The Diego Diaries: Back up? Clean up! (dd8 42)
=0=The Operational Center, Fort Borderlands, Out There™
Prowl sat at the command table beside Prime working on data when the youngling Home Guardsman serving food to the deck crew brought the dinner cart by. He handed both of them their trays, then moved onward to deliver more to the crew in the center. Behind him limping along, Ratchet followed, then sat.
"Well, thank you," Ratchet said as he pulled Prowl's rather opulent and overburdened food tray toward himself.
Prowl caught it, then slid it back. "Not on your spark. What's the word out there?"
"Well, stingy, the Dinobots are a caution …"
0 Dinobots
They rampaged through this, their third battleship lighting up anyone and anything in their way. Swinging spiked tails, blowing doubledecker bus sized bales of fire everywhere, they burned their way from whatever hole they made with their bare fists to get inside through to the flight decks where the slaggers holed up there either fought back to become blackened scarecrows or gave up, throwing everything they had on board in subspace that might even be mistaken for a weapon up to and not excluding fancy pens and letter openers.
It was a master class in mayhem™.
=0=Command table
Prowl stared at Ratchet with glazed optics. "I loathe them."
"They always speak well of you," Ratchet said as he reached for a cookie from Prowl's several. A rap on the knuckles took care of that.
The kid who'd served everyone walked over to Ratchet. "I can get you dinner, Commander. I didn't know you were here or I would've included you."
From his tattoos and sweet kindly manner, it was evident that this was a youngling mech from a small religious sect that didn't fight in battles but supported whatever The People needed even if it was in the middle of a battle. They were pacifists of the finest kind. It was even so now when he came to Ratchet in his time of need.
Like dinner.
Like now.
Ratchet grinned. "Thank you, infant. I'm famished. You're a wonderful son to worry about your old ma, here."
He grinned at Ratchet, nodded his helm in good manners, then hurried off with his cart to comply.
The three watched him, then glanced at each other.
"Now, Prowl … that's a good example of a good example. You on the other hand are a good example of a bad example. Give me a cookie, slagger," Ratchet said with a beautiful smile that hid intense battle lust and hunger.
Prowl slid his arms around his food, then smirked. "Never."
"Here, Ratchet. I appear to have several," Optimus said as he held out a large cookie covered in the good stuff. He looked like a little mech doing it.
Both Ratchet and Prowl had an internal awww moment, then Ratchet grinned. "Thanks, Optimus. I would but Granny here would get a kink in his tailpipe and I don't want to ever have to unscrew his aft to fix it."
Optimus grinned, then ate the cookie. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Ratchet said.
Prowl who was sitting back with a smirk considered the two. Slaggers, both of them. "What else, Loon?"
"Well," Ratchet said. "The fighting on the ships was pretty intense for a while. The Wreckers put their rather nice shoulders to the wheel." …
oWreckers
"What now?"
"We go in, slap the slag out of them, then call for clean up."
Drift grinned at Springer. "That's my line."
"Ha," Springer said with a grin.
"Get a room."
Both stared back at the motley crew of big and not as big smirking mechs with big and bigger guns standing behind them waiting for The Word™.
Springer grinned at Drift. "Jealous, much?"
A big mech shouldered his way between them, peered around the corner, then looked back at the two with a grin. "Yeah. That's us. Jealous. CHARGE!" Then he ran forward with guns blazing.
Everyone of the mechs with them followed.
Springer watched them rush ahead and disappear into a volley of gunfire. He glanced around the corner to see the group finish off resistance, then leaned back against the bulkhead. "I'm the leader here. Its my job to say charge."
Drift who wanted to laugh loudly at this, one of the funnier games he played with Springer who half the time wasn't playing grinned at his bond. "Say it and I'll follow you."
Springer grinned at the soul of his existence and wondered once again how he got so lucky. "Charge," he whispered with smokey optics and a slightly intense gaze.
Drift who felt the sparklies go down his central strut grinned. "Okay," he whispered back.
"You two. Seriously," the big mech said as he appeared again dragging a moaning Decepticon behind him by the leg.
All of the rest walked past in the same condition and soon the lot was out of sight leaving streaks of energon on the floor to tell the universe that they'd been there. It was quiet a moment, then Springer glanced into the flight deck. It was empty, though well perforated with holes. He leaned back, then glanced at Drift. "Slag," he said quietly.
"Charge?" Drift suggested.
Springer grinned. "If you say so, Hoss," he said then the both of them followed the others down the corridor. One more ship had been taken.
=0=Command table et al
"Well, those two. They should get a room then," Prowl said rather primly.
"I told them to not bother but to use your desk instead," Ratchet replied with a brilliant smile.
Prime nearly choked from laughing.
/ … slaggers .../ Prowl who was smirking at Ratchet.
/ … heh-heh-heh … you think I'm kidding .../ Ratchet who was smirking at Prowl.
Moments later …
"Thank you, infant. Give my compliments to your genitors. They raised a very fine young mech in you," Ratchet said as his opulent tray was laid down in front of him.
