Usual disclaimer - I'm just borrowing these characters for a while and promise to put them back where I found them.

Rated for language.

Twenty-two thousand miles above the calm waters of the western edge of the vast expanse of the South Pacific and shortly after 03.15 island time, the space station sat in it's geosynchronous position in the black and waited.

A steady flow of data from a myriad of linked satellites, communication arrays, terrestrial monitoring stations and computer networks filtered into the central hub for processing. Some information was put aside to be studied at a later date and a vast amount was catalogued and then dismissed, as Thunderbird Five paused for a moment and almost seemed to hold her breath.

A sudden burst of frantic communication had ceased all other non-essential functions. Somewhere in the background, automated systems that controlled proximity sensors, positioning thrusters and life support hummed quietly. But all of her attention was now focused on the ominously quiet, unmoving form of her lone passenger.

He had reacted as was to be expected when the initial call came through, quick to co-ordinate the actions of his response team with those in the locality. His voice had been even and measured as he had given instructions to the strangers at the scene, conversing with them as if he had known them all his life; a common trait among all emergency services personnel it seemed. They had a mission, an unspoken understanding; there was someone in need of saving and this was their common language, their shared vocation.

Then there had been a flurry of gentle laughter with his response team and his professional edge had slipped just a little. This she now recognized as relief and apparently the self-depreciating humor was one method of relieving tension. The endangered parties had been located, secured and ferried to a far less perilous location. Time to stand down and return to monitoring for any future calls for aid.

Of course, he would still remain alert as he watched the colored icons that travelled across the digital representation of the slowly turning world below them. He would hang in the zero gravity of her central core, sometimes diverting part of his attention to other tasks, as he kept an eye on the return of his response team.

His body language was usually one of perpetual calm, and he had once explained to her that this was required in order for the same to be conveyed in the steady timber of his voice. She wondered if it was part of the reason he liked the lack of gravity here in the heart of her; it was essential to be relaxed, keeping movements careful and measured. But there would always be a slight rise in his shoulders when he co-ordinated a rescue, and he would absently massage the back of his neck once a mission was complete.

This morning had very quickly become very different. She had seen a similar pattern of body language on three other occasions and, yes, one of those was as a direct result of her actions. But today he was safe in the central core, there was no hull breach that she could detect, he was not pressed against the plexiglass of the gravity ring in a almost fatal spin and his response team were not heading straight into the sun.

Somewhere after the team leader's sudden transmission of 'Shit. John. Virgil has fallen. He's fallen badly. Oh fuck. Fuck.' John's movements had become erratic, his breathing labored and the biocircuitry in his suit had started screaming at her that a serious malfunction was inevitable.

The 'Oh god. Is he dead?' response from the other member of the response team had not helped matters and in the carefully controlled environment of her core, John had started sweating. She had lowered the temperature and increased the flow of air around him, watching in uncertainty at his unexpected reaction.

'Gordon. I can't get to him. Fuck. There's still rocks falling. Be careful.'

'Is he moving? Scott. Is he moving? Shit. I'm coming down there.'

'Gordon. Stay back.'

'I'll get the spinal board. Fuck. Get him out of there, Scott.'

John's apparent horror over the proceedings was illogical. This was what they did every day. Any number of humans would be caught in an unexpected (or not) predicament and they would respond. There was no explanation for the way John had seemed suddenly so uncoordinated and out of control.

Desperately wanting to help and having quickly completed a differential diagnosis to ascertain why his vitals would be so very out of normal range, she had recalled how he would react to others in such an emergency and she had moved one of her many cameras closer to him and turned up the volume ever so slightly on her audio. "John. Please calm down."

He had been momentarily stunned by this and had turned his focus away from the breathless expletives of his response team and had looked straight at her. It had seemed to work. Her words had apparently caused some kind of system reset. He had blinked once, twice, and then audibly taken what had seemed to be an effort of a breath.

"EOS?"

"Yes, John."

