The Diego Diaries: Storming (dd8 493)
=0=Prime
He stepped out of a bridge to walk to the howling riot nearby, pausing beside Ratchet who was standing out of the way of incoming null rays from guard towers nearby. The noise level was incredible and the fighting fierce as the intervention teams finally poured into the cramped space.
It would be incredible to see, the chaos that ensued.
At that moment the teams inside were battling the remaining Decepticons who weren't lying on the ground stunned into silence by the streaking incoming of null rays. Around them on the ground, some of them in partial condition, most of the high castes lay.
Two of them finally saw the femme and in their enraged condition started for her before being struck down by snipers. The sound even in the thin atmosphere of Mars was incredible, then it was silent a the last Decepticon was overpowered. Three were dragged out struggling while the rest lay where they fell.
Ratchet hurried inside
+ going from body-to-body while Prime entered to stand to one side. Mechs from the teams picked up the stunned 'Cons to take them away to high security holding while medics poured in to help Ratchet. It would take a while but in the end of the 24 individuals in the pen 8 would be dead, 15 highly damaged while the femme would be the only one to walk even haltingly out of the area.
It was a slagging disaster.
For the high castes.
Prime glanced at Ratchet. "I have to go back. Please let me know what this comes down to."
Ratchet nodded, then watched as a bridge appeared in the pen. Prime stepped through and was gone. He glanced around the area noting his teams doing good work, then walked out to talk to the femme. She was sitting on a chair in the small highly fortified Control House nearby, one that managed this end of the prison. He pulled a chair to sit next to her. "Are you alright?"
She didn't look at him a moment, then did with shock evident on her face. "No."
"I can imagine," Ratchet said gently. "The 'Cons don't take well to hazing."
She looked at him. "They weren't hazing. They were discussing things."
"I heard that they were hazing the 'Cons and someone called them on it," Ratchet said. "Calling out Decepticons is a zero sum game."
She stared at the floor. "This is a nightmare. All of my friends are murdered before my optics. The others are hurt horribly. This is wrong."
"It is," Ratchet agreed. "If its wrong for you, what about me? If that happened to me, would you agree that it was wrong?"
"You want to talk politics when this happens," she said with a flash of anger.
"Everything is politics, femme," Ratchet said. "If its wrong for you, then its wrong for us but you never saw it that way. What you just had happen to you happened to us all the time. I never trusted the police my entire life. If you knew how many times that sort of thing happened to us because you made it law and they beat us without penalty you'd understand how unimpressed I am with your feelings right now."
She stared at him with surprise at his words. "That's because you're incapable of real feelings. If you were you would understand what I feel."
"Why?" Ratchet asked with real interest. He usually didn't get involved with this kind of talk from an unrepentant high caste. This was interesting to him and because they started it perhaps a bit necessary to test the mood of their group even in the midst of this.
"Why? You mean understand how I feel? You're incapable of it," she said.
"Your feelings … I'm supposed to care about yours when you don't care about mine. Interesting world view. Selfish? Check. Pathological? Likely. Typical of your kind? Bingo." He sat back to watch her.
She stared at him for a moment. "My kind?"
"Sure. Entitled without earning it. You're a legacy, right?" Ratchet asked.
"My family was wealthy but we worked for it," she said with a trace of anger.
"Doing what? Stealing other people's money? That's how most of the big fortunes were made and then they were handed to you. You didn't actually do anything to earn a damned thing in your entire life, right? You inherited it," Ratchet said. "My family created RTR Tools. You might have heard of it."
She stared at him. "Maybe I did."
"No, maybe. You know about them. Everyone did because they were true artisans. The best tools and weapons ever created, all of which were sanctioned by the Pantheon and hallowed by Solus the Maker Herself." Ratchet grinned. "I'm the 'R' in RTR."
She stared at him, then sat back apparently ready to do battle with him. "Your product was useful."
Ratchet chuckled. "Our 'product' was Pantheonic in its universal acclaim. Your caste stole our business. Galaxy Corporation stole it from us because of your rules and we never benefited from our own genius. That's how you slaggers got your money. You're really no better than the 'Cons who beat your afts. They steal, too, but they don't hide behind airs and hypocrisy. I would rather lose my business to them than you. You have no idea how awful you and your ideas are do you."
She stared at Ratchet. "Only someone of your limited capacity would compare us to them."
"Is that so? We're tracing your money, you and your sorry aft caste. We're tracing it through the mainframes and the convoluted paths that you crafted to hide it. Did you know that?" Ratchet asked. He watched her face which shifted to something akin to concern.
"I don't believe anything you say," she said defiantly.
"You should. Your name is on the list. When we figure out who you stole it from, where it went and why, then we're going to do something about it. Its called accountability and we're never going to be actually free until it happens and our people see it happen. The laws about stealing are still on the books, laws that you lot wrote. Expect to explain yourself some fine orn, thief." Ratchet stared at her noting more tells.
"Whatever you say," she said as she sat back defiantly.
"I'm glad I'm not like you. I have a family that loves me, a life of service and a good old mech that's true blue. I'm now richer myself than you ever were at your peak. Enjoy your ideas, femme. No one in the colony will support them," Ratchet said as he rose to go.
"You and your low caste family can take a trip to the Pit," she said with gathering spite.
Ratchet grinned. "I'll tell Ironhide. He's a Praxian Elite. Maybe he can come here and have you do push ups or sweep floors. You know he can do that given he's the son of Blackjack, the grandson of Raptor and the great grandson of Hard Drive of Praxus. Did I tell you that he's the nephew of Ironhide the Elder and Blackjack the Elder of Praxus? Also he's the grandson of Turbine and Delphi of Praxus? All of them are Praxian Elites. Maybe they can take turns running your entitled aft up a flag pole."
