The Diego Diaries: Pal 1 (dd3 427)
{ } Cybertronian standard, NeoCybex, being spoken
-0-In a classroom in the Youngling Day School, Autobot City, Mars
She sat on the step of the reading pit, her feet not reaching the ground. The soft cushion of the rug felt good as she sat with Aisha Mohamed, Jessie Landon and two British sailors who had come with them to see the sights. All of the last four were on leave for three days and two had come here to their home away from home towing friends.
:And so it was with the agreement of your school that I ask you to be part of a pilot program: Mikaela Banes said with a smile.
Sitting around their teacher with excitement, the students of Mr. Terradive's class listened intently. Sitting nearby leaning against the wall, Sunspot watched with tension and fear. No one had asked him to join them, letting him sit where he was. Terradive noted his place away from the group. :You can sit there, Sunny:
Sunspot moved closer to Spot as the big dog ambled over to join him, the tension in his aura alerting him to Sunspot's condition. He sat listening to the humans talk about themselves, then the reason they were here.
Pen pals.
The humans were talking about pen pals. They wanted his class to write letters to humans on Earth and get them back. It would be like friends talking to each other on paper. They'd be able to draw pictures and tell things about their life and family. Part of him was excited, but the rest was in turmoil over the idea of being even this close to humans. Bad memories surged into his processor.
She continued and questions were asked. Spirit glancing over his shoulder to talk to Silverbow saw Sunspot. Glancing around, he rose and stepped out of the pit to walk to Sunny to sit beside him. {Are you okay, Sunspot?} he asked softly.
{I don't like people. They scare me} Sunspot glanced at Spirit with frightened optics.
Spirit took his servo and squeezed it. {I'll sit with you. It'll be okay}
Sunspot squeezed his servo back. They sat together listening to the plan come together.
-0-Later in the Habitat
Two British sailors and two Air Force femmes sat around a table with Mikaela as they ate lunch together. One of the soldiers, Johnathan Braver glanced at Jessie. "What's wrong with the little bot, the Seeker in Terradive's classroom?"
The femmes glanced at each other.
"That was Sunspot. He's a child who was a Decepticon. He was trapped on Earth after the Egyptian campaign and rescued by the bots. He was adopted by Ratchet and Ironhide but he was mistreated on Earth by humans. He's terrified of them. That's one of the reasons he has a dog. Spot's a therapy dog and companion for Sunny. Ratchet says he's really improved since Spot."
"I'm glad. That little thing is so sweet. He's just so incredibly sweet," Aisha said with a nod.
"Maybe this will help him," Sam Alexander said. "What the hell is a child doing in war?"
"I ask that every time I read the newspapers from home," Jessie said with a sigh.
-0-In a conference room in Ops Center
"Then it looks firm on eight places," Elita said as she glanced up from the data.
Jazz and Mirage nodded. "I'd think so. I'd say we're lookin' at about 2,100 individuals. Of course, the scene could've changed by then."
"Maybe recon is necessary," Elita said leaning back. "Maybe we need to check with local sources in the criminal community. Smugglers. Pirates. That sort of thing."
Jazz nodded. "I think we need more up-to-date information."
"Then we better let Prime know," Mirage said glancing at the map. "Good of the 'Cons to house their dissidents in the same local area."
"Good of it being close to the energy flux of the Dead Zone," Elita said. "Lots of places to hide. 'Jack and Alor will be invaluable."
"We can make a cover that will let us wander around the area getting the information,"" Mirage said. "It could be interesting. We might be able to link up with the underground."
Both Elita and Jazz nodded. "I bet Dai Atlas already has the stuff we need. I think we need to go back to Cybertron," Jazz said.
-0-Industrial Park Highway
They stood at the edge of the vast plain that stood out in all direction from the main highway that led between the factory city of the Industrial Park to Terra and the branched roads to all the others. Jetta with his data pad in servo discussed the future of the area that lay undeveloped between. "We're going to be building another set of satellite cities that will house upwards of two million individuals. Right now, we're projecting that we can absorb another half million bots before we run out of space in the construction that's already finished and waiting for new arrivals."
