The Diego Diaries: New Paradigm (dd7 16)
=0=Morning as the sun shines on the dazzling landscape of Mars
They stood in Ops Center, the big mechs and Ratchet, chatting away as they readied to go to Cybertron. Hardie was in his office nearby and they were waiting for him. Prime and Prowl were taking a conference call with the military leaders of NATO, the European Union and China on a huge split screen monitor across the way. Right now, everyone was waiting as well for the three sad sacks that were pack mules, literally, for the Generals to arrive from the brig.
Raptor had gone to fetch them and would be dropping off Rockwell with Ratchet. A bit of fussing with Ironhide had been overruled by his elders so he fumed silently and obediently.
"He's cute when he frets," Sun said as he stood with Steiner and Jack. They were going to fly out with a group of Wreckers and heavy armored heavy weapons Seekers to find out if the acid monsters were living in an area of space that was still unmapped but way the frag inside Prime's sphere of influence.
It was going to be fun.
Apparently.
Raptor walked back trailing three slaggers with apprehension in their auras and murder in their optics. He halted, then grinned at Ratchet. "What's on the agenda, Ratchet?"
"Well," he said with a dazzling smile, "I'm going to do a tour of the Medical Center, go to Diego at some point then do my private patient rounds. I think I could use a mechanism to carry the slag. That is unless you need him to carry the you-know-what with me, too?" He spread his arms and smiled like the sun. "I, RATCHET OF IACON CAN DO BOTH!"
Huge laughter greeted that as Raptor took the backpack from Rockwell and put it extremely gently on the table. "I'll just leave this here. He looked around the room. "Don't any of you bump this slagger," he said as everyone turned toward him from their stations. "I don't want anything to go wrong. Understand?"
Newbie kids from Home Guard, some soldiers who were veteran but uninitiated into THE WAY OF THE BACKPACK and others who knew and grinned nodded.
Done deal.
Raptor turned to Rockwell. "He's all yours, Ratchet. I don't envy you. But I do give you leave to punch his lights out if he frags up too much."
Rockwell shot Raptor a look of surprise, then turned to Ratchet. "You punch me, I punch you back, clown. Hard."
Raptor smiled. "Then why wait?" he asked as he swung on Rockwell's face. That worthy flew backward, hit the deck, then slid down the way.
It was still in the room, then Sun grinned. "Nice right, Ratchet. I see you still have it."
"I never lost it, Sun, but thanks. I dote on your wisdom in my joor of need," Ratchet said as he walked toward Rockwell who was getting back up.
"YOU SUCKER PUNCHED ME!" he bellowed.
"What do you expect, wimp, that I, Ratchet of Iacon would play fair? What slagging world are you living on?" Ratchet said as Rockwell swung on him. Ratchet dodged it, then moved in a circle around the big fast strong mech. "HIT ME, BABY! HIT ME!"
Rockwell tried to but Ratchet danced in and out too fast. Then he connected with Rockwell's chin again and the mech flew backward. He hit the deck and slid once more.
The mechs around the room were watching, some of them commenting to each other about Ratchet's long limbs and how they were key to his style. The newbies were big eyed with amazement that such things could happen here, especially in front of You-Know-Who™ and that no one in charge was doing much beyond watching interestedly.
Ironhide had slid Halo into his hold as he walked to stand nearer. "Nice punch. Put more power into it and put this slagger in the hospital."
"Why, Ironhide, I hadn't thought of that," Ratchet said as Rockwell stood up, faked grogginess, then charged Ratchet as he was talking to Ironhide.
"Oh frag," Prowl said as he leaned against the console nearby. The scene that was happening could be seen by all of the humans on the monitor in front of both him and Prime.
Prime was watching, then someone asked him a question about the fight going on nearby him. He grinned at the figure. "We utilize every opportunity we have to teach our youngsters the finer points of our profession. There is nothing to worry about here. We are just watching a master at work," he said as Rockwell bulldozed Ratchet into the console nearby.
Huge laughter greeted his remark and the generals joined it when Ironhide sent them the footage of the cartoon from which it came.
Ratchet on the other hand was being swung around in the grip of an enraged younger mech who actually had skills, size and enough fury to use both rather well.
"Do you need an assist, Loon?" Prowl asked as Ratchet spun past.
"Frag you, Prowl," Ratchet said as he spun away, pirouetted, skippity-hopped, then righted himself. It was a good thing because Rockwell charged him again. Bracing for it as he came, Ratchet turned and he flew past. He spun like a bullfighter, then set for the return pass tripping Rockwell who fell and clattered toward Prowl.
Rising again, blinded with fury, Rockwell moved on Ratchet who punched his face after ducking a combination of good punches. Rockwell went down and lay dazed on the floor.
Ratchet stared down at Rockwell, scanned him and found nothing too out of line for the blow. He then grinned at everyone as he slowly turned to look at all of them. "Alright, class. Any questions?"
Huge laughter met that, then Prowl stepped closer to the crew to curtail anything they might ask. He frowned at Ratchet. "We're on line here, Loon. Take your dancing outside."
"Mama's boy. Miss Priss," Ratchet said as he curtsied, waved and smiled maniacally at the monitor with the slaggers from Earth, then was dragged out into the rec room by Sun and Jack.
