The Diego Diaries: New 4 (629)
-0-That morning after breakfast and school drop off
Prime walked with Ratchet and Ironhide to the Central Labor Hall under Metroplex in the Old City. Crowds had begun to gather on the street for the funeral of the mech who had so foolishly mocked the Matrix. Grim faced former Decepticons of all kinds and types stood in groups or alone as they waited. Maneuvering through the crowd, Prime and his party walked down the steps to the underground station. A walkway that bordered the train tracks gave access to the multiple entry ways into the vast cavernous Central Labor Hall that was host to many different and sundry clubs, unions, gathering places and community services.
He walked through the crowd to the door of the hall that housed the Former Decepticon Association. Nitro stood in the doorway talking to the six big mechs who would serve as pall bearers. He nodded to Prime and the others as they stood quietly waiting for Chevron to arrive from the Temple.
There were several hundred mechs, femmes and elders standing around the big hall, their conversations a muted buzz. As they waited with Nitro, a figure emerged from the crowd. He paused, bowed and turned to Nitro. "Forgive me. I had a late call."
Nitro nodded to Chevron. "When you are ready," he said turning to take the picture of the dead mech. He handed it to Chevron who nodded. "I am ready if you are, Nitro."
Nitro nodded, then turned to the bearers. "We should go."
They turned entering the hall where the body was on display for viewing. Armour had come from the Temple earlier to place the brands on his body and say the preliminary prayers. No one knew if the deceased would want this but they did it anyway out of deference to their culture. He was wrapped in a shroud and covered with the flag of his people. The bearers lifted the stretcher stepping away from the table where he lay. They shifted him until he rested on their shoulders. Turning, they paused as Chevron stepped in front of them, the picture held in front of his chassis.
They stepped forward and cleared the door, Nitro and the officers of the Association following with some of their families. Revet and Blaster were there walking solemnly as the body passed Prime and his party. When it had they stepped forward to follow as everyone there began to do when the space allowed it. They walked measuredly onward climbing the staircase that led topside.
When they reached the street, hundreds if not thousands more were there waiting to join. It was silent, those passing by pausing respectfully as the procession began. Some of them joined as well, going toward the Mausoleum in the distance. Day Watch held traffic as the procession crossed the intersection, the flow of hundreds and thousands flooding the street.
Nearby watching out of the flow of the masses, scientists and soldiers, Charlotte Mearing and Seymour Simmons stood on their machines. It was intensely silent and respectful as the bots passed by taking one of their own to his final rest.
:I knew they had a graveyard but I didn't know what a funeral was like or if they even had ceremonies: Mearing said.
:I don't think they just dump bots into holes: Lennox said moving slightly back as the masses began to move past in earnest. :This much silence is intense:
Sheila Conroy nodded. :I know. They have emotions and feelings too. Ceremonies give comfort:
When it was possible to follow, the humans did. They did so discretely and quietly.
-0-Residence
Prowl sat at the desk in the office he shared with Optimus going over the overnight data dump. There were the usual suspects and problems including an update on the data stolen off the vessel manned by Sentinel back in the orn. Sector 7's main suspect, someone with the improbably name of Boston Martindale had been found eviscerated in a corn field some time ago. No suspects were available yet but some more of the tech had been traced.
In Germany, a company was seeking the international patents and trade protections for a liquid cement that was almost identical to that used by Hoist and his team when they replaced the buildings at Diego Garcia. It was a simple formula for the bots but not so much for the humans. A sample was going to be sent to them to analyze to be certain. If it was theirs then actions would be taken. If not, then serendipity had struck and they would all suck it up.
Lying on a number of soft blankets, the smallest femme Autobot of them all lay staring around the room. She was quiet, petite and gentle. She had smiled at them already, her little optics twinkling with pleasure. They had taken care together, Optimus feeding her as Prowl prepared her bath. She was easy to care for and easier to love.
Ironhide was right. Every mech needed a daughter.
Powl turned to the data before him working out the preliminary rescue of the smaller migration coming from the new direction even as a portion of his processor was fixed on the infant nearby.
-0-On the way
Ratchet walked beside Ironhide who walked beside Prime. The sun was warm on them as they moved along. It was a slow process, the solemnity and size of the masses making haste redundant. Ahead of them the stretcher was carried with care by mechs who didn't know him. It wasn't the habit of Decepticons to bury their dead with any sense of ceremony. It was more likely that their carcasses would be scavenged for useful parts, then cast aside.
Almost no one in this wave of individuals knew the mech. He wasn't easy to like and had not lived here that long. But at this moment he was everyone's mech. His foolishness aside, he was Cybertronian and they were still too few not to mourn the loss of even one among them.
Cars and trucks pulled over to the far lane driving slowly past the procession. Some pulled over to transform and stand in silence as the stretcher went past. Beyond them a few miles away, the stone walls of the Mausoleum loomed. They would reach it, then the prayers would be said. Chevron would take care of that. They would lower their helms and listen to the words he would say. Then when it was over, they would intone the oldest prayer that they all possessed to help him on his way to the Matrix. They would say, "until all are one." Then they would wait until he was interred and the headstone seated over the grave. Only then would they begin the long silent walk back to the city and their lives.
How this mech died would not be lost on anyone who was there. Not even among the hottest heads among them. In the end, the dead did a service to the living. Everyone knew that a promise was a promise. Anyone who thought less of that had no illusions anymore about what the consequences would be if they broke their word.
-0-At the prison
He stood at the bars, then turned to pace. He was fed up with incarceration and wanted out. The others were getting on his last nerve. Dead End was going to end up dead if he wasn't freed from that mech's eternal ranting and gloom. Wild Rider and Drag Strip were just as maddening. They were thrown together without mercy and now there was no pretense. Prime would never let them out.
