Chapter 140
=0=Heading out
The day of departure was upon them again as Ratchet walked out with his guards toward Silverbolt. He was shiny, beautiful, white and red with a gray chevron. It didn't take long to make the repairs and he decided to keep his scheme for a while because Ironhide liked it. As for the committee, he didn't care what they thought and if they did, he'd just say he was a doctor and he wanted a change of scheme. Of course, as an ally and friend, William Lennox told him some other possibilities were 'Fuck off', 'Fuck you' and 'Shove it' but Prime frowned and so they were off the table.
Too bad, so sad he thought as he wandered along.
He walked to Silverbolt holding Orion and when he got there he hugged and kissed him repeatedly, handing him back to Ironhide, then hugged and kissed Ironhide repeatedly. They stood to one side going over the link they intended to share, then Ratchet followed the others up the ramp to the plane. Watching the two outside before they disappeared with the closing of the door, Ratchet moved along and sat down to relax as best he could against the bulkhead. Down the jet body was William Lennox already lost in a novel on his Kindle. He grinned and considered the brouhaha when the panel saw him there.
His security team consisted of standby mainstays like Jazz, Bumblebee, Prowl and Mirage. Springer was also there as per the request of Prime, flying in from Mars overnight. They would be going to the same venue, the Walter E. Washington Convention Center and the panel would be held there. They asked to have General Morshower and Major William Lennox attend but Weaver who was using his committee chairman's power denied their request.
Prime asked them anyway and they agreed to come and sit in the audience, ready to step forward if necessary. The team would be linked with Prime and Prowl would be his aide. All in all, they felt confident. They were aware that they'd be going into a hostile situation but when weren't they? They settled in and waited as the journey to Washington, D. C. flew past in the hold of Silverbolt.
-0-Washington, D. C.
They drove from the airport guided by police escort and when they reached the convention center they entered the same gate to go inside. Outside as before, every sort of group was waiting for them. There was pro and con, odd ball and professional and even though the weather had kept the numbers down, the people that were there made up for it in volume.
The media was also there in droves and their breathless prose filled the airways. Ratchet listened to some, then turned it off, preferring to banter with everyone including Ironhide. They arrived at last, drove to the venue and went around back to the parking lot secured for them. The trip inside the building was snug as ever but uneventful and as he drove to the panel to park where he usually did the others came in and took up their stations.
A yellow Camaro concept car, late model and driver-less led the way in and took up the angle facing to the right of the panel. Jazz was next, a silver Porsche 911 and he drove to secure the angle of the room facing the back wall. The next vehicle was Prowl as his late model Camaro C5 Z06 Police Cruiser. He rolled to park alongside of Ratchet and the last car inside the room was Mirage, a blue and white Ligier vintage Formula 1 racer. He parked to face the left side of the room. Springer, a yellow and green GMC Topkick twin stack pickup truck paused in the doorway and took up station with a view of the entire room.
Ratchet waited, letting the crowd inside and the audience at home study and view them. He watched the panel, the majority of whom were friends of the Autobots and the four who were not led by Beau Weaver. Senator Hoxley, a fast friend was there but she was minority ranking member losing her chairmanship to Weaver in the last election. Yes, Ratchet thought. Elections do have consequences.
All were watching and the room was pretty quiet. Then Ratchet began to transform. The silence was only broken by the sounds of the transformation and when Ratchet stood before them he was a remarkable awe inspiring sight. Over twenty feet tall and weighing (depending on the load) almost seven tons at maximum, he was white in body, red in accent and on his forehead was a dashing dark gray chevron.
The committee stared at him, then Weaver leaned forward. "We were expecting Ambassador Ratchet."
"I am Ambassador Ratchet."
Weaver regarded him, the silent room regarded him, then Weaver spoke again. "You're supposed to be a sort of yellowish-green with black."
"Not today," Ratchet said smiling brightly. He moved to stand before the bench where he would sit then turned slightly to look at the police cruiser. "I would like my assistant to join me."
Then he did.
The police car began to transform and when it was over an Autobot individual and type they'd never seen in person stood before them. Nearly twenty feet tall, a long lean configuration built for speed, Prowl was beautiful. He shown in the lighting, his black and white scheme stark and dramatic. He turned to face them with an impassive expression on his handsome face, his red chevron brilliantly colorful in an otherwise elegant and muted paint scheme. His mech wings were erect and anyone who could read wing language would know that he was alert and wary.
