking a meter, he glanced at Prime. "Its temporary. We need to get this done faster."

Prime stared at the mechs, then walked to them to kneel. "Tell me what to do. I can pry the panels open. My grip did with Crader."

Ratchet pointed to one on the chest of an older high caste mech. "There. Peel that off, then the two underneath. You," he said as he glanced at a tech. "Pull the pinning out and hand me the spark chamber."

"Hand it to me," a squeamish Ironhide said as he pulled Ratchet back.

Prime pulled hard and slid his digits into the creases to pry and tear. It wasn't impossible for him physically but it wasn't an easy thing either. When it was cleared and three torn panels lay on the floor, the tech swept in to pry out the fasteners. It was then that they added another chamber to their collection. Percy finished with his on the table, then glanced at Ratchet. "All of our equipment is ruined. We have no more drill bits or cutters."

A huge construction mech, Spontini by name rolled over a mech, then reached for the panels. The semi conscious mech groaned loudly as Spontini pressed into the seams, then pulled ever so slowly back the one in his grip. Prime was on his second one as the panel came loose for Spontini. He rubbed his servo, then began to strip the two interior panels. When they were clear, he stepped aside for the tech. Two more mechs and the one Prime was working on were left.

"Faster," Ratchet said softly as he watched the sentient levels of the three rising on his meter.

It was incredibly tense as Prime finished his second, then moved to the last one, one twitching beside the one Spontini was working on himself. It was nearly unbearable as they worked, tugging and wrenching, the metal groaning and screaming in protest. Just when Ratchet thought a shot to the skull would be easier for himself than this, Prime cleared the last one. Spontini had stepped back for the tech, then moved to help Prime. Standing back up, they both watched another tech pull the fasteners, then lift the chamber out. When he did, the protoform … the body of the mech in question turned to gray like the others. Placing a device on the forehead of the mech's body, it was assured that it would be safely maintained without its core.

Standing against the walls with weariness and relief, Prime and Spontini, Ratchet, Ironhide and Perceptor watched as Wheeljack directed the mechs to pick up the carcasses and take them to the morgue down the hallway. The techs would put the forms into stasis-maintenance while Wheeljack and Perceptor would put the individual spark chambers into the lockers where they would reside until they could be proven safe to be out and about. It was then that Springer and Roadbuster walked in with a very big mech in cuffs.

"We're too late for the fun?" Springer asked grimly.

"Consider it fortuitous timing," Perceptor said as he helped everyone pick up the thrashed room.

"Okay," Springer said. He turned to the cuffed mech who was watchful but not as afraid as they would be in his place. That part was unnerving. He was tall, burly but smooth … not bulky but rather like a boxer. He was exquisite in his protoform and from the tattoos and other markers a son of Crader and his bond, Dex. "What's your name, fragger, or do I slap it out of you? I'll leave it up to you which one I prefer."

The mech glanced at Springer, then Prime. "You've changed a few things since we last saw you, Prime. Is this how you treat people in your custody?"

"Save it," Prime said as he moved closer to the big mech, his fists clenched and his affect dangerous. "Get to the point. Name."

He stared at Prime, then answered. "I'm Cobbler of Nova Cronum."

"Crader's son," Ironhide said as he pulled a stool for Ratchet to sit. The big medic did, then hit Cobbler with all his sensors.

"Well, you're about as synthetic as your old man," Ratchet said. "You aren't as much as them ..." Ratchet thought a moment. "You haven't evolved as much as them. You're still transitioning aren't you."

Cobbler stared at him, then shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That won't be too hard to figure out. Where did I leave that can opener around here?" Ratchet said as he glanced around the room.

"What do you want? Where are the others?" Cobbler asked. He was composed and it was an uncomfortable thing to see.

"What process did you use to change yourself into this? We want to know how this operates and how to denature it. You cannot live in this colony free with this kind of armor and power. Where did you find this technology?" Prime asked.

Cobbler considered the questions, then shrugged. "It's proprietary. We aren't at liberty at this time to tell you."

