The Diego Diaries: Crader and Beyond (dd6 497)
-0-As the orn wend onward
"DOWN!"
"Lower your voice, imp." [Big grin]
[giant grin] "Down."
Roto snorted with surprise, then laughed loudly. Orion had lowered his voice.
About an octave.
"Who taught you that, imp?" he asked around his laughter and that of those 'just sitting in' on the hilarity.
As usual.
"Ada. Ada tolded me, Orion … low dis thing. I doed it." He smiled brilliantly as he sat on the table holding the cards he aced thus far in his lesson.
"Your ada is nuts," Roto said with a grin. He held up a card. "Plane."
"Pwane."
"Pllll-ane."
"Pllll-wane."
That card went into the other stack. Orion watched it go there, then looked at Roto. They stared at each other a moment, then Orion smiled brilliantly. Everyone laughed.
Next card.
"Pie."
"Pie."
HUZZAH!
"Rat."
"Wat."
"RRRR-at."
"RRRR-at."
"Now say it, imp."
"Wat."
Huge smile.
No card.
"Fan."
"Fan."
SCORE!
"Sand."
"Sand."
Roto grinned. He held up another. "Polka dots."
Orion leaned closer to study it with his comically serious face, then leaned back. "Po-po pots."
"Polka."
"Pooky." [Smile]
"Pole-kuh." [Grin]
"Pompo. Po-Po." [grin] "Poop. Poo-Poo." [HUGE CACKLE! SHINING OPTICS!] "I, ORION SAY POO-POO!" He fell onto his back laughing loudly.
Roto who was chuckling as well patted his little ped. "You did, slagger. Sit up." He tugged the cackling infant back up and held the card. "Dots."
"DOTS!"
"Polka. Dots."
"Pooper. Poo-poo. Said me pooper! BWAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHA!" He fell over again. So did half the room.
-0-Earth2
Jase Daniels sat in his office doing what he had trained to do when he was in college. He held an MBA, Masters of Business Administration and thus he was a paper pusher and planner in the habitat. His grandfather and father were also working here, though what they did he really couldn't say. His grandfather, the former Senate Majority Leader was still highly affected by the prison term he had gotten before being pardoned with everyone else in the case. That all of them were offered a chance to come here of all places was a godsend. They were more than persona non grata on Earth. They had gotten death threats over the pardons.
Nast had come here as well. It was weird, all of them here including Theodore Galloway. They worked in different parts of the facility which was a good thing and their homes weren't close together. Though most of the administrative operation was clustered together, there were islands of offices all over the site where different groups, individuals or departments did their business. None of them worked together which was a blessing. All of them hated each other deeply. Now they had come here to regroup and lick their wounds along with wives and children. It was good to be out of the direct disdain of everyone in the world. The obvious disdain of those who lived here was more manageable. They weren't as many.
The phone rang so Daniels answered. "Jason Daniels, Business Planning."
He listened to the call, then sat back as Sam Witwicky discussed a meeting to discuss things that he and Ted Galloway were connected to, projects submitted through their offices for companies on Earth to bring their operations here. He agreed, then hung up. Considering having a lunch meeting with Sam Witwicky was going to be strange as both of them loathed each other with real heat. He picked up his phone and called his father. His father answered. "Hi. Sam Witwicky wants a lunch meet up tomorrow to discuss business."
His father who was sitting at his desk looking at stock prices for the Earth2 Corporation sat back. "What business?"
"He wants to discuss applications. You remember the two I was telling you about? They sent their files to me and I had to vet them. Krugeret Enterprises and Docint Corporation."
"What did they want?" James Daniels said as he watched his father across the hallway in his own office talking to someone on the phone. He seemed to be happy doing it and he felt slightly better for his dad. He had been hardest hit of all of them.
"They want to partner for electronics and telecommunications research," Jase said. "One of them is from Germany and the other is Australian."
"Oh. Who else is going?" James asked.
"Ted has to come. Docint wants Nast to speak on their behalf. I don't know if he's coming or not. I suppose I have to ask," Jase said with a tone of distaste.
"Do. Then fill me in," James said. They chatted a moment, then hung up to continue on at their tasks. The demand for attention from the facility from Earth was astounding. They were four of the gateways through which the interactions flowed. The sun would shine through their massive windows all day long as they labored inside a sentient giant, the Great Paribolus.
They would never have an inkling while they did.
-0-Performing Arts Center
Trooper watched the rehearsals of a play involving a number of students from the University drama department. They were going to take the play on the road to Cybertron and the local group when it was refined to Trooper's exacting standards. It was one he had written himself and it featured a lot of young bots chatting about life and love, the fortunes of war and how one could rise again.
Standing in the doorway watching as well, Scout considered the sun shining in through the windows nearby as the kids went through the dialog for act two. It was very good, he considered, though Troop would have final say. These were his words after all. He grinned, then walked out to head for the main stage where a matinee of the big play they had presented for the grand opening was having one of the last performances of its life, one which had a human in the cast.
Soon it would be retired and another would take its place. They would never run out of art, music and performances of all kind. Not only had the two been feverishly writing and composing but the arts mainframe in Praxus had been part of what had been discovered there when Prime was visiting earlier in the orn. All of their repertoire had been recovered including masses and volumes of that of other composers, play writers, authors and teachers of the arts. It was a treasure trove from the heavens covering their entire artistic history.
