NOTE: my writing program died and so I have to recreate my segments AGAIN. Sorry about that. I am so behind here. Sky, thank you and I am very happy you are entertained. -Me More slag: I've been trying to post for two days. It won't let me. I will try and try again.

=0=And now, back to the story in progress

The Diego Diaries: Chirp

=0=Autobot Embassy

As they reached the invisible line of the Autobot Embassy territory a tall white figure stepped out of the doorway pausing and watching them with a sweet smile on his sweet face. "Hello, Senator Hoxley. I am so happy you could come and bring so many of your colleagues."

"Hello, Ambassador Ratchet. I am so terribly delighted to be here."

Ratchet smiled at the human delegation and knelt, moving closer to eye level. Some of them were mesmerized, some were clearly unnerved and some delighted. Graham and Lennox were slightly amused and stood to one side allowing Fulton to do most of the honors. They were all introduced and re-introduced and when that was over Ratchet told them how they could proceed in their walk through the Embassy.

"I want you to know that everyone in the building who is an Autobot have put their proximity sensors on full range scan and that you will be safe from being trod upon. I hope you stay together as a group and that you ask the questions that are on your minds. I will answer all that I am allowed to answer and find others who can help if I cannot. I will also use American English throughout and hope that you ask me to clarify if something isn't clear. We will show you all that we can. What we can't is either classified or falls into the realm of privacy considerations and therefore off limits." He rose up and smiled. "If you will follow me." He turned and walked inside, pausing inside the door for the others to catch up. He turned and looked around noting a number of mechs sitting and relaxing at tables here and there. "This is our recreation room. We eat here and spend time relaxing together off shift. It is the first room that anyone sees when they come here and the doors to it are usually left open day and night depending on circumstances and the weather."

The mechs inside looked at the newcomers, watching them as they walked past, their eyes roaming here and there. Bluestreak, walking into the room paused and smiled, moving to one side to watch. Hoxley, spotting him paused and looked up at Ratchet. "Who is this person, Ambassador?"

Ratchet turned and spied the youngster, gesturing him to come forward. He did and paused looking down with interest. "This is Bluestreak. He's the youngling of Prowl, our Second-In-Command of the Autobot Armed Forces."

Blue smiled and knelt, looking at the humans with bright blue optics. "Welcome."

"We are very pleased to meet you," Hoxley said holding out her hand. Bluestreak, smiling, held out his servo. Hoxley took a hold of a digit and patted Blue. "I wish I could tell you how much I have looked forward to meeting more of you beyond just the Ambassador and his escort. It is just so exciting to be here and see all of you."

"We are happy you are here," Bluestreak said grinning. They chatted a moment and then Ratchet gestured them to follow, the entire group walking forward and moving toward Ops Center. They entered and walked inside, the stations occupied by mechs on shift and a small console sitting on top another console that was manned by two humans. They were there to coordinate human satellite intel and to liaison between the two HQ's.

"This is our command center and its manned day and night." Ratchet turned and looked down. "If you would permit me to lift you to the center table we can explain what you see around you much better."

Hoxley nodded and Ratchet knelt putting two servos down on the ground. Hoxley hesitated and then walked forward and turned, sitting down. Fulton and Lennox took the other hand and Ratchet raised them easily, turning and gently placing them on the table. Turning, smiling at the others, Ratchet lifted them up in ones and twos until all were on the table. Even Brinks and Weaver were impressed. They stood together and listened as Ratchet explained the stations and the mechs who were working there.

Prowl, working nearby watched them out of the corner of his optics admiring the skill Ratchet brought to the task before him. He had always been their diplomat, the gangling medico with the temper was a tactful and patient negotiator and representative, relieving both Prime and himself of a lot of endless chitchat and hair splitting.

"And you may remember Prowl, our Second-In-Command of the Armed Forces and our Prime's right servo mech," Ratchet said finally getting to the taciturn and comely winger standing by Teletraan II. Prowl turned and nodded, his beauty complimentary to his dignity and calm manner. He walked to stand beside Ratchet, looking at them with an unruffled expression.

"I am happy to see all of you here. You are welcome," Prowl said quietly.

They began to ask questions of Prowl, relieving Ratchet for a moment of the burden of sifting through classified and non-classified informational requests. It also gave him time to study Weaver, this person who in a peripheral way was partly responsible for Ironhide's near death in Denver.

