The Diego Diaries: Chaos 30

=0=Out there

They flew through the darkness following the civilian migration. They had fled the frontier near to the Benzuli Expansion. They had detente with the ghosts who lived there. It was solved by Decepticons never going near to them. He himself had falsified reports to Command so that they wouldn't know he had decided there was no way to win, thus necessitating his new 'strategy'.

They had gathered together pillaging everything they could from their many bases and fled. Most of the crews came with him, all of them more than aware that the penalties for failure were death. The few that remained would leave later when their nerve and wavering belief that Megatron wouldn't blame them wore out.

He stood on his command deck, a battleship with venerable decorations painted on the side. Kills, all of them. He was called Bon. He was a rather well known hunter-killer and his crews were feared. Megatron had granted him the space around the expansion because he believed if anyone could crack that resistance it was this mech. In the end, the Expansion had cracked him.

He watched the screen before him, the glittering lights of the civilian ships nearby visible to his optics. Flying among them, their arms ready to fire were several hundred Seekers. He had contacted their leader to make a pact and was told to frag off. Megatron had a death order on them and they were fleeing to Prime and Starscream.

There had been an argument about the death sentence but after contacting the civilian migration's nominal commander it was made clear to him it was a true statement of fact. He had gone off line for a few to absorb and consider what that meant for everyone, especially him. It was clear that Megatron was taking no prisoners, that Soundwave or Shockwave or whomever was still in charge of Cybertron had no control over anything.

He had heard of the decimations at the frontier forts. All of the bots there were lined up, every tenth killed on the spot. The level of fear in communications since, the effort among those still in harness high in the extreme told him all he had to know. It was no longer safe to be inside the faction. You could be killed for anything. Some of the bots he had heard murdered were among the most loyal. There was no parsing Megatron's mind now. He had gathered his group and left, making it clear that his command was supreme and that the future of plunder and wandering was bright.

They had followed and his sensors told him that the stragglers were catching up. When their bases were finally checked, there would be no one there at all. He turned and looked at his chair, the command heart of his ship. Walking back, he sat and considered the road ahead. Prime and Starscream would be standing at the end of it. He would have to decide what to do when he got there. He had nothing left. Fuel was getting low and food as well. He would have to see what happened. He just knew one thing for sure. He wasn't going to bow his knee to anyone.

Especially not Starscream and Prime.

What he didn't know was that Soundwave had recalled all the crews in his sector, pulling everyone back to the home space. They didn't need to run. They could have returned home and all would have been good. Soundwave had committed to his strategy and all would have been forgiven.

-0-Youngling Day School

They sat at their tables listening to Mr. Terradive explain the concept of carrier waves. Their physics was geared to their age level. Every level of schooling built upon the last one. It was step by step up the ladder of understanding for the little mechs and femmes of the Autobot City educational system. All of the items of each level of instruction were checked off before a new one added.

Terradive taught impaired and special needs infants as well as those who had not had any education or had emotional impacts to learning and socializing. He was slagging good at it if you asked Ironhide, himself a member of the Autobot City Educational Committee along with of all mechs, Sunstreaker. Whatever the schools needed they got. They merely had to explain what it was and the committee would seek it out. The city would create it and it was there usually mere joors later.

It was a good thing too. The populations of the schools had been through war, starvation and lifelong insecurity in every area possible. This was the first stability and energy that most of them had known in a lifetime of trauma. They were flourishing in the tender mercies of the dedicated teachers, staff and township of Autobot City. For too many in the city, this were their first infant experience. For some genitors, this was the first step back to what they should have been from what they were now.

These infants were the future of their kind. Without them, a single catastrophe could end a species that was among the longest lived of all that were known in the universe. It would have been an abomination. Thus, the effort made for families, infants and younglings.

Terradive's students had five gunshot wounds, three stabbings and 86% protoform wasting shared among them. Three of them were orphans, most had genitors but no real extended families. Only three other students besides Sunspot and Spirit had grandgenitors or related adult relatives living in the city.

They had excelled, all of them finding in the safety of the city and the schools delight in learning. Their genitors attended conferences, enforced sleep times, energized and cleaned their infants, read to them, listened to reading and helped with homework in the safety and comfort of real comfortable homes. They supported Community Schools and worked in the football programs. Whatever was needed, they would try to provide.

Around the city, the infants were acknowledged. Special programs at the museum, the Temple and Fort Max catered to them and their growth. Businesses like The Energon Basket gave cookies to the infants when they came in with their genitors. All effort that could help them was expended and it showed in their growth.

Spirit was fully fluent, excelling in writing and math, socialized to a greater extent though still shy, and making strides in leadership roles. Sunspot was excelling in math, making gains in reading and showed a knack for writing. He was the same sweet seemingly simple infant that had walked off a ship with Ratchet and Ironhide that first day but he was growing. Silverbow was a wonder. She was a leader, an artist with real talent, still deficient in math but growing confident and assertive about life, friends and her family. She after all was lead girl in her family and her brother, Rebel who was crawling now needed guidance.

So did Hound and Trailbreaker as they were finding out to their great amusement.

Terradive who had bonded with Roto was working on an advanced degree with a minor in counseling. His students were delicate in some ways and rock hard in others. He just wanted them to be children. As he stood drawing images of carrier waves and explaining how they worked, he felt the same thrill that 25 little faces were looking at him absorbing his words. It didn't get better than this.