John had then closed his eyes for a second or two and turned away from her. Looking back up at the bright 3D globe before him, he had reached out towards the green icon that hovered over the Canada/North America border and the digital representation had reformed and refocused. The small cameras in the underbelly of Thunderbird Two had been switched to his control and he had angled them towards the accident scene.

The two members of his response team had already dragged the third clear of the rubble and were assessing his condition. They had continued to shout and swear as they had loaded him onto the narrow spinal board but EOS was starting to understand that apparently the rules of conduct were completely different when the rescue involved one of your own team.

John had then again made contact with them and she had been reassured by the return of a modicum of calm. He had confirmed that, yes, the patient was alive and, yes, he was breathing but, no, he was unconscious. One of the team had then remarked on some major fucking damage to a lower limb and they had then carried him back inside the patiently hovering Thunderbird Two.

She had watched John offer direction as Thunderbird Two made a wide navigation around an approaching storm and had then climbed up through the heavy, water swollen clouds. And this was where EOS had again expected John to resume to normal post mission status. But instead of idly watching the return of the response team, he had spun a slow arc away from the display and exited the central hub.

Jumping fluidly from camera to camera, she had followed him float down through the access corridor and watched him make his elegant summersault maneuver to emerge feet first into the outer ring, his momentum pulled by the gravity of the slow rotation. His feet had met the clear plexiglass of the ring and he had slowly taken a few steps before then sinking down to his knees.

This was where he had stayed and where she now patiently watched him. Wondering if this was the inevitable malfunction that his bio-readouts had foretold, she completed another rapid diagnostic and was both reassured and not. The suit monitors said he was fine. His body language suggested otherwise. And his lack of movement was becoming a concern.

"John?" EOS slid the overhead camera a little closer, watching his response in the reflexion on the plexiglass below.

"I'm okay." John replied, apparently well aware of her concern. He moved to now sit with his back against the inner hull and stretched his legs out in front of him, staring down as the ring rotation swept him over the Pacific Ocean and then back towards the stars. "I just needed to sit down."

She had no reply for this and watched him close his eyes, heard the sigh he breathed out. He then shuddered slightly and she instantly adjusted the temperature around him, pleased that she could be of some assistance again.

"Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird Two."

His suit's computer gave another little blip of warning that his heart rate was again elevated and he responded to the call.

"Scott told you what happened, right?"

Gordon, EOS recalled, the youngest member of today's response team. He sounded extremely calm now. She hoped that would help John.

"Scott's assessing him now. It looks bad, John. Real bad."

EOS watched John consider this for a moment. And then Gordon's previous calm collapsed with a sob.

"I don't know how the hell this happened, John! He was right there, making a final sweep of the area. We'd already taken the hikers down to Mountain Rescue. And, I mean, we knew about the storm coming in. But. Shit. There was no indication that there might be a fucking rockslide!"

"It's okay, Gordon. It's not your fault."

"His leg is pretty messed up. I'm trying to get clear of this storm and high enough to hit the ramjets."

"Right. Last thing we need is a barrage of complaints about sonic booms and glass shattering."

EOS saw a small smile dance on John's mouth and made a note to ask him what was funny. It helped with her ongoing comprehension of what constituted humor.

"As soon as I can, I'll put her in autopilot and get back there and help Scott. Can you take over when I do?"

"Of course."

EOS continued to watch John while she called up flight diagnostics for him and set up air traffic pattern analysis in the central core. It was quite a feet of engineering that 400 tons of Thunderbird Two traveling at supersonic speed could be controlled from thousands of miles away. She had accepted it as fact when she had first discovered the operating systems that allowed such a task but had grown to appreciate the achievement for what it was. Some humans really were quite clever.

"I'm right here if you need me, Gordon."

"Thanks, John."

The waiver in Gordon's voice suggested John's offer of support had in fact made him more upset. Another paradox of human behavior.