"This is Prowl, Second-In-Command of the Autobot Armed Forces and sub commander to our leader, Optimus Prime."
Weaver appeared to be consulting a thick notebook turning pages until he found one. Then he paused as if reading before looking up. "We were not told that you would be bringing others with you."
"That's not correct, Senator. You refused to allow us to bring along others to assist us in our presentation and answer session. We, however, brought others with us. I reserve the right to call on the expertise of General Glenn Morshower, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff who you denied permission to attend. Also, Major William Lennox, field commander of the N.E.S.T. Forces that we work with for operations should be here. Both of them were here for the last hearing but you denied their request and ours to attend this one."
"We're here to talk to you, not them," Weaver said.
"If you want to have the best information about us and about what we do individually and in tandem with N.E.S.T. you need them, too," Ratchet said calmly.
"I won't allow them to speak," Weaver said. "Our requests were specific."
"And so were ours," Ratchet said quietly and firmly. "I find it difficult to grant yours when you won't grant ours, ours which have precedent from the last hearing. What are you trying to prevent, Senator? The truth?"
Weaver glanced up sharply, then bristled. "Are you accusing me of something?"
"Why don't we begin and find out, Senator?" Ratchet said quietly.
For a moment it was silent and tense in the room. When Weaver stared without comment, Ratchet turned to Prowl and nodded. The two of them moved together to sit on the bench rather gracefully as Prowl glanced back at Morshower and Lennox. Both men were sitting grimly in the dark atmosphere of the room.
-0-Diego Garcia
The night before had been tense for Prowl. He was not used to being the focus of attention. He loved to be the mech behind the mech, the one who made all the objects circle the sun in the proper directions and at the proper speeds. He could bring in expertise to assist things when they failed and he could even deliver the needed personal appearance when necessary. But to be an object of direct scrutiny, that was different.
Ratchet was the chosen experienced diplomat. Prowl could handle difficult things but he didn't like to. Speaking to unruly and illogical individuals was wearying. The twins were case in point. Although, perhaps their newly minted youngling status and all around adult association with new genitors would do them good. He hoped so. His family was central to his well-being. Having a decent home to go to, the warmth of love and companionship so central that he was willing to probably share his grandson with another grand genitor … maybe … that made his world complete.
Probably.
Maybe.
He grinned then turned back to his life.
-0-At the hearing
Weaver stared heatedly at Ratchet a moment, then began. "We're having hearings into the likelihood of discontinuing the association of the Autobots and the United States government," he began. A murmur ran through the room so he rapped his gavel. "There will be none of that." He looked at the two and continued. "We would like to review the arrangement that we believed was done in haste. We would like to know why we should continue to have these agreements and why the Autobots should be allowed to stay on United States soil and even on this planet."
:He's not wasting any time: Prime sounded irritated already as Ratchet grinned. Prowl sent him soothing thoughts as they settled in, waiting for the hammer to fall.
"Mr. Ambassador, we've allotted fifteen minutes for you to make your case in an opening statement for why the Autobots should continue to have ally status with our country," Weaver began and when he did the panel members who were heavily favored for the Autobots erupted.
Ratchet sat back to watch them eviscerate the Senator for a while until he relented. "We'll grant you thirty minutes, Ambassador, with the option of perhaps a few more to make the case for the continuation of treaty agreements for the Autobots at the end."
Ratchet grinned. "That long?" he asked. "Since you've been so 'generous' to double the time allowed for me to make the case for the continuation of one of the most important and successful partnerships between independent nations in your history I would like to ask that I get this opportunity at the end rather than the beginning of this hearing."
"Why, may I ask?" Weaver drawled as he glared at Ratchet with irritation.
"Because I'm asking," Ratchet said smoothly. He smiled and felt the tone of the room. They were all on edge. No one expected this to be an easy hearing but the tone set by Weaver had been harsh and hadn't set well with the audience. Ratchet intended to build that feeling in the audience using them as his gauge for the greater unseen mass of people in the television and radio world beyond the room.
He sighed at Ratchet with irritation. "I don't see why we have to wait for your arguments."
"Considering I'm to make a complex argument in the minuscule time of thirty minutes, I'd think you'd be willing to allow me the opportunity to think about what I will say as we go through your questions," Ratchet said. "However, if you don't want to grant to us even the smallest of courtesies we can leave now. After all, you only speak for the United States. You don't speak for Earth."