He pointed with a sweep of his servo the area in consideration for settlement. "This area is flat, sits on hard rock and is perfect for the kind of housing that we have planned. This will be more intertwined like Cybertron with walkways among the towers and raised roadways. We want to make the footprint small and the impact minimal.
"The buildings of all our existing cities are capable of being linked and at some future time when we have a few orns to think things over, we'll begin to modify them so that our people can walk or drive between them without using the highways. That will allow towers to grow upward and businesses to grow in the interwoven neighborhoods that will come out of that."
The others with him agreed.
"I'd like to see that. I miss our own skyline," Bulkhead said.
"You and me both, Bulk," Jetta said with a grin. They continued their conversation while they lay out the future homes of several million of their own who were scattered all over the universe. It would scare them to know how many were headed their way already.
Sometimes ignorance was bliss.
-0-Earth, in one of the ten schools and classrooms chosen
"And so that's what we're going to do. We were chosen from a long list of schools to participate in this program and I want everyone to really apply yourself. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you to have a chance to learn something incredible and help forge a link between us and them," Mrs. Hannibal said.
Her students smiled like 30 suns, then nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Hannibal."
That's when they broke into groups to consider what kinds of things a person would write to an alien about.
-0-At the Grocery Store in the Mall, Metroplex, Autobot City, Mars
Ratchet walked through the huge store looking for something for dinner that would appease a very refined pallet … his own. It was a short trip through the 'fruit', 'vegetable' and drink section followed by a number of 'steaks', some hotdog shaped entrees for the itty bits and finally, a pause by the candy counter.
"I'd like that nice big piece there," he said pointing to the tray with big pieces of 'fudge'. When it was all wrapped, packed into a bag and complete, he walked out heading for Ops Center. A short traverse through the Fortress brought him to the center table where Granny was busy with something he was intent upon. He glanced up and grinned. "Look what blew in."
Ratchet put down his bag and sat. "Here. Don't say I don't do anything for ya."
Prowl picked up a small box and opened it. He grinned, then looked at Ratchet warily. "What do you want?"
"Nothing," Ratchet replied with a big smile.
"Okay," Prowl replied.
"Prowl, what if I pose a hypothetical situation."
"I knew it."
Ratchet ignored the snark. "I was wondering if say, I knew about a very young soldier who was in deep water up to his chin. What if I was to take that youngling and make sure he doesn't spark. That's how out of the loop he is."
"This youngling … is he a soldier?" -Prowl
"He is." -Ratchet
"Who is he involved with?" -P
"Can't say. Professional discretion." -R
"I would say yes-" -P
SLAM!
A fist hit the table as a force of nature stood up. "Thanks, Granny. I knew I could count on you." The force of nature turns, grabs bag and swishes out of Ops Center.
Prowl watches him go. "-if he agrees … slagger," Prowl finishes to no one at all. (Pulls fudge from box and grins. Pops it in, savors it, then vents a soft sigh.) "He's still a slagger," he says to no one in particular.
Turning back to the task of the moment, Prowl continues to organize the latest pictures of the little mechs in his internal family albums as he does 33 other things at the same time.
-0-Outside a data center in Engineer Corridor
RAP!
Startled blue optics look up, then relax. "Commander."
"Come with me, youngling." Ratchet swished out, his bag in his servo.
Smokey hesitated, looked around, then hopped up and hurried after Ratchet. He caught the big mech as he left the Fortress heading toward town. When he caught up, Ratchet passed him the bag. "We're making a side trip, then you come with me."
"Where are we going?" Smokey asked taking the bag into his servo.
"My house," Ratchet said. He grinned, then turned on the speed. Smokey had to hustle to keep up.
-0-Moments later
Ratchet stood in the kitchen putting groceries away.
Smokey wandered around the living room staring at the pictures on the wall. "Cute sparklings," he said.
"They are. What do you think about them? Sparklings?" Ratchet asked curiously.
"I like them. They're cute." Smokey walked over to stand beside Ratchet.
"What about having one?" Ratchet asked.
