The Diego Diaries: Moving Onward to Better Times™ or Jailhouse Rock(s) (dd8 64)
(OOPS! Misnumbered 52. Just fixed it. Thank you, Moosekababs! Leoness: The boys have been edging toward it, sort of hinting at it to me. I'm glad for them. I agree about Frazer but some characters just present themselves to become handballs for the bots. LOL! HUGS to one and all forever. -Granny)
=0=At the prison transfer
They arrived at the new prison at the first high security platform out of three. Other trains would follow on parallel tracks to stop at the parallel stations located there to unload their contents. All of the prisoners being moved were doing so in small groups given their level of threat, so it would take about three orns to make this complete.
Stepping down from the engine, Gee-Gee, Drift with Tell safely in his carry hold and Springer following walked down the platform to wait for the groups to be brought out and moved onward to their new accommodations. The sound of the train was comforting and familiar to Drift who lived under an elevated train platform near the landfill at Kaon utilizing a large metal shipment container for shelter. It wasn't much but it was home for the most informative and transformative portions of his life until he met Wing.
The doors shifted open and heavily armed mechs stepped out to take their positions along the platform to the elevators. After a moment, a line of heavily manacled and highly menacing mechs shuffled off. Leading them was Blind Spot. He glanced at the three, then slowed down. "To what do I owe the honor?" he asked with a malicious smile on his face.
Springer grinned in spite of himself. "You were too slow and too stupid. That's why."
Blind Spot stared at Springer. "Drop this slag and we'll see who's who."
"Actually, I think you're Springer, I'm Drift and you're beautiful," Drift said as he glanced at Gee-Gee who grinned back.
"Actually, I think I'm Drift. You're still beautiful," he said glancing at Gee-Gee, "but I don't know who this guy is," Springer said as he leaned against a steel post that held up the ceiling near the elevator. On it were signs of destination and conduct along with a panic button for emergencies.
Rude laughter from the other prisoners drew a frown from Blind Spot. "When do we get out of here for daytime passes, Warden?"
"When you figure out that your behavior is your worst enemy. You don't have to love us but you have to act right. We're coming up on 200,000,000 citizens of this colony and all the splendor that entails. We can't have you being an aft amidst all of that," Gee-Gee said with a grin.
"200,000,000? Really? How do I find out if anyone I know is here? Maybe family?" a big mech asked from the middle of the line.
"Well, number 457D-X551Y2-BNC12, give me your particulars and I'll check. That goes for all of you," Gee-Gee said. "We won't be withholding that information from you unless they ask us to do so when and if we find them. It also applies to databases and searches on Cybertron and the Inner Empire."
He stared at Gee-Gee, then nodded. "What do I do? Tell the Warder when he comes around?"
Gee-Gee nodded. "I'll have the Warder swing by your cell block. Tell him what you know and the best last known coordinates where they were. We can't guarantee anything but we're really good at looking and matching. We make first contact and if they agree to see you then we arrange meetings. Understand. If they feel you'll hurt them or do something they don't want, no meetings. Understood?"
The big mech nodded. "When will he come by?"
"Give it a couple of joors. He has a few things to finish with, then I'll ask him to drop by. Maybe we can get lucky together," Gee-Gee said.
He stared at her, then gave a slight nod.
"Take them in, gentlemen. We have more waiting," Gee-Gee said to the mechs standing in the elevator that just landed. The door had opened and several armed mechs were there in its wide vastness.
They stepped out and directed the prisoners to go forward which they did. They entered the elevator, then it closed to go topside to the platform where they would then be led away to their new homes.
More prisoners would step out of the train, some of them silent and others abusive or belligerent. It was amusing and swiftly curtailed as Gee-Gee's well oiled machine ran ever onward.
=0=At the house
"Prowler, pick up your little trucks."
Prowler stared upward at Ratchet, then smiled his usual sunny smile. Ratchet had a conference about him in two orns, then Hero and Sunspot. The next orn was Praxus and Orion. The last group would be the six titanic and three dread kids. It would be an endurance test, going to all of the conferences and schools. It was a policy of Optimus and Springer to allow police and military personnel to go as scheduled short of being deployed in combat. Because the following orn was Veteran's Day/New Year, the scheduling following was very flexible to handle the needs of Watch/soldier/Seeker genitors and their duties.
Thus Spake The Prowler™
And Prime and Springer, too.
Those guys.
"Ada?"
"What, Pookie?"
"You come to my school?"
"I will."
"I did pitchers for you. I drawed them myself."
Ratchet grinned, then caressed his little face. "I'll put them into the 'pitcher' album."
Prowler smiled, then hugged his teddy bear closer. "Ada?"
"What, Pookie?"
"When Halo comed to my school?"
Ratchet considered how much jujitsu he'd have to do on Ironhide to separate Halo from him for the Academy, then grinned. "Soon. Or later. Maybe. I guess."
'Pookie' smiled. "Okay."
They would spend a bit of time building Lego houses together on the kitchen table.
=0=Level 6's
They came on the trains as well, some of the more dangerous and unpredictable prisoners in the colony. These were intractable prisoners, those who made it a point of honor to be as difficult as they could. Yet even these weren't the worst.
"This never ends," Springer said as he stood beside Gee-Gee watching them come off the trains.
"I have hope. It helps me fix what I can fix and accept the rest. This new place will have better opportunities and facilities but at this level we're looking at deficient personality types and mental/moral illnesses. The number of psycho-and sociopathic personalities here would scare a stone statue," she said.
