The Diego Diaries: Incident: Stuck (dd8 248)
=0=Out there
They floated through the sector not very far apart from each other. At the moment they had a standing truce that was unspoken. The other, Cord, seemed to be smarter and more 'humane' than the average Decepticon. He was from Helex and had a slight sense of humor. That made him different from about 99% of the Decepticons most of them knew.
Most 'Cons fell into a very few categories. There were the true believers, those that followed Megatron because what he'd said was his manifesto was 'holy writ'. Then there were those who just wanted to break things. Most of those were in the bloodier units though all of them were hard fighters and many vicious. The last group was a larger mix, smarter or not, not as mean usually with many looking for a job, food and a place to recharge. Those were the 'regulars or regs' as most of the Autobots called them. Those could be reasoned with sometimes and many were the Autobots who combined with these kind when the circumstances required it.
This guy?
Who knew? He was enough of a Decepticon to be a leader of a battle group but smart like a mid caste who had an education, such as they were allowed, and decided to go with the flashier group. Sometimes they wanted adventure. Sometimes they were rage-filled enough to want revenge. Either way, they were interesting and even worse, wholly unpredictable.
"What do you think, Hercy? What's the word on this guy? Did you notice anything about him that gives a clue?" a tough soldier named Several asked. Apparently, there were several kids in his family and he was the last to be named.
"I recognize his accent. He lived down near the river, the one that was near the preserve. That much is clear. He seems smarter than most, likely to have some education and I'd say was a reliable hand to the boss man," Hercy replied. "He didn't give me slag when I said I was an Immortal so that might carry some weight with him. He could have possibilities, this one."
"Do you think you can influence him?" Barrow asked. He was a gunnery sergeant and a friendly fatherly type of guy to the newbies.
"I believe in hope, infant," Hercy said as he mused on the big mech in the ships nearby. "I'd like to think that being away from the mess as long as they were would make them amenable to change. Its a long time to be away from home."
"When do you think we can come and go from Cybertron, Appa?" a youngster asked, one named Dozer who was built like one. He had the usual 'big guy' personality, sweet, calm and decent. He was 'one to watch' as the older mechs would say, someone with 'possibles'.
"I'm not sure, infant," Hercy replied. "Its still in progress and even if there's less horribleness and more of our people getting good housing and jobs, there's still a lot to do."
They would chat away together in the fading glow of the nebula and its raging dirt storms all around them.
=0=Nearby
He sat in the engineer's seat of his shuttle considering the ships nearby. They were formidable rigs and filled with soldiers who were working the 'light side' of things as he considered it. He had no illusions about the 'Cons. That had passed away in the decimations and losses of bad leadership long ago. Now they were a unit looking for a new life and he felt better about things than he had in a long time. He could protect his mechs like the 'good sergeant' that he was.
The Decepticons were even more informal in their relationships with their fellows than Autobots but in a different way. While the Autobots maintained a formal structure of ranks and responsibilities while allowing informality to a degree that always amazed human soldiers, the Decepticons usually only held to formality when it was required.
The mechs around him were his friends of long standing, a band of brothers that he would die for. They would do the same for him. Not all 'Cons felt the same way but those isolated far from the Center would know and understand how he felt. These mechs were his responsibility and he would do what it took to fulfill his role as their commander.
When the 'wheels' were around, the formality of rank and its privileges were evident and deliberately cultivated but when they weren't it was as any big family. The 'fathers' took care of the youngers and elders. Everyone did their part. You learned and you kept your part up to snuff. After that, you were off the hook. As long as you knew your place, followed the few rules that the group cultivated and didn't act like a fragger, you could be who you were.
Of course, if the big wheels showed up, then all bets were off. It only took two decimations and the loss of beloved brothers to get the group in motion to leave. They were led by phase sixers and that posed its own problems but they were a tight unit and mechs like him, smart and decent kept the groups together safely and well.
This battle group was not like the others.
He glanced at the mechs sitting in the mid section of the big fast ship that he commanded, one of five and considered them. A mix of veteran and those lesser experienced, he thought about their fate at the moment. He also thought about the intel he'd gathered on the several flybys that had been undertaken.
Prime had done well, better than well. The colony on that desert planet had been shocking. That was probably too small a word for what he felt when he saw it. It was a massive urban complex with massive industrial effort. There were literally millions and millions of their people there and among the gleaming buildings were familiar ones.
He'd seen the Basilica and the Temple. He checked the intel himself when the computer had processed it and lined up the landmarks with their identifications confirmed. There were so many that he marveled. Shrines, the Temple, the Basilica … cities with so many towers it was almost impossible for him to believe in the truth of it … he was going to have a time getting this to Paladin and having him believe it. The images would be a good thing.
The other world was organic and filled with them. It was less interesting but the bots had a base there and it was important to them. Perhaps it would be a wedge issue for them when they came this way. He would be interested to see what Paladin and his coterie had to say about it.
