The Diego Diaries: Stuff (dd8 516)
HAPPY LABOR DAY YESTERDAT! Last day of barbecue for us. :*(
=0=The orn winds ever on
Ratchet walked out of Ops Center to head for Gliese. Then he would attend to data collection at the prison both from the regulars there as well as the newbies culled from the migrational herd. He went downstairs to the bridge room, then hopped to Gliese in seconds. He got there when the sun was bright in the sky.
In one direction there was the immaculate and heavily dug in hospital zone that was a port of call for those in the worst condition wherever and whenever they were found. Seven metrotitans, count them, now called this place home and their vast facilities and capacity to make things was a godsend to those in critical need.
Nicely paved roads led everywhere and the airport to the northeast fed everyone here with whatever was called for. A runabout flew overhead to Compassion which was housing and maintaining the most deeply ill and injured. It landed on the emergency pad, then disappeared from view behind a wall that blocked off the long fall to the ground below.
Ambling along, Ratchet saw the odd sparkle of an energon crystal, many of the deepest blues he'd ever seen. Most energon was below ground, buried or in caverns. It didn't generate in the light of day. This was the first group that burst forth from the area they saw that first orn, a sparkle here and there of the odd bunch.
It was amazing to him that this place was such a miracle and he was absolutely clear that he was glad no one but them had ever seen it. The sooner it was moved to their inner defensive circle the better.
It was with a light step that Ratchet walked along until he disappeared into the traffic filled streets of Gliese City as the area was called.
=0=At Global N.E.S.T. HQ in Virginia, Earth
Glenn Morshower listened to the lawyers talk to each other over the monitors of his nearby lounge and those sitting with him. They were discussing the disposition of the two MECH moles, Colin Anderson and Horst Mueller who were the alleged killers of Lawrence Frederick Dobbs of Amarillo, Texas and Silvio Lombardi of Italy. The timelines were critical and the affect of them being exposed now was apparently marginal. "Fill me in again how this won't jeopardize ongoing missions to find out about MECH and the others."
Several lawyers from the Justice Department, Interpol and the legal arm of Global N.E.S.T, several governmental liaisons and the director for intel who was hunting the 'bad guys' as Morshower usually called them glanced at him.
"Sir, we milked this cow dry. They've abandoned this cell and its network and moved on. We have ties into it and we'll begin again but holding them, these two guys who are members of that now defunct group would be counterproductive and meaningless to the process," the director replied. "All involved are in agreement that they're no longer relevant to the investigations."
"What about Jetta? Did Jetta of Iacon agree?" Morshower asked.
=0=Two days before
Jetta concluded the informational that he and Barron had presented to Prime and Prowl. Ultra Magnus who was also there listened silently. "In the end, this is a dry hole. Holding these two has no value any longer other than to keep the rest of them guessing.
"I believe that we can develop moles for themselves if these two were returned to stand trial. It'll put the squeeze on the network that they're not invincible," Jetta concluded.
Prime glanced at Prowl, then the other two. "Opinions?"
"I concur," Prowl said. "I'll be glad to get rid of them and its always a good idea to remind humans that there are those among them working hard against their best interests."
Jetta, Barron and Magnus nodded.
"What is the process then, gentlemen?" Prime asked.
Barron outlined it, letters were sent to the relevant parties on Earth and a hearing was scheduled for the afternoon to determine extradition of two moles of ill repute.
It was time to clean house.
=0=Ratchet later down the line
He walked through the gates to the area where the high castes were still stacked up. Hearings were on but it would take time to get through them. He paused near an intersection where four pens met, then pulled out a big meter from sub space. He hooked into the prison system, then ran it.
Data flowed in as it grid marked everyone in the four pens, opened a file with their identity from transponder data and filled it with their personal findings. It whirred, then ended.
"Well, what have we here?" Ratchet asked with surprise. He walked to the guards, had a chat, then waited as teams began to arrive.
=0=Ops Center
Prime and Prowl walked out to work on some business when they received the call. Delegating to Paragon, they hurried out to the bridge room, then zipped to the prison. They arrived just as the teams called for did as well.
Prime walked to Ratchet. "What is the problem, Ratchet?"
Ratchet glanced upward at him. "We have a courier trap and Functionalist problem with this group, Prime. How many more have these bombs in their helms that are in the city?"
Prime stared at him, then the group who was glaring at him all around them. "Oh."
=0=Moments later
Winnie, Gee-Gee and the ever present Roadie walked to the group gathered in the intersection of the prison. "I hear we have the curse here," Gee-Gee said with concern. "What do we do, Ratchet, Prime? Tell us and its done."
"I have to tell them," Ratchet said. "This group and the others, too. We have a potential 5,000+ bombs walking around this colony."
It was darkly dire a moment, then Gee-Gee gestured to the prisoners. "Hook into the system if you need, Ratchet. I never asked if the prisoners, the others, were problematic. We check everyone who comes now through Immigration but …" She trailed off.
