The Diego Diaries: Post Convocation (dd8 535)

=0=On a hillside near the United Nations Multinational Military Garrison near Tyger Pax, Mars

The night had deepened as they paused to look around the local area. The newest habitat was lit up for the evening and all appeared to be well.

"What do you think they think about this?" Lon asked Drift.

"I don't know. I think they'll get it that we're a complex people," the big mech replied.

Huge laughter greeted that.

Springer grinned as he glanced at the others. "Yeah. That's us. Complex." He tapped King's sides with his heels as the big horse moved forward.

They were going to Tyger Pax, then Kalis and finally Centurion before heading out toward the other habitats to ride around and check things out. The parties that were being had were everywhere in every city with Tyger Pax no exception.

It'd be a good idea to go there and check it out. There were street parties going on and every club and bar on-world was going gangbusters at the moment. It would be good to stay ahead of things if they could. They disappeared from view nearly immediately as they began to gallop cross country toward the towering cityscape with elevated city streets that led upward toward the sky.

=0=Home at last

They walked in and sat in their chairs resting a moment before hitting the hay. It was dark and silent in the apartment.

:I feel really tired tonight:

:I hear ya: Ironhide replied.: Earth is going to want to know what's going on. Is that your job?:

:I forgot to ask: Ratchet replied. He glanced at Ironhide who was splayed out in his red chair. :Hit the hay. Before that, check out the infants. Up and at 'em, Old Mech:

Ironhide glanced at him, then smirked. "Haul aft, big boy," he said as he rose to walk toward the big kids hallway.

:Nice aft, Ironhide: Ratchet said as he rose wearily. Heading for the berth room he would hit the bed and be out like a light. Even Ironhide joining him wouldn't wake him out of recharge.

=0=Bars

"I hope this settles slag forever. I'm fragged if I'm going to listen to this argument ever again," a big mech said as he knocked back beer with his buddies.

They agreed and two other tables nearby as well.

Sitting at one near the dance floor a number of now officially former high caste mechs watched them in silence. They were still in shock that the Pantheon who they were told did not agree with their philosophy had instigated a Convocation to make that clear. Invoking one was of the utmost seriousness as only They or a Prime could do that. It came out of nowhere and settled things to the final degree.

It would take a while for that to settle in.

All over the colony there were celebrations and this was no exception. No one around them appeared to be on their side and it was unnerving to feel like a minority in the midst of a hostile majority. Even though they were never more than a small percentage of the overall population of the Empire, their power had given them the idea that they were more numerous than they appeared to be.

The party raged on as they sat silently having a conversation off line about things. Nothing was ever going to be the same again.

=0=Several families from the latest influx who lived in City 5, District 13

They gathered in the living room of one of their number and watched with dumbfounded silence as Primus Himself with the Pantheon in attendance delineated the new world order to The People. Everyone heard it over their transponders if they were old enough and it was on every telecommunications device on-world. No one could say they weren't informed which was the purpose.

"I got a communication from the Medical Center in Autobot City that I have to come in and get scanned for chip implants. Some of us are supposed to have Functionalist and Decepticon chips in our helms," a femme said. "Did you?"

They all nodded, all of the adults and older sub adults.

"I don't know what they're talking about. What's to keep them from putting them INTO us if we go?" an older mech asked.

"I don't know. Fila is in the jail. No one can talk to her yet," an older femme said. "I'm going to try to visit her. They have the entire leadership in the jail." She glanced at her bond. "What if they're right about the chips though. I looked it up to see if this was a thing they did to high castes and found out that there were a bunch of mechs and femmes that had courier traps in an earlier migration. Its not high castes either. Its anyone."

Her bond picked up a data pad and began to scan. Everyone waited a moment, then he looked up at her and the others. "They found courier traps in the helms of mostly older individuals but not always. I don't know about Functionalist chips. The younger among us shouldn't have that problem. Where is Mikron?"

"In the jail," a big mech said with a slight edge. "He can't come and look."

"Fine. Our doctor is in prison and we have to comply. What do we do?" a younger mech asked.

"Wait until I talk to Fila," the older femme said as they stared at the monitor. A panel was discussing the events of the orn and the sound played softly. "I'll see what she says."

=0=Jail

They came in carried by police vans, drunks and those who got into fights. Pulled out in cuffs, they gave a steady stream of abuse to the jailers who grinned back. Nothing was funnier than a dumb drunk.

Into the jail they walked, were booked and hauled into the detention cells in the rooms nearby. They'd have a full house by morning at all three jails, the original in Autobot City and the two new ones at the two new courthouses, one in Iacon and another in City 6, Crater District 11. Court would be swinging in the morning.

Literally.

=0=Around

"What do you think, Magnus? Do you think we get a break now?" Arcee asked as she made their tea. It was late but they were still up, a consequence of being 'essential equipment'.

