A/N: No. Your eyes don't deceive you. That's a publish date of 2013 and an update date of 2019. I bought a house, upgraded to a fancier job, traveled the world, got married, blinked, and all the sudden it's been six years since I've been on fanfiction?! At least these chapters are all self-contained stories with no cliffhangers? I'm sorry for the comically long delay.

Chapter 2: Personal Trainer


"It's so annoying that you and me have to work twice as hard as the others." Alan blew up the alien in front of him.

John, from Thunderbird 5, sniped the monster on his screen before he asked, "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean 'what do I mean'?

"Micro-g! Space muscle atrophy! We have to run three times as long and lift three times as heavy to just maintain what would be no sweat ground side."

Alan leaned forward with his controller, fingers flying over the buttons as he took down alien enemies. "We're supergenius, astro-gurus that work. out. all. the. time. And just because of lack of gravity, and we don't have constant access to a full gym and pool in-atmosphere, we come out average shape?"

"Watch your six," John snapped as he took down the enemy about to leap at Alan's video game character. "It's like I'm playing with a newb." Alan threw a grenade at the horde chasing them in an apology

After their on-screen characters reached an enemy-free hangar bay, John said, "I take it your physical didn't go too well Alan?"

"Oh I passed," Alan said, too hastily. He paused, then added, "But Brains did say my numbers could be a little better." He paused again. "And Scott has been riding my ass pretty hard about my split times on the track."

John heard crunching through the comm. "All the snacks probably don't help either," he teased.

Even though John couldn't see him, Alan pulled back his hand just before he grabbed another handful of Cheetos. "Yeah, well, it's just easy to overeat after a month of food-in-a-can!"

John heard the defensiveness for what it really was: insecurity.

"Hey, you're not alone kid. I remember right after I first started Five's rotations, I was ground side when that mudslide happened in Peru- the one with the hysterical lady rambling about her missing llama. I was super embarrassed when I ran out of breath going up the trail to the huts. Even attached to a guideline."

Both boys dropped the line of conversation as their characters got attacked by a new barrage of aliens.

"Get to the crash site!"

"I'm hit!"

"Come respawn me!"

"Behind you!"

"Shit, where'd that thing come from?"

Thirteen thousand miles apart, John and Alan wore matching expressions of laser -ocus.

Eventually, they came to a lull in the fight.

As they picked off the final enemies in the horde, John offered, "If you're worried about being in shape Alan, I can help with that." He threw a grenade and ran for cover. "There's a workout routine that works for me."

Alan reloaded his weapon. He didn't think long before he replied, "That'd be great John. I'd appreciate that."

Later that night, after Alan logged off their game, John opened up 5's incoming stock and modified the order. Then, he pulled up 5's programming in the console and created a new task.

"AlansMonthOfHell. exe" he typed, a grin spreading across his features.


Alan stood at the window and watched John dis-engage Thunderbird 3 from 5. Sometimes he couldn't believe how lucky he was. Thunderbird 3 remained as sleek and beautiful to him as the day she rolled off the production line. She floated away from 5, and with a roar of thrusters, disappeared from close-view.

He wandered over to the main console. He wanted to run a system check before settling in.

Taped to the keyboard was a heart rate monitor. "Put me on and wear me all month" a sticky note said.

Alan raised his eyebrows before un-taping the heart rate monitor and dropping it on the chair behind him. He started diagnostics before going to drop his bag on his bed.

A klaxon screeched. Alan jumped. The screech blared from every speaker on 5. Alan ran to the main console. "Put on heart monitor" blinked from the corner of the screen.

He typed in an override command, but it had no effect.

Just to stop the racket he lifted his shirt, grabbed the heart rate monitor and belt, and buckled the strap so that it wrapped around his back and sternum. Once the green light of the sensor found the pulse against his skin, the screech abruptly turned off and the console returned to normal. As if nothing had happened.

Alan lifted his communicator to his wrist. "What the hell was that?" he spat as soon as John answered.

John answered, casual, "Me and Scott are still on 3 Alan. Was there something you needed?" Alan scowled. Scott would be happy to hear that John made a "training plan" for Alan, but it seemed embarrassing to discuss it at that time.

"No," Alan said, "Remember to flush the commode before you leave next time." He turned off his wristwatch.

