The Diego Diaries: Counting Down (dd8 572)
Last night sucked. My laptop decided to die. It went with a whimper and not a bang. Fortunately. I managed to find this old dinosaur to hold over until the new one comes. Fortunately, I don't game so a $300.00 computer does it for me. Here we go.
=0=On the tarmac at the Prison
They came and came by van, individuals including roving Seekers and runabout. They were laid out on the tarmac in rows where technicians were scanning at the lowest level all of those most endangered from the degrading of the chips in their helms. Those individuals were pulled from the group before them and taken to the Medical Center both here and in Autobot City for Ratchet and the experts to handle. What was the worst aspect of it was fifteen were discovered that were going to be impossible to extract because to do so would kill them. The chips inside their helms were really degraded over time.
Sciences would have to work out that pile of slag.
Prime watched stoically as they were assisted, then carried onward to a large set of enclosures in the distance. They would live there until this situation would be resolved. How it would, he didn't know. He was just relieved that they weren't dying all over the colony.
It would go on for another four joors, then the last would be accounted for on their list. Only then would it get quiet at the Prison again.
=0=Ratchet
He flew from group-to-group working on those most endangered. Extracting from the helms of old and a few young, he managed to clear the backlog of those ordered to be left in place for his attendance. He entered apartments, crawled down gullies and entered establishments all over the cityscape following the trail of those extractions that would be too dangerous for others.
As it was, he'd send three onward to the Med Center at Oz to be placed with the other 15 who wouldn't survive the extraction. What they could do for those was unknown at the moment but as he rose wearily from the last one he helped, he watched as that mech and two femmes were carried out to a van for transport.
He walked with his crew outside where the light was getting brighter. It was nearly dawn and soon the colony would be going to town, getting ready for another orn. That a basketball championship was on for the evening, best two-out-of-three games cinching the title, a change from the year before only made things better.
Ratchet turned to his crew. "I just got the all clear. You can go. You did great. Thanks."
They chatted a moment, then the mechs and femmes with him moved onward toward home, work or any other number of possibilities. He watched them go, then checked in. :Ratchet to Prowl:
:Prowl here:
:All the problematics are sent onward. Three of them can't be extracted. Frag the 'Cons:
:I hear you. Come in:
:On my way: Ratchet replied, then transformed to drive onward from District 13 toward The Fortress. The sun would be fully up when he got there.
=0=At The Fortress
They gathered as the mission wound down and several thousand mechs and femmes were released to their lives and jobs again. It was a weary group that gathered in the conference room for the debrief. When they were all there the door closed.
"I'll give you the overall data thus far," Prowl said as he stared at his data pad. "We had 4,783 individuals of all ages to account for and as of this moment all of them have been. There were no small children in this group, nor youngling children. The youngest appears to be well into their sub adulthood." He glanced at Ratchet. "Any guesses to suggest?"
"At some point in the process of inbreeding in a contained population it affects the ability to reproduce. I would suggest that's the problem facing a group this big without children among them. It happens to organics. King Tut had two still born children with many deformities. There's a lot to study here but I'll get genetics to seek clues for this outcome. It doesn't surprise me though," Ratchet said as Perceptor and Wheeljack nodded.
"We have 18 individuals who have such degraded devices that we dare not remove them with our current technology. They were taken to the Med Center in Oz where they have facilities to hold them in stasis until we figure this out. They handle explosive medical problems, I'm told," Prowl said as he glanced at Ratchet.
Ratchet nodded. "We can take them out there if possible or provide some more comfortable containment until we can."
Prowl stared at the data pad. "It's coming on daylight so we have to make a statement about this. Its going to be a touchy situation for the former high castes to assimilate, some of them, so we're going to add the videos made by the Watch to the presentation," he said as he glanced at Springer.
Springer nodded.
"We also have one who died that alerted us to this nightmare. That person's name is holding pending notification of next-of-kin. I do believe they'll probably be in the group we're holding. Expect to hear about this."
"How much do you want to tell about this? That they're medically incapable to make a good decision or what?" Drift asked.
Prime considered that. "I think short of the most intimate details it would be good to say that. I will think of some way to phrase it. Right now, I am very comforted that they are in custody and free of the menace."
They talked a bit, then sat back to relax a moment.
"The first of three for the trophy is tonight. Have you practiced enough or at all?" Wheeljack asked.
"Tonight? I forgot," Blackjack said with a snicker. "Good thing I'm awesome."
That got all the love it deserved, then they rose to go their way. All of them were off for the duration of the championships, three games that would play back-to-back until one team won two. Among the group heading for IntraCom would be Optimus and Prowl with Jazz and Blaster to go to the studio and drop the news which was already being speculated about on planet wide social media.
