Hey, guys. Sorry so late. Lots of life going on, lately. I thank you for the reviews, and promise a flood of replies, forthwith. =) Edited more.

24

Edinburgh, former U.K.-

A hammering rain and keen wind sluiced and fileted the dead city outside of their camouflage force dome. The black tarmac and still-settling aircraft smelt like wet earth and hot metal, complexly mingled with ashes and rust. The light level resembled that of a dense fog; low and diffuse. All of that was mere background, though; like the rustle and hiss of that sharp, icy wind.

Rather, what held every bit of Jeff Tracy's attention was the nearby cement bunker, with its new-seeming grey metal door. About fifteen yards away to their left, that out-of-place port had begun to slide open, grinding sideways along an ash-and-dirt-spattered track. There was a brief, awkward moment when Kayo tried to get between her father and possible danger, only to have Jeff elbow her back behind him.

"Seriously, Dad?" she hissed, "I'm about forty years younger than you, and in much better…"

Colonel Tracy silenced the stubborn girl with a single, sharp look. There was a time and a place for his offspring to question authority: never, and nowhere. Right hand hovering close to his sidearm, the tall, greying astronaut stepped in front of his seething daughter. He'd given some thought as to what he should say, but the 'welcoming committee' drove all of that straight from his head.

The door had opened completely. Light, of a cold, searing whiteness, leaked all around the tall forms of two very odd people; cyborgs, from the bulky and armoured look of them. Both appeared theoretically female, armed with speed, mass and integral weaponry. Right. Worse than just useless, his GDF sidearm would no doubt insult the pair. Jeff moved his hand away.

"You are expected, Colonel Tracy," said one of those silhouette Kanes. "The other is not."

Their red laser targeting systems flickered and searched, a thing he would come to learn indicated surprise or uncertainty.

"This is my daughter, TinTin," said Jeff, moving to place himself a bit more firmly between Kay, and both nervous machine-women. For some reason, he hadn't wanted to use her real name. Overly suspicious, most likely.

"You are permitted entry, Colonel Tracy, with daughter TinTin," said the speaker, inclining her sleek, mostly-chromed head. Then, the two cyborgs stepped backward into that brightly-lit bunker. Jeff nodded back, saying,

"Thank you."

Next, he followed the pair inside. The Kane stronghold was not a comfortable place to be, he soon discovered. The interior lighting was stabbingly bright, the air very cold and dry, reeking of ozone. As Jeff was a photic sneezer anyhow, the combination almost convulsed him, at first.

The bunker turned out to house a room not much larger than a potting shed, with seemingly bare concrete walls and a single round shaft in the floor, leading straight down. There were no stairs or ladders. Evidently, one was expected to sprout wings and fly.

Jeff was about to point out the obvious problem, when the other cyborg (who seemed somehow younger, less fully mechanized) produced a pair of jetpacks from a concealed locker. That camouflage force field, again; this time, concealing vital parts of a room. Colonel Tracy resolved to be very careful placing his steps, in case one of those screens hid a pit.

Then, Jeff shook his head. He was being paranoid, the astronaut reminded himself. Smiling, he accepted and strapped on the proffered jetpack. So far, no one had threatened real harm. Had they wanted to kill him, they could simply have mocked up a floor, and let him plunge into the open and yawning shaft.

"Follow," said the heavily-mechanized first cyborg, stepping into that cold, glowing pit. He hadn't had time to familiarize himself with the jetpack's controls, or even find them.

"How do you operate this thing?" he asked bluntly, turning to the younger, more humanoid cyborg.

Once again, he was spattered with lively red target-light. Then, in a voice that was far more electronic hum, than meat-pumped air over shifting wet surfaces, she said,

"You think of up… or down. You think of angle and speed. Very easy."

Maybe so, for someone with cybernetic interface skills. Jeff had been hoping for buttons or toggles. Tanusha was making progress, at least; taking little hop-flights, with squinted green eyes and a very determined expression. Just like she'd looked, when learning to ride her first bike.

Then, the older cyborg reappeared, looking as puzzled by the delay as her polished chrome face would allow.

"Please follow, Colonel Tracy," she repeated. "You are expected, now."

Well, d*mned if he was going to seem nervous, or scared. Might end up as a tangle of shattered bones and dented equipment, at the base of some thousand-foot abyss, but get there, he would. After all, Tanusha was managing. How hard could it be?

Nodding at the gently bobbing cyborg, Jeff stepped confidently out into thin air. Started to plunge like a rock, until some part of his brain's primal death-howl got through to the jetpack, cutting it on. He didn't stop falling, but did slow down enough not to smash like an egg at the bottom of that long, concrete shaft.

Tucked and rolled when he hit ground, converting an ungainly, spiraling dive into a planned descent. A sputtering, muffled-curse, bruising, planned descent.

His daughter came down more gracefully, still squinting against that migraine-inducing white light, which seemed to sweat from the very walls. Looking around, Jeff saw that three passages led off to the north, east and southwest. None were visibly marked.

