The Diego Diaries: Moving On (dd8 182)
=0=At the shop
They hurried through the last minute stuff, sending all the emails they'd put in the queue. They were going to be closed for four orns so they had to get everything pending organized. When that was accomplished, Default peered out of the window in the reception area where Turquoise still worked as their receptionist as he analyzed code and other data for colonial projects, mostly medical. "The cab is here, Burnie."
Burnoff put his computer system on sleep, hit the safety protocol switch, then grabbed his gear. "Let's go then."
They hurried out, entered the cab, then sat back after giving it their destination, The Autobot City South Fortress Municipal Airport, the A.C.F.M.A., or as it was facetiously called by locals, 'ask your ma'.
The cab stepped on it driving through the upper level roadway system to wind down to the ground level to join the highway that went southeast toward the Tri-Cities Roundabout. Sitting back, they relaxed at the idea of an unaccustomed long weekend of fun and frivolity.
"Did you reconfirm the campsite reservation with Parks* and the BLM*?" Burnoff asked.
Default did. "We have the entire time confirmed."
"Good," he said as they merged into traffic heading for the right lane that led into the massive roundabout signaling their exit point.
They entered, took the turnoff toward The City, then when several miles had passed took a right turn at the junction that led to either the Autobot City Stables or A.C.F.M.A, Fortress Airport. It was a left turn that put them on their way and after three miles of fenced 'pasture' and barns on one side and the business end of The Fortress on the other with its bristling battle shuttles parked to leave at a moment's notice, they arrived at the gates of the massive civilian airport, one of two in the colony.
They drove on lanes designated that took them through miles of tie downs, many secured by all manner of ships and many still open for occupation. Those who had a ship in repair or being created had a hangar of their own and those who wanted one for their vessels no matter their state could, but most were parked at secured locations in rows at the airport near the landing and take off strips.
A secured sector down the way held ships flown in from off world like Cybertron and Earth. This was the home base of the huge private flight facility that maintained Autobot City Touring Company's vast fleet of tourist, specialist transport and cargo vessels, itself the largest Cybertronian business that served Earth and the system.
Away they went toward the massive hangar district beyond.
"We're just about done, right?" Default asked. "Did you want to pack the tools just in case? I also have the numbers for towing if there's a problem."
"I think we need to be prepared. The kit needs to be consolidated, then put in the cargo hold, Dee," Burnoff said. "The kid's stuff is already there. Right?"
"The genitors said they'd get all of that," Default said.
They were taking care of the children today given that the pre-school that their older son attended, The Temple Infant School was closed with all the hoo-hah but would be opening again after the weekend all things being equal.
They drove past huge hangars for big ships, then turned left to go into the smaller sized hangar sector for lesser vessels where their ship awaited. Their friend and family circle was heavily into flying and the groups they belonged to supported this interest. They'd caught the craze they were following with this vessel, their first kit build from the others who'd seen them on YouTube. The cab came to a halt outside of Hangar 102-Row C, the one that said 'BURNOFF-DEFAULT' on the name plaque at the door, then climbed out with their stuff.
The cab drove onward to park nearby at a cab stand as they walked into the building. The vast door was raised and light streamed in. Sitting in chairs chatting together, Turquoise and Pawz, the former socialite femme who was Default's ada smiled at the sight of them. Turquoise was holding the newest addition to their combined family, a tiny femme named Til.
The other apple of everyone's optic, Bud was 'helping' his appas make the last few adjustments to the engine. He held a tiny wrench that neither needed but was there in case they did. Every so often one of them would take it, pretend to adjust something under the cowling then hand it back. "Thanks, Bud. You're such a big help," they would say then the baby would do what he did best, smile like the sun. He saw his genitors, then ran as fast as he could, which wasn't very fast, toward them with the tiny wrench gripped tightly in his equally tiny servo.
Hugs were had, happiness exchanged, then the two mechs glanced into the engine pit. "So are we ready to go?"
"I think so," Copperton said with satisfaction. He leaned in to kiss his grandson who was being held by his ada. "You really helped us, Buddy. I think I need that wrench again."
Bud happily gave it to him and watched with delight as they began to put the tools together for stowing, asking sweet questions in his sweet voice.
Default glanced at his ada and ada-in-law. "Do we need to get anything else?"
"We have it all," Pawz said. "We're ready to go when you are."
It took a moment to load up including the camp chairs, then all went inside the vessel to sit and make ready for take off. It was a miracle of engineering, this 'thing' that had exploded in the colony when the first one made its debut over the skies of Tyger Pax on the way to the Valles for the weekend. The new 'thing' was recreational vehicular vessels.
Flying motor homes.
All four of them, Default, Burnoff, Copperton and Como belonged to a civilian aviation group that was mostly what humans would call 'middle class families'. These were the folks who built their vessels to the greatest luxury and quality, flew in groups to campgrounds to party with children in mind and held meetings regularly to figure out not only what they could do as builders but what their club could do for others. This club, The Blue Sky Wanderers was a mentor group to the Autobot City Civil Air Patrol and assisted the youngsters in it to learn how to fly and build vessels.
Now they were taking their flying RV out into the world for a jaunt with ten other families at the newest 'recreational vehicle' campground on world in the caldera of the Olympus Mons. It'd all been done after a conversation between Copperton and Ultra Magnus. After listening to him, Magnus had brought it up to Prime who was intrigued and okayed it. Then it was handed off to the Department of the Interior to implement and implement it they did. There were two big RV camps already in existence, one in the Valles and the other in Olympus Mon's big caldera with four others under construction in different places around the planet including the north pole.
