The Diego Diaries: Home (dd8 444)

=0=In a line at the Port

They stood in their line unconsciously huddling together. Porto and Sandman waited in awestruck silence as they slowly moved forward toward the door of the building where they would be processed, take their oath of citizenship and then move forward into their new life. They weren't related. They'd come together in their youth and the terror of being conscripted into the Decepticons. They were 'nice kids' and the other adult 'Cons, most of them understood that, taking them into hand to protect them.

Walking along with them after tagging them as kids, Payload himself was mentoring them. He liked to mentor nice kids, try to find family and get them into a school or trade that would take care of them. He had a good dozen that still called him Appa and came to his home for advice, company and the holidays. It was the most intensely satisfying thing he did besides taking care of his family.

Sandman glanced at him. "Appa? Do you think our families are here?"

Payload had heard the tale of their conscription, one he'd seen zillions of times before but whose misery never touched him then. It did now. Deeply. He glanced at the kids. "I'm going to put in the search myself when we get you kids through this. Then we're going to find out. Keep the faith, infants. If not today, then tomorrow. I mentor 13 kids and 11 of them have family here now. I'm good at hunting down such things."

Porto who was the youngest slipped his servo into Payload's. "I hope so, Appa. I miss them so much."

Sandman nodded in silent misery.

It was a heavy moment or two as they inched toward the door and when they finished Payload would take them both home with him to live even though they had a nice little apartment in the Decepticon Transitional Tower in City 6, District 5.

Payload wouldn't quit until he found families, both of which would come shortly through the bridges from Omega Base. Until then, the sweet kids would go to school and live with him.

=0=Prime

He sat on the command chair of his ship getting the data from his senior staff. Things were going well. The Decepticons were doing a great job of following directions, agreeing to this and that as well as going to their new homes. The locale was so overwhelming and their amazement that they could live this good in such a place had moved even the rowdiest slagger into stunned silent compliance. This wasn't what they expected and he hoped it would do something to make real change in all of them.

"We have half of them processed though to Mars, Optimus," Prowl said quietly as he paused beside the chair. "If you want to go back we can handle it."

Prime glanced up. "Do you need to stay here?"

"Just until the final numbers, a joor or so," Prowl said.

"Very well," Prime said as he rose to leave. "I will go back with Gamma."

"I'll inform them. Corsair and Tennyson will be here a while. I let the others go back to Cybertron and Mars. The shuttles can keep good order. I'd like to release the Seekers as well. There's a lot of families in this group for some of them."

"I would like that very much," Prime said. He squeezed Prowl's arm, then began to walk to the elevators. He paused halfway there to turn to the crew. "I am very proud of your efforts tonight. Thank you for what you do," he said, then continued onward.

Hard Drive who was standing by the command table grinned at him as he disappeared into the elevator. "No problem, I assure you."

=0=Corsair

Ratchet walked along the corridor scanning Decepticons who were waiting in line for treatment. There were a goodly number that required repairs and other treatments so they were sent here filling more than a few corridors to wait for treatment. The looks on their faces told him the story. For most of them, this was the first medical they'd ever had in the 'Cons.

"Hey."

He paused his journey, then turned to see a small femme staring at him with anxiety. "What can I do for you?"

She glanced around, then removed a bundle from her carry hold. "Can you see to him?"

Behind her a big hulking mech watched with anxious optics. She was tense as she handed the bundle to Ratchet.

Ratchet scanned it, then glanced at them. "Let's find a place so I can look at him." He glanced at the line. "Anymore kids? They have priority here."

Three other pairs of mechs stepped out to follow Ratchet to the elevator where they went up to an infant emergency room. By the time they got there four more couples and their babies joined him.

=0=Prowl

He mulled the idea of children and how hard it must have been to conceal them until he found that the individuals affected had come from DC and Rattler's bases. He vented a sigh. "Eight more for me," he said with only slightly mollified humor. Nothing was worse for any of them than suffering children.

He gathered his information, congratulated the team, then walked for the elevator for home. He would step out at the Port just like Prime had and spend a few joors with him checking out the newcomers to ensure that everyone had everything they needed.

=0=Ratchet

He stared at the baby who lay on the med berth staring back at him with curiosity. He grinned as he gently handled it, a tiny mech with the sweetest aura. "Aren't you adorable," he said.

"He's a good baby. Is he alright? We didn't have much medical out here and no one was supposed to have families let alone babies. When Galvatron was there it was terrifying," the little femme said as all the adults nodded with remembered horror.

"Well, frag him. We have a gun with his name carved onto it. We just have to find him," Ratchet said. He glanced at the solemn group. "He's far far away with Megatron. We don't expect them back any time soon." It would be amazing to Ratchet the relief that remark made in the others. "In the meantime, this baby is in good shape. What a remarkable protoform. What about the others? Are they this good?"

A big mech nodded. "I made them before the war. I was the medic for all five bases on the sly and I made them when someone sparked. I'd be dead if they knew that."

