The Diego Diaries: Wind Down

The Family again. I will try to make disruptions minimal. The run up to Thanksgiving is a beast but I got invited to two dinners. :D:D:D

=0=Morning in The City

Prime walked through the airfield with Prowl, Ratchet and Ironhide. It was cold and sunny in the late winter-spring thing that was the most of the year on Mars. The cityscape beyond was going through their comfortable routines that made up the rhythm of life here on world. Traffic would pick up as bots went to work or school, cabs, buses and other transports taking millions about as overland high spreed trains carried both passengers and freight to all of the cities around the colony.

The buzz of small vehicles and large was heard as beyond them on the long big runway two Supremes were returning from supplying outlying bases including a new one that was being made in the DMZ near a trade route that alien species out there used. They were going to monitor and counter balance Razorclaw by supplying a War World station to assist aliens with fuel and business. Several of the alien's products were being tested for inclusion in the Autobot Outpost stories and would prove to be highly collectible when humans were made aware of their origins.

They reached the road and began to walk onward, taking the time to do so. Cultural Center Road had a secured turn off that turned into a dirt road that was part of the prison, allowing deliveries to their premises without requiring going though heavy security. The Martian Civilian Prison, renamed after the worst slaggers were removed was still where it always was. It was just that much less toxic and was the place were offenders who drew real time short of life did it. The other prison was too dangerous for the average dumb aft.

"What do you think, Optimus?" Ratchet asked. "I wonder if they have the capacity to understand their position."

"It will change everything if they do. They can help us take this situation down and get the others safely. I am gratified by the way both of our serious situations ended without fighting," Optimus said as they continued toward the gates down the road that changed into a high security facility's main entrance point.

The walk to the Command Center took them into what was Winnie's main domain. She ran security for both prisons from here and deployed her guards accordingly. The main Command Center at the Military Prison 50 miles from here at the super max military prison was where Gee-Gee operated the entire penal system. It had dropped the violence and disruption of the less dangerous, violent and impaired prisoners having the violent offenders under a better lock up at the other prison. This was also the day release facility where Barricade and that ilk lived, those working off small sentences or 'civilians-non violent' offenders were kept to earn back their freedom.

Passing through the gates to walk down the road that divided the facility into two halves, 'low risk-medium security' inmates from 'medium risk-medium security' prisoners, they headed for the Command Center. Entering it, they bantered with the crew, then walked to the office where Gee-Gee was chatting with Winnie and one of her two assistant wardens, Coleus.

She smiled at them. "Welcome to Bedlam."

A brief check of that word's possibilities issued a meaning, a Victorian era prison 'hospital' in England for those suffering mental illness that became the very definition of mad house.

"What's happening?" Ratchet asked.

"We have some prisoners being condemned. They don't want to go. Its loud and unruly in a few of the segregated lock ups but the noise is unnerving others, those more marginal. The new prisoners are all in their cells. Their families are staying in the high security wing of the Medical Center here until they get their marching orders. What do you want to do with the suspected collaborators, Lord Optimus? Some of them have chips for the Functionalists as well as the other two. Some of them might be in the wrong place at the right time to get chipped by the 'Cons. We have to sort it out."

"If they are not aware of the Decepticon chip they might not be guilty of any collaboration with them," Prime agreed.

"The practice was get the families and other dependents on the courier-traps to get compliance. Most didn't know they had them until that moment came when they were used by Megatron or when they were told by someone else," Prowl said. "The war kept us from doing much about this but bookmarking it for later on."

"Did you sort out those on the list, Warden?" Prime asked.

Gee-Gee nodded. "We have them in a holding pen nearby. I'm assuming you want to interview them."

"I do. I would like Fila and Tarrier first," Prime said as Gee-Gee delegated mechs to bring them in.

She led the way to a conference room where they sat to wait. Chat was had about kids, Thanksgiving, the contest which was now a 'thing', an event being replicated all over the colony. It might be what Ratchet decided it was supposed to be this year for everyone, candy, but it could also be other good things in all the dozens and dozens of parties that would add it to the festivities.

The door opened and a mech leaned in. "They're here, Boss."

Gee-Gee pulled out two chairs. "Send them in, Bartell."

He did, pulling the door open as a femme and a mech walked in. They paused at the end of the table, then sat when directed. Staring at everyone there, they had nothing to say.

Prime considered them, then leaned his elbows on the table. Lacing his digits, he stared at them silently. "I would like to talk to you about your situation, the Convocation of the Will just concluded and the problems facing you and your group if things do not change."

They stared at him without speaking.

