Hi, again! A short one, this time. Lots going on. Fixed even more!
11
Tracy Island, in the all at once silent, powered down comm centre-
Grandma Tracy blinked, startled, as the big, blue comm globe just shattered to sparkling pixels and vanished.
"What the heck?" she muttered, jamming the green re-start button on Scott's favorite seat, which faced the windows. "What's goin' on?!"
…because power was out, all over the house, except for a few battery-operated emergency lights. Even Max had shut down. She turned to face the desk, where Brains was sitting, bolt upright, starring at a window of staticky "snow" which somehow hung directly in front of his spectacled face. His blank eyes were no longer brown, but glittered with pixels, themselves. Well, Mamma Ryde hadn't raised no fool.
The silver-haired woman vaulted to her feet, blue eyes narrow and hard. Five rapid strides took her to the desk, where she studied Hackenbacker's slack expression for perhaps half a second. Then she acted, pulling his glasses off, and turning the wheeled office chair to face away from the desk. Might have been a dangerous thing to do, but Mrs. Tracy had never been one for second guesses. Not until after all the shots struck home and the dust settled.
Brains convulsed in the chair, gave a short, high-pitched scream, and then stumbled to his feet. The chair shot backward, striking the desk, and all at once, power was back.
"You okay, Brains?" she asked him, patting the engineer's thin, heaving shoulder. "What happened?"
"I…" he took back his glasses, looking as anguished as she'd ever seen him. "Mrs. Tracy, there is something I…"
"Island Base, from Thunderbird 1! Grandma, Brains… what's happening? Are you under attack? Hang on, we're headed home at full burn! Help's on the way!"
"Whoa, there!" Grandma responded, forgetting all about Brains' weird fade-out, in her rush to reassure Scott. "Slow your roll, Boo! We're fine. Just had us a power outage of some kind… which probably wasn't no coincidence, come ta think of it."
Turning slightly, she called out,
"Perfesser Moffit, everything alright, down your way?"
"Yes, Mrs. Tracy… other than our diverted microwave power feed, we're perfectly well. But, like Scott, I was most anxious for you and, er… and Hiram."
Her holo-image blushed prettily, and a strand of dark hair fell across her face, to be brushed impatiently back into its bun. Brains took a step toward her softly glowing image; blushing, himself.
"I am quite w- well, thank you, Moffy. There are… c- complications, but nothing I c- cannot handle."
The rest of the world might have crashed and burnt around them in the final twilight of the gods… in Lord Vishnu's awakening… but all they saw was each other. Then Jeff cleared his throat loudly, breaking the spell.
"Huh-hummm! I agree that your blackout… and Virgil's power-down… weren't coincidences, Ma. Whoever's stealing all that microwave energy doesn't want any interference. Trouble is, we aren't the ones who ought to be dealing with this. It isn't a rescue scenario. Brains, contact the girls and Thunderbird 3, make sure craft and crew are all in one piece, still, and get them on comm. I'll break it to the GDF. Might as well tell you all now, as later…"
His image looked suddenly glum. Jeff inhaled sharply, started to speak, and then had to restart, waiting until Kayo and Thunderbird 3 were in the loop to say,
"Ma… everybody…. I've been reactivated by the GDF. I report to London, today. In fact, I'm already late. John knows about it, and so does Lee, but I made them promise not to tell. Thought I'd have some time for more personal goodbyes… but that's not what happened. Ma, you and Scott are still in charge, with Brains and Lee on consult. For six years, you've managed just fine without me. You'll do great, now. I won't be completely gone… just, flying a desk at HQ."
For a long, strained moment, nobody spoke. It was Alan who broke the silence at last, saying,
"But, Dad… you just came back! It's not fair!"
His sky-blue eyes filled with tears; a few of them spread across his freckled cheeks and nose in a thin, glistening film. Then, Captain Taylor put a hand on the boy's shoulder and gave him a little shake.
"Whyn't you go check on the coils, Al," he said kindly. "Swear I hear a funny sound, back there."
Alan nodded, unstrapped in a fast, clumsy hurry, and launched himself out of the pilot's seat. There were indeed some weird sounds, as the boy darted off for the back of his Bird… but they weren't very funny.
Gordon shot John an accusing stare, but the red-haired young astronaut was too blurry with sleep to do more than shrug miserably. Then Jeff was talking, again.
"I'm sorry. It wasn't my choice… but I'm only a Bird flight away. You're welcome to visit, all of you, any time. Take care of each other, please. You are… every one of you… more important to me than I have words to express. That's it. All I had to say, and we've still got a situation to deal with. Put aside the sappy stuff, and get to work."