"Well, frag them again," Ratchet said. "Do you still want to make them?"

He nodded. "Its my calling. I like helping babies get what they need."

"This is exceptional work. I'll let Wheeljack know," Ratchet said.

"Wheeljack? Is he here?" the mech said with surprise.

"He and Perceptor run the science show here," Ratchet said.

"I love 'Jack. We grew up together. My family and his," he said. "We lived near each other and we liked science."

"I'll call 'Jack," Ratchet said as he sent a message. "He can get you started."

"Just like that," another mech said as his bond handed over their baby.

"That's how we roll," Ratchet said. "No System of Exception, you get to vote in elections, you can even run for office. Choose what the frag you want to do or learn the new thing you always wanted. Its all open to you and limited by your own desire, nothing more." He glanced at them. "When these little beans are old enough they go to school. Its mandatory."

They took a moment to mull that over then the questions began to flow. It would take nearly two joors to answer them all.

=0=Mars

They walked into the house, pausing nervously by the door. Lights came on and it was remarkable to Payload the surprise on the faces of the kids. They looked at him.

"Appa, this is a really nice place. Why are we here?" Sandman asked.

"This is where I live. You get to have places like this to live because Prime says so. No more caste slag," Payload said as someone walked out of the corridor toward them. He turned toward that mech. "Caro, we have a couple of little kids who don't have anyone yet. I thought they could stay with us until their families come."

Caro looked at them, then grinned. "I think that would be wonderful, Payload. What a great idea." Caro walked to the kids, then hugged them. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

They stared at Caro, then Payload.

"I think so," Porto said hesitantly. He still held Caro like the scared little kid he was.

"Then Payload will show you around and get you settled in while I make something for you to eat."

Payload grinned. "Come on. I'll show you around," he said. He then led them through the big apartment they'd switched to when they had their second son. He showed them the extra berth room where they'd sleep, the wash rack where they could get a shower after dinner, the two rooms where their infants were sleeping and the rest of the apartment. They stood by the windows staring out at the cityscape twinkling before them as far as the optic could see.

"Appa, this is so beautiful," Sandman said.

Porto nodded. "When our families come can we live like this, too?"

Payload grinned. "Its required."

Caro who was watching them, admiring his bond with intensity as he did, walked toward them. "I have food ready, infants. I hope you know you're welcome here as long as you need to be. I know your families are coming here or are already present because families would do that to find their kids."

Porto glanced at him. "I hope so. I miss them so much."

"We know. My mech, Payload will help you and I will, too. We're going to be so busy you'll feel better. That way when they come its only going to be happy then, not sad."

Porto walked to Caro and embraced him. "I hope so," he whispered.

=0=Port

They watched as the lines crawled forward. The system which had been perfected over a period of years could clear the decks faster than ever before and help the refugees into homes almost without effort being expended. They employed official greeters now, employees of the Bureau of Refugees who were trained to help refugees assimilate into their new life. Anyone who helped someone was on call to them through their job. For most who did this given all the other choices available, this was almost a calling.

Medics circulated, processor health screeners, the front line who would seek out those in need stood around the area studying the newcomers for the tell tale signs. Three priests who worked in shifts walked among the returnees comforting them and answering questions. A lot of this group would be Guiding Hand with a few Functionalists. Proper referrals would be given to them to hook up again with their fellows and check out the Monastery when they could.

All would with gratitude.

Children who were tired, excited or silent dotted the landscape as their families trudged wearily forward. Handed good energon in liquid form by medics, they sipped it with surprised delight, peppering the locals with questions.

Administrators for several different departments circulated to seek information and give more to the refugees. Who needed school? Who needed hooked up with old professions? Who needed information on new ones? Questions were asked and answered as they waited in line.

Prime and Prowl stood back out of view. It was heartening to watch them as they were brought back into the fold. All of the effort and the sparring with dangerous mechs paid off at moments like this. Both of them always came to take the measure of their newest citizens.

"This group looks really good," Prowl said. "I wonder how many more there are out there that could use a nudge to come over from their bases?"

"Probably fewer than we think," Prime replied. "It heartens me."

Prowl nodded. "Me, too. Ratchet just commed me. There are 23 children among the 'Cons. Apparently there was a very good protoform maker among them who came to need among the five bases. None of the children are anything but in great shape. He's going to hook up with Wheeljack. It would seem that the two were great friends growing up."

"A war of brothers," Optimus said with a weary sigh. "We are brothers, all of us. We must remember our unity. The danger comes to all societies when they look at their brother and see the enemy. What a person thinks or does pales against our unity. Nothing anyone thinks or believes makes them less than my brother or sister."

Prowl nodded. "I think we're going to do well with this group. Do you want to see the leadership before we go home?"

Prime nodded. "I think we should."

They would both slip away and head by train override to the prison fifty miles away from The City.

=0=TBC 5-28-2022

ESL

on the sly: to do something on the sly is to do it without anyone finding out, stealthily, to be sneaky.