The Diego Diaries: Build Up 1 (dd3 454)
-0-The Military Airfield, Autobot City, Mars
The sight of three immense ships parked on the stand down sector was almost normal. What wasn't to those who were passing by and happened to glance was the refit under way. Three battle cruiser class ships of Decepticon design were being primer coated for repaint. The gleaming white of the Autobot exterior was being covered with a dismal gray. The Autobrands were disappearing from view.
Crews were inside as well transforming one of them into a hospital ship while others were fitted to hold the rescued prisoners of the camps they were going to raid. There would easily be room for them on the first ship but they were going to be sorted according to medical need.
The second would accommodate a quarter of the most fit rescued while the rest of the space on board would enclose fifteen heavy gunners of the Seeker variety and fifty of the 100 ground troops that would be going with them. Half of the soldiers would be carried on this vessel and the other one. The ship that would be a hospital would hold most of the runabouts that would not only deliver soldiers to the ground under heavy Seeker cover fire but transport the rescued back to the cruisers.
Lights blazed as the vessels were swarmed, their non-sentient Autobot glory disappearing under the dreaded gray of The Fallen. By the time the noon hour came to Autobot City the next orn, the big ships would be dully drab with the last coat of paint necessary to transform them. It would be in the range of IntraComm and the human production's cameras that the massive purple Deceptibrands would be affixed to the ships' sides completing the transformation.
The city had been apprised of the project on The Hourly News and the Autobot Daily News paper, though not the objective itself. That was classified information, need-to-know only. The scientists were sitting around the dinner table in the Human Habitat with a few of the soldiers who came to watch the NFL football game with them when the announcement was made. Lim-Lee was giving the hourly report of the orn's news.
"There's an ongoing project at the Military Air Field in Autobot City today that's part of a mission upcoming in the schedule of our army and air forces. Jacx met with Armed Forced Information Officer Jazz to find out more."
The camera cut to a taped segment with Jazz as he and Jacx stood on the airfield in front of a slowly transforming battle cruiser. "Jazz, we've gotten a lot of requests to find out why three of our Autobot battle cruisers are being transformed back to their original configurations."
Jazz nodded. "We have a mission comin' up that's goin' to take us into the Empire. Its a humanitarian rescue that's goin' to be difficult but not impossible. So we're cuttin' our risk a bit by doin' it in the guise of Decepticons. They won't know its us until its too late and we're back with our target."
"What group are you rescuing?" Jacx asked.
"That's classified for now but suffice it to say, we have space bridge technology that can place us wherever we need to be and bring us back just as fast. As we locate our people wherever they are, we're now prepared to rescue them wherever and whenever possible.
"When they're brought back, their names and images will be placed in the database. You can find them in the Community Bulletin Board link on the Bureau of Refugees page. Any new names are posted separately for four decaorns so that family and friends can find them."
Jacx nodded. "When is this mission going to be going?"
"Classified," Jazz said with a smile. "We'll tell ya when we get back but for now we're keepin' it on the down low."
"Thank you, Jazz. Good luck. We'll bring the latest information when it becomes available," Jacx said. "Back to the studio."
The scene cut back to Lim-Lee. She continued onward with other news about the Home Guard and the new shooting range outside of Terra for not just soldiers but anyone to use for practice.
"I wonder who they're going for," Sheila Conroy said to no one in particular.
"Could be important individuals. This isn't a migration to rescue. This is a targeted group," Michio Yamaha replied.
Robert Epps who was sitting nearby rose to get a beer. "I think that's about right," he said popping the top. "I think I'm going to try to hitch a ride."
"I wish I could go with," Sheila said with a slight frown.
"Ask," Michio said with a grin.
She stared at him with a thoughtful expression.
-0-In the bosom of love
"Never thought those infants would go to recharge," Ironhide said walking out to sit.
Ratchet himself splayed in a chair grinned at Ironhide as he collapsed into his chair "Been a busy orn."
Ironhide sat, then considered Ratchet. He also considered dinner earlier...
"DINNER!"
He heard it, then girded his innards. He'd have to smile and eat whatever the frag Ratchet had concocted. Having him home with nothing to do was going to make him a fellow prisoner in the lock up of Ratchet's house arrest. He looked at the infants staring up at him from a toy strewn room. "Come on. Time to eat."
The little bits rose and hurried out rushing for the dinner table where Ratchet was setting this and that as he pull it from the warm up oven and the big overhead one.
It smelled pretty good, Ironhide thought as he tried to find a light in the long tunnel of his personal darkness.
Infants were placed in their chairs and they sat quietly watching Ratchet as he put things on the counters. A stack of plates awaited them.
Ironhide walked out and paused behind Praxus. "What did you make?"
"A turducken!" Ratchet stood with a dazzling smile waiting for applause.
Everyone looked at each other, then Orion clapped his servos in his confusion and excitement. "ADA! WHAT YOU DO!?"
Ratchet looked at him fondly. "You'll inherit everything."
Ironhide snorted, then watched as Ratchet began to fill plates. He recognized 'potatoes and gravy', 'peas' and a 'dinner roll'. Those were good and he loved them. The rest, not so much. A huge rolled thing with a moist appearance sat on the counter. Ratchet had sliced it into big slabs, one of which he was parting out for the younglings.
"Ada, what's that? What is a turducken?" Sunspot asked curiously and politely from his chair.
"Its a chicken stuffed into a duck stuffed into a turkey," Ratchet replied. He grinned. "I hear its the bee's knees."
There was a pause.
"Ada? What are bee's knees?" Hero asked curiously and politely from her chair.
