Big Bright World

We return to the universe of Garrett. Yet it is not quite the one we are familiar with. The sacrifices of the awesome heroes of Garrett Prime made this universe possible. This is the road not travelled. A universe of near perfection. If we all had the right tools at the time. This is what the world of Garrett could be. Where all that was wrong was put right due to a bizarre butterfly effect that aided our heroes, the Autobots and the Keystones, with a helping hand from the once and future Casey Mitch Mithcell. Yet the events of the nineteen-eighties were a lifetime ago. We exist in a new far off decade that of the twenty-tens.     
No longer in Mountain Maryland, but Ocean Maryland on a fine fourth of July Weekend. Friday the first of July twenty fourteen. Dawn breaks along with the waves on the beach of Ocean City, below the boardwalk. The sky was so blue barely a cloud in it, the ocean glistening. A single figure is seen tearing up the beach. Dressed seemingly impractically in all black running gear. Short dark hair pushed out of her face with an eternity scarf. The figure runs through the waves being cooled by their spray. We see they are wearing a NASA and IASA mission patch T-shirt. The sort you can’t just buy on the internet. Through wireless ear pods, the runner listens to Fucked up World by The Pretty Reckless. 
It's a fucked up world, what do you get?
Sex and love and guns, light a cigarette
A fucked up world, what do you get from it?
Sex and love and guns, light a cigarette
Sex and love and guns, light a cigarette
After a nine-mile run, soon to be full Colonel Shannon Lock USAF is bound for home. Shannon is older, in her late thirties her jet black hair a little shorter, more of an extreme Pixie cut than ever before. She has the barest hint of laugh lines. Shannon looks in the mirror these days and often thinks it’s her mother Erin looking back at her.
Finally, at a slower pace, Shannon takes a set of familiar weather-beaten wooden stairs off the beach. She was sure Junior got twenty bucks to paint them before they had guests, this weekend. In front of her stood a small tumbledown wood built. split level beach house. Shannon stopped and stretched against a rail overlooking the beach. She couldn’t go one on one with an entity like Starscream anymore without stretching. Like a big old Thundercat. Also as badass as it had been when she was fifteen she would probably trade a Molotov cocktail for one of those fifth-generation fighter Jets her test pilot friends had. 
This ramshackle sometimes leaky glorified cabin was her home. Not just her Home but Dutch’s and Harley's and Juniors. If only fifteen year old her could see her now. A regular working Mum. Just one that sometimes worked in space. At least she still drove a Van, the same one she had in the eighties. Even if a V8 Volvo wagon did have a certain appeal. 
Of Course, none of the rest of the family was awake. Shannon walked around the side of the house greeting a cat with curiously large ears slumbering on a windowsill in the early morning sun. He purred in his sleep. She picked up a BMX off the patchy lawn. Abandoned and forgotten by her Daughter Harley. Who was if anything far too like her mother. Obsessed with the Dirt Bike they were building together that her grandfather was bringing parts for. Shannon placed the BMX on a hook in the carport. Where it should be. Then heading to the Freightliner with trailer shaped mailbox to grab The Dispatch the local newspaper. Holland Locke was painted on the side. 
Pausing for a second to take in this weird image of domestic bliss. A home, not one that she had ever pictured herself in. Mom and Dad, not roles she’d ever cast herself and Miles Dutch Holland in. Their passion was motorcycles and going fast. He was a trucker and she was a test pilot. Yet before Shannon's first mission, they’d hastily gotten a marriage licence. Then they’d taken a honeymoon ride out here to Ocean City. Stumbled upon this dilapidated cabin on stilts. With a for sale sign on what passed for a front lawn. Then they’d pretty much immediately put all their money down as a deposit. All the money that wasn’t tied up in Holland Trucking and Carting. The place was home. Her first real home with Dutch. One of the places she thought of when she thought of coming back to earth. Now the slightly extended tiny cabin was full of Kids, motorcycles, surfboards and pets. 
“You’re doing it again.”
Dutch smiled at her from the front porch. A sandy beard on his chin with bleached hairs and some he swore were going grey from executive stress. The big lug was a good provider and a wonderful father. She could be off for months at a time and he’d keep the home fires burning. With her parent's help. Then there were FTL drive tests coming up soon that needed to be supervised.  
“What am I doing?”
Shannon shot back 
Dutch sidled over to Shannon and put an arm around her wait escorting her into the main open plan room of their home. 
“You were lost in thought. I swear you were never as philosophical before you went to space.”
Shannon kissed him. 
“You knew it was going to happen. Changes your perspective.”
Dutch went around the breakfast bar to make the sort of coffee the military ran on. Strong and black. Hard to believe the most unruly teenager she’d ever met had, like her, signed up for the military. It had been a way out of Garrett, the whole place was both old and new in this timeline. Dutch had learned a trade. One he was quite successful in, as a civilian. Now here he was, a story she’d taken in that was practically domesticated. 
“Think in the shower. Lots to do before your boys from back home get here.”
Shannon checked her iPhone. No texts she hoped that meant that Heather would make it here for the weekend. She was the most likely to have to change plans last minute. The only person who could track down a violent offender. Shannon wanted them all here to hear her big news, full Colonel. She'd finally made it. Before forty too. Heather was going to be so excited for her. The shy mousy girl had come a long way since they were kids. Heather was basically the real world Dana Scully. She knew the struggles Shannon went through in a male-dominated profession like the FBI. At least there were other women at the Bureau. Not quite as many in Scarlett’s chosen vocation of professional Football. Scarlett would be made up too. Long gone was the friction that had existed between them when they’d first met.    
Shannon’s cool head had saved lives. Even if her frosty and somewhat flippant attitude hadn’t exactly earned her any friends. Still, they had a chance to all grow up together and become friends. With slightly less peril, in this brave new world of endless wonder and possibilities without the veil. 
Still, all these years later Shannon was a professional and sometimes that’s what this world needed. NASA certainly thought they needed her. Even if her heart was firmly here in Maryland, with her husband and her kids. Shannon showed breakfasted and changed posting up on the front porch with another cup of coffee waiting patiently for the first of her old friends to arrive.  
Out on US Route Fifty or Ocean Gateway as it was known, a curious motorcade headed east. Paint resplendent and shimmering in the sun was a Pontiac Trans Am Firebird, with a large gold eagle on its hood. A vibrant yellow Datsun, A rough and ready looking Custom Chevy Day Van, A Canary Yellow and black vinyl topped Chevy Camaro, by comparison, there was a very new looking Honda NSX, and bringing up the rear and older fifties Chevy Pick up slightly lifted, and not out of place on a farm. It looked like they were destined for a classic car show nearby. 
Off the coast a large old motor Yacht called Maggie May weighed anchor. 
Soon the Autobots and the Keystones would assemble. Adult life and carers often stood in the way. Yet not this perfect weekend. Their kids would swim and play together on the beach. When it got dark they’d BBQ and build a fire. Dutch was making a hog roast. They’d huddle together to watch the fireworks. A perfect weekend, in the near-perfect universe they spent their lives trying to preserve. Some kids thought their parents were superheroes. The children of the Autobots and the Keystones knew better, they’re parents, their aunts and uncles were real superheroes as if from the pages of comics books. They stood ready to save the day at a moment's notice.