The Diego Diaries: Ghosts (dd8 389)
=0=Prime and Crew on Cybertron
They sat in the Control Center's big conference room with detectives, forensics and rehabbers in charge of the prisoners at this particular prison in the former military city of Nova Cronum. Turbine who was the director for this, District 2 of Cybertron was going through the sort of prisoners that they held in this particular prison.
Some prisoners were siphoned off to other lock ups to break down the quality and quantity of the bad mojo in a particular place. Serial killers, mental patients and the ultra violent went to Kaon where they were placed in a maximum security lock up in the area known as The Wilderness back in the orn.
Primus help the slagger that came there in the orn spoiling for a fight. They would get one. Or a gauntlet. Or a shot between the optics.
Nova Cronum held the hardcore believers that still thought the Cause was going and that they would in the end prevail. They were poison to those wavering or kids because they enforced discipline with an iron fist. They were sent here, sorted as to threat, then housed pending whatever hope the slaggers had to be retrieved from their notions.
"We have a lot of commanders, platoon and battalion level individuals, some of which were pretty ruthless. They're Megatron fanboys with little chance of rehabilitation unless Bucket Head comes here and decimates them," Turbine said as others nodded.
Gee-Gee and Winnie who were taking notes along with her rehabilitation team from the prison at Rocky Point were here to see who they could transport to Mars for her ten point rehab programs. It would help to remove some of the salvageable kids from the incorrigible. A large number were flagged and a temporary prison was being set up inside the security ring at the prison on Mars that was the usual basic housing to spur the decisions of the teetering toward better thinking and acting. It would be one of two there already including one that held the new prisoners from the Seeker rescue.
"All-in-all, we're doing well here," Turbine concluded. "We have a security system here that would take an invasion to undermine. We made it so because we're on world and Cybertron and The People can't take a group running amok among them after all this.'
"I am glad to hear that," Optimus said with a hint of relief. "The idea of being overrun with prisoners is something that I worry about. We cannot have them loose among our people. They have suffered enough. I also want to have as many as possible, notably among the younger set have a chance to change and live a better life.
"Education and counseling is a key component for your programs, Warden Gee-Gee. I am happy to see the coordination between the colony and everywhere else. All of you have so much to bring to the table together."
"I'm living for the orn when we don't have or need prisoners, Lord Optimus," Gunner said, "though I don't believe that might ever be possible. Its a dream but a small one."
Prime nodded. "You and me both, brother. I do feel an immense gratitude for those of you who can do this hard thing and bring so much skill and dedication to it. Its a very thankless job and I for one am grateful."
The group felt the compliment so earnestly given. It was a dreary thankless job until it wasn't. Then it was the best one possible. They would continue to discuss the prison situation, then Prime would leave with a list of things needed and ideas and requests made. They would be fulfilled immediately where they could and as fast as possible when they couldn't be. It would go like that all orn.
=0=The Day and Night Watch Headquarters, Metrotitan District, Mars
Hercy and Kup sat at Springer's desk going over the business end of the department as Drift recuperated and Springer unwound his mainspring over the close call they both underwent. Combined with Tell's need for attention during his awakening to sound, they would be off all week long.
The two would run the street game while Sky took care of the science portion. Hauser who was now Director of Detectives and Investigations would handle that end of things while Maxi took care of administration. Given the number of times either or both were hurt on the job or in space, Springer had made this new structure possible with Paragon a back up if Hercy and Kup were out of the game.
It worked.
For a colony that had passed 350,000,000 residents, the policing had become complex and expanded while utilizing the community policing methods that made the crime rate so low. Though the violent stuff, fighting, drinking, the occasional shooting and the more common stabbing continued among their mainly mech, mainly martial population, it always staggered humans to know what the rate of crime was in the colony.
Take the arrests following the football game …
Yes, take them.
=0=Some time back in the lock up filled with mini and micro-mini cons along with other marauders of the Cybertronian persuasion
They were gathered in holding cells just outside the courtrooms waiting to be called for their cases. Most of them were the small fry, those who were part of the mini-con insurrection at the game and a few others who were drunks, disorderly or just plain idiotic. The hardcore cases involving harm to another were being held for federal court later this afternoon given that any offense that involved 'gross bodily harm', that is, any ha=rm delivered by anything but a fist or ped would be federal and thus in the purview of the Prime and his delegate, the Federal prosecutor.
It was with a low rumble of discontent, disarray and disagreement that the mini- and micro mini-cons of the 'GREAT PURGE OF RETRIADES' awaited their turn before The Man.
Outside in the courtroom, hallways and elevator systems of the courthouse, the migration of families and villages had begun earlier. They came, all of them and their friends and hangers-on who they passed on their way here to witness and plead for their miscreant little slaggers. It would be instructive the number of antique femmes and mechs there were in the holding cells, all of them relics of bygone orns and the mainstays of their community, families and culture.