-0-Ops Center, Diego Garcia, Earth

They sat at their stations monitoring the various arrays around the system as well as stations on Earth that measured its overall health. Sitting on the table nearby, the day watch humans lounged. This duty was desirable but usually mellow. They could do things while monitoring their stations and that ran from 'reading shit on the internet' to video games.

It was warm, quiet and 'same'. That is, nothing was going on of note and the bots on station at the Embassy weren't speaking English. Their shift would wander onward until the end. Then they would leave and joy ride around the base with the newest members of the garrison, civilian mechs from the Home Guard that were paired with veterans, all of them here to learn how to work with humans. Joyriding with them on the beaches was just part of the learning curve.

Or so they would tell their commanders if asked.

-0-In the city

Kup sat staring at the film crew that was nearby shooting footage of the dojo and the mechs as they kicked back. He sat champing on his stogie for a moment, then leaned forward. "What are you doing, younglings?"

"Filming background and stock footage," one said. The IntraComm mechs behind smirked slightly.

"Oh," Kup said leaning back. Springer grinned. "They can't get enough of your great beauty, old mech."

"True that. I took a shower this morning just for them," Kup said dryly.

Snorts and derision greeted that comment. Kup merely shrugged. "You're jealous that you don't fill out a chassis this good."

"Yeah," Springer said with a smirk. "That's my great fear."

They sat trading slag and the cameras rolled. The footage would be considered gold. The plan would change. They would move straight into filming actual interactions and not merely set ups for set pieces. Everything the mechs did and said would now be part of the film record.

-0-Nearby

Sideswipe walked to the firing range only peripherally aware of the little segway following him. He had come to discount them as part of the scenery. They were there like the sun and the moons overhead. When he arrived, there were mechs leaving who had practiced their shooting and sighting in of their guns. Slag was traded and Sideswipe was left alone.

He called up a shooting program that would require HUGE skill and timing. He would decimate it and then some. When he turned to walk away, the film crew would follow, their respect for the red and black bot several planetary diameters greater than it was before.

Just like Sideswipe planned.

-0-In their apartment

Turquoise sat staring at the screen as data passed by. He didn't see it but he made an attempt to help Ratchet. Sitting nearby staring out the window, Copperton was the picture of desolation. It was quiet in the apartment but for the regular visits of Chevron, the Temple priest. They poured out their heart, their guilt, their sense of failure to that gentle comforting bot. It helped marginally.

They had been raised in their caste as all of their status were. They did what they did for the good of Cybertron as they sat it, as they were taught to believe. They would no more do what their son was accused of than hug Megatron. They loved their people, their culture, their world. They were more than ready to work hard for all of it. What they hadn't taken in account was the toll their system had taken on everyone else.

They had no idea what the level of misery others lived. They had no idea that the good life they lived had come at a terrible cost to others. They didn't know and they didn't want to know. They just knew it was familiar, comfortable and 'the way things always were'. Now, they found out the flip side of privilege wasn't always unrest in others. It was deep in the spark of their only child.

They couldn't begin to express the remorse they felt, the utter desolation inside that threatened their continued happiness forever. Their son had been destructive but they had lit the fuse long ago. They had not given him any sense of obligation to the concept of unity that they in spite of their caste sensibilities had in great quantities.

Now they were paying the piper and there were no words for the utter sorrow they felt. Turquoise huddled in front of the screen watching the data flash past. Sometimes he was able to focus and sometimes not. As he sat there Copperton came to a decision. He commed the one he wanted and was granted a meeting. Turning, looking at the utterly destroyed figure of the single most important bot in his existence, Copperton girded himself for the future.

Whatever that form would take.

-0-A short time later

A rap on the door brought Copperton to his peds. He gathered himself, walking forward and opening it. "Come in, please."

Optimus Prime nodded and entered, the startled optics of Turquoise fixed upon him. Rising slowly, Turquoise burst into tears. Coppertron caught off guard turned and embraced him tightly. Looking at Prime, he nodded. "Please, Prime … sit. Thank you for coming." He turned to Turquoise and whispered. The smaller bot struggled but caught himself. They both turned and sat on the couch, Turquoise leaning against Coppertron. "Thank you, sir, for coming."

"I am happy to be here, Copperton. Turquoise … you can receive help from Ratchet. I can ask him or Gypsy to stop in and help you."

"It won't help, Optimus," Turquoise said tearfully. "It's all a desolation."

Prime nodded. "I know."

"Sir, I would like to talk to you about this matter. I want to tell you that I take full responsibility for the actions of my son and I wish to take whatever punishment you decide to mete out for what he did. Whatever he thought he was doing and for whatever outcome, it is our responsibility. I cannot find words to tell you how sorry I am for this. I know it isn't adequate but it is all I can give. Even if you wish my spark, I give it willingly."

Turquoise looked at him, then slipping his arms around Coppertron. "This is so awful. Copperton, I will do this thing. Let me be the one."

"Turquoise," Copperton said with anguish. He hugged his bond and looked at Prime with deep misery. "If you let me take his punishment, I promise you he will become a good mech. This is our failing. This is the system coming to a bitter end for him because of us and what we did and didn't do for him. Please, let me."

Optimus looked at him in deep thought. Then he spoke from his own spark.

=0=TBC

2012 (10)