Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Thunderbirds Are Go - they belong to the late Gerry and Silvia Anderson
Author's Note: Sorry for the massive hiatus in writing - things haven't been great with my health (physical and mental) and then I got a promotion at work that requires a lot of my time. But hopefully, I will be writing more soon as I have a very handy app that I can use on my phone during my commute to/from work! The theme of this fic (Exhaustion) is based upon the 100 Themes Challenge on DeviantArt that I started years ago and never got around to completing. It's also kind of loosely based around what I saw in the trailer for the second part of TAG S3 that was released and it inspired me to sort of come up with my own take on things - I don't think there are any spoilers as it's just a little theory I came up with from a couple of snippets in the trailer but if you don't want any accidental spoilers, maybe come back to this once S3 has finished airing? :)
If you choose to continue to read, I hope you enjoy this! :)
Even with the rolling cockpit, the force of the explosion was enough to jar the occupants of the red rescue rocket.
Alan Tracy growled as he struggled with the controls, wincing as his shoulders and upper torso twisted and jerked against the harness of his chair. He was vaguely aware of Brains' panicked cries and the clattering of metal as Braman was thrown haphazardly against the reinforced bulkhead. Somewhere amongst the blaring of alarms and the ringing in his head, the young astronaut could hear John's voice crackling over the communications system.
"Alan! Al- do y- read me?!"
Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, Alan took a deep breath as he fought with his beloved ship, trying to regain control and realign her course.
"-bird Three! Ple- -spond!"
"I hear ya, John!" Alan frowned through gritted teeth. "I'm dealing with a situation here!"
"O-Oh my..!" Brains yelped out beside the astronaut, instinctively shielding himself as the panel to his left began to spark and sizzle. Unclipping himself from his seat, he pressed a button on the outer calves of his boots, hearing and feeling the clunk-clunk as the scientist used the magnetic boots to anchor himself to the cockpit floor. A quick glance around and he was running for the extinguisher and hastily grabbing hold of it. He fumbled for a second before gloved hands managed to pull the pin on the device, aiming it at the smouldering panel and pulling the trigger.
Jumping in his seat at the sudden, loud hiss next to him, Alan could only spare a nanosecond of a glance at Brains before turning his attention back to his stricken ship.
"John! I've lost all power to engine number one!" his voice was terse, body rigid. "Engine number three is severely damaged and operating at fifty-three percent!" Narrowed blue eyes scrutinised the holographic displays before him; the holographic images of Thunderbird Three intermittently distorting and flickering as the on-board systems struggled to report the repercussions of being so close to the epicenter of the explosion.
It was not the best situation.
But it could have been so much worse.
Fortunately, Brains had designed the International Rescue fleet to withstand most beatings from a variety of strenuous environments. A flick of some buttons and switches, followed by deft fingers across the newly activated holo-board had Alan awakening one of Brains' newer creations as a new blip on the schematics of Thunderbird Three displayed plethora of nanobots springing to life. The bright green fleck was quick to separate into numerous smaller dots, scattering to the most urgent parts of the ship in need of feasible, on-the-spot repairs.
A grueling minute and a half later and Alan was finally able to gain control of Thunderbird Three, halting their disorienting spin and leveling the spaceship out. Allowing himself a moment to steady himself, the teen slumped back in his seat, closing his eyes and breathing out a long sigh of relief. "Is everyone okay?"
"A-Affirmative," Brains replied, already in the midst of helping Braman upright, checking the android for any signs of damage. "Although we appear to be v-very much off-course." Pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, Brains tapped a few commands into his wrist panel, giving himself a nod of satisfaction. "Our guests seem to b-be safe and secure in the holding bay. A-All cryo-chambers are reading as normal... But.." he trailed off, swallowing hard as he glanced back over his shoulder at the youngest member of International Rescue.
A mixture of fear, adrenaline and determination clawed at Alan's chest, blue eyes scanning the carnage before him: Pieces of debris littered the blackness of space - almost completely unrecognisable as what was once an old research vessel. It's occupants had been seemingly forced into a stasis of cryogenic sleep after some unknown incident had taken place, leaving only Braman in charge of the ship, emitting an SOS call as the dormant ship headed on a silent collision course with Earth.
Until John had picked up the call in Thunderbird Five.
And then the Chaos Crew, courtesy of The Hood, had intercepted their rescue mission.
Daring to edge his crippled ship back towards the source of the explosion, Alan was uncharacteristically quiet as he continued to examine the pieces of wreckage drifting in the silent vacuum of space.
'Where are you?'
His hands were shaking and he couldn't tell if his body was still recovering from being rocked so violently in his seat as he fought with the controls of his ship or if this was now brought on by fear and uncertainty. Hesitating for a second, Alan tapped the IR logo on his utility sash, activating his communications link.
"Scott?"
No response.
"Scott, can you hear me?"
Silence.
'C'mon, big bro. Give me a sign...'
A twisted, charred piece of bracketing hit one of the viewing windows with a clunk, startling the blond astronaut. Alan let out an unsteady breath, trying to calm the pounding in his chest before he changed his approach on the situation.
"Thunderbird Five?"
"I hear you, Thunderbird Three," John's voice sounded quieter than usual. "I'm having EOS scan the site for life signs but it's hard with all of the debris scattered over such a widespread area."
"He... He said that he was going back for the last cryo-chamber," Alan's voice almost matched his brothers. "Braman said that it was located amongst the secondary cryo-sleep chambers that had been damaged when the ship started going offline. I told Scott to leave it because Braman reported that the cryo-chamber had malfunctioned an hour or so before we had arrived, but he said if there was a chance to saving that last life, he had to try..." he swallowed hard, his voice dropping another tone. "He said it's what Dad would've done."
Alan was not even sure if their Field Commander had made it that far before the charges planted by the Chaos Crew had started to detonate. The last thing he could remember was Scott's voice over the comms before all hell broke loose as the research vessel was obliterated by a series of brutal explosions.
"I'm not gonna make it!"
"Thunderbird Five?" Alan frowned. "John, are you still there?"
"I'm still here, Alan."
"Anything?"
"Negative, Thunderbird Three. We're still scanning..." it may have been Alan's imagination but John's voice sounded so... business-like. As if it was just another civilian to be rescued that they were discussing. Not their own brother.
Thunk!
Already feeling somewhat jittery, Alan's head snapped to the right, towards the source of the disturbance. A badly damaged console - possibly from the cockpit of the destroyed ship. And floating effortlessly just beyond it...
'Oh no...'
"John..." Alan's voice hitched in his throat.
'No.. Please, no..'
He bit his lower lip, unable to tear his gaze from the scorched jetpack; the familiar decal of Thunderbird One's flight patch confirming his suspicion and fears. "We... We have a situation..."