Weaver was a relatively tall man, thin and slightly balding. He took great care in his appearance. His clothing was expensive, even in his casual dress at this moment and his tan had little to do with sun exposure. He was alert and his eyes roved the room searching out this and that, lingering on each Autobot.

As he stood looking around asking a question now and again, the shift changed and Sunstreaker and Sideswipe entered to do their turns at communications and the mainframe. They were strikingly beautiful and everyone paused to look at them as they passed by. They both grinned and nodded to Ratchet who smirked and nodded back. They exchanged places with Trailbreaker and Smokescreen and then plugged in, drawing a startled expression from the visitors.

"We plug directly into the consoles to expedite information," Ratchet said smiling at the stunned expressions of the senators. They had seen the others sitting this way but somehow the idea that they plugged themselves directly into the consoles had escaped them. Brinks turned to Ratchet. "You plug into machines? Yet you say you aren't machines."

"We aren't. We are mechanical in make up but we aren't machines. Plugging in makes it quicker and easier and we can communicate and do work more efficiently. Think of it as headphones."

Brinks considered that but Ratchet could tell he wasn't mollified.

"Who are the two that just came in?" Weaver asked.

"Those two are Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. I am surprised you don't recognize them," Ratchet said watching as Prowl bristled but kept it off his face.

"What do you mean?" Weaver asked turning to the medic.

"Those are two of the three mechs you had on one of your contraband pictures you showed to the world in one of the hearings. You displayed contraband pictures of them and another mech, the one you saw in the rec room, Bluestreak."

They all looked at Weaver who stood looking at the two at their stations. "Those are the Lamborghinis. The two who attacked Johnson and Hedges."

"No. Those are the two that went to speak to Johnson and Hedges about the soldiers slandering us," Ratchet said. Prowl stared at Weaver, his optics narrowing and waited. His door wings were taut and high on his back and he looked like he was going to slap them into the next dimension. Of course, no one who didn't know Prowl could see it but Ratchet knew the tels. Behind them hearing the conversation the two Lambos turned, fixing the group with fierce optics.

:Do you want me to thrash that little fragger?: Sunstreaker asked Ratchet internally.

:If anyone slags the little fragger it will be me. But thanks anyway, Sunny: Ratchet replied.

:No. I will: Prowl interjected.

The two Lambos grinned and turned back to their stations.

"We already determined that there was no attack," Lennox said. "The film showed that they were lying. I am surprised you brought it up."

Weaver turned and looked at Lennox, adding nothing more to the subject than an irritated expression.

Ratchet, grinning, asked for more questions and they got them, most of them thoughtful and designed to understand what was going on around them. Most of them had to do with how the center dealt with the Decepticon threat and by the time a half hour had passed they were all on the floor and headed for Medbay.

It would be a long afternoon.

=0=Ironhide

He had watched them come from a respectful distance, sitting on a box of machine parts near to the airfield. A blanket was laid on the tarmac and Orion was sitting on it, his glyph ball in his little servos. He was singing to himself, an incomprehensible gathering of clicks, chirps and whirring sounds. To anyone else they were odd gibberish but to Ironhide they were songs straight from Primus. They were threads of a great love for the tiny being weaving themselves into his spark that he thought only had room for Ratchet.

The little black sparkling sat on the tarmac sheltered in the shade of an Aerialbot who was admiring him and telling Ironhide so. That little sparkling was the greatest personal achievement of his sire's existence beyond the bonding that had made him the happiest he had ever felt in a lifetime of hardship, suffering, war and loss.

They had been teased and sassed, the two of them when they bonded but anyone who had known them well was not surprised. Ratchet was fun-loving and smart, filled with outgoing joie de vivre that eons of war and suffering had only dampened not destroyed. Ironhide was confident, smart, more cultured and cultivated than he let on and filled with an aggressive adventurism that more than met its match in Ratchet. Between them they had become legend, pranksters, gifted soldiers, good sparks.

Now they had expressed their companionship in the best way, the most important way. They had created a sparkling that not only would be them going forward into the future but also their people as well. To Ironhide it was a win-win. He was without a doubt in his spark the luckiest mech on this or any other planet anywhere.

Looking at his sparkling he grinned. He was a handsome little slagger Ironhide thought watching as the tiny infant turned and looked up at him, a grin on his little face. Ratchet was right. Ironhide grinned and shook his head. When wasn't he?

=0=TBC

2011 (1)