"I doubt it. I never lost a bet on a dimwitted high caste," Magnus said as he took a cup as Arcee sat down beside him with hers. "Personally, we have three jails and three courthouses. They can continue at their peril."

Arcee chuckled. "Never change, Magnus. Never change."

=0=Elsewhere

"Come back here, shortie," Raptor said as he chased his cow around the living room of his apartment. "Grab him, Turbine."

Turbine who was sitting on his chair reading through dispatches from Nova Cronum on Cybertron reached out and gripped Pudding. "Halt, cow."

The tiny cow looked up, lowed sadly, then was grabbed by Raptor.

"Thanks," he said as he headed toward the washroom with his baby. "Time for tubbies, slagger. I want you kissin' sweet tomorrow when we visit schools on Cybertron." He walked into the wash rack and put the tiny cow into a claw foot tub like the one Prime used for his kids. It was round, adorable and yellow.

Picking up soap and a brush, he began to scrub Pudding as he looked up at Raptor with sad cowie eyes. When he was a mass of bubbles Raptor put him on the floor and sprayed the slag out of him. Using a blow dryer, Raptor had him dry in no time. A brush worked through his soft hair and cow licks rendering him more precious than usual.

"There, slagger. You can recharge with us," Raptor said as he cleaned up the room.

Pudding ran out to Turbine and tried to climb onto his lap. A grip on his fat belly and a gentle lift put him squarely where he wanted to be. He sat down, sighed and stared at Raptor defiantly as he walked back in.

Sitting in his own chair, Raptor grinned. "Cute little slagger. Who loves ya."

Pudding pressed backward into Turbine.

"Well, I guess that answers your question," Turbine said with a chuckle.

"Traitor," Raptor said as he turned on the monitor. It would be fun listening to the humans ponder the vagaries of Cybertronian religion and myth for a while.

It would be.

=0=Around

Partition walked back into the 42nd District Police Sub Station and put his kit back on the shelf. He'd patched up a pair of fight victims before watching them head off for jail. He walked into the lounge, then grinned. "Hi."

"Hi," Lancer said as she rose to hug him.

They sat and would share a late meal she had gotten from a vendor and chat. When the calls came she would go with him. She was off and he would be tomorrow. They'd go golfing with friends, then join his brothers and their boyfriends at the race track for the special cards. It would be fun.

=0=Around

Prowl walked to the berth room to hit the hay. Optimus was in the wash rack so he walked to the door to watch him wash up. "How do you feel about this? What about the problem?"

Optimus dried off his servos, then glanced at Prowl. "We are going to press the issue with the medical checks. It might give us an insight for this group about how they are understanding the change. The Pantheon were all here. They mean business, Prowl. They mean to enforce this change. Its my hope that everyone understands Their resolve."

"Well, if they don't we have three jails and two prisons. I think we got that part covered," Prowl said darkly as Prime stepped out and shut off the lights.

They walked to the berth, lay back and were in recharge almost immediately. It was taxing to the extreme what had happened.

=0=The next morning, around

They walked into their business, a high caste concern that did contract law. It was quiet in their midst until everyone arrived, then a staff meeting was held. The chat was pointed and direct. The consensus opinion was that they would honor their beliefs and what they considered their culture privately. They wouldn't be going public about it again.

=0=Detailing and Body Work shops all over the colony's

"We have ourselves booked up for the rest of the decaorn without a spare apointment, Garcy," a small femme said as she fielded calls at the spa's reception desk.

Garcy who owned Pointed Innovations Tattoo, Detailing and Body Shop, a very high class establishment in Centurion glanced at her. "Thanks, Tinka. Keep them booked. Did the order from The Foundry Exchange come?"

"Not yet. You have enough filler for the week. They said it was coming. They're having a run on the medical and cosmetic fillers. Everyone is having the same idea," Tinka said as she began to answer calls again.

Garcy walked into the store front toward his customer. Every one of his 8 employees were hard at work removing, filling then filing or redesigning the caste marks that were being discarded by citizens all over the colony.

The Foundry Exchange who supplied them had to do double orders at the plant that handled medical body supplies for everyone given that a lot of mechs and femmes were removing from sight themselves their caste marks.

He walked to his client, a young femme, then grinned. "We've got the right color here. Let me begin."

She grinned, then tilted her helm.

With an expert touch, Garcy filled in the tattoo then shown a special light on it to set it quickly and for infinity. He then used power tools of micro size to smooth the putty while finally sanding the edges until the grooves were gone forever. He would then detail it and the rest of her to shine like a new penny. Nothing would be as satisfying for him as removing the hated marks from his customers.

=0=TBC 10-02-2022 edited October 3, 2022

Thank you, JackalKat. I also believe that not everyone will read the new changes rightly either. :D Hugs, my darling.

For Buddy who I love.