The Diego Diaries: Retraction 2 (354) edited

-0-At the base on Diego Garcia, Indian Ocean, Earth

She stood staring at the big new administration building. Beyond at the airfield Air Force planes were landing off loading emergency supplies and replacement equipment. That they didn't have to build from the ground up was a blessing. She was a clerk who worked for a company that subcontracted people for clerical and other support services for military bases world wide. She loved being at Diego Garcia. What once was a so-so assignment in the middle of nowhere was now a plum posting. The bots had changed things forever and her too by their proximity. Beyond the blue skies of her own world lay unimaginable things. She knew the universe was amazing and expansive. There were wonders untold out there. This was living proof. She had even ridden in Jolt, the youngling prankster a good companion to the younger set on base.

She looked toward the end of the building where the patio was. A barbecue was going. It was the Fourth of July in America, Independence Day. She had called her family and allayed their fears. She had spoken of being in combat, of running for her life and how grateful she was to be alive. Three of their companions weren't. They had been flown to Ramstein earlier that morning on an Autobot shuttle. She considered the solemnity of that moment …

They came to stand along the path to the shuttle, all of the many Autobots on base, some of which she didn't know. They were solemn, none of the usual good humor or smartaleck joie de vivre that she had come to love about them visible. It was only the sorrow one felt for losing a comrade, a partner in arms that informed them today. At the head of the line the senior Autobots stood, their energy solemn, even sad.

She saw Optimus Prime, Prowl, Ironhide and Ratchet. There were others she didn't know but would come to understand were Flint, Blackjack and Alor who had arrived earlier and a priest, the head priest of their Temple with an acolyte to assist him in some gesture they had asked to make for the deceased. All of the Autobots formed two lines on either side of the path the stretchers would take to the shuttle. All of the base was there too as well as the N.E.S.T. soldiers who formed an honor guard along the path in front of the bots, their rifles slung backwards, the muzzles pointing to the ground in honor of the moment. Morshower and a newly returned Colonel Fulton stood with Optimus as the stretchers began to leave the hangar. She moved closer stopping by the bot she had heard was called Smokey. Looking up, she saw his solemn face, a handsome but alien face that was showing sorrow for the dead along with youthful determination to get paybacks. Experience among the bots taught her to know that expression when she saw it. She felt comfort from it, the solidarity of their caring matching her own.

It pulsed through her mind, the idea of differences between them struck down by loss. Three comrades of her own were gone forever. The bots felt it too. Deeply. She moved closer to Smokey and leaned wearily against his ped. He looked down and their eyes met. He nodded, a small wan grin acknowledging her. She nodded back, then hugged his ped with her arms widespread. She pressed her face against the smooth cool surface of his body.

Smokey looked at her, this grief-stricken human, then leaned down gently picking her up. He held her in his servo as the stretchers came to their honor guard. Coming to attention with the others, he saluted the stretchers as they passed him. Holding the sorrowing human, he watched as they continued onward toward Prime and the others. The atmosphere was leaden and silent.

-0-On the MCA (Earth feed) and IntraComm (Autobot City environs, the outlying bases and Fort Apache)

The city paused to watch as the dead of Diego Garcia were honored as they left base for the final time. The slow march through the lines of humans and Autobots was caught in all its sad glory. When the stretchers reached the shuttle, their bearers paused. The base chaplains, Rabbi Leon and Father Tom stepped forward. Their words of comfort were alien to the citizens watching but understood by all present to mean as much comfort to the humans as the AllSpark meant to them. All around Autobot City, Fort Apache and the outlying forward bases in the solar system bots paused to watch the seeing off of their comrades and allies for the last time.

Even in the Youngling Intermediate School, the youngsters sat in an assembly in the common room to watch on the big screen monitor. It was that important of a moment.

-0-Diego Garcia

The prayers were given, then Lauren, Senior Priest of the Temple Restored stepped forward. He leaned down and placed a digit on the bodies of two of the deceased. He whispered softly a blessing for their sparks, that they would merge safely with the Matrix and that their loved ones would know peace in the perfect love of The One. He did so for the other, then rose and took a tiny white cloth from another priest acolyte, Gravitas, who was attending. Gravitas helped Lauren, his own expression one of great sadness. With infinite care, Lauren placed it over the stretcher, then did so with the other two. Standing, he prayed a soft prayer audibly for their safe journey into paradise. Then he stepped back bowing slightly in honor of the dead.

Prime stood stoically, his distress as visible as it was for the others. Then he knelt and bowed his helm, the others following. Carefully, the other Autobots did the same in the throng of grieving humans. Some of the humans bowed or knelt too, others coming closer to the Autobots for comfort. It was deeply silent, then someone began to play Taps, the simple music played for the military dead that dated from the American Civil War.

The piercing silver tones of the coronet suffused the solemn scene, piercing sparks and hearts alike with its terrible purity. The sound rolled over the stilled base, then finally ended, fading away at last.