"Well, that would be too bad then," Ironhide said. "We just opened a few tins here and put the spark chambers inside into the cooler. As for the carcasses … well, recycling would be interested in finding out how they tick before putting them through the grinder."

Cobbler glanced at him sharply. "You didn't."

"We did," Ratchet said. "Seemed the least that could be done given I have two holes in me thanks to your group."

"I want to see them," Cobbler said as he turned on Prime.

"Not until we know what this is," Prime replied. He glanced at Ratchet. "What do you mean they may be evolving?"

Ratchet considered that. "They aren't on the same level of malevolence as the other ten. If he could, he'd shake those chains and cuffs, then come after us. But you can't, can you," Ratchet said. "I think its a gradual process, perhaps a CNA procedure. It takes time to evolve and become what they are. You're in transition. You aren't as dangerous as them but you will be eventually. It will keep going, this process, absorbing your protoform and changing it enough so that it becomes this slag. Right? Tell me where I'm wrong."

He stared at Ratchet, then Prime. "I'm not telling low caste trash anything."

Ironhide cuffed the mech on the back of his helm. "Watch your mouth, slagger. When you insult him, you insult the Matrix. And ..." he said as he turned in place to stand before the mech, "you insult all of us. Peasant. I'm Praxian Elite. Suck on that."

It was automatic, the slight reaction that his caste always brought in others no matter how fragged they were. He stared at Ironhide and Ironhide knew he was reading his tattoos. Then he looked at Prime. "What now?"

Prime who was conversing with Ratchet off line glanced at Cobbler. "Stasis."

With that, Ratchet tapped the meter in his servo and the mech fell to the ground before he could even react. Ratchet scanned him, then glanced at Prime. "I don't know how many features they share but we better put him into the deep freeze under the highest level of stasis they can maintain without dying. We don't know how fast he's mutating, Prime, but he is. I can detect it in him because his defenses aren't as good. Yet."

Prime nodded, then glanced at Springer. "Take transport, techs and a team. Put the others down and bring them here. We will hold them until we figure this out. I consider this a level 4 threat."

The big welders grabbed Cobbler and lifted him out to the stasis wing down the corridor. Prime looked at Ratchet. "What can you deduce thus far?"

"Well ...its all rather preliminary but Cobbler suggests that this is a process, perhaps induced. It could be generated from CNA or another way. I'd suggest that the protoform that makes up who we are, which develops into adulthood in a manner suggestive of environmental factors like good and continuous food, health care and the like … or not ... I'd suggest its being mutated somehow. It's a good place to start. Given that Cobbler isn't in the same class as his atar, it would suggest a progressive process culminating in armor and abilities that could stop a phase sixer in their tracks. As for the difference in personality between the two, Cobbler and Crader … it could be that it enhances what you are originally. I met Crader about four times and he's always been a blustery crazed fragger. It could be that gets magnified. I never met his son but he was terribly composed here. It's a starting place but I wouldn't underestimate their ability to resurrect themselves. They were coming online anyway."

Prime stared at him grimly, then nodded. "Very well. I want everything we can find about them, where they were, where they came from and what they did all this time." He glanced at the door to spot Prowl listening. "Prowl, we need to know the entire saga here. Put in a call to Star Saber or Atlas. Tell them its a priority security issue. It could be that they are not the only ones with these features."

Prowl nodded, then everyone turned to stare at Ratchet. He glanced around, then smiled dazzlingly. "I do declare," he said as he batted his optics like a debutante.

Prime grinned. "Go back to the ward and get better. We need you in prime condition, old friend."

Ratchet grinned, then painfully stood. "Percy, 'Jack … you know where I am."

They nodded. "We do, now go," Wheeljack said as Ironhide gripped Ratchet's good arm. They hobbled out together.

It would take a while to clean up the lab, then take all the fragments of armor and a whole carcass to Sciences to figure out how it all ticked. In the meantime, fifteen more mechs would join ten others in the cooler.

-0-Upstairs, some moments later

Ratchet watched Ironhide amble out to help stash the other slaggers. He looked at the others, then smiled. "Where were we? Oh, yeah … let's play a game."

