The Diego Diaries: Coming Back Down (dd8 398)
=0=On the home frontier
Ratchet cracked his knuckles, a wholly unnecessary thing as he sat in front of a big monitor. He'd linked into all the databases that he had access to and they were all of them including those that were classified. He grinned at that thought. Who thought the hooligan from the Jumble with the aim that didn't quit would end up with this much access? He pulled up a search engine, then began to input the data he was needing.
"T-e-m-p-o." He grinned, then entered the next data points to be searched. "C-i-s-c-o of the House of Pronto and Calligan with two L's." He typed more, then sat back to see what came up.
A lot would.
=0=In the armory
Ironhide walked through the vast stores of arms that were in the armory under City 4, Crater District 6. This was a nearly endless collection of small arms, their bullets and other fire packs. The endless streams of plasma and energy that many of the guns and small arms fired were cartridges that were slotted in making a vast outpouring of fire possible in most cases.
They reached the ceiling on pallets that were numbered, cataloged and easily sent for by the automated systems that the armories employed. There were so many armories with their often unique holdings that almost no one individual could manage all of them and the location of various things.
Two could, actually. It was with almost infinite precision that Ironhide and Nitro could locate what anyone needed anywhere it was in the system from memory. Between them from the beginning of the colony, they had designed, expanded and created the armory system that was their main defensive weapon.
He took an elevator upward to the Hub that serviced all of these, infinitely constructed and secured sites that fed all of the soldiers, marines, Airmen and femmes, Seekers and titans that lived everywhere in all the colonies. They fed also the air wings at Aerie Hill and the Home Guardians all cities had in numbers.
The Watch had their own armory separate from the military but it was managed by Ironhide and designed according to his own specifications to serve the needs of Springer and his crews. The train lines that delivered munitions everywhere else served theirs as well.
Stepping out of the secured elevator that only those authorized could use, he walked into the Hub itself. It was a larger more appointed version of the first ones. Much of it was lounges and places to sit, watch the news, eat good food, hold meetings and kibitz.
Against the far wall was the Armory Center which was a place where a lot of the Guardians, police and military stored their arms. A number of mechs ran the counter with the vault behind them. It operated on a system of automated storage lockers that could be called up by computer with the gear of anyone at a moment's notice rolling up, over and present on its long retrieval line.
A lot of the soldiers in the colony had their own gun vaults at home but many were the family mechs, femmes and heavy gunners who stored their bigger weapons, swords and personal gear that they used during their deployments. No one wanted their kids to eat lead.
Weapons were brought here and given to the staff who would work on them, do the annual servicing to keep them at maximum and replace those that were busted, obsolete or 'ugly'. It would amaze probably no one that the younger mechs liked to trick out their weapons, adding shiny metal here and there to make them 'special'.
For most it was a phase. For most (Not Rod).
And Smokey. Him, too.
Everyone had a pearl handled pistol, it seemed including most bots. Apparently the General Patton bug was an interplanetary infection.
He walked to the counter and chatted a bit with the crew boss, Hamdu, then headed toward the door. He would tour the armories all morning, then meet Ratchet at The Sammy Shop in Pax for lunch. It would be a great morning in the trenches with his fellow gun nuts.
=0=Ratchet
He read and read, searched some more, then grinned. "This is fun," he said to himself as he waited for medical data to compile on his computers nearby. Tip-tapping away, Ratchet of Iacon made a nuisance of himself.
=0=Prime and Prowl
"They said the five ships watched what happened, then followed the fleet as they retreated. They saw them blow up the camps as well," Prowl said as he finished up the rundown of the mission just finished.
"They did not make any moves?" Prime asked as he lounged in his chair buoyed unexpectedly by the ease with which they removed all of their people from the worst part of the area that Timpani had told them about. Wheeljack's brother said the next search area was farther away and there had been no Decepticon activity noted in the area where 290,000 refugees were living.
"What are the soundings from the messages we and Atlas have sent to the next group, if any?" Optimus asked.
"We have messages from Atlas that they're moving in there to get them ready. They're going to use the three titans they have now, putting the people on board, then sending them straight to us if they appear to be healthy. He's got the teams in place now to cut out a lot of downtime in his camps if the people are fit."
"That is good to know," Prime said. "What about Meadow Lands? Any news on them?"
"Not lately," Prowl said. "Ratchet is going to have lunch at The Sammy Shop in Pax. We can get an update there if you want to go."
Prime nodded as Prowl rose, then walked to the door. "Alright."
"I'll get you when its time. The reports in front of you need read and signed off for the debrief for the Delegate committees soon," Prowl said, then he walked off to go back to work.
Prime stared at the documents, then the doorway. He grinned. "The Sammy Shop?" he mused.
=0=Lunch time.
A rap on the door caught his attention.
"Lunch time." Prowl grinned. "Up and at 'em."
Prime rose, then walked to the door to go to the street beyond. "The Sammy Shop?" he asked as they disappeared down the corridor.
=0=Sitting at The Sammy Shop, a delicatessen in Pax
Ratchet grinned as he watched Prime and Prowl walk into the pretty little restaurant and sit down across from him. "Well, don't you two look cute. I wonder if the truant officers know you're skipping class."