"You wouldn't." Weaver stared at him with appraising eyes.
"We would," Ratchet said firmly.
-0-Diego Garcia
Prime grinned slightly. /... now let's see who blinks first … chicken, my aft .../
-0-At the hearing
They stared at each other, then Weaver capitulated. "Granted. I give the floor to my colleague from Louisiana, Senator Randall Brinks."
-0-Diego Garcia
Prime grinned again. "Score one for Ambassador Ratchet."
Everyone there nodded.
-0-At the hearing
"Mr. Ambassador, I'm glad that you're here and I'd like to talk to you about a number of troubling incidents that have come to my notice if you don't mind."
Ratchet nodded as Prowl tensed but no one saw it. His wings arched slightly higher but otherwise he was impassive. They sat silently and waited.
"Apparently, on numerous occasions there have been violent clashes between civilians at the base and Autobots including yourself, I'm told. There was an incident where three civilians were injured, two dying and there was violent destruction of property. How do you feel that this kind of behavior from your people … or what shall I call you?" He looked at Ratchet over the top of his glasses.
Ratchet who was mentally reserving the right to punch his face grinned faintly. "We're mechs."
"Mechs," Brinks replied pausing. "Mechs for mechanicals?"
"Mechs for mechs," Ratchet replied as a murmur of laughter fluttered through the room.
"Mechs," Brinks replied. "Would you please explain your behavior and that of your … mechs because it's truly reprehensible that such violence should happen and puts in a poor light continuing to hold a treaty with you and your mechs."
"I'd be delighted to address the many acts of violence and provocation against our 'mechs' by the hired mercenaries of Intel-Martin that the present liaison, Jason Daniels insists upon keeping, Jason Daniels who is the grandson of the Senate Majority leader, the leader of your party, Mr. Brinks. I'd also while I do so direct your attention to the numerous investigations and findings for each of these incidents that apparently you don't sound like you've heard of."
"I've seen the reports," Brinks countered.
"Then have you read them?" Ratchet asked gently.
"I've seen the reports," Brinks replied again, a remark that generated a great deal of laughter.
"Since it appears you haven't opened them, I'd like to tell you that a vehicle carrying three mercenaries drove straight into one of our bigger soldiers and the resulting destruction from their deliberate and malicious act resulted in two deaths, one permanently injured mercenary, and severe injuries to the unoffensive Autobot who was crossing the tarmac from our Embassy to the N.E.S.T. headquarters in an area that has preferred access for pedestrians. Three independent investigations found the mercenaries not only solely at fault but that they were three times over the legal level for intoxication. They were playing chicken with lives and didn't have the coordination to veer off." He was silent a moment. "I'll wait for you to digest that information and understand that the mercenaries that Daniels insists on bringing with him spend their days getting drunk in their barracks."
Brinks looked at Weaver who stared at Ratchet with a wrathful expression. Then Brinks looked at Ratchet again. "A barracks was destroyed."
"An Autobot who was walking to the firing range alone was accosted and surrounded by a large number of drunken mercenaries who began to harass him. It brought a response from other Autobots nearby. The barracks was destroyed, yes. The mercenaries were inside shooting out at the Autobots outside with real guns and real bullets. The Autobots cleaned up the site afterward and replaced the barracks, making numerous aesthetic and architectural improvements upon it. You seem to find it hard to understand self defense, Senator."
"You were one of the Autobots in that fracas," Brinks countered. "You were the one who was in the center of it."
"I was the Autobot attacked by a hoard of drunken heavily armed mercenaries as I walked inoffensively to the firing range, yes."
"How could a human be of danger to someone like you?" Brinks replied.
"You'd be surprised. I'm a doctor, the Chief Medical Officer of the entire Autobot Armed Forces. I can tell you stories. What I'd like to see now, however, is all the facts of each of the things you mentioned laid before the viewing public, not just the ones that favor your point of view. You'd have the world believe that the Intel-Martin mercenaries are blameless, that they don't go out of their way to provoke us and that when they come to a sorry end when they do their stunts that they're the victims. None of the incidents that you're mentioning and none that have happened since were generated by us. The liaison, Jason Daniels, likes to hire scum and they've deported themselves as scum."
"You threw one of them in the brig," Brinks continued.
"And you don't mention that he drove a four wheeler to the beach where some of our younger soldiers were having a bonfire after a mission and talking together as friends and comrades do. He came with a gun and if our Prime hadn't ordered a guard to be nearby, there would have been shooting. There were humans in the gathering as well so if you don't seem too concerned about your weapons harming us, then consider them.