The connection was closed and John was rubbing at apparently aching shoulders as he leaned his head back against the bulkhead behind him. She could detect the slight tremor in his body and the skin of his face had lost it's usual colour. Adding this new information to her previous data, she now saw the reaction for what it was and decided not to take another blood pressure reading. Instead she took the overall conclusion for what it was: John Tracy was afraid.

"John?"

"Yes, EOS."

"Do you no longer trust your response team?"

His frown displayed his confusion.

"The sole purpose of your organization is to offer assistance and treatment to those that need it. Your response team are doing their job. Why are you frightened?"

"Because he's my brother." John replied quietly, not denying her conclusion.

"And therefore of greater importance than any other casualty."

"No. I mean, yes. But ..."

He had told her once about the organization being a family. She had at first assumed that he had meant it in a colloquial manner. He had then explained the biological concept and the shared DNA between six of the eight residents of Tracy Island. But the notion of what that surmounted to was lost on her. There seemed to be an equal amount of affection between all of them and a similar regard for the two employees in London.

"It's hard to be up here, so far away, when my brother is hurt."

"If you are at all concerned as to the quality of the care that is being given, you can always take a look for yourself." She already had an established connection and could show him the live feed from the cameras inside Thunderbird Two.

"No, it's not that." John let his head sink forwards and groaned, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

EOS paused for a moment, noting his current pose to now be either a) frustration with her b) lack of sleep or c) the onset of a headache. Only one of the three could be directly resolved by her so the chances of her being of assistance were not great, but she decided to pursue it anyway. "The current partnership of the leader of your rescue organization with the second youngest member of the team has a combined success rate of 97.47%. Of the remaining 2.53%, nine casualties had perished prior to arrival, three had catastrophic brain injuries and - "

"EOS! Stop!" John was suddenly getting to his feet and shot her a warning glare before turning his back to her. "So not appropriate right now."

She tracked his slow return to the central hub and was already waiting for him when he glided up through the access tunnel. "I'm sorry, John. I'm trying to help."

He was making a point of avoiding looking at any of the four cameras that surrounded him and he frowned as he examined the height, speed and location of the green icon before him, plus the data EOS had pulled up onto the 3D map.

"Why don't you contact them?"

John sighed, "They'll both be very busy right now."

"Yes. I have been monitoring the uplink."

"EOS, be careful!" John turned to look into the nearest camera and shook his head in warning. "Our agreement was that you stay up here on Five."

"I have not strayed beyond the parameters of that agreement, John." She saw that his concern had not been abated and remembered the heated exchange among his team that had followed his decision to not delete her. "Your team will never know that I am in communication with the interconnected operating systems of their craft."

Apparently somewhat satisfied, John turned his attention back to the map. "Fine. How is he?"

"Virgil Tracy's damaged leg has been immobilized, he is being treated for hypovolemic shock and is currently stable."

John nodded.

"Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Five. All clear, John, and cruising at 66,000 feet. Can you take us home?"

"FAB, Gordon. Give me an update when you can."

EOS watched him take control of what was, in effect, the biggest remote control plane ever built, and studied the flight path in front of Thunderbird Two. "I can take over for you, if you like."

"No," John's sigh echoed around the central hub. "Thank you, but ... I need to be doing something."

John reached out to the interactive map and changed the scale to encompass the entire land mass and the ocean to the west until a small locator pin emerged. The Tracy Island logo blinked up at him. At current speed on this trajectory, Thunderbird Two was 47 minutes from home.

EOS edged closer. "An injury to your team of this severity has not occurred since I have been aboard Thunderbird Five. Has it happened before?"

John was quiet for a long moment. "Yes."

EOS could see the worry that was etched into John's face and she searched the Tracy Island systems, calling up medical files and scanning through the logs. Archived information from prior to the founding of International Rescue relating to a hydrofoil accident, injuries sustained during military service and a high speed automobile collision caught her interest for a moment and she noted who they pertained to. Well, they seemed to be functioning perfectly adequately now.