"I don't know," Ratchet said handing a plate to Ironhide. "I just know that bee's knees are supposed to be the best somehow."
They looked at each other a moment, then Ironhide.
He grinned and shook his helm putting the plate down in front of Praxus. "Go with it, infants. Your ada is losing his processor."
Chuckles filled the room. "ADA? YOU BAD!?" Orion asked as he stared at the plate before him. Little bits of turducken, peas, potatoes and gravy and a 'buttered' dinner roll awaited him.
"I'm bad, Orion. Bad to the bone," Ratchet said handing the last dinner plate to Ironhide. He placed it then turned to fill his own. "Oh, no. you don't," Ratchet said with a gimlet optic. "*ALLOW ME*!"
Ratchet took an adult plate then began to fill it. A huge slice of 'turducken' cut in two pieces was stacked. Then a mound of 'potatoes' swimming in 'gravy and a pile of 'peas' were next. Three 'buttered rolls' were stacked on top then Ratchet held out the plate with a grin. "Your ada won't mind if you skip second dinner."
"Traitor. My ada is a traitor," Ironhide said walking to his place with his GINORMOUS dinner. Ratchet filled his own, then filled the infant's own cups. Sitting with a bottle of 'wine', he poured for Ironhide and himself. Everyone stared at him, then he grinned. "Eat, slaggers."
They looked at Ironhide who was staring at the relatively appetizing if not frightening pile on his own plate. Gutting up, he took a fork and then a bite. Savoring it, he looked at Ratchet. "You ordered this, right?"
"Frag no. I have skills, you slagger. Eat." Ratchet grinned as Ironhide took another bite.
He grinned in spite of himself. "Eat your dinner, infants," Ironhide said with a smirk.
They did. And they enjoyed it. Including 'pumpkin pie' and something called 'whipped cream' for desert.
Ratchet only fessed up to the turducken.
In the here and now …
"I'll admit this only now and without witnesses that you finally cooked something that tasted good. I don't know what the frag a turducken is but that was slagging good, Ratchet," Ironhide said grinning at the smirking devil sitting next to him.
"It almost won when I was fixing it," Ratchet said with a guffaw. "Apparently its one of the hardest recipes out there. I just liked the name."
Ironhide snorted. "I suppose we get leftovers for a while now."
"You suppose correctly. If this house arrest lasts long enough, I might get a bit good at this."
"There's always hope," Ironhide said.
Ratchet shot him a gimlet optic, then grinned. "I cook. You clean. Right?"
Ironhide pondered the hidden danger in that question, then nodded. "I'll bite."
"Come on." He rose and offered a servo. Ironhide took it, then both walked to the berth room they shared. Into the wash rack they went, then paused almost reverently before the cobalt blue machines that Ratchet hadn't known could exist in personal homes until well into adulthood. "I don't know about you, Ironhide, but I nearly had a religious experience when the younglings brought these."
Ironhide who was more than aware of the crushing poverty and suffering of Ratchet's life nodded. "No one deserves it more."
"I'm thinking of giving them to my genitors for Christmas Surprise. I'm going to go to The Home Store and make an order for then. My ada might fall into pieces at the possibilities." Ratchet was silent a moment. "You know, Ironhide, that adversity builds character."
Ironhide nodded as he squeezed Ratchet's servo.
"I hate character," Ratchet said quietly.
They both guffawed.
"You're hopeless," Ironhide said.
"You knew that going in. Now show me how to do this. I'll watch as you do this for me. Then you can do it every single time because why should I have all the fun?" Ratchet grinned, then nodded to the little basket filled with dirty towels, cloths, cleaning wipes and the odd blanket, sheet and clothing article.
"I don't know how to do this," Ironhide said truthfully. "My atar did this."
"Then you admit, your atar is twice the mech you are?" Ratchet said dumping the little basket out.
"Do you have to ask?" Ironhide said with a grin.
Ratchet chuckled, then put the sheets and blankets on the counter in two piles. "I don't think these go together."
"What about these?" Ironhide asked holding up tiny jackets that the sparklings wore. They had the odd stain here and there.
"Those are stained. What do we do about that?" Ratchet asked staring at them with concern.
Ironhide shrugged, then opened the washer and tossed them in. Reaching for a little white sweater, Ratchet gripped his arm. "That's white. Don't put it with colored stuff. I remember washing a colored cloth with white ones in the sink back home and they stained."
Ironhide considered a youngling Ratchet toiling to get the few things they had clean in a communal sink in the bottom of a tenement building, then felt the surge of awfulness he always got. Putting the little white sweater on the floor again, he hunted for a few more colored things. When they were all in the machine he closed it.
They both stared at the controls, then Ratchet punched the button for 'colored, not knit'. He looked at Ironhide with a grin. "You press the button, Only One."
Ironhide glanced at Ratchet, his optics reflecting strong emotion. "You do it. You deserve it."
Ratchet's smile faded slightly, then he hugged Ironhide tightly. They held each other as Ironhide swayed gently. "Thank you, Ironhide, for everything."
"For you, the moon."
It was quiet a moment, then Ironhide grinned slightly. "Ratchet?"
"What?"
"Don't tell anyone."
Ratchet grinned, then kissed Ironhide's cheek. He looked at the big center of his existence. "No problem," he said.
They gathered the white things putting them into the basket. Ratchet pushed the button and it began nearly silently. Then they watched the washer do its job. It would only take 10 minutes and a quart of water. When the door was opened and the clothing pulled out, the stains would be gone and they'd practically sparkle from cleanliness.
It would be a moment that Ratchet would remember forever.
-0-TBC September 29, 2013 8-2-19