The Diego Diaries: Go (618)
-0-Out there
They flew onward through the endless vastness of space heading for a place where comfort and protection beckoned. The journey had been long and arduous with many joining along the way. Seekers had joined them as well, a fortuitous moment for all concerned. Their sensors and fighting abilities had been essential on several occasions. They had encountered them on a pass by of an asteroid that was wandering in open space along their route.
:Migration, identify yourself: the voice had said out of the blue. Their leader, a mech named Marboro glanced at his brother, Flet, a mech whose engineering prowess had kept more than one hopeless ship moving forward. "That is Cybertronian Standard," his brother had said.
He considered that, then answered. "Identify yourself."
The wait before response was torturous. This would not be the first voice from the darkness. They had fought off others and they would these as well. Then the voice was back. :I am Savoy. We are Seekers following the beam. We would like to talk:
The conversation between the bridge crew and Marboro was short and to the point. He turned back to the comm station. "Why? How do we know you won't kill us?"
:We have our families. We are fleeing Megatron. There are hunters on our trail. They are following you too. Have you heard the echoes?:
Marboro glanced at his brother. They had for some time. "Where do we meet?"
He sent them the coordinates, then the line was dead. "You aren't going are you?" Flet asked anxiously.
Marboro glanced at his brother, then nodded. "Consider the possibilities if they're serious. We could add Seekers to our group. That's deep space vigilence and more guns. If they have families, then they need a place to put their sick and elderly. Their babies. We can't ignore their plight."
Flet vented a sigh, then nodded. "Alright. Take the runabout. Tell them that we will kill them if they trick us."
Marboro rose, then paused. "I think they probably already know that." He looked at the others. "We all live together or we die out together." He turned and walked to the hatch, lifted it, then climbed down. In seconds, a small runabout launched, then flew through the emptiness surrounding them to an asteroid close by. He would stay on sensors of other ships for the duration as former Autobots and their colleagues both civilian and otherwise in the migration prepared their weapons to get him if it came to that.
The flight to the asteroid was brief. When he arrived he slowly circled the big rocky body scanning it for life. No one came up to greet him. There were over 200 Seekers down below, more than half skewing young or old. He turned the runabout around and began to descend. As he drew closer, his running lights illuminated a scene that shocked him. He settled, then hurried to go outside.
There were about two dozen big Seekers standing nearby, his greeting party. Around them lying or sitting on the ground were Seekers. Some looked wounded but patched, recovering from fighting or shots taken when they had left. Others were old and exhausted, slouching against rocks or the bodies of younger Seekers with a wan resignation.
Nearby huddled against adults were dozens of babies … tiny Seekers who were terrified of his presence. Other Seekers lay or sat on the ground in utter defeat, their weariness and hunger drawing a line on their ability to continue. Some held small children or infants. Others barely held themselves together.
Marboro looked at them with alarm and astonishment, then turned to the big mechs who waited silently for his attention. They were battered, some showing signs of wounds and patches. Others were exhausted, their weariness etched on their faces as they stood without pride or even hope waiting for him to come speak to them. Marboro looked at a child huddled against an elder, then knelt. It shrank back from him, big eyed with terror and hunger. The elder whom the baby crouched with looked at him, then struggled to sit. :Take him. Help him:
Marboro felt revulsion and rage surface as he stood back up. :We will take you all: he said turning to the big mechs. :I'll send for help and we'll take you all with us:
One of them stepped forward, a smaller mech than the others but the scars and tattoos of his body proclaimed his leadership and status. He extended his servo. :They hunt us endlessly. We can't go on any further without a lot of death. We are one?: he asked with a trace of desperation.
Marboro gripped the mech's servo with both of his. He nodded. :Always. All of us are one always:
The Seeker nodded gravely. :Thank you:
Marboro nodded. :We have to hurry. Your people are in dire straights. I will call my own to come and when they are assisted and gathered up, we will go. Prime is calling us. Starscream as well. We have to find them and then it will be safe again:
The Seeker nodded. :I am Cloud. We will help defend you:
:When you have rested and taken energon. Not until then: Marboro said gently. Marboro paused as he sent the signal that a dire group had been encountered. Before he was finished giving preliminary details, ships were sending aid forward. This wasn't the first time they had done so but it would be the first group of enemy Seekers that they had gathered to themselves. It would take half a day to get them stabilized and loaded across the fleet, then they would continue onward.