=0=Post Office around the same time
"We looked, Commander. It wasn't on the manifest," the postal worker said to Ratchet as he waited at the pick up counter at the Main Post Office of Mars near The Fortress.
"Are you sure, infant?" Ratchet asked.
"I'm sorry. It wasn't on any of the delivery manifests. Given all the disruptions of ship traffic lately, I'm not surprised. I think if you check back tomorrow we might be luckier," he said earnestly.
"Thanks, infant. Tomorrow, then," Ratchet said as he walked to the door to stand on the sidewalk.
The weak sunlight still felt good as he mulled over the idea of not having a costume for the game. It was made in the burgeoning business boom on Cybertron, Altihex to be exact. Given that a lot of free ranging Decepticon scouting groups had decided to defect and come home, the free flow of commerce between Cybertron and Mars had been disrupted. His slagging awesome costume was hung up literally somewhere between the old world and the new one.
He walked off with a searing sense of disappointment determined to represent Iacon anyway.
He would.
=0=IntraCom
"Three … two … you're on, Optimus," Jazz said as the screen changed to Prime's serious face.
"Good morning, Autobot City. I am here to talk to you about an operation that was undertaken last night as you slept. We have retrieved many migrations over the orns and because we have our population passed 500,000,000 individuals with the acquisition of the last one, a small group following the one before it.
"This group was retrieved and somehow they managed to get through Immigration before a problem was detected. As you may know, in the past we have dealt with the illnesses, defects and other ailments of our people that were acquired mostly in the Diaspora. However, there are some who bear serious problems acquired in older orns.
"We have encountered courier-trap technology that the Decepticons applied to many of their soldiers and we are finding, some civilians. The last group to come had not only courier-traps in their helms but also one and up to two recall chips from the Functionalist era.
"When we discovered this we wanted them to come to centers to have them removed but for reasons I cannot divulge they refused. Some of our people find it hard to trust after all they experienced and this group was no exception. Since it was imperative that they be treated and freed of this life-threatening menace and because we could not get their cooperation, we were forced to mount an operation in when they were put into stasis as a group, then airlifted to a central point where they got the treatment.
"As it stands we have 4,783 individuals who no longer live with this danger. Yet because of the length of time some bore these devices, the individual detonators have begun to deteriorate in others. They are not going to be safe to extract by conventional means. The 18 individuals with this problem are being held in comfort at a care facility until we can figure out how to remove the threat without their death. As it is, we have already lost an elder due to the detonators blowing up in the process of extraction killing them instantly. The medic who attempted this lost a servo. He will recover fully but the loss of the elder is a loss for us all.
"We are going to show you video that demonstrate what they are and how powerful they can be."
The screen cut to sappers and medics removing the devices from individuals whose identity was blurred. They showed the devices mounded up in piles, then controlled exploded. The divot in the ground was examined as well. The pile of silvery devices was appalling to see. The smoldering aftermath was worse.
Prime's face was back. "We are very gratified that this is now concluded and regret and lament that one of our people was killed this way. We believe that the problem is limited to this group but if you feel uncertain contact Central Emergency Services at the special number, 6868, so they may aid you to get connected to a clinic that will be handling this matter going forward.
"We welcome our new fellows and are saddened by the death. We hope in future that those who come can believe that there is someone somewhere in this universe that cares deeply about them and their welfare. Thank you for this time. Until all are one," Optimus said before the transmission was cut.
Central Emergency Services would field calls all day. No one would be found to be mined.
=0=At the office later that orn
Ratchet sat on Ironhide's couch in the armory waiting for him to return from a last minute clandestine basketball practice for the game several joors from now. Nearly all of them had forgotten about it in the fragged atmosphere of the last few. As he sat relaxed on the soft couch, he considered what he could do about his cheer gear now that he got hosed by the post office. He considered all the most embarrassing possibilities, then chose to ride this one out. Nothing he could improvise would top the long term shamings he had prepared (Prowl) for.
"I thought you were busy," Ironhide said as he sauntered in. He sat in his desk, then grinned. "I don't have any candy to give ya, slagger."
"You did."
Ironhide's smirk fell to the desk top and shattered like his tiny little spark. He pulled open a locked cabinet and his fudge stash was gone. "You slagger. That was locked."
Ratchet grinned, then transformed all ten of his digits to stuff. "Nothing is locked out from me. Really, Ironhide. I thought you'd learn by now."
He grinned. "Change them back. That sort of turns me on."
Ratchet did, then grinned. "Who's going to win tonight?"
Ironhide chuckled. "Everyone," he replied.
=0=TBC 11-21-2022