They were delighted and would receive their works when the mainframe was restored and placed on Mars for safekeeping. Then they would have shelving delivered to their apartment for their spare room and office, the walls down the hallway, those in the living room and everywhere else to hold their restored collection of works. They would swoon with delight at the turn of events even as Alor would have a fit.
All was well in their world.
-0-Diego Garcia
They walked out, the mostly youngling mechs and the odd femme from the Home Guard who were now permanently assigned to the garrison. No one complained, though a few of the more dramatic ones fretted about their destinies. Being here was fun, good for the ego with the constant stream of mobs of people of all kinds and the attention of the permanent press who were allowed a small contingent here. There was a lot to do including swimming, playing ball, shooting and racing. The company and food was outstanding, the weather mostly perfect and the views everywhere stunning.
Still …
"So why don't you do something about it?" Jolt asked as they walked along the road through the base on their rounds. "Talk to Roddy and figure this out."
"Frag that," Smokey said. "I'm not talking to him. He hasn't said a word to me or anyone else since my appa invoked."
"I heard that a caste court has been called. Remember that mech who tore up the port a while back and there was a shoot out with his group in City 5?" Jolt asked as they waved at sailors nearby.
"Yeah. I wish I'd been there. I could use some action," Smokey said mopily.
"Well, the slagger is going to go to caste court to try and beat the rap." Jolt chuckled. "There's a few more Praxian Elites around here but they're led by the General. He's the oldest and most senior."
"I wish I could see that. How is he supposed to win?" Smokey asked as they neared the Officer's Club.
"I don't know. I don't get them sometimes, high caste fraggers," Jolt said as he glanced at the club. Cameron Frazer was stepping out with a couple of officers from the Navy. He was here once in a while doing something related to personnel from Earth2. He was still a dick as far as the garrison was concerned.
Jolt who was worshiped here by most folks because he was a nice guy and had a penchant for speeding around with whoever was at hand knew the officers. They slowed, then looked up at the sparkling mini-con with the odd flash of static electricity popping up here and there. They grinned at him. "Hi, Jolt, Smokey. How are you doing?" Commander Philips from somewhere said. They knew the humans names but not all their designations. He looked like a sailor to the two who hadn't put a lot of study into their human comrades other than to assign them to a two column list … slagger or good guy. Philips and Martin Steadman, the other officer were good guys. Cameron Frazer was a dick.
"We're good. What's going on? Why is he here?" Jolt asked with his usual straight ahead lack of giving a damn.
Steadman grinned as Philips laughed. "Earth2 business," he said as Frazer frowned. "You on patrol?"
"Yep," Jolt said as he tossed a ball of electricity between his servos. He looked at Frazer who was to the garrison on the level of Nast and Daniels because of stories Sideswipe had told them. "You going now?"
"What if I am? What if I'm not?" Frazer said with a touch of anger in his voice.
"I don't care," Jolt said with a grin as the electricity flashed in his servos, then disappeared. "Might smell better around here though. What do you think, Smokey?" he asked the tall tense winger.
"I think so," Smokey said as he leaned in slightly with an expression of anger of his own. "The girls around here might agree."
Frazer turned as pale as a sheet, then looked at the two officers with him who were smirking only just so slightly. "I'm going ahead. Fuck these two."
"You're not our type, crybaby," Jolt said as static struck the ground. That it did so close to Frazer may or not have been purposeful.
Electricity. So …
Frazer glared at him. "You think you're funny, tin can. Fuck you and your garrison."
Smokey was lit but Jolt stepped closer. "Ah, did the little snowflake get his feelings hurt? I wasn't the one beating up women. I wasn't the loser who got transferred and dead ended because I beat up girls. Toughen up, slagger. You wimp."
Frazer stared at the two with real hatred, then spun on his heels and stomped off. He disappeared into the barracks nearby where he was staying as the four of them watched. The officers looked up at the two bots. "If you two get into trouble over this, call us. We hate him, too."
Jolt grinned, then nodded. He glanced around, then knelt. "Want a ride?"
They did.
-0-Ops Center, Autobot City, Primal Colony of Mars, Cybertron and the Empire, Postal Code 1
He sat sorting out messages just delivered by the post office and the interdepartmental mail service whose biz hub was once the domain of Partition of somewhere or the other. Prowl grinned slightly, then continued. At that moment Devcon appeared with a datapad. He sat down across from Prowl with a slight grin on his astonishingly handsome face. "You busy?"
Prowl who respected Dev like few others, though he was as unorthodox as it came glanced up. "No. Why would you think that?"
They grinned at each other, then Dev handed the datapad in his hand to Prowl. Prowl read it, then grinned at Devcon. "This could be fun."
"If you say so, Prowler," Dev said as he rose to go back to tactical. The communications officer had given him the datapad so he would have the heads up.
Praxians of a feather ...
Prowl considered the contents, a formal complaint against Autobot Smokescreen of Praxus and Autobot Jolt of … Prowl thought a moment. Polyhex? He would have to update his files now. The complaint was against them by the luminous, the one and only, Cameron Frazer, United States Navy, Retired. At that note, Prowl of Praxus laughed out loud.
Then he called Ratchet.
-0-TBC 10-16-18 edited 11-1-18
ESL:
mopey (moe-pee) someone who mopes or is mopey is someone who is depressed and down in the dumps. Mooning around was what it was called in my family. :D