She stared at him with gathering concern, then watched as he walked off. By the time the medics finished helping with her minor repairs, she was in a cell with a number of others and telling them her story. It would be a glum and wary group of individuals biding their time together.
=0=Prime
He walked back into the ship and took his seat. Glancing at the data before him he didn't notice Prowl pause in front of him. Glancing up, he sat back. "They had a grand old time pulling the arms and legs off the high castes. Eight are dead, fifteen in very bad condition and one femme lucky to be alive thanks to our marksmen."
Prowl nodded grimly. "This is not going to play well in their community. The community of entitled losers who shame themselves everyday with their never ending demands to be first. Those guys," Prowl concluded darkly.
Prime grinned slightly. "Then you better make sure that your shining example gets plenty of air time on the IntraCom."
Prowl grinned slightly. "You give me ideas. Are you alright?"
"Not yet," Prime said.
Prowl nodded, then walked back to the table to sit and work.
Nearby in their box, the humans watched. Several were asleep taking advantage of the downtime between big slaggings to rest on the bunks that folded down from the walls. Others watched Prime and Prowl.
"That sounds like big trouble among the high caste camp," Lennox said.
"Those are the rich ones," a soldier asked.
Lennox nodded. "They made this happen by never taking their boot heels off the necks of The People."
"I remember when John Kennedy who was a president of the United States once upon a time said, 'Those who make peaceful revolution impossible make violent revolution inevitable'," Ron Witwicky said.
"I heard that. Didn't Kennedy get assassinated?" Niall Graham asked.
"He did," Ron said as they turned to look at the forward screen. Springer and his group were taking data from stone faced high castes, probably the last ship of them in the group. Next they would turn toward the Decepticons among them. That's when the real fireworks would happen. It would be a long tense night for everyone.
=0=At a sidewalk cafe on Mars just before the lunchtime rush, Terradive
"That's basically it thus far," Topix said to Barron, Venture and Calisman as they sat together around a table. "They're going to lay low until they figure things out, then they'll make their presence known."
"You have the inside then," Calisman said as he took notes. He worked as an investigative reporter for the biggest newspaper in the colony, The Autobot City Daily News and as the same for IntraCom. His latest beat was about the gangs and the murder of Tempo.
"I do. I'm going to find out as much as I can before someone makes me. Right now, no one knows who I am. I'm not using my real name," Topix said. "I'm also changing up my signature in case someone remembers it."
"Good idea. Don't get hurt please," Barron said fretfully.
Topix grinned. "I won't."
They would discuss their plans, then break for work. The world would swirl on as they did.
=0=Central Point that same early afternoon
They walked down the street servo-in-servo with Ratchet looking at things and marveling over the whole panorama around them in the colony below. It was a nice quiet afternoon even if at the hospital and care center nearby ambulances, both air and ground came with regularity.
"When you get on your peds you can design things and we'll make them. Your stuff is so beautiful, Budge. We can have a little addition to the store and Tie and Ravie can help."
"I don't want to impose, Ratch," Budge said in his retiring manner.
"YOU CAN'T! YOU'RE MY BROTHER! YOU'RE A GENIUS!" Ratchet exclaimed emotionally as he stared at his brother. "The world is better with your stuff. I love making it, Budge. The kids are wanting this for us and they have lots of room."
"What about your schooling, Ratchet?" Mystic asked.
"I can still do it. Its all possible here," Ratchet said.
"Then maybe I can do readings?" Mystic asked with a wisp of hopefulness in his voice.
"ITS REQUIRED!" Ratchet said as he embraced both of them. "I'd be so sad if you didn't, Mystie. People need help so much."
"I love this place, Ratchet," Mystie said with a smile. He hugged them both tightly. "Lets go get something good to eat. I think I feel hungry again."
"THAT'S MY MYSTIC!" Ratchet said. "Follow me. I'll show you a work and wonder. Its called an eclair." With that, the three headed onward to the bakery and a sit down on at a table and chairs to make plans and watch the 'funny folk' go by.
=0=TBC 8-7-2022
NOTES
Never underestimate the ability of some people to see everyone else as a commodity or dirt. The head of Nestle chocolate company said that water isn't a human right and that it didn't matter that humans who didn't have water die badly in only four days. He said it should be owned by corporations and sold. The man who trains these people, Kurt Schwab, (google him to learn about a real horror show) said that in the future 'everyone will own nothing and be happy'. (Except him, of course) That's what we're facing. Fortunately, there are eight billion of us and about 5,000 of them. Nothing about the high castes here which is canon by the way is out of line. Its mirrored here on Earth by humans. I personally think their time is coming. Hugs to one and all. EveryONE of you is unique, precious and NECESSARY to life on Earth. Don't believe the bullshit. I KNOW that you are the best. Love-Nana
Among the gentry class anyone who inherits a shit ton of money and has their way paved forward because of it, colleges, jobs, etc is called a legacy. Famous colleges set aside a percentage of their placements for the kids of former students if they have money and those sad sacks are called legacies.
When someone 'makes' you, they figure out who you are.
When my mom would go somewhere and sit, usually for lunch, she'd say lets go and watch the funny folk. My mom was my goddess. She was the nicest person who ever lived. My dad is the model for Ironhide and my mom, Ravel. Both of them were incredibly hilarious and fun. Hugs to all.
John Kennedy was president of the United States and represented hope and a good future when he was for most. He started NASA and the space race to the moon among other things. He said that when he was at the United Nations, I believe. I still remember everything the day he was shot dead. It seemed the death of hope to me then and now? Well, I'm always hopeful. As long as there's life, there's hope as they say.
I love you all. HUGS! I will write replies to all notes when I start the next part in a few moments. I'm trying to stay ahead of this so I don't miss a day no matter what happens. HUGS!