For a moment, no one moved, then Optimus arose, nodding his helm in respect. Everyone else did too, the Autobots following Prime's example. The stretchers were then turned and carried onto the shuttle one by one. As they did, the Autobots began to chant, a warrior chant for the honored dead. It rose in pitch, a terrible beautiful sound of outrage and outrageous love. Then it became shrill as the doors to the shuttle began to close. Engines sounded half buried by the torrent of the warrior send off the three dead were being given. When it lifted off and disappeared upward, the chant stopped suddenly. They stood watching as it left, then the crowd slowly began to disperse. The last shots were Optimus and his senior staff along with General Morshower, Colonel Fulton and the NEST soldiers watching the sky as the shuttle disappeared completely.

Then the feed was cut...

She stood quietly watching as bots and humans worked together to rebuild things. She had been hurt in a minor way, a scratch on her arm from flying wooden shrapnel. She had worked hard to dig out and now was waiting for a call to do more. An arm went around her shoulders and she glanced to the side, startled. Jessie Landon smiled. "You look hungry. Happy 4th of July, Bonnie."

"You too, Jessie," she said to the woman who had grabbed her arm dragging her and two others into the hangar from the open shelter-less tarmac where they had all stood paralyzed with surprise. She had stood unable to function from the racket descending upon them from the sky and all around, watching as Jessie pulled a rifle from a locker nearby, dropping more bullets than loading in the initial fright of attack. She watched as Jessie ran to the door and began firing, an act of futility considering the enemy. She had been brave defending all of them and Bonnie loved her more than before, this most accessible and goodhearted of the soldiers on base. "I don't know if I'm ever going to eat again."

"You will. If you don't, they win," Jessie said with a nod. "Come on. I'll join you." The two walked to the patio to eat. They held hands on the way.

-0-On panels all over the Earth following the send off earlier

For a moment, no one spoke. Then the panel moderator cleared their throat, their emotions obvious to viewers. "That was remarkable."

"It was," a panelist remarked. "What were the coverings that were placed on the deceased? Do we know?"

The moderator checked their digital screen. "It is reported that they are small flags which bear the Emblem of the Primes on them. Apparently, when someone dies they get a send off like this if they fell in battle and a shroud of the Primal Emblem to cover them. Its later presented to the family as a token of respect and solidarity."

"The humans on base seemed to take a lot of comfort from the bots," another said.

"Apparently, the Autobots, N.E.S.T. and the civilians on base are an extremely tight unit," a military panelist remarked. "I have friends who are stationed there that say the bots love the soldiers like family and vice versa. This is a very real, very sad event for the bots too."

The conversation continued.

-0-At the Youngling Intermediate Day School Common room

They sat discussing what they had seen and how they felt about it. Many of the students were uncomfortably reminded of their own checkered path. All of them wanted to do something for the humans. They discussed a number of things to propose to the Prime and Herling pledged himself to be their spokesmech as soon as was possible to meet with him. He chose three students to accompany him when he did.

-0-At the Energon Basket

Rampage watched the scene with his employees and students, the solemnity of it almost unbearable. In the past he was aware that such a feeling would never occur to him nor be met with much approval as well. Now he felt terrible. He felt somehow responsible even though he knew he wasn't. He was experiencing 'Decepticon Guilt By Association', the name the former 'Cons of the city applied to moments like this when they happened. It was illogical but they felt it anyway.

The moment ended and all went to their tasks with a slightly dampened sense of purpose. As he turned to walk to the store part of his business he paused. Standing in the doorway was the love of his life, Bon. He nodded. "You look like I feel."

Rampage shrugged. "It bothers me now. It didn't before."

"You aren't that bot, Rampage." Bon embraced him back when Rampage scooped him into his arms. He was the son of the proprietors of the Autobot City Hardware and Bolt Store which was across from The Energon Basket. He was studying to be an electrician so that he, his two brothers and genitors could begin an independent contracting business of their own. It was their dream. During the course of their living here, working in proximity, a bantering friendship had blossomed into an intense pre-bond.

"Keep saying that, Bon," Rampage said quietly.

-0-On the moon

Wheeljack and Perceptor led the scan starting from the satellite and communications station where Burnoff had lived during his sentencing. Going outward in a grid pattern, they would have the entire planetary moon scanned and signed off on by the end of the next morning. It was free of infestation. When that was relayed to Prowl at Diego, the refit of the station would begin. It would become the home of 400 bots and Seekers who would rotate in like any out flung base. It would be three times bigger than the outlying posts in the solar system. Its Ops Center would be a mirror of Autobot City.

On the Earth, ships were landing with technicians and construction designers who were setting about rebuilding the Embassy even as more ships arrived with buildings to be placed on the base. The future expansion of Diego had been taken into consideration as others built foundations for the added constructions. They would be placed as well. When the base rebuild was finished, it would include not only what was there before but the ideas for expansions on plans dated for consideration into 2020.