"Magnus?" Prowl asked. "We have an 'in' with him."
"Cheater. Its just who you are, Prowler. Embrace it," Ratchet said as Ironhide began to walk into the restaurant. He glanced around, then began to walk toward them. "Oh, lawd. He comin'," Ratchet said as they chuckled having seen that meme enough times, usually portraying obese bad ass cats.
Ironhide sat. "I wish to report that our armories are the bomb. See what I did there?" he said with a big ass grin.
"I wonder what Callo would say if he saw them?" Ratchet asked with his best smile.
Ironhide frowned. "Fragger."
"Well, it could be worse. It could be Tempo we're talking about. What do you know about that slagger?" Ratchet asked as they took a moment to give their orders.
"Tempo. That fragger. He was a nutcase that stalked my atar," Ironhide said. "He was jealous of my atar in every measurable manner."
"Well, explain Tempo then," Ratchet said as he sat back to enjoy what appeared to be a pattern of madness in the otherwise reasonably normal family of Ironhide the Younger, that is, if show biz and the military was normal.
Ironhide frowned. "You didn't look them up did ya?"
"Maybe," Ratchet said through his jillion watt smile. "Probably."
Ironhide stared at him, then his optical ridges narrowed. "Are they here."
"All of them?" Ratchet asked.
Ironhide nodded.
"Yeah," Ratchet replied through his smile.
"FRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG!"
=0=At The Sammy Place
A big crew of nearly identical mechs walked into the little restaurant and pushed tables together.
Prime who had his sandwich which was overstuffed and looked brilliant was trying to put the Cybertronian equivalent of yellow mustard on the Cybertronian version of pastrami on rye. His arm was jiggled but he managed to accomplish the task. He glanced at the others. "I see you are here."
"Well, when your perfect little mech sends a distress signal over the most secured and OFFICIAL communications lines to come to the …" Turbine looked around and liked what he saw. "The Sammy Place, how can you say no?"
"I can see how you would do that, getting a message over the most secret and secured lines like that," Prime said sweetly as he at his dill pickle. "I love pickles."
Everyone grinned at the big mech gaslighting Ironhide who was none too pleased with anyone. He didn't get a dill pickle with his sammy.
"So what's the big problem, grandson, before I clap you in irons?" Hardie asked after they gave their orders and sat back to enjoy the show.
"I'm not going to tell you now. You can take a hike back to your ivory towers," Ironhide said miffed at their mockery.
They grinned at him.
"Frag all of you," he said as he picked up his roast beef 'with everything' and began to eat it.
"Including me?" Delphi asked sweetly.
Ironhide glanced at his amma. "Probably. Maybe."
"Well, before world war fifty-thousand breaks out, let me fill you in." Ratchet sat back to enjoy his recitation.
Everyone relaxed to hear it. Food was delivered, then it began.
"You remember when Slagger Number One aka Callo was mentioned? The one who wants his job?" Ratchet asked.
Everyone nodded but Ironhide who was enjoying his sammy.
"I did a bit of checking. The other two running against Sunny and No-A are his cousins, Piero and the other doofus, What's His Name. Then someone mentioned other nemesis type bots from the way back when and I did a bit of research. But first, Callo.
"Callo of Praxus was born into a rich family of bankers who laundered money for generations. They bought the house next door to you, Blackjack, at the Mithril Sea. I didn't know you had a house there. I thought it was at the Sea of Mercury."
Blackjack grinned. "That was Appa. We bought a house in different places and shared."
"I didn't have a house," Ratchet said with his beautiful smile.
"I did not have a house either," Prime said as he took another big bite. His sammy was so, so good.
Ironhide frowned.
Everyone else grinned.
"Apparently that was where the dispute started for that slagger," Ratchet said.
"He said the surveying was fragged and that we had a fence over the line of his property. It was the start of hell," Blackjack said.
"Then we have Tempo, the nemesis bot of Raptor," Ratchet said.
Hardie grinned. "He was a relative through a dynastic bond to Sentinel through his grandparents who had the house down the block at the beach on the Sea of Mercury. He wanted our house but we beat him to it and from there with the son we had, it was downhill all the way."
"I was complex," Raptor said with a chuckle.
Prime chuckled, then nodded. "I can see that."
Everyone grinned at Prime, then Ratchet continued.
"The police record of all three of you is very entertaining I have to say," Ratchet said as he whipped out a data pad.
"Police record?" Ironhide asked. "What police record? I know you got into trouble," he said to his father, "but not arrested. Right?"
"Right," Blackjack said. "The police record is for your ada."
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?"
=0=TBC 3-28-2022 edited 4-11-2022
NOTES:
General Patton was part of the World War II command structure of the US Military. He was a hard head, intolerant and full of shit. (My cousins interjected here. They were part of his command) He received pearl handles pistols, pretty silver pistols with white grips. He liked to wear them, the blowhard. He famously slapped a soldier who had battle fatigue and got relieved of command. He died in a jeep mishap after the war.
ESL
To have an 'in' with someone is to have pull, clout, connections to get what you want. I have an 'in' with the mayor so my parking tickets don't have to be paid. Or, you have someone who can help you get what you want on the inside.
