The Diego Diaries: Moving On (dd8 329)

=0=Around

Sideswipe walked into the office in the Data Center in Tyger Pax where Bluestreak was furiously entering data of a highly classified nature. He had become the go-to mech for such things as Prowl required and thus, he was now officially off the forward base rotation schedule, a win-win for their family. Few would be the non-senior Autobots who held as high a security clearance as Blue. "Hey, Babe. What's the story?" he asked as he kissed Blue on the top of his helm.

Blue shut the screen down, then turned to Sideswipe. "We're having a nice dinner and dancing at The Tower in the Sky in Iacon on Christmas Surprise Eve. No presents. Nothing that's too much, just a good dinner with family and friends, dancing and the like. Everyone in the crowd is off that night and we're going to make it as fun and warm as we can."

Sideswipe sat. "Sounds good. I heard that Prime intends to find Paladin and make him pay. Anything true there?"

"If there was, and I'm not saying there is, I couldn't tell you anyway," Blue replied. "I have clearances and trust going on here. I can't tell you anything and you know it."

"Trying to get you to tell me is fun. Tell me its not fun," Sideswipe said with a chuckle.

"It is but its not going to work. You're going to have to get the kids. I have to finish this data input then discuss it with Prowl. How about we meet somewhere for dinner? Where's Sunstreaker?" Blue asked.

"He's on Cybertron with Raptor. He thinks Raptor is his god sometimes." Sideswipe grinned. "Raptor is hilarious."

"He is," Blue agreed. "I love all of Ironhide's elders."

Sideswipe rose to go. "How about that deli on Fifth in Centurion at what time?" he asked as he paused by the door.

"How about 1700 joors. Wait for me," Blue said.

Sideswipe nodded, then walked out to go about his business until school let out. He would get Kaon and the girls at the Happy Home School in Pax before buzzing back to Centurion for dinner. It would be a pleasant afternoon of goofing off with the boys.

=0=Cybertron

They walked through a junk yard where mechs and a couple of femmes were hard at it breaking down all manner of rusty metallic shapes with welding tools. It was one of several centers on world where things that were once containers for dangerous fluids were brought to be denatured and deconstructed into scrap for smelting. It was a very busy place.

"Look at them," Raptor said with a grin. "Everyone doing whatever the frag they want. Some of the best welders in the world are in this place right now." He paused before a femme who was expertly cutting up a large container. "Look at the perfection in her work. Masterful."

He continued onward explaining slag to everyone with him including a worshipful Sunstreaker. It would be a pleasant afternoon trekking through the hinterlands of their emergent world admiring the skill and abilities of their very great people.

Raptor would make sure they saw it and the workers heard it.

=0=At a secondary stable area in the boondocks

The truck rumbled up to pause beside the dome that covered a very large area of ground that held housing and feeding stations. The herd roamed over several hundred square miles of 'pasturage' as their domain. A huge stallion watched the mechs calmly as they began to unload bags and bags of feed and huge spools of 'hay' that the animals fed upon.

It was quiet out here in this place where they fled, led by the stallion who with his brother, King ruled the herd. A small mare nearby was the actual matriarch but when they ran from danger the stallions led them away. It was clear she was boss but she was also a very sweet natured horse and didn't fuss during emergencies. It made the Cybertronian horses just that much different from their real human counterparts.

They carried huge bags on a trolley to the storage area and set them down in neat stacks. Opening one, they slid the contents into the automatic dispersing machine that fed the troughs where the horses ate their meals. A continuous pool of 'water', energon geared to their well being, was nearby under a covered roof with open sides. The feeder would keep them in food for the duration. It only took someone to come and empty a bag every few orns to make this place safe for the herd.

They were still skittish having fled here to get away from the fighting. They ran for miles and miles, big and tiny horses together until they came here, a spot under a dome where they could be safe. The stallions in the herd paced around the space and had sought vantage on the ridge nearby to watch the fighting in the cities. Even though it'd been a few days since it ended, the horses still congregated here. A vet checked them and found them sound though unsettled and advised letting them come back on their own. Thus, riding was canceled for the duration.

It would remain this way for a bit longer, then the stallions and mare would lead the herd back, walking them through the rocks and gullies to the stables once again. It would just take more time.

=0=The Pit Stop's Pit

They stood around the edge watching the excavator digging into the hole that was the footprint of one of the oldest restaurants in the colony. This wasn't the first time it'd been busted up but this was the worst damage they'd received thus far. It was burned to the ground and nothing was salvaged so completely had it gone up in smoke. Now they were planning to rebuild it and to expand their operation here.

There were seven of them in the colony spread over a large area to accommodate their customers. The old fashioned tone and the good old fashioned food was a huge draw for them. That it was so close to places that afforded chaos was its only drawback. The clientele ranged from the military working nearby to those in businesses and the courthouse. It was open all day long every day so its convenience was a huge plus. Now it was kaput and the locals would have to forage somewhere else until it was open again.

