The Diego Diaries: Incident and Other Stuff (dd8 252)
=0=Out there
"Cord. You there?" Hercy asked as he lounged in his chair. Some of the kids around him were dozing and the vets were relaxing as they slowly made their way through the slurry of the nebula. It was thinning a bit which only helped marginally to know where they were.
:I'm here:
"How about coming over for a chat? You and I can talk about Helex and I can share some of the food we have with you. Its made by a chef, a good one back in the colony," Hercy said.
It was silent a moment, then the calm voice was back. :I'd take you up on the offer but that wouldn't be neighborly to my mechs. Thanks though, Appa:
Hercy grinned, then rose to walk to the stores. He pulled out a box that sealed against vacuum, then began to fill it. Into it went hot dinners, desserts of all kinds and good Praxian Black Label beer, the gold standard among discerning beer drinkers on both sides of the divide. He set the seal, then carried it to the hatch. "Cord."
:What?: a good natured voice replied.
"I'm sending over some food and good beer. Consider it a peace offering between exiles," Hercy said as he set a small directional device upon it that would fix on the shuttle nearby which had been determined to be Cord's. It would float its way after the shuttle until it ran out of power a long, long time from now.
Tapping the door, it slid open and all manner of slag poured in. Sending it out, Hercy closed the door, then returned to his seat. Wiping off dirt and ice from his chair, he sat down again and waited, smirking at the mechs in the ship who were scraping the same from themselves.
It would take a moment.
=0=Over there
The mechs listened, glancing now and again through the windows to the shuttles running nearby. They were lethal looking and fast, rather like their own and had as many guns. Maybe they also had good food.
A dark shape approached, then the pilot glanced at Cord. "I scanned it. There's food and beer inside."
Everyone perked up at that news, watching as Cord studied its approach, then opened the door to pull it in. Walking to his seat with a heavy box in arms, he set it down and ran a scan. Satisfied, he opened it to stare at the bounty inside.
Reaching in, he pulled out a box that was sealed but stated that food the kind he'd never had before was inside. It was keyed to heat up in the container and be ready to eat in seconds. Glancing down, he saw high caste desserts, then reached for a beer bottle. Turning it to read the label, he startled. "Praxian Black Label."
"That beer isn't made anymore. Its a lie," a big burly mech said.
"Hey, Hercy."
:What?:
"No one makes Black Label anymore. Praxus got flattened," Cord said as he opened the bottle and took a sip. He sighed in delight.
:The brewers got away and make it at the colony where we live. Anyone who wants to drink it or eat this kind of food all the time can. The videos should have told you that:
"Anyone can make a vid," the big mech said as he took a bottle from Cord. "Anyone can lie."
:Anyone can. We don't. Enjoy the food, boys, Tell the other ships. I'll send them a care package, too: Hercy listened but the voices ceased. It took a moment to coordinate with the other ships in the group but soon three more boxes were floated to ships who took them in. It would be silent for some time to come.
=0=Home front
It was getting on toward night as they gathered at the Stables to get their horses for patrolling. Drift and Springer were back and Tell was in his crib in their office with the night staff doting upon him. It was good to be back though the mission was still an issue for many of them.
"Swing shift reports things mostly calm but for a few bar fights and drag racing in the outer districts. We better get a handle on that. Someone's amma is going to paddle a few butts if we don't," Drift said as he rode out of the paddock on his horse.
Springer followed with a grin on his face. "It'd serve them right."
They galloped out when they cleared the road heading cross country to 'The Districts' as the Crater complexes were called. They were now seven with two more in construction. The cities had given up on the name game and had settled into a configuration that was utilitarian but suitable. District 2, City 5 was D2-5 in the short hand and Five- District Two in the long. It worked among the funny folk though the smaller habitation zones would be named after more Cybertronian cities.
D3-5 had a problem with drag racing by younglings just getting into their transformational stride, sub adults whose t-cog had grown up enough that they could have an alternate format. Most of them chose muscle cars or racing formats from both Earth and Cybertron depending on the size and maturity of their frames. Many of them also chose fabulous concept cars as well. Given that they were full of joy and bullshit, drag racing seemed the next logical step.
Also, femmes and mechs. One had to impress didn't one?
They headed into the night to take on the bottled up adolescent sex drives and all around pride dances that informed youth of all kinds in every galaxy and universe everywhere. It would be a cat and mouse game for the ages.
=0=Over there
Other ships pulled in boxes and were struck mute by their contents. It had taken down the stores of the Autobot ships but it was a good strategy. They all had means of using other kinds of ores to make energon if things ran out. All soldiers on both sides carried a small mechanical machine in their subspace that was used for this process. It was their ration device and kept them alive no matter where they were. It also could transform nearly any mineral into energon though it'd taste like crap after the colony and its fine food for any Autobot who lived there now.