"Oh frag. Just when I decided to get some sleep," Jetta said with a grin.

Ratchet smirked at him. "This game is called 20 Questions. Instead of me thinking about something and you have 20 guesses, we're going to ask 20 questions apiece." Ratchet gave them a dazzling smile.

They stared at him with smirks of their own. Among their kind, Ratchet was a ravishing beauty. He was in figure and facial features someone that had turned helms all his life. Somewhere in the middle of Sunstreaker's dilemma, Ratchet had always lived himself. He had plenty of mechs flocking around and he still turned heads wherever he went. It disarmed a lot of people and he knew how to use it among his own kind to further the Cause short of fragging everyone in his path. The entire notion of it among the Cybertronians would never be seen among the humans. He had a sweet smile and a lot of pizzazz that added to his appeal but it was highly doubtful that the day would come when a human could look at Ratchet and feel his toes curl.

"Why do I have this feeling that we're doomed?" Jetta asked Drift who chuckled.

Drift glanced at him. "Because we are?"

Ratchet smirked at them. "Let me go first," he said making a pretend show of thinking of a question. He grinned. "When did you two slaggers know that Elita and Springer were the ones? I ask not only as your physician but as your snoopy ma and/or ma-in-law."

Jetta grinned. "Going for the throat are ya?"

Ratchet grinned, then nodded. He made himself comfortable, then waited.

"Well, we were friends from separation, mostly. I always knew Elita … Arial was the one. But things happened, I had a lot of responsibility … but mostly, it was so that she wouldn't get hurt. We were always going to bond but the crises never ended. One after another. There were beatings, arrests, spies everywhere … I knew she could handle herself but I was afraid for her. That was the only reason. I didn't want her hurt. I knew from the moment we were babies that she was the one. The only one for me."

Ratchet grinned, then texted the statement to Elita. After he did, he grinned at Drift. "You, cowboy. Talk."

Drift smirked. "It was hate at first sight. I became an Autobot before coming here and Kup always included me. He made me one and gave me the brand himself. Springer wasn't amused but here … it sorta … we were doing patrols in the Old City when we came upon each other in the late evening. We sort of frowned at each other ..."

"Then you jumped into the electrical closet?" Ratchet asked as Jetta laughed.

Drift grinned at him. "We did. It was spontaneous combustion. I'm surprised there weren't two piles of ashes on the floor."

Ratchet grinned. "Good story. It was fate … kismet. I took credit for it with Ironhide. He was trying to match up Bee with someone at the time. Imagine that. HE WAS TRYING TO BEST ME!"

They laughed loudly, then Drift shifted to a better position. "What about you two?"

Ratchet smiled. "He came swaggering into the hospital at the Citadel and asked me out. Sentinel made the officer corps wear orange capes then and he looked amazing. I told him that he'd have to audition."

"Audition?" Jetta asked with a growing smile and realization that he was going to be getting too much info about dear old dad and dear old other dad in a second.

"I told him if he passed inspection in the berth, then it was a done deal," Ratchet said with a dazzler.

"Oh, frag. Continue," Drift said with a laugh.

"Well, he took me to a flea bag hotel, one that rented rooms by the joor. He got the key and we went up. Guess what was in the room?"

They glanced at each other, then Ratchet. "I don't know. A bar? A … chair?" Jetta asked with a chuckle.

"There was only a berth. That was it. Sum total," Ratchet said with a laugh. "I'll spare you the details because you might cry but that was it. I always thought he cut a wide swath but that sealed the deal."

They grinned at each other, then Ratchet batted his optical ridges at Drift. "Your turn. Ask a question, infant."

Drift stared at Ratchet, then a smirking Jetta. "Uh … okay. When did you know you wanted kids and why?"

Ratchet looked at him with a grin, then began. As he did, a pile of body formats that belonged to a number of slaggers currently in the morgue stasis storage began to stir as a relentless process deep inside began to flicker into life. At the same time Elita got Ratchet's message and smiled.

-0-TBC 10-5-18 edited 11-1-18