They would encounter two more Seeker groups before they would begin to find the directional beacons that would lead to rescue by the forward bases of Optimus Prime.
-0-At the homestead at the same time
Ratchet peeked into the ovens and was pleasantly surprised. All was good so far. Turning, he smirked at Ironhide who was sitting in his chair with the remote. There were several games playing … rugby, a couple of soccer games and a recap of the Super Bowl from America. He was watching them with a running commentary: "That Super Bowl game is on, Ratchet. I heard it was a rout. Wanna watch?"
"Sure." -Ratchet fusticating over dinner
"I think they need my expertise. That orange team. I would have told them to slag the slaggers. All this running around setting up plays that don't move them forward is too cute by half. They need to bring the pain. Right?" -Ironhide bringing the wisdom
"Yep." -Ratchet agreeing to be agreeable
"I kinda like soccer. Its fast and they kick. Do you like it?" -Ironhide musing like the seventh wonder of several worlds that he was
"Uh-huh." -Ratchet planning how to fit a gazillion people around a table built for six
"Now rugby … that's a mech's game. They have a league here. They have a championship coming up in the arena in three decaorns. I think I'll go and take Sunspot. I asked the twins why they didn't play. Know what they said?" -Ironhide warming up to the moment
"Nope." -Ratchet stepping outside the moment to consider another moment to be named later
"They didn't want the dents. They're saving themselves for football." -Ironhide being amazed over something he shouldn't by now be amazed over
"Yep." -Ratchet being a good bond and yepping
(Frowny frown) "Are you paying attention to me?" -Ironhide objecting
"Nope." (Grinny grin) -Ratchet being objectionable
"Slagger." (Smirky smirk) -Ironhide bending to the inevitable
"Maybe." -Ratchet being inevitable
"FETCH ME ANOTHER BEER, OLD MECH! I HAVE SPOKEN!" -Chaos Bringer pushing his luck
It was amazing to both of them how high a beer bottle could bounce off a helm.
-0-Prowl
He stepped out and walked toward the Mall of Metroplex after getting a message that his order was there. He had asked them to send it to the Residence for him. Taking a break, he had gone home intercepting the delivery in the elevator. Exiting, then entering his apartment, he walked to the room where a new spark would live, one due in less than six orns.
He had discussed the protoform of their new collaboration with Optimus. Prime had been amused. Prowl had been insistent, though he had given ground for a few tweaks here and there. In the end, the largest part of the job had been Prowl's to resolve and he did with relish. Resolve, that is. It lay in a velvet lined box in the protoform locker at the Metroplex Hospital until the great moment when Optimus Prime and Prowl of Praxus would have a daughter of their own.
Not being more than passingly aware of the care and feeding of femmes, granddaughters not withstanding, he had done his homework deciding that artificial gender assignments were out. He had chosen neutral colors for his daughter, greens and yellows to decorate her room and clothe her little body. No pinks for her anymore than there were blues for the little mechs.
The exception was Spirit who wanted a blue sky on one of his walls. That was acceptable. If this femme liked pink and ultra femme notions and accoutrements she would have it. She would however have to tell them.
He opened the box and pulled out the last bit of essential infant gear necessary for the big event. There were soft blankets and a crib liner with giraffes on them. He put them in the crib just so, then turned to the rest. Blankets for taking her home, a Seeker bag for both of them to use to take her around and a soft plush dollie shaped like a dog rounded out the order. He looked around the room, then put the dollie in the crib. All was ready. All was well. He turned, then walked out to the elevator.
-0-In the Bosom of Love
A rap on the door sounded, then it opened as a familiar face appeared. He grinned slightly. "Goofing off I see ..."
"We're off today," Ratchet said waving the winger into the room.
Prowl entered, then walked to the couch nearby to sit. "You two have been off for years."
"Good one, Granny," Ratchet said tossing the big winger a Kremzeek, one of their favorite local beers. Sitting on his red chair, Ratchet kicked back.
"Smells good in here. I gather your lessons paid off," Prowl said sipping his ice cold brew.
"Eat your heart out. Seriously. I expect leftovers from this, my latest magnum opus," Ratchet said with a smile.
"Pray for us," Ironhide said before a fist landed on his servo.
Prowl grinned. Ratchet grinned. Ironhide eyed them all warily. "Slaggers."
Ratchet whipped out a meter from subspace, then scanned Prowl. "You do know that you have an infant in your hold that genetically belongs to others."
Prowl paused his beer, then smirked. "It's mine for now. That's an order."
