We won't be caught up

Location - planet Mars __________ Through the giant iron door that was slightly open, the sounds of metal clanging, knocking, and grating could be heard. The patron entered the repair shop, looking around. The mice that were there were busy with their own business and didn't even pay attention to it. He walked deeper into the huge room. "Cross... Crooss!" He called out to the person he had come to see, but he didn't expect to be heard over the deafening noise surrounding him. The guy carefully moved deeper into the room. Then, right in front of him, a wheeled bed pulled out from under the jeep, on which was a mouse with a light gray coat, dark smoky hair just below the shoulders, pulled back from the temples and tied with a leather strap, leaving some of it loose, in a torn khaki T-shirt, half-gloves and transparent safety glasses. His leather jacket-a leather jacket with rivets on the sleeves, cuffs and collar-hung on the car door. He looked a little older than the Patron. The man barely had time to stop, risking falling on top of him. "What do you want, you restless soul?" "What's the matter with you?" he asked his Patron, looking him up and down. "Well, like... This," the mouse hesitated. Cross stared at him, his purple eyes glittering with annoyance. "Well... in general... You know," he was still muttering, running his fingers through his brown hair with a red streak on the long bangs. "Well, I'll get busy while you're mumbling," Cross said, and disappeared back under the car. "Cross, wait," he said Rimfire. "Give me the monkey wrench," Cross said. At the same time, a light gray tail appeared from under the car, flexible as a whip. Chuck handed him the tool, and the tail coiled around him and disappeared under the car. "Look, Cross, here's the deal. In general... Carbine's going to get on the Ground, " he finally said something intelligible Rimfire. "She miss Trottle," Cross said. "Well, sort of. I'm going to visit Uncle Modo. Come with me, " he finally suggested Rimfire. Cross pulled out from under the jeep on a cot and peered at the kid, taking off his glasses. "Correct me if I'm wrong.Carabin goes to her boyfriend, you go to your uncle. What the fuck am I doing out there? What is it?" he asked, crossing his arms over his sturdy chest. "Well, keep me company. It'll be fun together. You can see another planet. It's great, " Rimfire coaxed. "I've got a lot to do here, and I don't have time to travel to other planets," Cross said, and disappeared under the car again. This was about the answer Rimfire had expected from the notorious homebody Cross. He followed him around like a shadow for a couple more days, bothering him with persuasions. "Well, here we go. Charlie's a car mechanic, too, and he's great at it. Share your experience. You know everyone there. Let's go, " he insisted. "Every baby on Mars knows that crazy trio," Cross said. "We're friends. How can you leave me like this?" Rimfair used the final argument — pity. "Your attempt to manipulate me in this way is ridiculous. And if you're my friend, you won't bother me any more, " Cross said, slightly annoyed. Rimfire sat beside Carbine's starship, his chin propped up in his hands. The lowered red antennae revealed his depressed mood. Carabina stepped out of the ship, jumped off the trap, and sat down next to him. "Is something wrong?" — What is it? " she asked, seeing that he was in a very bad mood. "Cross doesn't want to go to Earth with me. No matter how much I try to persuade him, it's no use, " he said sadly. "It wouldn't do for a resistance fighter to walk around with such a sour face. Wait for me here, I'll take care of everything, " she said and left. Cross was standing next to a newly repaired bike, wiping his washed hands on a rag, when one of the senior auto mechanics came up to him and told him that the head of the workshop was waiting for him in the office. Cross went into the office and was surprised to find a Carbine there. "Boss, did you call for me?" — What is it? " he asked the chief. "Is this the most promising car mechanic? " The mouse asked casually. "Yes, this is our Cross-Country course. Another two or three years of practice, and he will become a first-class mechanic, " said the head. "Great. This is what I need. My bike needs to be repaired, but I don't have time to wait for it to be repaired. From now on, you are at my complete disposal. You'll be doing repairs during the flight to Earth. You may need a bike at any time. I'll give you two hours to get ready, " she said in a commanding tone. Cross didn't dare challenge one of the Freedom Fighter commanders and a former general in the regular army, and he had no choice but to comply. A couple of hours later they were out of Mars in the "Thunderbike", and Cross was crouching down in front of the Carbine bike, examining it carefully. A restless Patron scurried around him, which the guy stubbornly ignored. "Don't be mad, please. I had nothing to do with it, " Rimfire said defensively. "You mean you didn't have a hand in it," Cross said incredulously. "I didn't ask for anything... I just said it, " Rimfire assured him, looking guiltily at his friend. He did not want to quarrel with the one who had been at his side since Uncle Modo's disappearance, who had helped and protected him in everything, and whom he secretly admired. "Okay. Just don't stand over your soul, " Cross said, bored with the sight of his battered puppy. As Rimfire retreated to another section of the ship, Cross went to the porthole and peered out into the vast expanse of space. He had looked at the