Only, Grandma Tracy wasn't having any. Arms folded across her chest, lips pursed in anger, she stepped toward Jeff's image and said,
"You and me 're gonna have us a little talk, Jeffery… but not now. Now, we need t' find a way to stop any more of these blackouts n' power-downs. Brains, that's you n' Perfesser Moffit. Scotty, seems to me that if we can't block the power feed on one end, we can maybe jam it up, at the other. Thunderbird 3 ain't available… but someone could take the space elevator up to 5, and then use the exopod to visit them receivers and shut 'em off. Thinkin' maybe Kayo or you, f'r that one… and if somebody's really plannin' to nuke London in two week's time, maybe we oughta start workin' on some sorta evac plan. You think?"
Because there was no one like a Tracy woman for taking charge, when things got rough.
XXXXXXX
Mount Erebus, in the Antarctic-
His people stood in precise ranks to both sides of the great door, standing at attention to greet him. There were not as many as he would have liked… and very few females… but the sight heartened him, anyhow. One man, his second in command, stepped forth, turned smartly, and bowed low. He was dark-haired and green-eyed, a sign of their family's blood.
"Kyrano!" he called out, his voice ringing through the vast lava tunnel. "Welcome, my lord!"
All of them bowed, at that; young and old, male and female. His people. Something like warmth seeped through him, but Nikorr Kyrano immediately squashed it. Typicals had a way of rubbing off on one, if overexposed to their weakness. Which, of course, was what had happened to the Tracys. Nikorr took warning, and controlled himself.
"Thank you," he said, making his tone indifferent, rather than pleased. Still in the business-suit costume of a wealthy, homo-typical male, he strode forward through the massed people, making his lieutenant rush to keep up. "Status report," he demanded, cutting himself off before the word 'please' could slip forth.
Without excuse or hesitation, his second said,
"There has been an incursion, Kyrano. Two International Rescue craft attempted to cross the perimeter, recently."
Nikorr glanced sideways, at that, his green eyes beginning to glow.
"Then, we have captives and tech to exploit," he said, a tough smugly.
But his second ceased walking to kneel at Nikorr's feet, bowing down till his forehead touched the polished dark floor.
"Kyrano, they escaped. Thunderbird 2 lost power crossing our perimeter, but a sudden incursion of force restarted its engines, and both craft retreated to safety. Also, that same burst of force has caused damage to Sentinel. The weapon has ceased charging, or accepting commands. I await judgment, my lord."
Dammit. There was only one response to such failure. Only one method for dealing with subordinates who did not succeed in their given task. To hesitate, to show weakness, was death… as Tanusha's parents had learnt, to their cost.
Nikorr reached out with his mind and crushed the man's forebrain to pulp, accidentally learning his name… Yan… in the process. Then, he strode onward, leaving the body for somebody else to clean up. Perhaps his breathing was a bit irregular. Perhaps he blinked a few times more than necessary, but if so, the massed family never knew it. All that they saw was strength and resolute power. All he saw was a monster.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Thunderbird 2, approaching Tracy Island-
Virgil swung her around, lining up with the runway and green, lovely home. There were a number of hull-integrity warning lights flashing, and a more worrisome landing-gear alert. Just to be on the safe side, he called in, keeping his tone placid and light.
"Island Base, from Thunderbird 2. You there, Brains?"
The response was immediate.
"I am, m- my friend, and you are, ah… are cleared for final approach. W- Welcome home, Virgil."
"Thanks, Brains. Listen, uh… you may want to foam down the runway. Got a couple of landing-gear indicators flashing at me."
"T- Try to deploy them, and let me, ah… let me know the result," said Brains, sounding concerned.
Holding his breath, Virgil touched the glowing "landing gear deploy" icon, and waited to see what would happen. Starboard-side and nose gear came down like a dream. No damage, there. Port side… didn't. Aft port got stuck halfway, fore port just shuddered and ground, unable to push through the crumpled hatch. VTOLs were jammed on that side, too. Well, sh*t.
"Belly flop it is, Brains," he joked, forcing a smile. "Or else I'm putting her down in the drink, and swimming home. Port-side gear and rockets won't deploy. Must've been damaged when we scraped that volcano."
Brains' image nodded. His smile wavered, just a bit. Had a lot on his mind, evidently.
"Understood, Thunderbird 2. As there may, ah… may b- be more extensive hull damage, an ocean l- landing seems inadvisable. I am, ah… am f- foaming the runway, now. Reduce airspeed to j- just over stall, my friend, and take a few l- laps around the island."
"F-A-B, brains. Circling and reducing airspeed. Let me know when it's safe to come in."