The other machine-woman soon joined them, zipping in behind Kayo. She dropped like a silver-veined leaf from above, jetpack barely hissing. Both Kanes seemed confused by the Tracys' lack of mental jetpacking skill. As though even a child could do that.

"We, uh… use stairs, where I come from," Jeff explained, once he was sure that nothing important had been sprained or torn in his very rough landing.

"Stairs," the older cyborg repeated, her amber eyes going blank momentarily, as she consulted some internal database. "These are a form of incrementally notched inclined plane, meant to provide access between levels, as in a building. See illustration."

She shook her head, saying,

"It is better to fly, Colonel Tracy and daughter TinTin, but I will choose a route with fewer drops, as we have here no 'stairs'."

Jeff smiled at her, revealing a couple of Scott-type dimples.

"My well-advanced joints would appreciate it, Miss… um… I didn't get your names."

The elder cyborg stiffened, saying,

"There is between us no giving or taking of earned names, Colonel Tracy. If you wish a more specific identification, you may call me Unit 15 Kane, and that one, Unit 67 Kane."

Jeff nodded, reminding himself that he did not know enough about these strange people, or their society, to avoid putting his d*mn foot in his mouth, clear up to the hip joint. An apology might be seen as admission of weakness or inferiority, so he just said,

"Of course. Lead the way, Unit 15."

She turned on her heel and began striding away along the north passage. Jeff and Kayo followed, making a mental map of the route, just in case.

"Why is it so bright in here?" asked his daughter, trying to shade her eyes from a glow that seemed as directionless as it was powerful. Said the younger cyborg, Unit 67,

"This is conversion of lethal radiation, Colonel's daughter. If it were not so, nothing here could survive. That which is particle emission, is harnessed for power. That which emerges as gamma radiation, becomes visible light. Lower your optics."

Kayo opened her mouth to explain that she couldn't, then shut it again. Why give away a potentially damaging weakness?

"Right. Should've though of that one, myself," she replied, determined to just soldier on. There was a constant background noise, too; between crackling hum and faint, high-pitched whine. For anyone with heightened senses, the place was a hellish nightmare of light and sound.

Fortunately, about ten minutes of walking through those branching, gradually widening passages, brought them to a darker, quieter place. A sort of pillared stone gallery, it ended at the far western end in a set of smooth metal doors. Grey, like the one outside.

Unit 15 gestured at the doors with one gleaming hand, saying,

"You are awaited inside. Please proceed."

"Thank you, Units 15 and 67. You've been of great service," Jeff responded, smiling again. Neither of the cyborgs returned the expression. They seemed to have very few facial settings, or else they suspected his motives. He'd seen no others along the way, either… although they might have just cleared the route, first, or been covered by more of that camouflage force-shielding. No way to tell, and he didn't like to ask, lest they get the impression that he was here to spy out the fatness of the land.

At any rate, as soon as he and Tanusha began walking forward, those big metal doors slid apart, revealing a cavern-sized circular room; like an arena, almost. It had been carved from some dark, sea-shell and ammonite-studded rock. The floor was grey metal. The lofty ceiling was ribbed with great, curving steel spars. Here, Jeff first noticed drones. Some of these were insectoid, like the Mechanic's. Others resembled great cats and sleek birds.

There were people, as well, forming a semicircle in the first tier of stone seats. Correction… some were present in fleshly fact. Others were here as holographic images. It looked a lot like a military tribunal; like he was here to answer charges.

Head high, Jeff Tracy entered and crossed the huge room, stopping some ten paces in front of the central personage. Another cyborg, she was half flesh, half chromed machine, with a delicate trace-work of circuits tattooing her honey-toned skin. One of her eyes was as amber as the Mechanic's, but the left was a gleaming red implant, set like a garnet in silvery metal. Her natural hair was black, blending smoothly with a mass of fiber-optic threads that shifted colour continually.

To her right sat a handsome young man with Kayo's black hair and vivid green eyes. To her left, an auburn-haired fellow with eyes as brilliantly blue as a gas-flame. There were others, as well, making a total of six waiting accusers. Said Jeff, because he refused to be cowed,

"Hi, there. You rang?"

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Space, leaving Thunderbird 3 in a highly modified pod-drone-

It had been rough, leaving Eos. Like his brothers, the A.I. tended to worry, only with added quantum awareness of cause and effect.

"John," she'd protested, giving the astronaut a tight, warming suit-hug, "You are heedless of your own safety. Reflect, please, that my presence has preserved your life many times, in the past."

"I know," he'd told her, shoving his emotions back in their various boxes. "And that's what I need you to do for Gordon and Alan. They've got Havok and Fuse aboard, plus the little guy. They're going to need your help getting through this. So will Grandma, Stephanie and Aunt Helen. I promised, Eos. Besides," he'd continued, wanting to lighten her mood, "If there's one thing I'm good at, it's PA + PN + LA + LN," Then he'd paused, waiting to see if she'd get it.