Somewhere in the city Breakdown lived. Probably with that little fragger Knockout no doubt. Somewhere in the city, his brother had freedom. Here he was, Motormaster, leader of a dreaded road team and all around homicidal maniac stuck behind bars. It was embarrassing. He had half a mind to make the others combine and destroy this place. Even without Breakdown, they would be able to raise the Pit and make trouble. What could be wrong with that?
Nearby sitting in his chair by the fence, Motormaster could see Sentinel Prime. He always came out to sit by the fence to watch the air field. It was his greatest hope to be able to break free of this place and take that big fragger out. He wanted to rip Sentinel Prime to pieces with his bare servos. No fragger ever deserved it more. On that, Optimus Prime and Motormaster at last agreed.
-0-At the Mausoleum
They reached the place of interment at last, the masses gathered around the open gates to wait for the last rite they could give this mech to happen. The bearers paused at the gates as Chevron stopped. He handed the picture to Nitro, then turned to make the prayers to Primus, the Pantheon and The One. It was so silent and still that his voice could be heard clearly by everyone there. Inside waiting by the small opening of the grave, several former Decepticons stood ready to do the last possible service for this mech.
The prayers continued, then they were over. Everyone who had stood with their helms bowed in respect looked up as the stretcher began to go into through the gates. Inside, they followed the winding path to the space where this mech would lay at rest until time ended. It was a simple thing at this point. The stretcher was turned feet first toward the grave, then tilted until those handling the placement could grip the body. Gently, carefully, they slid the body into the grave until it was standing up inside. Then they turned and picked up the capstone with all his pertinent data and a image of him detailed in the stone. Placing it carefully, pressing it into the hole until it clicked tightly into place, they stood and backed away.
Chevron who had the image again bowed, intoned a short prayer, then placed the picture next to the headstone. It would stay there for a year, then be placed inside in the Book of Remembrance for visitors to see. It was short and simple, yet reverent and solemn. At this point Chevron bowed again signaling all of the others to do the same. Then he turned and began to leave to lead the procession back to the city. Everyone would follow. The funeral was over.
-0-Default
He worked in the grocery store in Tyger Pax finding in the routine of mundane things a sort of equilibrium and peace. No one had come to him again seeking information about the bombings or the others. That group would never be together like they were before. He had to find his way alone for now. Gravity and Kale had not made an effort to be around and he didn't seek them out. It suited him fine to live this way for now. Stocking shelves and helping customers find things was almost therapeutic for him. Even his genitors didn't speak of things as they were.
He also didn't attend junior auxillary-type activities by the Iacon Order. Neither did Kale or Gravity.
-0-Way out there
They rested on a planet, the travels of eons catching up with them. Their youngling rested between them. Soaking up solar rays for a while would help them make their way forward. They had heard a faint signal, one that came from someone they dared not hope to hear from again. It brought back bad memories, painful ones when they were in their prime and the universe held no threat. Now they were hunted and all was misery. When they were rested and energized enough, they would continue onward. They needed to move through space as fast as they could. If they were too slow and too careless, they would not only pay themselves, but so would their youngling.
That would be unthinkable.
They rested in the intense sunlight of an unknown star in a sector of space that was far from home. They did so with more hope. Prime was calling them to come. When they were sure they could, they would.
-0-In the city
They walked to Ops Center excusing themselves from the crowd that was making its way back. Entering, they walked to the center table of the vast command center taking seats. For a moment, they were silent. Then Ironhide looked at a pensive Prime. "What about the drone? Are you still going to give him a funeral?"
Prime nodded. "I think so. But I am going to postpone it a couple of orns. Right now, we are down one with Prowl. After the naming ceremony, then we can do right by that drone." He looked at Ratchet and Ironhide. "We owe our existence to that mechanism. I feel it is the least we can do."
Ratchet nodded. "I know. This was a strange thing and I feel the obligation too." He looked at Prime. "What about Gliese? Do you think we can bring it here without shattering it or our alliance with the humans?"
Prime shrugged slightly. "I think so. The science is there and we have to. Nothing we can do with that planet short of moving it will be safe. We can not destroy it. That will scatter the energon. We can not ignore it and we can not defend it that far out. If we were talking only the usual amount of energon, perhaps. But this is massive. I do not want to have to fight that far away with all the problems that entails."
Ironhide nodded. "Once we figure out where in the system to put it the rest should be easier."
"I love that Bey brought Cybertron practically into the atmosphere of Earth in 'Dark of the Moon'," Ratchet said with a snicker. "That would have torn both planets to bits. The tidal forces of their two gravities would have done both in. I love how Bey doesn't disappoint. He doesn't know a damned thing."
Prime snorted, then smiled. "I would not know. He has got my nobility down pat."
Ratchet grinned. "That goes without saying."
"True, that," Ironhide said. Then he grinned. "He missed your humility though."
Prime grinned. "He did."
Ratchet shook his helm. "Go home and play with your dollie. Slag will find you no matter where you are."
Prime rose and stretched. "That is a truism worth remembering."
"It's yours. I'll have it embroidered on a pillow," Ratchet said as the big mech walked off, a grin on his face.
They sat together for a moment, then Ratchet looked at Ironhide. "Wanna frag?"
Ironhide thought a moment, then nodded. "Sounds good." He rapped on his chassis, then slid the carry hold door open.
Prowler peered out sitting at the edge of his father's carry hold. Smiling brilliantly, he looked at both of them.
"Do you want to get his opinion too?" Ironhide asked.
Ratchet snorted. So did Prowler.
-0-TBC February 19, 2014 edited 3-12-14