They filled the courtroom, lined the walls, the corridors and the open lounges that were part of the floor plan of this, the magistrates wing of the courthouse. There were endless corridors and courts with access to the jail below, all of them ready and most of them busy with this and that including civil and commercial cases.
Silver who had drawn the short straw and by doing so won the lottery made his way in, sat down, set up the recorder, checked the record, grinned at Blackstone who had taken his place while Coln-2 set up to handle the burden of the pleadings for the state. He also won the lottery to be able to handle this, the most sought after cases and the best show in town, the trial of any group of mini-cons no matter how many of few.
The door opened as Serial walked in.
All rose.
He sat.
All sat.
Silver and Serial discussed things, then Silver looked at the motley crew watching them both with fear, loathing, a bit of savoir affair, doom, smirks of amusement, determination and wonderment. "This court is now in session. The Honorable Serial of Clovis 18 is sitting on these cases. You act up, you go to jail. Keep the lid on, Ammas and Appas. Thank you." He grinned. "We need case number 1 please, bailiff."
The bailiff, Posthole opened the door and leaned in. He leaned back out as a group of young, rude and hilarious youngling mechs sauntered in like they owned the place. Predictably, their portion of the crowd rose up and berated them like banshees. They were noticeably less suave and defiant as they toed the white line before the judge.
Serial who LOVED mini-con cases sat back to enjoy himself before the tall slaggers were herded in further down the list. He put all the mini-cons first so that Blackstone could watch the show with him, these two great good friends of older and much worse times. "Alright, who speaks for you if anyone?"
They glanced at each other, then one stepped forward. "I'm Bartell. I speak for all of us, your majesty."
Snickers rounded the room. Their legendary snarkiness in the face of a clear and present doom was not dented by a night in jail.
"What's the word on these desperadoes?" Serial asked Silver.
"These little slaggers are charged with drunken and disorderly for disrupting the game, assault and battery at the game, when arrested and at the jail when being booked. Three counts. They also are charged with resisting arrest and," Silver peered closer at the booking sergeant's notes, then grinned. "running their mouths. A jailer named Handy noted that."
Sitting in a reserved section with notebooks, cameras set up, data pads in hand and optics riveted to the show before them, the kids of the Autobot City Watch and Medical group listened with breathless intensity. They'd visited Chief and the Boss, then came here determined to learn seventy-five new things and write a report for both to read about the outcomes.
In short, they were as adorable as ever.
The humans who came for the show, a large contingent were as amused by them as the other show.
"Alright. You sound like you did a real good bad. How do you plea?" Serial asked.
They huddled, consulting and gesturing animatedly as they discussed things off line. Then they turned to the judge. Bartell squared his shoulders. "We plead insanity, your worship."
Absolute mayhem erupted all the way to the stragglers coming through the front door of the Courthouse.
=0=Ratchet
He watched the show of the mini-cons through the internal feed as he made his way to the Courthouse, pleased as peas that no one he really knew was involved.
Yet.
He was coming to see to his Amma Docker who had spent a great night in the jailhouse answering constituent questions and organizing different things for two of them in different cells. Then she fell into a deep sleep as the last of the high grade and beer wore off. He entered the building, went up through the mob and found a place near the humans on the floor.
The current group at hand was being gently berated by Serial and sentenced to three orns in jail. Their families, et al predictably erupted, then settled. They walked out with the usual mini-con bravado, then the door closed. Their families far from leaving settled in to watch the show and await other opportunities to cry, plead, beg and berate whomever their drama queen little helms suggested needed it.
Magistrate's Court was the best show in town.
The door opened again and out more came, Docker and all the elderly who were busted and jailed as well. They found their place on the line, shaking canes at the bailiff and giving Silver the stink optic.
Ratchet glanced at Coln-2 who was smirking at them with delight and Blackstone who was watching the little antiques with an expression of enchantment. They paused their hoo-haw, Docker waved at Ratchet who waved back, then the charges were read.
"Fighting, assault and battery, fighting at the jail, assault and battery by ped and cane, general overall bad attitude. Our jailer Handy suggests that you 'don't let their age and size fool you. They all deserve to hang'." Silver grinned at the defiant smurfs staring at him with their tiny little optics.
"Who is the spokesman of this group, if any?" Serial asked.
Everyone glanced at Docker. "She is. She's our district representative."
"How lucky for you," Serial said with a big grin. "And how do you all plead?"
Docker stepped closer, bowed slightly, then grinned. "We were railroaded by The Man, your honor."
The entire place burned to the ground.
=0=TBC 3-14-2022
ESL
incorrigible: (in-corr-ih-jibl) someone or something that can't be changed, rehabilitated or made better. Charles Manson was incorrigible.
=0=TBC 3-14-2022