Since the organization had formally started, there was a catalogue of burns, cuts, sprains and fractures and she pondered on it for a moment. "You humans are very poorly designed."

"What?"

If she could have huffed in frustration, she would have. "Your internal and external hardware is of substandard quality."

"You mean we're fragile."

"Yes. I would take it up with your manufacturer, if I were you."

John suddenly laughed, "Oh, I'm not discussing theology with you again. No way."

Pleased that she had elicited such a positive response, EOS continued her search. She found records of secure calls to various senior medical and surgical personnel and numerous e-mails with details of recommended treatments for a host of minor injuries. The resident engineer was now apparently quite adept at repairing humans as well as machines.

"You should alert Professor Hackenbacker to their arrival. He will need to make the necessary preparations."

"Preparations?" John queried.

"Virgil Tracy has a complex fracture of the left femur. I have found several medical journals containing reference to new techniques for stabilizing the bone and accelerating healing. The nearest orthopedic teams who have the skill to complete the necessary repairs are in Sydney, Auckland and Honolulu and the flight times from - "

"Wo! Wait! What do you mean?" John demanded, spinning towards the nearest camera and having to quickly regain his balance. "EOS, we can't bring doctors onto the island. Not with security as tight as it is."

"But Professor Hackenbacker will require assistance." She opened up a small window in the upper corner of the display and linked up with the feed from Thunderbird Two. "Observe."

John looked at the three pieces of unaligned bone and groaned. "Oh hell ..."

"The alternative is to take Virgil Tracy to a trauma center." EOS stated, matter-of-fact. "I calculate that there are five suitable hospitals within an acceptable distance from his current location. And this will, of course, severely reduce the time delay in commencing the whole blood and platelet transfusion he will most likely require."

"What?" John turned slowly back to her.

"Virgil Tracy is leaking."

"Shit."

The sensors in John's suit were detecting another rise in heart rate and EOS moved as close to John as the line of camera track would allow. "John?"

"What?"

"Please keep calm. A decision needs to be made before Virgil Tracy is no longer within safe operating parameters."

John stared at her camera in stunned silence.

"With the treatment options currently available to repair the bone and also address the femoral and hepatic hemorrhages, there is a 76.4% chance that he will no longer be stable enough for repair within 2.26 hours and may have significant organ damage in the next 4.1."

"Oh shit." John closed his eyes and hung his head, reaching out to grasp at something, anything to steady him. "Shit shit shit."

Wondering if there was a way to provide gravity within the central core, EOS watched John in concern; he very clearly needed to sit down again. She then looked back at the options she had mapped out for him on the display and instantly made a decision.

"John."

He took a second to compose himself and then looked back up at the map.

EOS highlighted the chain of islands in the North Pacific, drawing a new trajectory for Thunderbird Two to show John the clear flight path and estimated duration. Recalling his concern for security and refocusing the display to show him a closer view of their destination, EOS highlighted the GDF craft located at the airport, the ships docked in the port and the drones that swept the skies of the Pacific.

John smiled.

Encouraged, EOS called up the contact information for the trauma center and prepared the link, sending a new icon onto the display. She watched him tap the icon and the call was made: International Rescue were transporting a patient in critical condition and required assistance - that it was one of their own team was irrelevant at that time. The response from the duty nurse was measured and professional and EOS hoped that would help John.

Running a brief statistical analysis of the probability of full recovery and researching the potential complications that could arise during and after major surgery, EOS sorted them into an ascending order of severity. Setting the information aside in case it was needed at a later date, she turned her full attention back to John.

Only the gentle whirr of the processors that lined the central core disturbed the silence and EOS waited in uncertainty. She watched as John hung unmoving before the display and closed his eyes. EOS yet again checked the readouts from his suit to ensure he still remained physically well.

"Thank you, EOS."

"You are welcome, John. I have observed how your organization works. You have a pivotal role and I am pleased to be able to assist you."