As they did Prowl tapped his datapad. "Fila of Iacon, scion of wealth and power, raised four kids who stepped into wealth and power who didn't display much talent for such opportunity but then we all know how this works," Prowl said with a cold glance at both. "You were a friend of Primes, industrialists, land developers and resource moguls. Your son here, Tarrier, was one of the beneficiaries of your imperial lifestyle. He managed funds and banks even though he had no talent for it. Bankrupting banks takes a special skill I would imagine."

They stared at Prowl with a molten silence.

"May I interject something here?" Ratchet asked with a dazzling smile.

"Of course," Prowl said.

"We have about five thousand of your friends, fellow refugees and family scattered all over the colony. For some reason they passed through without alerting the bombs in your noggins. What we need now is your cooperation to get them to come to Medical Centers to have the devices removed. Given that some of you are older than Prima's left ped its a given that the tech is eroding. A simple bump might make them go kerplow. How about caring more about your own people than you hate us and help us treat them for this." Ratchet stared at their silent figures. They weren't moved by what he said.

"Well, this is going to call for heavier weapons," Ratchet said. He turned on the monitor nearby, then drew up data and images. "This silver sliver is called a courier-trap. Its a detonation device that can blow up your skull if its detonated. Watch the video."

A model of a mech's helm was on a post of a fence in the Parkland next to the Medical Center in The City. Slender chips were put into the slots all had been found occupying, then the plate replaced. Stepping back, the tech glanced at a Marine sapper who pushed a signal device that blew up the chip. The helm flew off the post, then landed in the dirt. Both walked to it, then the tech picked up the helm. A giant hole pierced it allowing full view of the world through it. He held it up for the camera.

They both repeated it with two chips, then three. By the time they got to three there was nothing but iron filings left of the skull. It ended there.

Ratchet glanced at the two who watched silently. "That could have been you. I'm going to show you images of the chips we extracted from your group before we detonated them."

A screen changed to slender slivers of metal that had once been a brightly shining silver. Now they were darkened and even showed signs of decay. Over and over they looked at the chips all of which seemed worse with each subsequent image.

"I'm the doctor of the Empire and I'm a soldier. I'm familiar with this tech and loathe it. They didn't make them of sound materials and design. No surprise there. They're rusting and falling apart. Those that are still in the helms of victims don't even need to bump their helm hard by now to make a very big mess of the décor of wherever they are when it happens. We need your help to get the rest of your people in for help. If not, then a fall or bumped helm is the end of them. Consider how hard kids play," Ratchet said.

It was silent, then Fila looked at Prime. "You want us to help you round up our people. How do you expect us to do that to them?"

"Because it could save them from dying a terrible death," Optimus said. "This is a dire situation, Fila. It has nothing to do with The System or any of that. It has everything to do with saving lives. Whatever you feel about me, its my duty to protect our people."

Ironhide stared at both of them. "You will cooperate with this project. You will do it because I say so."

They glanced at Ironhide.

"The Convocation took care of that. You have no authority over either of us … any of us," Tarrier said.

"Then you openly and willingly acknowledge that The System is a dead point, over and done with," Ironhide asked.

"We acknowledge nothing," Fila said.

"It either is or its not," Ironhide said. "You can give up now and acknowledge that this is so or you can get up and fight me," Ironhide said as he stood to loom over them.

"You would permit this?" Tarrier asked with some heat to Prime.

"These are your rules. You want them, you can have them. Nothing Ironhide has said is above his authority and its part of The System. Either you obey or you fight," Prowl said as he sat back to cross his arms over his chassis.

It was murky in the room as the two glared back at the four.

Tarrier leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. "You can't coerce us. In this space The System may be over in practice but up here," he said as he tapped his helm. "It never will be."

"And never again will bombs be there either," Ratchet said. "You have children in this group. Maybe even your own. They can die just as easily as anyone else."

They stared at Ratchet silently.

"I have to tell you that you have a problem with your family lines. You were in a small group and you self isolated. The only bonds you had were among your group. That led to what our local allies call 'inbreeding'. The problem with this practice is that it can damage your CNA and problems can arise that have serious consequences. An example is your indifference to the demonstrated fact that you and your people have between one and three little bombs inside your heads. They can go off and I wouldn't be surprised that they already have in your colonies," Ratchet said.

They stared at him, then sat back.

"You are impaired about making decisions. You cannot see the logic and the evidence with your own optics that we have put before you. Therefore, you will be held in the prison pending examinations and reviews as to your ability to live outside these walls safely. I am not just thinking about you. I have to weigh the dangers to everyone. Right now you are a clear and present danger to everybody," Prime said. He glanced at Gee-Gee. "Please take them back to their cells, Warden."

Gee-Gee glanced at the two. "Rise and follow the guards out."

The two did and soon were gone.

Everyone watched them go, then glanced at each other.

"Why do I have a terrible feeling about this?" Ratchet asked.

"Practice," Prowl replied grimly.

=0=TBC 11-16-2022