"You have foiled the (P + L) x (A + N)?" she guessed, solving his math riddle.

"That's what I have in mind, Pretty Girl," he'd assured her, there in the cargo hold. "I'm betting on sheer, organic unpredictability. Plus, Jaeger's along. They won't know what hit them."

Now, he was here, looking on from the copilot's seat, as Scott flew their spacecraft away from the shelter of Thunderbird 3. Virgil was with them, as well, along with the Mechanic, and Beech.

The small, sleek ship they were flying was a blend of pod-craft and drone. With very few rivets or seams, it looked more grown than constructed. Wasn't intended for comfort, either, having only two seats, and minimal bathroom facilities.

Kane had altered the mass-transfer device, too, once he'd grasped what John wanted; using his power over all things metallic to reverse its action… like converting a motor to generate electricity… and vastly increasing its range.

The cyborg was still back there, in fact, stalking around the altered field generator, and making occasional tweaks. Virgil floated in midair nearby, offering helpful suggestions. Cody Beech was curled in a bulkhead harness, meanwhile. Resting, or something.

Asked Scott, as they glided through space, approaching the alien ship at a gentle tangent,

"Think we should say something to the girls? Penny won't like to find out later, what we're up to, here." He did not look away from his viewscreen or controls as he said this, sounding almost embarrassed to bring it up.

Virgil had heard his brother's question. Somersaulting in place to look forward, he muttered something to Kane, and then remarked,

"Emma's a ship captain. Right now, the GDF's probably going nuts, cancelling leave and calling in all their reservists. She's got worries enough. Besides, when I come back safe, that'll be all the 'I'm sorry, I love you,' she needs. Still probably hit me, though. She does that."

"Pen 'll freeze me out, for a while," admitted Scott, unusually talkative, considering that there was no beer in his hand. "I'll be sleeping alone for a month."

John had been listening, and now he allowed his thoughts to turn toward Ridley. He'd sent her ship back, as soon as he reached Mars, so that was alright. As far as the rest, his promise to come back with it, in one, still-breathing piece…

"Captain O'Bannon will yell a lot. Might even threaten court-martial, but then she'll just kiss me, again. If I tell her what's going on, now, she'll order me to try something different." He shook his head, making red-golden hair drift and stir. "Better not take the risk." Because, of course, Emma would tell Ridley, even if he didn't.

The Mechanic had stopped working, to eavesdrop. Now, genuinely baffled, he said,

"You waste time and energy on what should happen through cloning, with your own kind for source material. Why?" In his mind's eye… through yet another half-formed memory… he glimpsed a dark-haired female, daring to face him, over some squalling vermin-spawn hostages. Drove the image away.

It was Virgil who told him,

"Because we're in love, Kane. That changes everything. Before, you've got the whole playing field to work," he gestured broadly, at that, striking the bulkhead and then fetching up against the back of Scott's seat. "It's a target-rich environment, and you've got a mighty big gun. Then… I dunno… one of them just clicks. She's just the right one, finally, and you don't mind trading lots of strange, for one special steady."

And then, his dark eyebrows climbing, Virgil asked,

"Wait… you haven't, y'know, ever…?"

"Fascinating discussion," Scott cut in, "but Kane's love life is going to have to wait." (Most likely forever.) "It's show time."

They were quite close to that awakening death-ship, now. From this vantage, it looked more like a craggy dark landscape, shot through with rivers of blazing light, than a spacecraft. Like the gullied and tortured desert beyond their ranch. No evident windows or hatches. Just shifting, streaming metal and raw, looping energy plumes.

"You said that you spotted some kind of launch bay, Virge?" Scott probed, cutting away from a sudden fiery arch and swelling metallic protrusion.

"Yeah, before all this started. On the side opposite Mars, about halfway down. Looks like the cave mouth up on West Cliff; you know… the clubhouse."

Scott snorted, but he knew what to look for, now.

"Do you think it knows we're out here?" he wondered, gem-blue eyes fixed on that eerily changing alien landscape.

"No," said John, after checking with Jaeger. "It's just…"

"…obeying programmed instructions on reaching a target," Kane concluded, his voice a low, muted rumble. "There's time to act, still."

Beech had uncoiled, and pulled himself free of the harness. Now, he drifted forward. The chaos-adept looked only halfway conscious, as though grey-matter-deep in that transforming alien derelict.

"It's older than I can grasp," he told them all, silver-grey wolf eyes unfocused. "Incredibly well designed and constructed. Not much to work with, in there."

"Do what you can," said Scott. "We'll provide a few surprises, once we get inside. Give you all the chaos you need, and then some."

"There!" Virgil called out, suddenly, pointing at a giant gap in that boiling hull. "That's what I saw!"

Scott nodded.

"Hang on to something stable, people," he warned, cutting their gnat-like ship at that vast, looming maw. "We're going in."