stars so often from the roof of the auto repair shop, and now they were so close that it was almost as if he could reach out and touch them. Little did he know that the cosmic bodies were so different: tailed icy comets, slow-moving asteroids, fast-moving meteorites. It was up to him to find out what the planet they were heading for looked like. Location - Planet Earth __________ The rain beat like a drum on the umbrella domes of the people gathered around the marble crypt. Just outside the door, waiting for it to be opened, was a girl in black clothes holding a bouquet of white lilies. Her medium-length, pearl-colored hair covered her back, and her blue-green eyes were full of sorrow. She had just turned twenty. It had been exactly half her life since the day she lost her dearest and most beloved people. Beside her stood a tall man of heroic build in a classic black suit. He held an open umbrella over her and waited, glancing around uneasily every now and then. "Maybe we shouldn't have come here in this weather," he said. "It's all right, Walter. I appreciate your concern, " the girl said calmly. Soon, the heavy doors opened and they entered a small building. After passing through the small hall, decorated with black and white marble, decorated with artificial flowers, mournful angels, a statue of the Virgin Mary and prayers in Latin, and descending the stairs to the lower level, the girl was one of the first to find herself in a spacious hall of white marble, where there were coffins made of the same material with the same marble tablets with names dates of birth and death. There were niches in the walls with the names of those ancestors who had lived long before she was born. She paused for a moment at the two outermost coffins, placed the flowers in a huge vase in the middle of the room, then sat down on a bench. Walter sat down next to her. "I still can't forgive myself for listening to your father and not going with him. Maybe then your parents would still be alive, " he said. "Or you'd be dead. That's what fate has decreed, and there's nothing you can do about it, " the girl said. The man looked at her carefully. "God, how can you be here with these corpses," she heard an indignant, dismissive voice say next to her. The girl turned around. A tall young man with a shock of light, neatly coiffed hair, wearing an expensive black jacquard suit, covering his face with a white handkerchief and actively feigning a pre-fainting state, just came down the stairs. "Robert, you weren't forced to come here," the young lady said testily. "Don't mind him, dear. He just got seasick on the way, " a middle-aged man who appeared in the hall said with an apologetic smile. From the resemblance to the young man, it was clear that they were very close relatives. "I've been doing this for ten years, Mr. Stone." Despite the excitement that was currently going on in the crypt, there was a sense of peace and tranquility in it. When the people finally left after a while, she paused at the doors, watching them being locked so as not to disturb the eternal sleep of those who were there for a whole year. Back in the black Cadillac, Walter turned on the overhead TV. A beautiful woman appeared on the screen, broadcasting the latest news. "Ten years have passed since the terrible tragedy that claimed the lives of Joseph and Gwyneth Deloraine, the head of the "Deloraine conglomerate", and his wife. However, under the will, on the day of her twentieth birthday, their only daughter, Flora Delorin, takes ownership of the conglomerate, known for its extensive activities from construction to trade, and becomes part of the board of directors without voting rights until she receives an education. However, Lady Deloraine expressed her desire to lead the annual charity event held by the conglomerate in different cities of the country. And which city was lucky this time? The windy city of Chicago, Illinois. As part of the program, children's shelters will be repaired, medicines and equipment will be delivered to hospitals, and assistance will be provided to people in need." "Damn, this is so out of place! A ball-shaped man in an expensive purple suit with a small head and a voluminous double chin said irritably as he looked at the TV screen. "If it weren't for that, fixing these shelters would have added votes to my campaign for mayor of Chicago. Of course, the repair would be purely conditional. And now it's all going to hell. As always, though, " he added with a sour look of disappointment.

***

"Great," the green-eyed brown-haired woman smiled, constantly glancing at the TV screen in the auto repair shop. "Charlie, baby, what the hell are you looking at?" An anthropomorphic white mouse of short stature, athletic build, wearing a biker suit with a steel implant on his face, complained. "It's called news, Vinnie," the girl said, still holding the wrench in her hand, as she hadn't finished repairing the bike yet. "Wow, we've got big shots coming. And I know in my gut that Mr. Limburger isn't going to like this, " the mouse with the same red hair, glasses, and well — developed muscles, though slightly taller than his brother, said with a grin, turning his attention to the screen. "Throttle, you haven't forgotten that we have visitors coming too," said another mouse, a tall man with dark gray fur, a patch over his left eye, and a steel prosthetic arm instead of a right hand. "I haven't forgotten, Modo," he said, smiling warmly. "Okay, stop moping around," Vincent said, turning on the radio. The garage instantly filled with loud rock music. Welcome to Chicago.