A/N: Hiya guys. Here's chapter three. I missed a lot of you for the second chapter; I hope that I didn't put you off at all. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it! Thanks to ThunderbirdMom, Thunderbird5, and Teobi for their reviews!

Disclaimer: If not for Sylvia and Gerry Anderson, I would not be able to play in this wonderful playground, so no, I do not own the Thunderbirds.

I don't think I had quite registered how much trouble we were in, until I heard Scott's panicked shout.

Virgil had examined me somewhat using the old follow-the-flashlight-in-the-eyes routine. It made me flinch with pain, but I moved my eyes after it nevertheless, which seemed to please him inordinately.

Then, without any regard to if I felt up to it, he 'helped' me to strip the top half of my formerly clean flight suit, and slid a pair of scissors up the sleeveless white shirt that I was wearing underneath.

I didn't want to look at the evidence of what being thrown around like a rag-doll does to a person, so I stared determinedly off to one side at Scott's apparent perusal of the still-running programs, gritting my teeth hard as Virgil inspected my shoulder with a lot of poking and prodding, coming to the intelligent conclusion that yes, the joint was definitely dislocated.

My head was still whirling around me somewhat disconcertingly. I wondered if the vertigo I was experiencing was completely to do with my head injury, or if it was a rather intriguing addition to the headache I'd had before the world had gone to hell.

And I still wanted my damn pain medication, although I could freely admit to myself that I needed something much stronger than Tylenol to combat the painful earthquake that was going off in my brain and the rest of my body.

"John." Virgil's voice dragged me from that thought as he laid a hand on the console above my head, bracing himself on his heels. He'd apparently come back from somewhere. That confused me.

I hadn't even noticed him leave, but I saw my dad kneel next to me, and I assumed that my brother had gone to fetch him for something. "I'm going to have to put your arm back in place. Dad's going to assist, but it's going to hurt. A lot."

No duh. I thought sarcastically and then, I grimaced. Geez, John. You're really in a bad mood today! I sniggered. Huh! I wonder why, dumbass.

I froze for a second. I really hoped I hadn't said that out loud; the situation was really messing with my mind. I was having a conversation with myself, for cripes sake! I sighed in relief as I didn't get any expressions more worried than they were already, and I assumed that I was in the clear.

I found myself nodding numbly as Dad wound his arms around my chest and torso, my left arm clamped tight against my side; Virgil holding my injured limb firmly in his grasp.

"On the count of three." he told me.

No! I thought in panic, already dreading the renewed bolts of agony. I'm not ready! Oh no…. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap…

"One… two…"

For the second time in half an hour, an unholy screech echoed around the station.

I didn't know what the others were thinking, but I would have quite happily throttled my brother and his apparent inability to count to a number as simple as three. However, my stomach and brain had other ideas.

One of them wanted to eject its rather sparse contents across the floor of the station, the other was content to simply drop me into a vortex of tumbling constellations. Thankfully, it was the latter one that eventuated.

Through the rushing in my ears, I dimly registered my dad saying something, and the warm arms released my torso, but it wasn't until the brother who called himself a medic waved what I unpleasantly realised were smelling salts beneath my nose that my mind returned from the land of the never-nevers.

Man. I thought, my eyes watering. That definitely clears the sinuses.

As I sent a death glare at my middle brother, the spark of worry in his eyes disappeared for a moment as he smiled wickedly and stowed the tiny bottle back in its pocket in the med kit.

##

I was still sat somewhat awkwardly up against the console, biting my lip viciously as Virgil strapped my bad arm into a grey support sling, when Scott suddenly spoke up.

There was a tone of alarm in his voice that worried me, struggling to see his profile as it lit up sporadically from the sparking consoles. "We got a constant warning light on our E.B.S system!"

That wasn't a good thing. Yup I know, again with the obviousness.

I had a head injury, remember?

That light meant that someone was trying to gain control of IR's systems without the password and it couldn't be Brains, because obviously he'd just initiate contact directly to Thunderbird Five, using our standard call-signs as well as the code itself. The red meant that someone had hacked into the system.

Maybe it was Alan again, wanting to be a part of the family business; though he was really far too young to consider the seriousness of things. Dad would have his hide if it was.

Hold on. My runaway, illogical brain suddenly stopped in its tracks; my original train of thought officially derailed amid the bright light of sudden reasoning.

