The Diego Diaries: Down Time 285 edited for boo boos
-0-In the conference room
Prime leaned forward, his affect calm even if his interior was angry. He considered the figure before him. The others were as quiet and attentive as Prime's team. He thought a moment, then began. "You do understand that this isn't Cybertron, that we aren't living under the System and that our life here embodies the principles that Primus set forward in the Chronicles and through His many statements remembered by everyone as His hopes and dreams for us, His people. They do not include the supposition that some of us are better intrinsically and more entitled to be first in all things regardless of effort or merit.
"The System destroyed our world. The inequities created by it fueled the rise of Megatron and the Clampdown sealed our fate. I am not prepared to countenance anything even remotely related to it and it was made extremely clear to everyone when they arrived. You were told. There will be no return to the System. As for your claim about being blocked from positions of authority ... that is untrue. When the first refugees made it here, there were 27 of them. Most of them were civilians but there were Autobots and a number of orphans. All of us pitched in to make this city and colony what it is. We will not vacate them from their positions of responsibility to make room for those of you who feel you are entitled to their jobs because of who you are or what you once were. We are a meritocracy."
"You are wasting a great deal of talent, sir, by disallowing us to be in the government. We have eons of experience and we can help make this colony more than it is now," Fenix said.
"That's humorous," Blackjack said with a smirk. "You destroyed Cybertron and you want to give us the benefit of the same behavior here?"
Fenix looked at him spotting the small designation of his caste that was carved in the corner of his left finial. He was what Fenix thought he was, Praxian Warrior Elite. He outranked every single individual in the room. "I find that amusing coming from you. You are Praxian Elite. What have you not had that was given to you by your caste?"
Blackjack looked at him with the coldest expression Ratchet had ever seen on his face. He leaned forward. "I have bullet holes in my aft that I got all by myself protecting your sorry butts. I got years of grief fighting the enemy that you created with your fragging policies and sorry aft sense of entitlement. I missed a huge section of my son's life because of the war that happened because of you losers. Don't sit there and lecture me about the caste system."
A big mech sitting next to Fenix looked at Blackjack with a stern expression. "We all had our roles, General. I would think you would know that."
"Frag that," Blackjack said. "How does it compare to what I had to do with you sitting on your aft in Iacon pushing stupid laws through that alienated everyone on the planet? What have you ever done that even compared to the newest rawest recruit getting shot at? You never did anything but stand in line first for everything that we paid for with our labor and our lives. Parasite. Don't you even think you can talk back to me," he said with rising anger.
Everyone sat straighter, the energy in the room becoming more tense by the second. Prime sat quietly watching the group before him. They were going to be a problem because they weren't going to be taking anything he said as gospel. They had lived lives where they could manipulate reality and giving up delusional points of view would take enormous effort they didn't even know they had to expend.
Fenix sat forward again. "We aren't asking for anything but the opportunity to serve and be in positions that are worthy of our education and experience. We are the most highly educated and experienced mechs and femmes in the colony. We are asking to be able to serve."
"And your request has been noted. However, we have been a fully functioning colony for a number of years with mechs and femmes stepping in to do the work of the colony with great skill and dedication. No one is going to be removed to make a place for anyone else because of a contrived system that helped kill our home world. You may apply for positions that you feel qualified to hold but there will be no accommodation made for you because of what you may have been on Cybertron."
"I told you it was hopeless," another mech said looking at Fenix. He turned to Prime. "What is happening to Burris? We hear he might be heading for prison."
"I am not at liberty to speak about an ongoing investigation," Prime said quietly. "You should understand that."
"We know that he's high caste and he's being held in prison for an argument with Prowl. We know that Prowl is your bond. We know that high castes get short shrift here. We know that some are even murdered and their killers walk away without a suitable punishment," the mech said hotly.
Ratchet turned to him. "You sure hear a lot of slag but I don't recall you asking anyone who might know the truth about it. Kudon is the one you're asking about, right?"
The mech nodded. "Your son murdered him." He looked at Prowl and Prime. "Your son-in-law."