"That wasn't my purview. It is now," Ratchet said grimly.
"There would be those that say let 'er rip," Roadie said. "Not me. Maybe."
Winnie grinned, then hugged his shoulders. "I won't tell anyone."
Ratchet grinned in spite of himself, then turned to look at the groups gathering at the bars. He hooked in to the local speaker system and began. "I want all of you to listen to me carefully. I'm Ratchet and I'm C.M.O. of the colony and empire. I am responsible for your health and well being.
"We've been here a long time and have gotten a lot of different groups from a lot of different eras of our history. In the past the Functionalist Council put detonator chips in the helms of everyone to end them when they felt they weren't useful. The Decepticons did the same sort of thing with courier-trap mechanisms that could be detonated remotely like the Functionalist chips.
"We've found them from time-to-time in elders and others. We remove them easily. I want you to know we found them in you. I just scanned your groups and I found half of you have courier traps and a good third of you have Functionalist chips. Some of you have both. They need to come out."
It was silent as a tomb for a moment, then a big mech called out to him. "How can we trust you? You could be saying that to put something in that isn't there now."
"Your paranoia is going to get you killed," Ratchet said. "We've found hundreds and thousands with these chips. Send someone out and we can show you. Who has the bearings to be normal and help us help you?"
It was silent. Apparently no one had them.
=0=Nova Cronum
"You have to go to the colony and help at the prison, Ironhide," Turbine said to his grandson. "Apparently the high castes have courier-traps and Functionalist chips in their helms. That means the prison group and maybe those already in the colony."
"Frag," Ironhide said as he rose from the terminal where he was inputting retrieved munitions and delegating teams to collect those still unrecoverable. "They'll never cooperate. Where is Appa?"
"Hardie is doing something important. If worse is worse I'll go there and take over. You go now and keep a line open to me, Ironhide. I'll get in touch with Hardie and Micro."
Ironhide nodded, then headed for the door. He was gone in seconds.
Turbine tapped into Hardie. "We have a problem on Mars, Hardie," he began.
=0=Hardie and Raptor
They sat in a school and watched little kids present a 'special program for you, Appas, we did it ourselves' entertainment. The kids were from a very, very ravaged area near the Sea of Mercury and had lived hard. Their lives now were stellar and they'd come a long long way. Sitting here watching them do their thing was very therapeutic for them and they'd worked hard for a long time to 'show Appas what we learned'.
They were both cut in to the problem on Mars.
Hardie chatted with Prime even as children danced in front of him. He was on hold until the program was done. Even though there were other Elites to assist, none of them had the same power of his personal prestige as Hard Drive. He had held Guardian Prime in his arms as he died when that beloved figure was assassinated. Hard Drive had held Cybertron together and kept civil war from arising in the aftermath.
That was how important and powerful Hard Drive of Praxus was.
The pageant whirled on and the two enjoyed it mightily as they kept an audial tuned in to the prison on Mars.
=0=Prison
Ratchet scanned the crowd, noted an older femme with all three chips, then glanced at Prime. "Back them up and I'll get the femme. I'll taze the lot of them if they don't comply." He held the device that Winnie used for crowd control in his servo.
Prime nodded, then turned to the crowds. "I am asking for you," he said glancing at a small femme with a look of utter hatred on her beautiful face, "to come forward and have the chips removed. If you do not do so then we will taze the lot of you and remove them that way. Either way, you will have them removed."
The crowd moved to gather around her as they defied Prime. The other pens began to bellow their rage.
Ratchet walked to the door of the pen with Winnie who operated its opening. Walking into the entrance to the enclosure, Ratchet set the device's programming. Then he pointed it at the group as lines of electricity flew out striking those marked for it on his grid. Down they went until the femme was the last one standing in a pile of mechs and a femme, staring around with terror and the mad urge to run.
The last security door opened so Ratchet stepped in subbing everything. The femme stepped back from him as he came toward her. Then she ran with Ratchet in hot pursuit.
The place went mad with outrage and swearing.
=0=Around the same time
They began to arrive, Springer with the usual crowd, Ironhide and some of his elders. With them came Ambler from Nova Cronum where his office shared along with Micro, that which retrained former 'Cons to the Autobot way was located. They gathered with Prime, Prowl and the two femmes.
"This looks like fun," Ambler said with a grin. "What's slag is going on here?"
"We found courier-traps and Functionalist chips in the processors of the high castes from this migration," Prowl said grimly.
"I thought we scanned for that during immigration at the Port," Micro said.
"We do. They didn't go through the Port," Prime said equally grimly.
"Oh," Ambler said softly as he watched Ratchet tackle the little femme, then both roll into the bars for a shot.
ZZZZZZIIIIIITTTTTTT!
=0=TBC 9-5-2022
cull: to take some out to make the rest better. To remove dead wood or useless things to make the rest stronger, better, more refined, etc.