"Thank you, Commander," the youngster said with pleasure. He glanced at the three of them. "Is there anything more I can do for you?"
"We are just fine. Thank you. Its mechs and femmes like you that make it possible to do what we do. Thank you," Optimus said.
The youngster beamed with joy, bowed, then turned to go with a light step.
They watched him go, then Ratchet grinned at Prime. "Well played, maestro.".
"Of course. He's Optimus 'Slagging' Prime," Prowl said in a near whisper.
"Speak louder, Prowler. I'm recording our conversation for your ada and ammas," Ratchet replied as he lined up his stuff to eat.
Prowl smirked at him. / … slagger .../
Ratchet smirked back. / … you think I'm kidding .../
Prime ate his food content with his company.
=0=At the prison on Mars
Gee-Gee watched her teams work with a precision that would be rewarded by her. She drilled and worked to refine things to a veritable 'T' as they said in some places. Wherever that was. Earth, she thought.
Winnie was nearby directing security. It was tight as a drum and everything was going well. Then a number of mechs in the holding pen began to fight. She walked toward Gee-Gee. "What do you think? Trick or real?"
Gee-Gee considered the possibilities, then with Winnie walked toward that part of the pen. Standing near the bars as she watched them, she pulled a Cybertronian style bull horn from subspace. It fit into the palm of her servo. "You three. You can stop now. Either stop or I'll order you shot. I'd move away from them if you don't want peppered."
Around the three mechs stepped away. They moved back as best they could. The three fighting were left alone in the middle.
"You can stop at the count of three or I'm going to have my sharpshooters in the towers hit you with null rays. Three of them. I'm counting on them crossing targets. So if you want to get hit three times by null rays, keep fighting. Three …"
All three stopped immediately. They'd be placed in ad-seg as they were processed. No one else would try this tactic again.
=0=Medical Tower, Autobot City, Mars
The place was jumping with slaggers brought in to be fixed, processed, recover and go to jail. The staff was being overseen by schedule rotation by none other than Knockout. He was standing in the emergency entrance slotting this and that slagger to this and that place. Somewhere in the fighting, Breakdown was doing field triage and directing all field medicine as per his job. It was rather intoxicating though he'd cut his digits off before he'd ever say that the two of them were thus placed in the hierarchy of things.
"What about this one?" someone asked as they carted a stretcher to the doorway.
Knockout glanced down, then grinned. "Fancy meeting you here. How about putting him into the guillotine?"
The mech tried to rise from the stretcher but restraints kept him down. His cursing toward Knockout all the way inside was not restrained at all.
"Hmm. Maybe the wood chipper then," he said with an evil smirk. He would continue his job with a big grin on his face. Sometimes life gave you everything you could ever hope for.
=0=Out there part deux
Ratchet sat on a cowling as the battle shuttle roared to one of the last unconquered ships. There was a hostage situation going on and as the Prime's Negotiator in all things that needed a line of slag, he was going to have to talk a couple of Decepticons out of shooting a number of kids and elders from a civilian family related somehow to a soldier or two already taken to the prison on Mars. They were on standby there to bring them back. Apparently, there was some beef here that had to be resolved before the two hostage takers ended up in jail forever.
Or dead.
Sliding off as the shuttle slowed, he flew with momentum onto the deck and into the clutches of several big Wreckers. Sun and Jack were leading them. He smiled like a big flirt. "Oh, boys. That was nice."
Everyone laughed loudly, then Jack explained the situation. Heading out swiftly, they ran to the forward lounge where a number of individuals were locked in.
Ratchet considered the situation, then linked in. "Hi. This is Ratchet of Iacon. I'm here to help you get off this bucket in one piece without anyone getting hurt. Especially me."
There was no response.
"That was a joke." Ratchet listened.
Nothing.
"Who's in charge?"
There was no sound, then a voice spoke over the intercom. "I want a ship and an unblocked retreat out of here."
"Okay," Ratchet said as the mechs glanced at him with surprise. That is, all of them but Jack and Sun.
There was a pause, then the voice was back. "I mean what I say."
"Okay," Ratchet replied.
There was silence then the voice was back. "If I give you something, you're going to let me go? The two of us?"
"Sure. Why not? We have a lot of you now and letting two go means its safer back home without you. Besides, its a long way to anywhere that's safe. You can't go back can you? If we let you go on a ship, a runabout ship that can go distances, then that's on you. I'll tell you if you hurt anyone with you all bets are off. Understand?"
It was silent for a long time.
=0=Command Center Op Sit
"Ratchet has a hostage situation."
Optimus glanced from the command chair. "What are the details if any."
"They want a ship and free passage or the hostages get killed," Prowl replied grimly.
Optimus considered that. "What sort of hostages."
Prowl consulted the message. "Kids, elders, bonds. Some of the family of a couple of the prisoners."
"Slag," Prime replied softly. "Does he need me to intervene?"
"Not yet," Prowl replied grimly.
It would be a silent wait here, too.
=0=TBC 12-16-2020