"That case was tried and a sentence handed down that was fair and honest. If you really knew what you were talking about, you would keep your trap shut about it," Ratchet said hotly as the door opened and Ironhide appeared.
"You should keep your trap shut anyway," the big mech said testily.
Everyone turned to look at him. His energy was bad, his affect menacing and he filled the doorway with his size. "What can we expect from you, Ironhide?" another mech asked, one who was a former military attache for the Director of Defense."
"You expected me to save your aft when things got dangerous," Ironhide said. "I had to come and pull your aft out of the fire along with everyone else. You slaggers. What have you ever done that was for the good of anyone but yourselves? We built this colony out of the dirt with our bare servos. Where the slag were you? Who the frag are you to discuss my son? He was judged and sentenced by the slagging Prime using the Matrix. If you don't like it you can step outside and discuss it with me. No one frags with my son. He fought on the front lines for vorns protecting your sorry afts. Frag all of you. That's what you can slagging expect from me, slagger."
The group looked at Ironhide, then Fenix turned to Prime. "We would like to know the circumstances around the murder of Kudon. We have heard a number of things and they all sound preposterous."
It was silent a moment, then Prime nodded slightly to Prowl. That bot turned glacial optics upon the group. "Sunstreaker is a front liner in the army that protects all of us including once upon a time your sorry afts. He is also a carrier. He is the ada of three infants. He was defending his own ada when the incident occurred. Kudon had a physical defect which was a deciding factor in his death. He was tried and judged. He was sentenced. The case is closed."
"For you. But not for us. What we see is a murderer that was let off with a wrist slap. We see a system that disallows high castes from being allowed to have any position of authority in the colony. We see a system that punishes individuals who disagree," Fenix replied.
"I am assuming you are discussing Burris again," Prime said quietly. "That is an ongoing investigation so I cannot speak to it."
"We are here, sir, to explain what we see as an inequity and seek redress for our grievances," Fenix began before Ratchet's snort cut him off.
"How comical this is. You are coming here to complain about being locked out of positions, opportunities and all the rest because of caste. Am I the only one here who sees the irony?" he asked.
"No," Alor said with a look of great disgust. "All I see here is a bunch of whiners finding out how the other 99% lived. You don't like it do you. We aren't excluding you. There are plenty of important things to do that don't require kicking someone out of the job they have been doing for years. You don't even see the karma at work here you're so clueless."
They shifted a moment, then one stood up. "It's clear that this is a futile exercise," he said. "We need to leave."
"We need to tell Prime what we intend to do," another said glancing at Fenix.
"Oh please," Alor said. "Tell us."
Fenix looked at Alor, then Prime. "We are going to be building our own colony."
It was silent a moment, then Prime leaned forward. "Where?"
"We would like to have a settlement on a section of land about 100 miles from here. We have the site marked on the map of Mars at these coordinates," Fenix said handing a small datapad to Prowl.
He looked at it, then handed it to Prime. Prime looked at it, then placed it on the table. "And how do you expect to accomplish this?"
"It isn't like any of you slaggers ever held a shovel yourself before," Ratchet said with a big grin.
"We intend to seek workers among the city," another mech said. "I am sure there are plenty of civilians in this colony that would be happy to live in a colony that upheld the glories of the past."
Ratchet looked at him and blinked. "You are in need of medical attention. You are deluded."
"Stupid is more like it." Ironhide walked to the table and pulled a chair. "No one is going to willingly go back to their chains. This place is what Cybertron was supposed to be but never was."
"There will be many who would seek the return of our culture and traditions. There is poetry in order," Fenix said quietly. "We don't have to be a part of this colony. We want to start our own."
"That won't be possible," Prime said equally calmly. "This planet is going to have a cohesive program of settlement under one rule so that we can defend it. The System is over and is not coming back. You will have to make the adjustments that all of us have made. I forbid you to build another colony and bring discord into this new start because we are one. All of us are one."
They sat quietly a moment, then Fenix leaned forward. "We are a long way from Cybertron, Prime. We are asking to make a colony of our own away from here where we can live our values."