It was going to take a while.

=0=Medical Center in Crater District 3, City 6

Ratchet stared at the data, then glanced at the big mech laying on the berth in security straps. He'd been picked up in the round up and was being treated for his wounds. He was silent and wary but not very upset about things overall. "You don't seem too worried about getting jailed. Why?"

The mech stared at Ratchet, then shrugged. "No one knew this place was like this. We figured that Prime was holed up in a base somewhere but not a colony like this."

Ratchet nodded. "Your side has always underestimated Prime to your own detriment. He's so far ahead of all of you that you can't even play catch up fast enough."

The mech stared at Ratchet, then the data screen. "What's the verdict?"

"The good news is that you'll live. The bad news is that you're going to be living in prison," Ratchet replied.

"For good or what? I saw Decepticons I know on the drive over here," the mech said. He'd been brought in chains to see a specialist and had spent time staring out the window of the prison bus.

"Former Decepticons," Ratchet replied. "They have an organization here, the Former Decepticon Association that helps newbies transition into civilian life once they give Prime their oath on the Matrix. If you do good you get to live here like anyone else and choose your life. If you frag up you have to run a gauntlet of lead pipes and well placed swings. If you persist you go back to jail."

The mech considered that. "How do you tell someone you want to give it a try?"

"You tell me and I tell Scar. Or Nitro. Or anyone of a dozen mechs who would shoot you dead before they'd let you ruin their perfect record. Did I mention Rampage?" Ratchet asked with a smirk. "He's on the board, too."

"The Predacon?" the mech asked with surprise.

"Is there another?" Ratchet asked as he glanced at the guards. "This slagger is fit and can go back. Do not pass go and don't collect 200 shanix."

The guards grinned, then pulled him to his peds.

"Tell them that Waco of Kaon wants to give it a shot," the big mech said as he stood.

Ratchet considered that, then nodded. "I will." He watched as the big mech walked out clanking to his destination. "I hope you mean it, slagger."

=0=Cord and some of the boys

They'd been debriefed by Jazz and given over to the Former Decepticon Association for rehabilitation into a good life. As they sat in the HQ in the Central Labor Council a mech walked in, handed Aviator a data pad, then pulled up a chair to sit.

Aviator who wasn't a pilot but a big hardcore mech who was now a shop steward at the quarry where he was one of the shift bosses glanced at Cord. "Do you have a bond named Cirrio?"

Cord actually flinched, then nodded. "I do."

"Here's a picture of someone who you might or not know," Aviator said as he pushed the data pad over to Cord.

Cord hesitated, then took it. He looked at the pictures of a good looking mech and two younger ones. He read their data, then looked at Aviator. "That's my bond and my kids. They're here."

"They're on their way," Aviator said as the mech who brought the data pad nodded. "When they get here we're going to step out and take care of these kids. Then we can talk about things." Aviator sat back. "You're lucky. Most of the time it takes longer and some are waiting for miracles. Don't waste this opportunity."

"We've been trying to leave for a long time," Cord said. Meeting up with Hercy had solidified his efforts with a real possibility through cooperation. "All my kids are good. They just need to know how this all works."

Aviator nodded. "We'll show them."

A mech leaned in. "They're here."

Aviator stood, then motioned the other mech to follow. "You kids come, too." They left the room, all of them and it grew silent.

Cord sat in a state of agitation. The door opened and a big mech walked in followed by two smaller younger ones. Both of them stared at each other as Cord rose. "Cirrio. Boys. You're alive."

Cirrio stared at him as if in a trance, then cleared the space between them. Hugging Cord tightly, he vented a deep sigh. "Cord. Where were you? We waited."

"I got press ganged. I didn't have a choice. They came and took us away at gun point. I'm sorry, Cirrio." He looked at his two boys. "Come here," he said quietly.

They did. They would hug each other tightly for a while.

=0=Out in the desert

They gathered together, Science nerds and engineers to study the burned out hulks of two massive Triggers that were scattered all over the place. They'd come in hard and the explosions were something to behold, the blast alone causing tremors in the earth. Now they were husks lying in craters waiting to be gathered up, salvaged if possible and recycled for the three new ones that were going to be built to replace them.

It wouldn't be possible to salvage a single thing.

=0=TBC 12-21-21

Welcome to the newbies signing on. Huggies to the veterans of my obsessive compulsion. You are all incredibly loved by me. :D:D:D

NOTES:

press gang/ganged: When someone was forced to work on a sailing ship, usually after being kidnapped directly or drugged, then hauled off to serve, its called being press ganged. The people who did it were called a press gang. It happened in port cities during the age of sailing ships. Portland, Oregon was a hub of this sort of thing. There's tunnels under a whole section of bars near the waterfront that were used to take people away that way. It was a terrible, terrible practice used all over the world back when.