"Do any of them make you afraid? Honestly?" Springer asked.
"A handful. The rest I can take down. The mental cases in the Special Holdings make me nervous. I can feel their malevolence and there's no toe hold in them to make a starting place to help them. Some of them are in the Medical Center getting evaluated for processor surgery. I hope that which is broken can be fixed. This place is the biggest waste of time and failure any society can ever experience," she said.
"Society is lucky to have you, Gee-Gee," Springer said as a mech lunged their way.
=0=At the house
"Ada?"
"What, Hero?"
"When you come will you see my cubby?"
"I expect I will," Ratchet said as he watched her inspect the laundry, a handful of small towels used in the kitchen. Usually she did this with Ironhide but he was with the elders doing some sort of slag. He held the brightening pen that helped remove stains. She would examine every minute spot on the cloths, lay them on the floor, then point. Ratchet would then dab the pen on each one.
"I make sure its neat. I like to be able to find things," Hero said as she began to lay out the cloth. "We like our classroom neat. WE'RE GROWING LITTLE PLANTS! We have little starter reeds from the Sea of Reeds from Cybertron. MR. GARBO GOT THEM FOR US WHEN HE WENT THERE TO HELP SOME BOTANISTS WITH SOMETHING! We're growing them, then we can bring them home."
"Do these grow up to the ceiling?" Ratchet asked as he dabbed where she pointed.
"They do. We can grow more from them. WHAT IF WE HAVE A JUNGLE IN HERE!? IN OUR HOUSE!?" she asked with giant excitement.
"I don't know, Hero. Atar is hard enough to find during hide and seek now," Ratchet said with a chuckle.
She laughed, a tiny sweet sound. "Atar likes to pretend to be a lamp. PROWLER DOESN'T SEE HIM WHEN HE DOES! HE'S SO FUNNY!"
"You all are, all of you," Ratchet said with a chuckle.
The laundry would take little time to finish.
=0=At the prison
They came and came, the level fours melding into the level fives with the sixes coming around their arrival. After them would come the truly dangerous ones, those from seven to nine who were often deeply malice-filled and/or mentally impaired. They would cut out your spark with a spoon and eat it if they could. Some of them lived together in relative peace, those who were grabbed together usually, but most had individual cells and this new place was going to accommodate that even better.
A line of big mechs stepped off in intense shackling, then one of them lunged toward Springer and Gee-Gee. "SPRINGER! YOU FRAGGER! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" he said as he fell forward and landed on his face. Behind him, the domino effect happened and the type and extent of the swearing, the dialects and slang used was exhaustive and entertaining.
Gee-Gee who was watching the first mech flounder on the ground shook her helm. "I don't think he likes you, Springer."
Springer would laugh a long time.
=0=Earth2
He sat at his desk pondering the path before him. This was the day he should be at Diego facilitating the requisition ordering for the entire human habitat community minus Prima Station who had their own facilitator/expeditor. As he pondered the irritation that he wasn't managing that as well, Owen Harris appeared in the doorway. He glanced up. "Hi."
"Hi," Owen said with a slight grin. "You're supposed to be on Diego today."
"I'm grounded. Remember?" Cam replied with a grin. He knew what Owen was up to and knew that he liked to provoke the bots. He, himself didn't mind being the stick that poked them. Even if he ended up in the slammer, he knew Owen needed and wanted him here for just such a thing. Hence, his willingness to go toe-to-ped with the bots.
"So?" Harris replied. He grinned, then walked onward.
Cameron Frazer, only son of a French diplomat and his American wife considered the permission that had been granted. Owen wanted to provoke Ratchet. He, himself didn't feel that his status here would be challenged by expulsion. He considered the possibilities of being grabbed by the bots and stuffed into a hold or a jail. Neither of them scared him the least bit. Owen would run interference for him, Ratchet wouldn't probably expel him because he was certain Ratchet was aware of the game as well.
Cameron Frazer, the son of some people rose, grabbed his briefcase and computer case, then walked to the door with a smirk on his face. It would be a short jump from the approved bridge at the Port for humans to use with authorization to the shuttle bridge at Diego. He would make it after a short trip on the Metro as an approved human rider.
He would do so with malice aforethought.
=0=Catch up
It would be going onward toward evening when prisoner number 457D-X551Y2-BNC12 would find out from the Warder that, indeed, he had family here on world. It wouldn't be clear at the moment how that would affect the trajectory of his life but it was a small bright spot on a horizontal life shrouded in the bleak darkness of war, ultra violence, separation, unending rage, privation and loneliness.
=0=TBC 01-13-2021
So …
My darlings, in these unpredictable times, remember that in the end love wins. It may not seem like it now. It may seem that nothing will ever change but the only thing that never changes is change itself. Nothing going on now is going to win in the long run because negativity burns itself out in the end. I just want you to know that I'm old, I've seen most of it all and I know this. Just keep going, love whoever you can and remember how much I love you myself. We will get through all of this because in the end, they don't love and we do. HUGS to all wherever in this world you live.
Yes. I am wired to believe in the good. That's why I do this for you. All of you are good. Remember, as they say … God/Prime Source/Allah/The Big Guy don't make junk. Remember that always.
ESL
intractable: (in-track-tubl) stubborn, obstinate, hard to control or predict, unwilling to budge an inch (Sorta like me) :D:D:D
slammer: slang for jail
expulsion: (ex-pull-shun) getting kicked out