"Until something happens and you need us to save your sorry afts," Blackjack said. "You would come crying on your knees if Megatron came. Or do you consider yourself so pure, you wouldn't need us then either? Maybe some of your amazing high caste virtue will sway him. Oh wait. It didn't the first time. I doubt it would the second time. In fact, I think he would love to roast you over a spit if he could."
Fenix sat back regarding the brick wall before him. Another mech looked at them as he leaned forward. "You would deny us a chance to have a colony of our own? Who are you to do that, Prime. This isn't Cybertron."
"No. It is not," Prowl said coldly. "You are speaking not only blasphemy against the person of the Prime, you are talking out of both sides of your mouth. If this isn't Cybertron, then the System is nothing more than a cast off bit of rubbish. If you feel the need to commit blasphemy and insult the Prime of Cybertron, the only living legal ruler of our people, then why do you hold any good will to the System? If nothing from the past matters, if nothing has value and authority to you, why would you want to preserve the caste system? You know and I do that no matter where you are, Prime is supreme in authority. He is Cybertron. It is in the charter. Or does that matter either? Why should we take you seriously when you pick and choose what is good and what is not? What you will honor and what you will not? Make up your mind, cowards."
Fenix gripped the servo of a bot who was prepared to rise and angrily challenge Prowl's remarks. Prowl for his part just stared at the figure before him. The bot sat, Fenix pausing to speak internally to the group with him. Then he leaned forward. "You are right to an extent, Prowl. If the Prime has not value anymore, then neither does the System. We don't wish to dishonor ourselves with being disrespectful or blasphemous. We don't wish that. We wish to honor all parts of our past and who we are. We are bothered that you don't wish to do the same.
"We are prepared to make a colony away from here to live the life our people have always lived. We are only asking your permission as the Prime of our people and the authority of all that is Cybertronian now and in the past. As long as the Matrix resides with you, we are compelled to ask your leave."
Prime considered that, gauging the seriousness of the enigma before him. He couldn't tell but he knew that Fenix wouldn't be content with anything but complete freedom to do what they wanted. "I am the unity of our people. I am the center that holds us together. For you to ask for a colony elsewhere to practice what is formally and totally banned would be to undermine that unity completely. I cannot grant to you that wish you ask. There will be one unity, one purpose, one people. Until all are one is what Primus wanted and it is what I am here to serve."
They looked at him and one sat back regarding him with anger. "Burris will go to prison. There was a dust up at the prison we are told and maybe another high caste is dead. Where is there a place for us that is safe from oppression?"
Ratchet leaned forward and looked at him pointedly. "Funny you should ask that question. I remember saying it every day of my life for eons. Welcome to the other side of the fence."
The mech looked at Ratchet, then rose. He waited and the others rose too. Fenix stood last and looked at Prime. "I would seek permission to advertise our organization."
"Give me your goals, purpose and mission in writing. If it doesn't incite, I will grant you the right to organize a fraternal association. If you are going to organize opposition to the unity of our people, I will deny it. Please be clear on that point. Anything that undermines our unity will be forbidden by law."
"Maybe you can institute a clampdown, Prime," Blackjack said glancing at Optimus. "Let the slaggers know what it felt like to live with a boot on your neck."
Fenix glanced at him, then Prime. He bowed his helm respectfully. "Thank you for your time, Optimus Prime."
"You are welcome," Prime said. No one spoke as they left, then they all turned to Optimus. He vented a sigh. "Never underestimate how tightly privilege grips the reins of power and how deeply tenacious the delusion that fuels it can be."
"They will be a problem. They won't give up," Prowl said worriedly.
"They have their limitations. It's up to them to step over them. Until then, they are just another group of citizens in the city," Optimus said.
"Then we better grow optics in the backs of our helms," Alor said relaxing in his chair. "I don't like the looks of Fenix. He looks too clever by half."
They nodded. Then Optimus turned to Ironhide. "I am sorry that they snagged Hero."
Ironhide drooped slightly. "I am so bereft of hope."
"Then you won't mind handing over Prowler," Prowl asked with a slight grin.
Ironhide looked at him for a moment. "I'm not THAT bereft."
It was just the right touch.
TBC
04-26-13