Rockwell was dragged and half carried there by Ironhide who gripped his leg. Pico and Carbide followed with looks of dread.
Prime turned to the monitor with Prowl, then looked at the startled and amazed expressions on the faces of the members of the conference. "Now, where were we?" Prime asked.
Sitting at Communications, a very young Home Guardsman stared at the backpack. He leaned closer to a veteran and whispered. "What's in the backpack, Lieutenant?"
Lieutenant Sero of Uraya would grin and the kid would be even more amazed at the Elites when he told him.
Being in the military was awesome.
Apparently.
=0=Moments later
Rockwell stood by the door of The Fortress with a look of grim determination on his handsome face. He didn't have the backpack but he had his assignment. He was to go with Ratchet and do whatever he ordered. It was a decree of the court and if he didn't he'd not only go to jail for the sentence and whatever extension they put on it for contempt, but he would face a hearing on shunning for it as well.
He was trapped in aspic and had no escape.
"Well, we'll go now," Sun said with a chuckle.
"Call me if this slagger frags up. I'll show him what a real one-two punch feels like," Ironhide said darkly. He glanced at Ratchet's frown, then backpedaled. "Uh, you were pulling your punches for him. Everyone could see it, right?" he asked as he stared at his elders.
"No." -his elders.
"Fraggers," Ironhide said with a slight grin.
"Well, this was fun but I gotta run. See ya, Sun," Ratchet said, then he smiled brightly. "I M a PO-8. Just so you know." He turned to Rockwell. "Come on, slagger. We have to beat feet." He then walked toward the door.
As he did, Jack gripped Rockwell's arm. "We can do this my way or the hard way. Up to you, slagger." He grinned. "How do you like the caste system now?"
Rockwell stepped past the group to follow Ratchet. The rest of the group would take the other two and go to Cybertron by bridge. If no one fragged up today they'd be allowed to see their families for two joors this evening.
It was up to them.
=0=On a street in Oz
Ratchet walked toward a building with his usual expectation. He was seeing private patients with Rockwell in tow. Rockwell wasn't speaking and didn't pretend to be of assistance when Ratchet would stop in, treat a patient, 'shoot the shit' as he called it before stepping out to go to the next one. By the time he was done it was mid morning. They were in Terra so he walked toward The Confectionaire. "Come on, slagger. Time to tank up."
Rockwell followed him, stood silently as Ratchet ordered banana splits, then took them to a table with spoons. "Sit. Eat."
Rockwell sat staring at a dish filled with deliciousness. "You expect me to eat that?"
Ratchet who was savoring a spoonful nodded. "Yep."
Rockwell begrudgingly began and even though it was AMAZING he would rather drop dead than let Ratchet know.
Ratchet who knew that because … ORION! … grinned. "Tell me about things, Rockwell. Amuse me."
"I don't have to tell you anything." Rockwell stared at him with The Look.
Ratchet made a call to Hardie.
Hardie made a call to Rockwell startling him.
Ratchet grinned. "Your caste is a two edged sword. In my life we settled slag mech to mech. We didn't hide behind fake manners or made up lists of rules. You never figured that this would ever be your own noose did you. You never expected it to end up at your door, your slagging caste and its rules."
He ate some more, then glanced at Ratchet with cold optics.
"You can say anything you want. Your opinion doesn't matter to me. I don't care what you say."
"What if I tell Hardie and Raptor that you were rude and awful, that you didn't do a slagging thing I told you to do and that the humans are pretty fragged off about it at Diego. What it matter then?" Ratchet asked.
Rockwell stared at him. "You wouldn't do that. You pretend to have ethics, remember?"
"Pretend? You think this is pretend?" Ratchet asked. "I'll tell you what's pretend. The idea that you by your birth, wealth and name are better than me or anyone else. That's pretend. Primus Himself said so and He was pretty fragged off if I remember. He thinks everyone is gold. Too bad you know more than Him. Right?"
Rockwell stared at Ratchet. "You and I had our place. It went well for Cybertron. We were the greatest empire of all time."
"It went well for you," Ratchet said. "It was shit for the rest of us. Live in a two room shack and sleep on a small couch all your life watching your family work themselves to death for nothing in return, then get back to me. You live in a bubble. Nothing penetrates it. You think you can judge and decide even now. You can't. When you look at me, see a giant red and white pin coming for you. I will never give up. Ask Lucien and Partition."
"Those slaggers are caste traitors," Rockwell said stubbornly.
"No. They're living the life. You on the other hand are in prison and bound up by whatever Hardie says. Who's the slagger now?" Ratchet asked. He sat back from an empty dish. "That was good. I can get one any time of the night and day. Its allowed. Who allowed it? The Prime and the Pantheon who is backing him up. They took Sentinel, Decimus, Halogen, the Functionalist Council and their slagging minions. Do you know who The Pantheon left behind? Everyone else. If you're so right, explain that."
Rockwell said nothing as he finished the dessert.
"You have nothing to say. It must be a slagging big surprise that Primus actually means what He says. Too bad for you. Too bad for selfishness, bigotry and the System of Exception. Funny isn't it that the Powers look at all of us and find no one is the exception. Think about that," Ratchet said as he stood. "Come on. We're going to Diego Garcia." With that, he walked to the door and the street beyond.
Behind him silent and filled with fury, Rockwell followed.
=0=TBC 6=16=19