The vessel fired up as Como and Copperton took the honors in the forward compartment that was the flight deck. Lounging on couches and chairs in the multi windowed 'living room' space, the others held children and chatted. Beyond them was a small kitchen and a dining area with a big monitor for entertainment. A little set of bunk beds along the hull just after that for the babies led to a berth room with a small shower. The couches and table could convert to berths. All in all, everyone would be accommodated on board.
With their barbecue device in the cargo bay, their children on their laps and their sparks light with joy over the coming weekend, Como and Copperton eased the vessel out of the hangar. Getting the go ahead from the tower nearby, they flew forward following a line on the ground to the number six air strip. When they were free to go they lifted upward and began to fly into the sky. It fairly purred as it rose upward.
Gazing out of the big windows, the passengers watched the airfield disappear.
Burnoff grinned at his ada's delight. "How did it go at Sciences, Ada? I'm assuming good things because you're here."
Turquoise glanced at him with a smile. "It went really well …"
-0-Sciences, earlier
"This is the major mutation," Turquoise said as he pointed to a nearly imperceptible break in the sequencing of the CNA code of a child that had been chosen with four others of varying ages to be read by the little mech. "Then there's the second one, the one that triggered the other. Its the same pattern in all their codes and, given probability, will hold up for everyone, especially since they're so closely related to each other, many of them.
"Its my estimation and its only that," he said with emphasis. "I speculate that the ultraviolet radiation of the planet caused the mutation over the period of time they were there. There would be no way anyone could live there because we aren't genetically disposed to surviving that spectrum at that intensity."
"That's good to know. I'll let Prime in on it," Wheeljack said. "Its going to help with any push back that they might have about having to leave."
"What is your suggestion, Turquoise?" Perceptor asked. "I see a two path treatment here."
"That's what I'd suggest," Turquoise said. "I'd take on the little one first, then the second. The second is the bullet but the little one is the gun."
"Agreed," Perceptor said as he scanned the data with his incredible optics. "This is a very difficult find, Turquoise. My greatest appreciation. We could've found it eventually but you are the best at what you do and many kudos to you, my friend."
Turquoise felt tingles on his neural net. This had been the most exciting and fulfilling life he'd ever experienced, being chief code reader for the colony and being receptionist for his son's business. He could combine both and be an amma as well. Life was most excellent for the sweet natured mech from Capital City, the son of the Chief Justice of the High Courts of Cybertron.
When he'd been appointed recently to the official position of Chief Code Reader and Data Analyst for Mars and by extension the Empire, he'd shown the congratulatory letter from Optimus to Copperton.
Copperton had gotten it framed where it hung on their berth room wall next to his most prized possession. Framed beside it was a card of congratulations for his promotion as Chief Inspector for Electronics for Public Works for the Empire. It was signed with every member of his work crew, all 34 of them and Jetta. He'd only taken on the role if he could stay with them, digging in the dirt and doing the heavy lifting, too. It was a measure of their love and friendship with him that the card had been given. It was a measure of his desire to be real that Prime had happily complied with his wishes.
Things were different for the formerly entitled high caste misfits who'd been brought up short by their son's damning terrorism and raised up by the unfailing goodness of Metroplex when he forgave them. Diving into their life, they had friends of all kinds, Copperton played on a bowling league with workers from his crew, they attended meetings to offer assistance and cared for their grandchildren whenever they could.
Their home had the 'necessities' of a toy box and cribs for the children during their date night stay overs. Dinners were held at home and restaurants with friends, children and babies, clubbing was had and pursued with gratitude that mercy could come to them here in this place.
The common denominator through it all was Optimus Prime.
Flying onward, following the GPS signal path to the campground in the Mons Olympus, everyone on board was ready to have fun. It would be fun for everyone and all of their former multiple caste friends waiting for them to arrive.
Then First Monday would come and Bud would be back in pre-school with his newest best friend, a slightly grumpy but ultimately rollicking Halo.
=0=At a conference in The Fortress's
"You aren't going to tell me? After all we've been through? I've seen all you got including your debris chute. You can trust me," Ratchet asked with his best smile.
Prime who was listening while they waited for Prowl, Wheeljack and Perceptor to arrive smirked at Ratchet. "My debris chute? When?"
"I'd need a calculator. Want me to tell you the number?"
"No. Thanks anyway," Prime said with a chuckle as the others entered to sit.
"He won't tell me the Cybertronian rules for golf," Ratchet said.
Perceptor glanced at Prime. "We don't have Cybertronian golf. Do we, Jack?"
Wheeljack who was smirking at Ratchet glanced at Perceptor. "I think we do now. What's the hold up, Prime? You can't figure out who takes the ins when its out? I want to know about the scrum."
Prime chuckled. "You give me ideas, Wheeljack."
It would be a jolly meeting as Perceptor and Wheeljack outlined the two step procedure that would save the lives of nearly 1,000 of their people from imminent death.
=0=TBC 06-06-2021
*In America it kind of works like this: Department of the Interior, Bureau of Land Management, Department of Forestry and the Parks and Recreation Service. There are variations because we're so huge but that's basically it.