29

What happened on Ceres, according to Kayo (who saw much and said little)-

Naturally, Alan had overreacted; new at all this, and flaunting his soft, gooey rawness. Faced with an empty, malfunctioning ark, Kayo stayed cool… but, yes. Even she had been taken aback.

Her younger brother had shoved the girl, sending them both on a ricocheted handball-like tour of that dim metal corridor. Once or twice, they nearly hit John, who went on scanning the premises like they weren't even there. Moments later, he grunted,

"Hunh. That's… fairly ungood."

It was hard to listen, bounce and scuffle with Alan at the same time, but Kayo succeeded. (Mostly because she truly was that good.)

And, for the record, "ungood" in John-speak could mean anything from "stepped on a Lego" to "cuddle your nearest and dearest, we're screwed".

Twisting around in mid-corridor, Tanusha demanded,

"How much "un" are we talking about?"

Their red-haired brother puffed out a sharp breath. He began to respond, saying,

"Yeah. You two should probably head back to…"

Only, John never got a chance to finish that order. Between one breath and another, Ceres lurched back online and powered up. Searing white lights cut on, along with a harsh, ear-shredding feedback squeal. Screens that had remained dusty-dark since their arrival came to sudden, startling life; each one dominated by a hunched, shadowy figure. Male or female, Kayo couldn't be certain.

It was just a recording. Old, degraded and poor in quality. Plagued with static and skips. Also, until John braced himself against the frozen Mechanic and hauled them out of the air, Kayo and Alan were spinning and bouncing too much to get a good look.

Something else happened, right about then. The entire, relocated asteroid started to rumble and creak, dragging a string of muttered curses from John. The corridor's air pressure changed, too, as though Ceres had begun venting atmosphere.

"…not be allowed to repeat the crimes of your past," snarled that long-vanished speaker, once the feedback died down. "You shall not be allowed the safety and respite required to renew your asinine conflicts! You have already doomed our world once, making hell on Earth! No more! Never again! Die, and make way for a new, cleaner era, one free of the virulent stain that is homo sapiens!"

Alan's sky-blue eyes had gone saucer-wide, seeming to take up most of his face. John's sea-green ones narrowed like those of a tri-D gunfighter. As for Kay, she felt her forehead and ears tighten, her body tensing for action.

Blurted Alan, thinking that the red-cloaked speaker was live and present, somewhere on Ceres,

"What are talking about?! Earth is fine! It's totally almost cleaned up, except for some parts out west and in Asia, plus most of India, but we're working on it!"

That gloating, hunched figure never noticed, plowing right over Alan's shocked outburst.

"It gives me tremendous satisfaction to picture the last few survivors reaching their promised haven, to find that all the stored foods have been poisoned, the seed stocks and gene banks rendered utterly sterile. Die, then, knowing you've failed. Die, with the curse of Red Path snatching away your lone hope. I am all that is left of my cell. I am the last… but so… ARE… YOU!"

With that, the recording cut off, leaving only an ever-increasing rumble, and the faint smell of something beginning to burn.

"Back to Thunderbird 3, now," snapped John, not glancing up from his portable keyboard and screen. "Leave the Mechanic and go."

"But…" cried Tanusha and Alan, as both of them rounded on John.

"Can't afford the distraction," he remarked, still icy calm. "One in twelve-hundred odds, if you get the h*ll out of here, now."

Because Ceres was coming apart. Worse, the rest of those arks had been signaled, and they were now crumbling, too.