The Diego Diaries: Callow (dd8 399)
=0=Sammy Shop in Pax
"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, then glancing at his ada, he continued, "but not arrested. Right?"
"Right," Blackjack said. "The police record is for your ada."
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?"
Delphi grinned at Ironhide noting how cute he was when he was blindsided by the past or when they got into trouble and he wasn't there. He hated that they'd been slaves, that they were abused and fearful in their earliest orns. They knew that he believed there was NOTHING in the universe that they couldn't do and having them once helpless without him there slaying all their dragons for them was hard on his spark. "You do know that if one of us goes down swinging, all of us do."
"What happened to get you arrested?" Prime asked as he glanced at Ratchet who could give the outline if not the full contextual slag.
Ratchet smiled back at him.
Delphi snickered, then looked at Ironhide. "We had the house at the beach at the Sea of Mercury. They wanted to have it but had to settle for the one next door. None of us were friendly. No one wanted to have an Elite as a neighbor. It was like being naked in the Temple. There was nowhere to hide your slag if you did."
"I'll attest to that," Raptor said remembering some of his more colorful moments as a wild aft youth.
"They thought their yard was being impinged upon by us," Delphi continued as Hardie nodded. "They never even approached us about it before they went to a council meeting and pitched a fit. They were adamant that we took a meter of their property."
"A meter? That's a slagging wide impinge," Ironhide said as his elders nodded. "What then?"
"They had a lot of influence among those who were there some time. Our house was among the first built and was a beauty. The plats of land were measured in the original survey by Samson and Sons. They never get a measure wrong. Its a matter of pride," Raptor said. "When we received a message that we were in violation of the property line we came to the next meeting with Samson's son, Landon."
"That didn't go over well did it?" Ratchet asked, fascinated that anyone could own the ground that you stood on let alone fight over its boundary markers. Their apartment was still a marvel to him every time he went home and wasn't arrested for being there.
"No, it didn't. There was a lot of screaming from them but they had no basis of complaint. Actually, it was found that the markers had been moved by the former owner of their house half a meter over our line. They had to move their fence and garden boxes. If they'd kept their traps shut they would have had a half meter of our land but no. That's when it was all out war," Raptor said with a chuckle.
"On their part?" Prime asked with amusement.
"No. Raptor decided he didn't like them any better than Sentinel's grandparents and made it his mission to be a fragger," Hardie said. "As I have said before. You don't get the son you want. You get the one you need."
Huge laughter greeted that as father and son grinned at each other admiringly.
"Well, that's special. I did find their location, itineraries, all their particulars and such. In fact," Ratchet said as he glanced at a door opening as he spoke, "I found out that they eat here at lunch time every day."
All helms turned toward the door as a group of mechs walked into the charming little eatery which catered to everyone even if it looked like a boutique high caste restaurant from the past on Cybertron, a seaside bistro if you will. When both sides spotted the other, all of Ironhide's family stood up and turned to face the group by the door.
"*YOU!*" -both sides
=0=Elsewhere
They walked to the school to pick up their son. Tell was doing his now half day program as they worked on his hearing and getting him to understand that sound made meaning and meaning could be heard and spoken. The baby was enjoying his life better having gotten used to sounds but it was slow going putting sounds into patterns that were words that held meaning.
Down the hallway they walked, then paused at the door with two other genitors who were getting their babies. The door opened and those two came out followed by Tell in his gear. He smiled at the two, then reached for Springer.
"Hey, bub," Springer said softly. "How are you doing?"
"He's tuned to sound now. He's now able to regulate sound like kids his age can. Sharp and sudden will be a problem as it is with all of us but the level of sound he's listening to will adjust itself like its supposed to," his teacher, Mr. Mango said.
"That's good to know," Drift said. "He couldn't do that before. I forgot that's part of the process. He's the first baby we've been around full time."
"It's a learning process," Mango said. "Tomorrow, same time, same place."
"Thanks," Springer said.
They began to walk down the corridor to the elevator when Drift received a call. He glanced at Springer. "We have a call at a cafe in Pax."
Springer nodded, then they hurried along after sliding Tell into Drift's hold.
=0=Earth2
Cindy Tomas walked to the office after a light lunch with clients who were staying over a couple of extra days. They were friends from way back and she wanted to give them a chance to see the place in full bloom outside of a group convention setting. The topic of the Panama Papers had come up but she didn't say much. Whether she would be a witness yet wasn't clear.
Entering the administrative hub, she walked to the office that was once Owen's. She paused at the door. "Mr. Polaski. Can I help you?" she asked.
Martin Polaski aka Silas Bishop grinned. "I have the security training schedules and needed your sign off. The N.E.S.T. protocols require it when we go out of habitat to train. We're going to use the trails that Rick Harris uses for his clients with the hope that N.E.S.T. will take us with them at some point at their location.
"We're getting the new habitat with the 200 man garrison for the United Nations soon and we wanted to sync with them if we can," he said as he followed her inside.
They would discuss the program, then she would sign off. Martin Polaski would train with N.E.S.T. along with his mercs. It would take a Primal okay and he would get it.
Optimus Prime was interested in what he was up to. That was okay with Martin.