Why in the hell would my brother and his friends be trying to take control away from 'Five? Neither Brains nor Kyrano would even let them take a single step into the room if command and control were in sequence! And although he was an idiot sometimes, my youngest brother wouldn't put our lives in danger for a matter of mulish teenage pride.

Suddenly, the hit on the station took on a whole new meaning.

Realising in my panicked epiphany that I had missed an important part of the conversation, I was quite startled when my dad suddenly joined Virgil in tucking an arm around my back and hauling me to my feet.

"John, we gotta move!" As I leaned heavily on the pair of them, more-so on Virgil than Dad, because he was shorter than me, and it took the strain off of my right shoulder, it didn't escape my notice that the flare of pain that lanced up my spine was slowly increasing with every movement.

However, over that and my screaming arm and head, I realised that we had bigger problems.

It was funny though, because as we began to move, Dad was focused on me, more than our current predicament.

I felt his concerned gaze on me as he shifted his arm to a better position. "John," he asked suddenly, narrowing his brows. "Have you been losing weight?"

I thought about that, 'no, I don't think so', being the planned response, but I was reminded of the fact that I hadn't been very hungry lately, and with the distraction of the multiple rescues we had undertaken, I actually hadn't been eating as much as I usually did. It was something I'd not realised until he had mentioned it. However, I was saved from replying to the puzzling question by his attention being drawn to Gordon.

Reaching the airlock before the rest of us, he had apparently punched in the code to release us to the care of Thunderbird Three, and our ride back to earth, but to my surprise, Gordon blurted, "The locking mechanism's jammed!"

I couldn't see their faces; the world wasn't holding calm enough for that, but I could feel the tense set of the muscles of the two people holding me up, and from my own gut, that it was not a good situation for us to find ourselves in.

There was a sudden hiss of static, and a beep coming from what I knew without looking was the main communications screen.

Despite the vertigo and pain it caused, I still swung around in unison with my father and Virgil to see the caller was not Brains, as I had first assumed, but some guy in an Asian robe, and a bald pate and bushy eyebrows. I glared at him in sudden rage; half on behalf of IR's security, half in terror of who he was and what in hell he wanted.

I listened to him gloat as he told us of how he had taken over our operational systems. Duh. As if we hadn't noticed that already!

I bit my lip in a monumental effort to not say something stupid; angry as I was that he had tampered with IR, trapped our friends, and attacked my poor baby, he hadn't yet mentioned the kids. Hopefully they weren't captured by this nut-case. I didn't want to antagonise him in any way if I could help it though, just in case.

Scott, it seemed, had no such qualms. It seemed his whole lecture on 'think first, act later' didn't apply to him and his actions in the way he expected the rest of us to behave.

As much as he had basically raised us for nearly a year after Mom had died, he never seemed to realise that to some extent, he had to practice what he preached. But I supposed he had a perfectly good reason; all our lives and our livelihoods were being threatened by this oversized ego of a world-class idiot.

"You'll never get away with it!"

Then, my dad cut in.

"Why the Thunderbirds?" He sounded wary. I honestly didn't blame him. It wasn't every day a person was trapped on a floating hunk of junk in the middle of space, with no apparent way out.

The man whined about how awful we were for not being foolish and doing a search for a body in a dangerous mine with no life-signature to speak of, and then his henchman had the nerve to grin menacingly at us and shut off the link.

With a zinging sound, the screen went dark. The few systems that had been left operational began to power down.

"Scott!" I heard my father's voice bark out. "Status report."

I knew what was coming, even before my brother spoke. "Co2 levels are rising."

And was it just me, or was the temperature going up? I scowled; the moron had turned up the climate control. Contrary to what some people may believe, I didn't especially want to become Roast John.

"Wire the oxygen scrubbers to the emergency battery. See if you can clean the air." Scott nodded at Dad's barked order, and turned away, his shoulders tense beneath his uniform.

I felt Virgil stiffen slightly as I began to waver; my energy levels beginning to drop, and I knew he'd be lowering me to rest against that stupid console again in a minute.

I heard him ask warily, just how long the rewiring of the oxygen scrubbers would give us, and I couldn't help but answer him, despite the fact that I would be voicing the unspeakable.

"About four hours." My voice was quiet; hoarse and weak, but it was heard clearly through the entire room.

From where I was standing, it looked as though it was going to be a very short day.

A/N: This is where some scenes deviate slightly from the film. The basic story will be the same, but elements concerning John will change it quite dramatically as the fic continues. Thanks for reading guys, and I'll see you next time!

Pyre Xx.