He looked up at that. Taking a moment to read through the information before him and then glancing at her, he gave her another small smile. And then he was quickly in action, opening the encrypted channel to the GDF colonel and waking the island's head of security. He contacted Professor Hackenbacker and gave him a full report before he then called over to the neighboring space station to check on his youngest brother. And then lastly he called his grandmother.

That conversation seemed to take something out of John and for a moment EOS watched his composure waiver once again. The small, white haired woman did not make any attempt at all to hide her emotion. It was not what John needed right now.

Grandma Tracy kept making references to 'Jeff' and EOS called up the file. Jeff Tracy, John's father, co-creator and former leader of International rescue, not seen or heard from since his ship had crashed in unknown circumstances. Shortly after arriving on Thunderbird Five, EOS had found the search program that was permanently active, scanning all means of communication around the world for any indication of Jeff Tracy's whereabouts. 'Missing In Action' was apparently not a satisfactory conclusion. She had only spoken to John once regarding Jeff Tracy and he had ordered that the subject of 'my dad' was never to be mentioned again. Ever.

It confused EOS that Grandma Tracy was allowed to make reference to Jeff and she wanted to ask John why that was, wanted to better understand his importance. But now was most definitely not an appropriate time to inquire and she remained quiet as she watched the interaction continue.

It was another 9 minutes before Grandma Tracy seemed to be ready to end the call and EOS watched John terminate the link. Quiet descended once more and John pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, squeezing tiny spheres of clear liquid into the air around him. He was apparently again concentrating on his breathing and EOS patiently waited for him to do so.

"Take over, EOS." John asked quietly. He then turned and again made his way out of the central core.

EOS took control of Thunderbird Two and simultaneously watched John's exit through the tunnel. She was relieved to see his movements were more determined on this occasion and when he reached the gravity ring there was no kneeling or sitting any other signs of collapse.

He made for the galley and EOS followed him. He grabbed a paper towel to wipe his face and then poured a glass of purified water. He then opened one of the narrow cupboards, reaching for a pouch of electrolyte liquid. Concerned that she may have missed something, she quickly reanalyzed the biometric data.

"Don't worry, EOS." He glanced up at her via the camera above him as he took another long mouthful. "I just like the flavor."

She focused in on the silver pouch. Strawberry. Yes, this preference had been previously observed. She then paused, surprised once again at how he had known that she was concerned at his choice of beverage. She did not, after all, have a mind to be read.

"I analyze your behavior just as much as you study mine and your silence speaks volumes." He explained.

John posted the empty pouch into the waste disposal and opened another cupboard. Going up on his toes, he reached up into the far back of the top shelf and grabbed a small gold cardboard box. Sliding the red ribbon aside, he savored the aroma from within and then picked out a cube of chocolate.

Secret stash, he had called it. He had only sought it out on a few other occasions since she had met him, eating a third of the contents after that strange Fischler fellow had visited the station. She watched as John popped a single cube of chocolate into his mouth.

Quickly taking a blood glucose reading to confirm for herself that he required a dose of refined sugar for no other reason than comfort, EOS waited. She saw the way he sagged against the cupboard and stifled a yawn. It had been 4.2 hours since he had last powered down and 17.4 since his last unbroken REM cycle. And, yes, this now explained a great deal.

His current state was neither an efficient use of time or resources and his energy reserves did not appear to be able to keep him functioning effectively for much longer. Wondering if some sort of shock or simulation might reboot his operating systems, she considered the ramifications of such for a moment.

"What the hell do I do now, EOS?"

"The same as you have done during similar situations." EOS replied, alarmed at the malfunction in his memory. "Continue to reassure the response team with simple platitudes and trust in the experience of the trauma team."

John snorted a sudden laugh. "You mean I need to pull myself together."

EOS was unsure how to respond. His physical form was quite clearly in one piece.

"You're right." John pushed away from the cupboards and headed out of the galley.

"Of course I am."

Another huff of laughter and John shook his head. "No one likes a smart-ass, EOS."

Tbc ...