"Mech is abusing his authority," Ironhide said with a frown. "Slagger."
Prowl grinned. "Perks of office," he said patting his carry hold. He looked at Ratchet. "What is the possibility that this sparkling will come short of the timeline?"
"With you, you fragger, it probably will. I find your CNA suspect of timetables," Ratchet answered with a severe optic. "Must be the Praxian in you."
"Boo hoo," Prowl said with a grin. "I will be sure to report my twinges at the appropriate times … preferably in the middle of the night."
"I will try and care," Ratchet said with a grin. "You do know that we will have to go tie one on relatively soon afterward?"
"Tradition?" Prowl replied.
"Criminal tendencies you ask me," Ironhide replied with a grumpy tone and a gimlet optic of epic proportions.
"Aww," Prowl said feeling uncharacteristically mellow. "Should I call your ada so he can supply a thumb?"
Ratchet snorted, then laughed. "No. He can have mine." He held out a thumb.
Ironhide glared at Ratchet. "Traitor." He looked at Prowl. "MECH WORKS HARD SLAVING IN THE TRENCHES TO PUT ENERGON ON THE TABLE AND TO RAISE UP GOOD LITTLE MECHS AND FEMMES! GETS HIS AFT SHOT OFF AND COMES HOME TO NO SPARKLINGS! INSTEAD OF BEING TOLD HE WAS A GOOD OLD MECH, HE GETS SLAG FROM EVERYONE! I DON'T NEED A THUMB! YET!"
Prowl and Ratchet looked at Ironhide who sat fuming in his green chair. Prowl looked at Ratchet with a smirk. "He is emphatic."
"I don't know about that," Ratchet said. "I think he's got a nice figure."
Prowl looked at Ratchet, then laughed out loud. "You're hopeless. So are you," he said as he popped his carry hold and pulled out a happy chatty little bundle. He looked at Prowler who looked at him with a grin. "Come to my house to live, you handsome little infant and I'll show how those with good processor health live their lives." He stood and handed the bundle to Ironhide.
Ironhide grinned then looked at the baby laying in his servo. Prowler for his part smiled enough to nearly unhinge his jaw. Ironhide tucked him into the crook of his arm, then settled back with great pleasure. "Get your own dollie. This one is taken."
Prowl sat with a grin. "I will in a few orns if things are on track. Sooner if not."
"Don't discount that, Prowler. You aren't predictable," Ratchet said. "Troublemaker."
"Loser." -Prowl retorting
"Whiner." -Ratchet re-retorting
"CRY BABY!" -Prowl warming to the moment
A big servo covered the tiny face of a smiling infant. "Let me cover your little audials. There's enough insanity here all the time without exposing you to imported lunacy."
"I'll have you know, unlike some," Prowl said shooting a dagger optic to Ratchet who sat on his chair with a big grin, "that sanity runs in my family."
"Along with uptight primness, good table manners, suppressed burping, tidiness bordering upon obsessive-compulsive disorder, routine-itis, humbug, gloating, rebellion without a clue and general all around 'corn cub up your tail pipe-ness'," Ratchet replied with a grin.
"Why, Ratchet," Prowl said sitting back eying his BFF/nemesis/alibi with a piercing appraising optic. "If I cared enough I might be offended. But I find myself feeling waves of pity wafting through my processor as I consider the … the … magnitude of … of ..."
"Yes?" Ratchet asked with a giant smile. "You aren't as good at this as I am, slagger. I'll let you have a moment to consult your insult files."
"What makes you think I need to download insults?" Prowl asked as Ratchet hit closer to home than he would ever let the red and white slagger know.
"Lucky guess?" Ratchet replied.
"Well, let me just say this. You didn't ruin two families when you bonded," Prowl said triumphantly.
Ratchet laughed out loud, then glanced at Ironhide. "I think he just insulted you too."
"I think so. Kudos, Prowl. Given that you're Praxian and like some other Praxians I know … you're just that side of the awesome scale. I would tip my hat if I had one," Ironhide said with a grin.
Prowler grinned too.
After a moment to consult the internet for meaning, Prowl grinned smugly. "Why thank you, Ironhide. As a Praxian, I salute you."
"As an Iaconian, I salute you both too." With that, Ratchet gave them both the sitting version of the Cybertronian finger.
The laughter was long and loud.
Even Prowler chuckled too though he had no idea what they were talking about.
Yet.
-0-TBC February 10, 2014 edited 2-26-14