The Diego Diaries: Blowin' (dd8 504)
=0=Out there
"There's another howling storm coming. Its at the equator and could bury us again. I thought Wheeljack and Percy took care of that?" Drift said to no one in particular as they rode on the cowling of a shuttle toward a number of smaller ships with crews and passengers ready to leave. It was getting to be that easy, the transport of those ready to go.
Ratchet glanced at Prime, then back over his shoulder toward Hot Rod who was laughing about something with Twin Twist. He grinned at Prime. "Looks like Roddy and the infant are going to be hitting the Temple for something a lot less interesting than watching Ironhide sing prayers for the dead."
Prime glanced at Ratchet. "I think its one of the most civic minded things a mech can do, giving service to one's Temple."
Both of them laughed loudly.
=0=At the Temple
Sela stared outside through a door cracked open just enough to see the flow of dust and sand going by like a raging river. The crews that were working on the packages that the priests took into the migration had gone home. Things were slowing with everyone getting a grip on what to do about transportation of refugees around the colony. Decisions had to be made. The stockpile of treats would hold overnight and it would pick up again in the morning.
Everyone had left to go on the Metros to home, beating the storm by inches. The intensity had grown over the past joor and things were heading toward peak ferocity shortly.
The streets of the Old City looked bare with the odd light flashing, then disappearing in the wailing wind and particulate. It drifted on her porch as she watched the lights of towers in her line of sight, most of them bright with lights as people made it home.
Nearby the sound of a siren foretold of someone's ambulance trip to the Medical Centers nearby, a determined last driver taking their patients onward before the Air Force would use runabouts to do that job. It would take experts in all kinds of conditions to battle the mess outside.
No one was on the streets. The traffic lights swung in the wind and it was eerily beautiful everywhere she looked. Everywhere around her was safety for their people. The lights of the Temple had attracted refugees all orn long and for orns before that. Now they were gone, heading back on the Metro to their homes before they became caught out in the storm. Everyone had reported back to them who had left, reassuring the priests and Sela that they had made it.
Inside it was warm, quiet and peaceful. The torches threw long dancing shadows on the floors and walls but they were comforting rather than eerie. This was home, this was where the relics were and they were taking care of their people. More were coming back, millions of them and she felt a sense of happiness that all was well.
Sela shut the door, then walked back down the corridor to the long one that took her to the vast room of the ground floor. No one was there so she walked to the stairs, went down, bowed to the relics than walked to the residence where everyone was. They would get some rest, check in for whoever needed them, then the orn would begin again.
She grinned as she did. She looked forward to seeing Smokescreen the Younger and Hot Rod the Visibly Unhappy once again. She considered having their names engraved on the metal handle of their shovels. She walked down the office corridor, turned the corner, then entered the brightly lit communal room where the priests, acolytes and those who were staying at the Temple for various reasons including Alpha Trion were sharing out the communal dinner. She would join them.
=0=The Emergency Command Center, Fortress Maximus, The City
There was a low buzz of voices as the different departments worked on their share of the problem. The wind was howling around the towers and antennas of the massive cityformer who made up their command building. Their center was located in a specially designed and functional central location in a tower that was theirs, one that was directly over the main lounge area of the Central Labor Hall below them.
Inferno sat at the command table, a highly sophisticated complex of computer monitors, a 3-D data map of the entire colony that could be manipulated from the overall view to any alleyway or dead end that was needed to see. Cameras were everywhere but were operating on night vision and infrared to see what was going on.
Calls were a steady drone as individuals or groups in areas outside the colonial habitation zones or in them themselves checked in to update their progress, call for help or get information. It would be a steady drone of calls to the fifteen mechs and five femmes who sat in the Call Center taking them. Dispatches were made, mostly by Air Force and Army personnel and problems were solved.
Inferno glanced at Red Alert. "Red, what about that fire in Oz? Is it out?"
Red glanced at Inferno. "Yes. I'm having the fire marshal send someone to go through the area and made sure its locked down. I don't want it restarting."
"What caused it if you know?" Inferno asked.
"A piece of pipe broke loose and took out a transformer box. The fire is out and Ciri is on the way," Red said.
"Thanks," Inferno said as he turned back to his high tech spread. IT would go on like that all night while two stories overhead in Meteorology their scientists would be hard at it.
=0=The Resort of Autobot City, Resort Ridge, The City
They were getting ready to go home after a briefing by the night staff and Gavin Pritchard, their Chief of Security. The storm was howling and the view out the windows, normally a magnificent sight of the entire colony sprawling in all directions, their cities gleaming with their incredible skylines of towers and upper story roadways was a dud. A powerful sand storm was raging across the plain, its reach hundreds of feet into the sky.