Prowl paused as three barracks and a hangar were carried past him. When they were by, he continued to the Embassy which had been stripped down to the foundations. The underground portion could be seen. The ceiling construction of the subterranean portions had been removed allowing for retrieval of salvageable things, personal items, historical effects including the damaged murals and sensitive equipment and documents. It looked forlorn in the extreme, this first home of his bond. His three mechs had made this their first home too. Orion had been a baby here. They had parties both ceremonial and pity here and it was a deeply sad emotional thing to see it like this now.

The doors had been salvaged to be taken to Autobot City for the museum as an important artifact for their historical record. The murals would go that way also. Some of the furnishings and much of the Ops Center would be restored and placed in dioramas for the Museum to show the humble beginnings of their great resurgence.

He stepped onto the concrete and remembered saving Spirit from the gaze of the Mole. He remembered running from here numerous times gun in servo to save Ratchet, the babies, stop fights and challenge Daniels. He remembered the first time he entered the doors that day when he splashed down into the ocean …

It was clear on his telemetry that he would land spot on into the beach of an alien world where the sound of their Prime's voice issued. He had been on the endless search for the AllSpark all alone in the vast darkness of space. He had dialed down his emotional subroutines keeping his paralyzing loneliness and slowly growing sense of futility under control. He searched all by himself seeking others as he did, finding none. It was as if Cybertron had never existed and he was in the Pit roving forever alone, forever looking for the elusive tone that had always been beloved to him.

Then it was clear that the wisp he had been hearing was actually emanating from a real location. He had reformed the transitional format and headed out, hoping against hope that it was real and not the echo of his own longing. It grew as he came closer, a small blue planet with an insignificant nondescript moon circling it. Louder and more clear, the sound of the voice he missed most of all grew until at last he felt the heat of the atmosphere burning his outer accretions away in the friction of entry.

He fell at a rate that was terrifying to the humans watching, then slammed into the ground with a powerful blast of sound. He bounced, then stopped, his frame absorbing the shock and funneling it outward into the atmosphere around him. He lay for a moment checking his systems finding them optimal. Then he began to unwind, his component parts changing with each movement until at last he could stand. His body continued his transformation, then he was complete. He stared at the scene before him and noted simple constructions that would become to him hangars, the Administration building along with rows of big black archaic appearing flight vessels. The bombers of Diego would take some getting used to by a bot who was at least three million years ahead of the locals in engineering know-how and make up.

He turned and paused, the tableau before him as remarkable and beloved to his processor now as it was then. Optimus Prime stood before him in a stunning display that almost did justice to his magnificence. He had adopted a local format, that was clear. It was red, white and blue. His optics were as bright as they ever were and they looked at him with gratitude, hope, friendship and emotional regard. He was sure he returned the stare himself.

Ratchet had stepped forward scanning him. Then he smiled. "WELCOME THE FRAG HERE, PROWLER!" he said in their language. The others laughed, the tension of the moment broken.

He grinned and nodded. "Hello, Ratchet."

Ratchet then plugged in and downloaded all the information, format types and data that he would require to begin in their new incarnation and home world circumstances. He nodded and gripped Ratchet's servo tightly unaware that he had sealed the beginning of one of the greatest friendships of his life, a life that had been slack in that department. Ironhide gripped his servo along with Jazz and Bumblebee who loved Prowl to the point of almost considering him a genitor. He loved Bee back just as much. Then he gripped Prime's servo.

It was a moment he would never forget. He gripped Prime's servo, the power and warmth of that moment etching itself on him forever. He would never forget how at that moment he was set on a path that was so alien to his thinking at that time he would have considered himself in default glitch mode to even consider it. In a few months, he would bond with the only mech he had ever loved in his entire long eventful life. In a few more, he would be a genitor again with three orphaned mechs stealing his spark with the first frightened sad opticed glance in his direction. A short time later, he would accomplish one of the goals of his life. He would become the ada of a son, his Miracle.

He stood on the platform immersed in memory and felt a sorrow growing. Coming here was a good thing. He always enjoyed it. It was like walking into a house knowing your parents were there. There was a warmth and life here that few other places had ever had for him. This place was home. Now it was shattered and they had to rebuild. It wouldn't be the same. The murals might be replaced but they weren't the original. Ops Center with its new table wouldn't be like the old one. That one had an ink stain in one corner and scratches on the surface. It was destroyed. Maybe the Museum Restoration Department could salvage it. He hoped so. He knew it was a slightly irrational hope but he felt it. The new embassy would be different. It would be designed more to their style with lots of windows and acknowledgments to their size. He mourned the old even as he resigned himself to the new.

"You hate this too?" a voice asked behind him.

He turned spotting Ratchet. Nodding, he turned back staring at the bare foundation and the roadways that led underground. "I do. You?"

"With the fury of a thousand suns. This was Orion's first home," Ratchet replied as he stood next to Prime. "It will never be the same."

"Nothing ever is. I thought you would have learned that great lesson of the war," Prowl replied with sarcastic amusement.

"True that," Ratchet said. "But I had hopes. I had hopes that this place would be exempt."

"It's only going to be exempt if we make it so," Prowl said with firm cold resolve.

"You read my processor, Prowler," Ratchet replied with equal resolve.

-0-TBC July 4, 2013