He relaxed more, then the voice was back. Hercy the Immortal. Cord knew about him by reputation and that was an astounding list of accomplishments, deeds of valor and stories that might or not be true. That a fellow Helex citizen, this one himself, was in the other ship was as interesting to him as anything lately. He missed his home town when he thought about it, which wasn't often and the life he had once upon a time.
:You there, Cord?:
Cord almost grinned. "I am. That you, Hercy?"
:It is. Did you used to live by the river?: the calm voice of the notable elder asked.
"You heard it in my voice did you?" Cord asked. Images of a beautiful energon river winding through a classic old city filled with balconies of wrought iron and narrow winding streets came unbidden.
:I did. I lived near the refinery. You had some privileges I do believe:
Cord considered that. "I suppose it seemed like it. I wasn't hurting as much as some."
:Mid caste?:
Cord thought a moment, then nodded. "I was. I suppose that Prime outlawed that slag given it appears he won and all. Did he?"
:If taking Cybertron without a shot and holding it while building colonies all over the frag and gone is winning, then yes. He did win. By the way, we recovered Caminus just so you know. Any Caminoans on board?:
Cord glanced around. No one nodded and most shrugged. "It doesn't appear so. I doubt any of them would be in the ranks."
:I suppose you're right. What do you suppose happened to your group? Did a jet get them or did they just get a shimmer?:
"Your guess is as good as mine, Appa," Cord replied. "We'll know soon enough. We figure about five or six orns before the effect allows transmission. As for going back to the group … your guess is as good as mine."
:I think I agree. We're going to be here for a while unless you want to cooperate and go further into the nebula to try and find a bridging point. Prime welcomes Decepticons. We have millions living in our main colony:
"I'll think about it, Appa," Cord said with the ghost of a grin. "How did Prime take Cybertron without a shot? Other than Shockwave and Soundwave being idiots?"
It was silent a moment, then a soft chuckle could be faintly heard. :You do know that the titans give oaths to the Prime up to and including death?"
Cord nodded, dreading softly as he listened. "I do. I also know that those who didn't hide were decimated by pirates and the war."
A chuckle came over the comm. :That would be a premature conclusion. They didn't die in numbers. They hid. They come when Prime calls for them. Hundreds of them … even thousands. Game over as they say, wouldn't you agree?:
Cord considered that shocking bit of news, seeing the same feelings on the faces of his mechs. "I think you and I could agree on that, Appa," he said softly.
It would be silent for a while.
=0=Autobot City, Military Airfield
It sat on the runway, a gleaming and astonishingly beautiful yacht of some size and splendor. It'd been captured from a rich slagger who'd come to the colony to regain his foothold as a master of the universe and found out the position was filled by Optimus Prime. After a period of adjustment that included but was not limited to jail, house arrest and menial labor as part of the sentencing, the slagger and his clan found gainful employment in textiles of all things.
The ship had been his pride and joy, the surrender of it to the state a painful thing. No, that was an understatement. It was as if someone had confiscated his prong. Now it bore the seals of the Prime, Cybertron, Mars and Cybertron, the diplomatic corp and a small red cross and red crescent decal in salute to the heroes of Earth who toiled wherever anyone suffered.
Inside, the creamy white interior and incredibly expensive touches were augmented by antiques and art that showcased Cybertron and her great people. This was Ratchet's personally dedicated whip and he loved it. It was even his if he wanted to take a spin though he hadn't yet. There was literally no time.
Standing on the tarmac with Prowl and Prime, he went over the statement he'd give to the General Assembly of the United Nations in the General Assembly Room in New York City. It would be broadcast all over the world and would directly address not just the situation but the fears of those who'd been a recipient of the 'Con's flyovers when they were here.
"So just make it count," Prowl was saying with a faint grin. "The entire process for us depends upon you and what you say. Try and be sincere."
Ratchet smiled his most dazzling smile at his best alibi. "You're a real slagger, Prowler. Its your best feature."
Huge laughter greeted that.
Prime grinned. "Do your best, Ratchet. You always do."
Ratchet smirked at Prowl. "I do, don't I?" he asked, then turned to his guard. "Let's go, infants. Mama has to go save everything again."
Smirking and joking, Springer, Drift with Tell in his hold, Ironhide and Delphi followed Ratchet up the ramp to disappear inside. When they were aboard, the gleaming yacht with the peacock paint scheme of enormous metallic beauty began to taxi down to the runway where it lifted up silently and disappeared into the waning blue sky of late afternoon.
Prowl and Optimus would watch it until it was gone, then walk back to the zillion and one things they had to do. The sun would set swiftly and the lights of the cityscape would come on as light meters everywhere shifted on to do their duty to The People.
It would be a quiet night in the colony.
=0=TBC 9-8-2021
Love you all madly. Never forget that. This makes it two nights in a row that I've written this story. HUZZAH! GRANNY IS RALLYING! Hugs and enormous endless love to everyone wherever you are. Just know a dented old lady in Alaska loves you unconditionally. Always.