While the diagnostic ran, Alan brought up a browser window and typed the web address of his favorite racecar forum. An error message popped up.

"Browsing disabled until heart rate is in peak training for 30 minutes, and cardio state for an additional hour. The recommended training program with hills and intervals to reach is loaded on the treadmill."

"Dammit John." Alan glared at the monitor until a new thought hit him.

The food.

John had loaded the food. Alan sprinted to the cupboard and flung it open. Where normally there was a stash of good snacks like Cheese puffs and cookies, stacks of protein bars and dehydrated fruit greeted him.

A sticky note on the fruit packs stated, "Fruit is nature's candy" with a smiley face drawn next to it.

"DAMMIT JOHN!"


"You. Suck."

"I don't know what you're talking about." John took a sip of lemonade.

"I can't get to the executable files in Five to stop this garbage. The security is too tight"

"Of course it is. Do you know who I am? What I do for a living? What kind of time I have on my hands in space?"

"Disable the program or else!"

"Or else what? You gonna tell dad on me? What are you, four again?"

"Disable the program."

John put his drink in the cup holder of his beach chair and sat back. "So you're too out of shape to run a few measly miles and lift a few measly weights? Weights and distances that an average athlete should be able to do at your age. And you're going to bitch and not do anything about it. My computer program will help. It can't do everything. You still have to input the calories and log the dumbbell weights and reps. That's on you to take charge of your health and be honest."

John paused, then tacked onto his pep talk:

"Remember how much you hate the stereotype that racers aren't real athletes because they just sit on their butts. Prove the naysayers wrong."

Alan looked away. When he looked back put on a cocky grin. "I did the treadmill workout already. If you're going to program in workouts, at least make it a challenge."

John smiled at his kid brother's tough face. They were still men- competitive to the end.

Speaking of…

Gordon emerged from the ocean's waves where he had been swimming. John tilted his watch toward the swimmer as he approached.

"Hey Gords. Alan was just telling me about a new workout routine he's planning."

"Oh yeah?" Gordon wrapped a towel around his hips. "You gonna get buff Alan?"

In Thunderbird 5, Alan headed toward the benchpress folded into the wall like a Murphy bed. He couldn't back down now. If Gordon knew, the whole island would know by dinner.

He pulled the bench down.

"Yeah. I'm gonna get buff."

A week later, John watched from a nearby wall monitor while Alan lay on the Murphy benchpress.

"You got this," he encouraged.

"Eurph!"

"13… And 14… 15! Last set done!"

Alan dropped the weighted barbell. The grabs on either side of the wall caught the bar as they sensed it plunge more than two inches at gravity speed. (Brains always thought of everything- even a built-in spotter.)

He sat up and grabbed his protein shake. If he tried hard he could pretend he was slurpping down a vanilla ice cream shake.

Who was he kidding? It tasted awful. But John hadn't left him with anything actually good in the cupboards.

"How'd that feel?" John asked.

"How do you think it felt John? It sucked!"

"But think of the ladies!"

"Oh. I am!"

They grinned at each other through the screen.


Like anything worth it, getting into peak shape took time.

But Alan could already tell a small difference already. His appetite decreased has he acclimated to the new diet. He could load his bar a little heavier. He could raise the incline and speed on the treadmill a little more each week.

His family could tell too. His father looked up from his desk and gave a slight double take when Alan came into the study after his return to the island from Thunderbird 5.

"You look trim son. Have you lost some weight?"

Also, when Alan did his track split times, Scott didn't comment, but made that huh expression down at his stopwatch. High praise from their fearless leader.

Alan smiled to himself as he punched Scott's arm as he passed his older brother on the way to shower and change into swim trunks for laps. They hadn't seen anything yet.


Three weeks later, John sat back with his feet up on the console as he perused the world news and checked-in on the island's activity.

Apparently, the health phase from Alan inspired some other islanders. From space, John saw on his tablet that the dots of Scott and Jeff were in the home gym with Alan's dot.

Ugh- maybe he shouldn't have been quite so helpful with Alan. He didn't want to be the most out of shape one. He could still beat Alan in track times. Virgil only did the bare minimum with Scott in the gym. Jeff was an old man, in good shape for his age, but still.

He closed the island's schematics and brought up his workout music. He needed to hit the treadmill.