The mechs dived in, eating food and drinking beer that was mystifying in design and divine in taste. The beer was a miracle and included two other famous brands besides Black Label. It was the first good thing they'd encountered since coming up against the brick wall of an energy floe.
Bardo who was big, old school and a pain in Cord's ass ate his share and sipped his beer, savoring the incredibly delicious concoction that he'd never been able to get before now. This was high caste food and drink. No one below that could afford it and most were denied even if they could. It was their ship's fare. This kind of food and drink were standard fare on ships.
Maybe.
"This is amazing, Captain," one of the three youngsters said as he finished his dessert. "I never had food like that before."
"Apparently this is standard issue on missions," Cord said pleasantly. He was filled with goodness and on his second beer. There would be enough for everyone to have two including the youngsters.
"So they say," Bardo replied. "It could be a trap."
"Maybe, but I doubt it. No one expected to be caught up like this. I believe this is the regular food on trips," Cord replied. "I wonder what else Prime's managed to make out of things back home."
No one spoke for some time.
=0=D3-5
It was congested when they arrived at the site where a number of big kids were having drag races on a wide street running the length of the colony two blocks off the main drag. They'd blocked it off for a length of the strip and were having two mechs race each other for each race. Kids were packed around the intersection where it began including several small femmes who were as excited about the racing as the mechs.
Wheels screeched, kids yelled, bemused or not adults stood on the sidewalks scowling or grinning, all was the same as it would be anywhere else in all galaxies. The flag man dropped his flag and the two cars burned out, screaming their tires and engines as they flew down the street.
Everyone watched jumping up and down as they crossed the finish line. Before they could celebrate the winner they were surrounded by Springer and the Boys. Apparently, everyone involved tonight would be a loser including the winner.
=0=Out there
:E-4:
(Silence) "Frag." (Silence) "A-2."
(Silence) :Frag:
Three youngling mechs watched as their captain, Cord played a game with the Immortal in another shuttle nearby. The game was strategy and luck. It also looked fun. They sat on either side of Cord watching him work out his plans to blow up a battleship on his handheld which displayed an electronic game that the elder had sent to him. Lights were blinking and their captain's battleship looked in danger. He had that and three cruisers left.
"How ya doin', Appa?" Cord asked with a grin.
:Just fine, infant: Hercy replied as he watched his ships go bye-bye to the great junkyard in the sky. :B-3:
Cord grinned. "Miss, slagger."
It would go on for some time.
=0=D3-5
Police wagons drove up as a crowd of kids waited to be transported. They were still expressing surprise.
"Officer," one of them said, a big good looking kid. "Why are we going to jail. We're kids."
Springer chuckled. "You're old enough to be emancipated even if you are in school still. That makes you old enough to go to jail. People are pretty tired of listening to your racing. Why aren't you organizing a club to do this at the track?"
All of them stared at Springer, then each other, then Drift who was grinning, then Springer who was smirking, then Lon and Bezel who looked surprised they hadn't done it as well, then Springer …
=0=Jailhouse
The three police vans drove up, then dispensed a clutch of infants who had already organized a drag racing club and a committee to go talk to the track authorities at Autobot City Racing to drag race legally. Until then, they were heading for the slammer.
They walked in and lined up for Moochie who was running the show. His name wasn't Moochie but Carder. Moochie was his nickname since the mechs found out he was stealing the good stuff out of their lunches and snacks from the communal fridge in the lounge.
"Hey, Mooch. Got drag racers for ya," Springer said as he lounged against the wall. Lon, Drift and Bezel joined him.
"Names, etc," Moochie said as he took a bite of someone's giant cookie.
The kids stared at each other, then Mooch. "Uh, what if we go on strike?"
The mechs in the room, all of them, stared at the kids who were brimming not only with metallic hormones but gall. Then they laughed.
"We could. Let's go on strike now. Sit down and declare your freedom!" a kid said as the others sat down almost as one. Staring up at the adults with defiance and hopefulness, they waited.
"Damned schools. What are they teaching ya?" Berlin who was a huge jailer and father of several amazing little femmes said with a huge smile on his handsome face.
One by one they'd be gently carried to the big holding cell in the protected sector of the jail to await the youth court judge in the morning. Everyone of the jailers who carted them in would give them props when they finished up and were out of the range of their hearing.
Springer, Drift, Lon and Bezel would be hot on their way with the Boys to D2-6 to bag another group of kids dragging down a side road of that fair city. The locals would applaud them when they arrived with the police vans to bag them.
It would be a hilarious night in the old town(s) for all.
=0=TBC 9-14-2021 LOVE, LOVE, LOVE YA ALL!