"All of our soldiers have been instructed to walk away but if this person had fired upon them there they would've fired back in self defense. Daniels' drunken mercenary came armed with a gun to a party that was of no consequence to anyone but those present. You may thank our Prime for having the foresight to know that the mercs being drunk nearly 24/7 wouldn't miss the opportunity to disrupt an innocent gathering of young mechs."
"So you say," Brinks said to a general groan in the room.
"Actually, there's a report of that investigation, too. Am I to believe that you 'saw' that one, too?"
A wave of laughter filled the room. Weaver gaveled it off. Brinks who was unnerved looked at him with a frown. Then he began with Ratchet again. "There have been too many incidents for us to believe that you're an innocent party."
"And how do you justify that statement? All of the incidents were provoked by drunkenness or deliberate maliciousness by the mercenaries. The mercenaries work for a company that provides child prostitutes to its clients and employees, has a reputation for shooting civilians for sport and is considered the scum of the earth in professional military circles including our own. These are the people you're defending? You just told us that you haven't read any of the investigative reports on all of the incidents you're bringing up but you're defending Intel-Martin and their mercenaries anyway. Interesting."
Brinks blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Why would you defend the indefensible when the truth has been proven by independent groups of unimpeachable non-local individuals. Almost all of the reports were done by military investigators flown in from other countries who have no ties to Diego Garcia or to us and it seems to me that you don't have a lot of regard for them. Why do you hate the soldiers?"
Brinks sat up straighter. "My regard for the military is well known, Mr. Ambassador. You remarks are not warranted."
Ratchet paused a moment to access Prime. :The younglings? Now or later?:
:Wait a moment until they mention them. You know they will: Prime replied.
"Really, Senator?" Ratchet said his optics narrowing. "If you say so."
It was tense a moment, then Brinks continued hammering the incident record. Ratchet hammered back gently, with grace and when Brinks' time was up he'd scored nothing but laughter in the room and a hard look from Weaver.
Ratchet glanced at Prowl who was looking as if he was in a bad dream. Ratchet surged to him a good intention and Prowl surged back.
Andrea Hoxley of California, the former chairman of the committee was next and she greeted Ratchet warmly. He returned the greeting as well. "You have new Autobots with you. Welcome, Prowl."
Prowl nodded. "Thank you, Madam."
She looked at the others. "What wonderful vehicles there are here. Would it be inappropriate if they would transform for us so that we might see some more of your people, to allow our audience and the viewers at home to see some of the amazing gracefulness of your species?"
Ratchet smiled then glanced at Prowl who had relaxed in the warmth of this woman's aura.
He nodded.
Ratchet smiled. "Of course. The yellow Camaro is called Bumblebee. I'm sure you will see why when he transforms." Ratchet called upon him and then the magic happened. Bee transformed and turned to look at them with his blue optics and sweet curiosity.
"The silver Porsche 911 is Jazz," Ratchet said as the Autobot transformed in his own impeccably cool manner and stood before them casually, his visor giving him a raffish look. "Bee and Jazz are special operations, scouts and reconnaissance experts among their many and varied talents." Ratchet nodded so they transformed back, returning to vehicle forms under the awestruck eyes of the crowd and the flashing of a zillion cameras in the room.
"The Ligier Formula car is Mirage. He's an expert at reconnaissance."
He transformed most elegantly then stood tall and proudly, staring at Weaver with a look of discreet disdain.
Ratchet grinned. "The Topkick truck is Springer, the Chieftain of an elite force known as The Wreckers. They're our last ditch lost cause team who do the impossible all the time. He also is the head of all security on world and everywhere else including Diego Garcia."
Springer began to transform and when he finished, he towered over everyone present at his height of twenty-five feet. He stared at Weaver knowing him from Intel-Martin and withheld the desire to walk over and step on him. Everyone looked at the two bots as a murmur ran through the crowd and then as swiftly they transformed back.
"That was incredible," Hoxley said. "The configurations, colors and names, all of it is very exciting and interesting."
"Thank you, Senator," Ratchet said with a smile. "We try."
Everyone laughed as the tension broke then Hoxley began. They went over the reports making sure they were understood and that the blame was firmly on the mercenaries and outside forces.
Then Hoxley brought up the infants.
And then, she brought up Orion.