He shrugged. "I'm too young for that kind of responsibility. Besides, I'm a warrior. I want to serve in the army and fight the 'Cons."
"That's good to know," Ratchet said finishing up. "Let's go." Ratchet walked to the door and out.
Smokey looked at him, then followed as the door closed behind him.
-0-Moments later
He sat on the med berth watching Ratchet going through cupboards doing this and that. He sat pensively wondering what to do since Ratchet was a senior officer. Ratchet finally turned to look at him.
To age a Cybertronian was not an easy task for non-Cybertronians. The humans often asked bots to place other bots they met into specific human age groupings that made sense to them. Sparklings and younglings pre-sub adult were easier. Once they reached adult status the best tells were behavior and conversational content.
The size they would acquire, the mass and grace that they would assume was usually attained swiftly. But the best guide to learning about a bot was experience in their company and asking questions.
Smokey looked the same age as most of the bots in the army. Some had a gravitas that gave them away but most had the youthful exuberance that only war and hurt could temper. That made their age difficult to actually ascertain by non-Cybertronians. Cybertronians themselves could tell by their auras, their looks which were different and 'more immature appearing among the young' and other tells.
Prime had the gravitas of a much older mech but Arcee and Elita were older. They were as old as Kup but younger by many degrees than Alpha Trion who was the oldest known living bot of all. Ironhide and Ratchet were slightly older than Prime who was older than Wheeljack but not Perceptor. Prime and Perceptor weren't contemporaries. Perceptor was with Ratchet and Ironhide.
The younger set all looked the same age, had the same brio usually and were hard to classify. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were older than Bluestreak but Blue was older than Smokey. Jolt was very young but Smokey was older than him.
Not by much.
Devcon and Smokescreen were older with a contemporary age range with bots like Gears, Huffer and Hoist. They were around the same age but their experiences in life tended to skew them as older than their vorns. They weren't as old as they appeared. Hound and Trailbreaker, Mirage, Jazz and Tracks were contemporaries. It was maddening but almost a sport among the humans to place them in a hierarchy of age.
They usually didn't win their bets.
The bots didn't care. Hierarchy wasn't a thing and it wouldn't be even if The System had never existed. They just didn't care much beyond the youth showing their typical deference to age and good manners.
Like that.
Ratchet walked to Smokey. "You're a young mech, Smokey. Having fun is one thing, getting into trouble is another. You do understand that your grandatar is a Praxian. So is Dev. I know that even if he's such a mysterious fragger. Smokescreen and Dev can own your life even if your ada and atar disagree. Something, however, tells me that they wouldn't."
Smokey stared at Ratchet. "I know. I hope not. Its bad enough already."
"Your family is concerned about you. They've been around. They're after all a bounty hunter and a gambler. They've fought with most of the soldiers around here in soul killing shit storms for eons of millennia. They know him. They might have something sensible to say about this," Ratchet said gently as he plugged into the young mech.
"Maybe. But the spark wants what it wants," Smokey said tilting his helm under Ratchet's deft touch. Gadgets were plugged in and data compiled. "Has my family been talking to you?"
"No," Ratchet said. "They haven't. However, I'm going to do you a solid."
"What?" Smokey asked with a slightly wary expression.
"I'm going to make sure you don't get sparked. Lay back, relax and spread 'em," Ratchet said with a chuckle.
Smokey blinked.
-0-Moments later
He sat on the berth gathering his senses. Ratchet had made sure that he wasn't going to spark. Even the idea of it gave him the willies. He looked at Ratchet. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Ratchet said with a grin. "If you want to go back to the job you can. Your systems will be integrated by the time you get back there."
Smokey nodded, then hopped down. He walked to the door like the impeccably balanced athlete that most mechs were his age. He paused to look at Ratchet. "I'm not dumb. I'm not old and I have a lot to learn but I'm not stupid."
Ratchet nodded with a grin.
Smokey walked out and was gone.
Ratchet stood a moment staring at the door, then chuckled. "Yes, you are. We all are at that age. I think I can remember it well." With that, he began to clean up the room.
-0-TBC September 9, 2013 7-28-19