=0=Arriving at Pax
They arrived, then transformed to walk to the doors of a really nice and well loved cafe owned by a family that liked to cook and showcase art. They peered inside and noted that a number of mechs were howling into the faces of a calm slightly amused group of Ironhide's elders. They glanced at each other, then stepped inside.
"What's happening?" Springer asked as the group turned toward the two. Drift stepped to one side.
"Well look who accidentally walked in," Ratchet said with a big grin.
"We were called by you, Ada. What's happening?" Drift asked.
"You called them?" Turbine asked with a big grin.
"No. Maybe," Ratchet said with a dazzler.
The other customers were listening and watching with amusement and interest as a group of mechs clashed verbally with another over a number of things from the past on Cybertron. Given that they weren't high caste, though most of the customers were hence the favoritism of Tempo's family, they were highly entertained over high caste fuckery which in this place now never got old.
One of them, an older appearing mech with a dazzling paint scheme turned toward Drift and Springer. "Who the frag are you two?"
Both blinked, glanced at each other, then Ratchet who smiled, then the big mech. "I'm Springer, Commandant of the Watch and this is my sub commander, Drift. Who are you?"
"Allow me," Ratchet said as he whipped out his data pad. "This is Tempo who is a big fragger whose family likes making money, publishing financial papers that no one reads and long walks in the park. He is the son of these two fraggers, Bakker and Jam-Nt. How do you pronounce that? Jam nut?"
Jam-Nt which was pronounced Jam Nut just like the jam nut glared at Ratchet. "Who are you and how dare you talk about us like this?" he asked in a fritz.
"I'm Ratchet, Mama of the God of the Hunt. You, Jam Nut are an artist of some kind. If you're not busy, my kitchen could use a new coat." Ratchet smiled his best smile.
Everyone stared at him for a moment, then Jam-Nt sputtered.
"How do you know our names and the rest?" Bakker asked suspiciously.
"I can read," Ratchet said. "You're quite famous. You were arrested a lot in fist fights back in the orn. Some of them with my in-laws here."
"In-laws," Jam-Nt spit out. "I'm not surprised."
"What does THAT mean?" Ironhide said as he tried to step around Ratchet to smash things.
Ratchet shifted his big aft in the way trapping him.
"MOVE YOUR AFT, RATCHET!"
"Not yet," Ratchet said. "I'm not finished."
Hardie who was standing beside a bemused Delphi with his arms crossed over his chassis smirked at Ratchet. "Do continue."
"Okay," Ratchet said. He made a flourish of consulting his data pad. "This pair have six dynastic bonds. I would love to study you. I'm trying to ascertain the effect of inbreeding in the upper castes of Golden Age Cybertron." He smiled, then continued.
By now everyone in the room silenced to listen to the mad man read more great shit. Even Prime was watching with fascination.
"Bakker is a lawyer and he worked on stealing businesses from their rightful owners to give them to the parasite class for fat commissions and a piece of the action," Ratchet said.
"NOW HOLD ON!" Bakker said as he stiffened with offense.
"Your genitors," Ratchet said. "Are they these old folks here? Your genitors, Bakker, are slum lords and your genitors, Jam Nut, are distressed property thieves. You buy up apartments and other buildings in foreclosure and sell them at a profit. You were both rich as frag. You son was a perpetual student. Did you ever graduate or did you just frag around until The Fall?"
Tempo stared at Ratchet with something akin to hatred. "Frag you, slagger. I want to know how you found this information."
"I don't," Drift said as he shrugged. "What about you?" he asked Springer.
"Not really," Springer said with a shrug of his own.
It was silent a moment, then Tempo rounded on Raptor. "You."
"Yes, me. ME! ME! ME! All fragging orn long. Long time since I last tied a can of whoop ass onto your back side, Tempo. Or shall I say Tem-poo?" Raptor asked with a big grin. "How the frag did you get here? Any of you slaggers."
"NONE OF YOUR FRAGGING BUSINESS!" Tempo said as he leaned in toward Raptor.
"Are you going to kiss him or hit him?" Ratchet asked as he pulled out his camera. "I'm asking for a friend," he said as he snapped a few snaps before subbing his camera.
Huge laughter greeted that.
"What's the word on their employment? Everyone has to work if they can unless they have circumstances or a good alternative," Turbine asked.
Ratchet consulted his data pad. "Well, Bakker is working on a legal newsletter with a number of other former high tones. I'm assuming that you, Jam, are painting again. Enter the next juried show. I'd love to see you compete against my son."
"Who might that be and what does he do? Paint by numbers?" Jam-Nt said with malice.
"Actually, he's Sunstreaker, he uses whatever he wants and he's been shown all over two worlds to great acclaim," Hardie said calmly. "What about you?"
Jam-Nt glared at Hardie without saying a word.
"As for Tempoo, he doesn't have a job yet. I don't see enrollment anywhere. He's goofing off, amirite?" Ratchet asked with a smile.
"Is he?" Prime asked with morbid fascination as he held a half eaten pickle in one servo and his sammy in the other.
Everyone in the room turned toward him where he sat beside a vigilant and extremely wary Prowl.
=0=TBC 3-29-2022 4-12-2022
ESL:
impinge(d): (im-pin-j or im-pin-jd) to intrude or step in on someone or something. "He impinged on my enjoyment of dinner when he threw up on his plate." Like that. :D:D:D
jam nuts: a big hexagonal nut that can be fine or coarse thread.