"Well, we're heading out. Call us if you need us," Judy Witwicky said as she pulled her mask out of her pocket. "We'll see what's up. We have access to the back up runabout fleet at the Southside Airport to use for sightseeing if the weather allows. The roads are messed up and we can't dawdle with people's itineraries."
Everyone nodded, then Gavin watched them walk down the concourse to take the Resort Metro to the Family Tower Metro, one made for them to use for their home site. He glanced around noting that the night life was swinging anyway. He would police it all night long with the Watch and Resort security teams that worked here. It would go pretty well all in all.
=0=Public Works, Midtown, Emergency Control Center, Industrial Park Highway
The mechs whose job it was to clear streets and airports sat in their lounges here and at the other locations where their equipment was dispersed for use. The monitors played the news with the sound turned down. The weather report hadn't changed. It was a howling mess outside.
They would play cards, chat and wait for that moment when things were dying down before heading out to battle the elements. They were the unsung heroes of the place, those whose job it was to make and keep quality of life for everyone else. The evening would pass quietly.
=0=Autobot City Stables, Autobot City, Mars
The horses were in the big arena and the shelter barns that were built to house them after the last sand storm. They were huge open spaces where the animals could gather and be safe out of the wind and stinging sand. Those in the stalls inside the stable proper, those ailing or special in some manner dozed on their peds, their helms drooping slightly in their recharge.
Tending to them was a crew of fifteen mechs which now included Waldeen full time. He had blossomed in the company of the animals and now could come and go from his transitional apartment in Central Point without accompaniment. He shared it with his father, Traachon, a mech who was still in intensive therapy. Along with the notion that his old ideas were forbidden, coming unbidden to him were the things he'd done and participated in on Cybertron.
Some of those who'd been quashed of their quaint notions sometimes saw a rise in their helms of the 'badness' of the rest of the story, their own actions. Some never would like Sentinel, some would take forever like many of the most recent arrivals and others would fall into it head first.
Traachon was that mech.
He would spend a lot of time in therapy, ride with his son everyday at the stables to help him exercise and train some of the younger stallions and geldings, then go home and read, sleep and relax. He knew that Millow was still in the hospital. He visited him now every orn to help him make his own leap of faith. All he had to do was find his footing.
Traachon didn't know what he wanted to do but he did know he liked spending time with his son and the horses. The rest he tried not to think about too much. It was easier on his nerves if he did.
=0=At Callo's house
They played cards, a Cybertronian game highly favored by all castes and talked. Callo had people over, all manner of family and business friends to talk about 'things'. Dinner was had, cards dealt and bets made.
"I think the word about Kudon and Commotion is very troubling," Selo said. He was a former judge of the High Court of Appeals and a powerful figure in the old government back in the orn. He and his bond were living in Crater District 8, City 4 and had found it easier when they found other high castes living there as well.
"Its murder," Callo said darkly. "Now Tempo. He and Prime quarreled and now he's dead. I don't think its a coincidence at all."
"Maybe," OT-O said. He was a former commissioner of the ruling oversight board of the State Police on Cybertron. "What do you plan to do about it?"
Callo considered the question. "Push back."
=0=A transitional room at The Center for Rehabilitation and Wellness, Central Point, Midtown, Autobot City, Mars
Mystic looked out the window watching the storm rage. "This planet had a lot of love once. The wind is crying for its people. It misses them but its glad we're here."
"That's good to know, Mystie." Budge was sitting at the small table with a drawing pad, one used by professional design artists. "I'm so glad Ratch knew where to get this. I can't believe what a great thing this design pad is. I can't believe we can get things like this for free."
Mystic walked to the table to sit. "You and Ratchet are going to become what you wanted, Budge. You're going to be recognized for the artists you are."
"What about you, Mystie? What's going to happen to you here?" Budge asked as he traced a delicate filigree on a small iron device.
"I'm going to do readings again. There's no other Seer here who's doing that. I find that unacceptable," Mystie said as he watched Budge draw.
"It is," Budge said as he painstakingly made his marks. "How can people know things without you?"
=0=Diego Garcia Operational Center, Earth
It was morning on Earth as Smokescreen walked in to sit at the command table. All around him were kids doing their jobs. Two humans sat on a monitor table reading and watching occasionally when someone rose or checked something.
Smokescreen glanced at Smokey nearby typing furiously as he worked. "Have you heard the news on Mars?"
Everyone glanced at him including Smokey.
"No. What? Did someone attack us again?" he asked.
"No. Its worse. We're having the sand storm of the century," Smokescreen said as he watched his grandson do a come apart.
Smokey half rose in his chair in shock. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
=0=TBC 8-19-2022
come apart: short for come apart at the seams. :D