Back at the comm centre, Hackenbacker was hitting switches like mad, raising the hangar doors and extending the runway over the ocean with nanostructures, to give Virgil a little more room. He also triggered a twin line of foam cannons, which burst from the bent cyber-palm trees and began jetting dense, white froth. To the island as a whole, the engineer called,
"All personnel, emergency r- readiness. Thunderbird 2 is, ah… is coming in hot!"
Scott and Jeff had just emerged from their launch lift. Now, they rushed to join Brains and Grandma at the desk. A quick glance told them all there was to know.
"Son," said grey-haired Colonel Tracy to Scott, "Get down there and start up one of the fireflies. I'll get into an exo-suit, in case we have to cut through any wreckage."
"Yes, Sir! Right away!" Scott shot a last, worried glance at the view screen, and then raced for the hangar access door.
Jeff next turned to face his mother.
"Know you wanted to talk, Ma, but…"
She kissed his rough cheek and shook her head.
"Go on, get! Save Teddy, if the landing goes bad."
Jeff managed a smile; touched (and a little surprised) by the kiss. Looking at Brains, he said,
"Bring my son home, Brains. We'll take care of the rest."
Then he pivoted, loping after Scott. Dr. Hackenbacker breathed deeply, putting fear and worry out of his mind. Beside him, Max rolled back and forth on his treads, emitting a shrill, concerned warble.
"N- never fear, Max," said the inventor, patting his friend's hard plastic head. "All will be, ah… will be w- well. It is all j- just a cycle, after all. You must begin a f- fresh brewing of coffee for Virgil, now. Dark r- roast, with, ah… with mocha."
Max beeped a few times, and then started grinding beans inside his carapace. Soon, the rich smell of coffee filled the comm centre. By this time, the runway was twelve feet deep in iridescent white foam, sparkling like a ski slope.
"Thunderbird 2, f- from Island Base," he called out.
"Thunderbird 2. Go ahead, Island Base," replied Virgil, smiling despite the strain in his brown eyes.
"You m- may come back around, line up and, ah… and make your l- landing, Virgil. Y- Your father and brother are standing by, and M- Max has made coffee."
Virgil's smile reached his tired eyes, for a moment.
"That sounds good, Brains. Save me a cup. I'm coming in on final approach." There was almost no time left, but Virgil tapped his comm and keyed in a certain number, anyhow. It went straight to answering machine, so he left a message.
"Hey, Em… I'm, uh… I'm landing, now. Might get a little sticky, Angel. Got some landing gear issues. Just, um… just wanted… okay, I love you. Take care, Honey. See you, soon."
And then, he rang off, got his head back in the game, and said,
"Let's go home, Girl. Nice and smooth, just like we practiced."
XXXXXXX
Thunderbird 3, in the cockpit, still-
Gordon shook his sandy blond head, then reached out to unclip John's harness.
"Listen, Bro, this is no place to get any rest. Too noisy. Let's move you back down to medical."
"Mmm?" said John, sort of. Did open his eyes, a little, and tried to help with unclipping the harness. Mostly just got in the way, though. Captain Taylor was back in the pilot's seat, now, and gave them a jaunty thumbs-up.
"I got it," he said. "Take care of y'r brother. Ain't nuthin' out here but a whole lotta nuthin', till we pass Mars… then I got me a bet t' settle with Pete McCord. Calls hisself an astronaut! Goddang Navy puke, if ever I saw one! Try t' beat my time through the asteroid belt, will you?"
Gordon grinned at that; briefly imagining what it must have been like when Dad, Lee and Pete were all young, hot-shot spacemen. Must've been fun, he thought, turning John around and tugging him aft. Surprisingly, his older brother put a hand out to get his attention.
"Hey, Gordon…" he said, fighting to stay awake.
"Yeah, John?"
"Race you in the pool, when we get back… 's many times as we've played volleyball… 'kay?"
Gordon halted their progress through the ship, by catching hold of a bulkhead brace. Looking at his sleep-drunk brother, he said,
"John… be serious. I'd smoke you in the water. You know that." Then, getting the point, he smiled. "Want to call it a draw, in advance, Bro?"
John smiled back, blue-green eyes closing, again.
"Sounds like a plan," he mumbled, trailing off with, "beer, too…"
Gordon chuckled, reached into his own harness pouch, and pulled out a couple of celery crunch bars. Tucked them into John's pocket. Not beer or a cheeseburger, but the best he could manage out here, a million miles from home. Then, he kicked away from the bulkhead and steered them on back to medical, not even thinking about how to move. Just doing it.
"C'mon, Buddy," he said. "Let's get you to bed."
XXXXXXXX
Leaving London, in FAB-1-
As for Kayo, she and Penelope were on their way back, with good news to share, and bad news to keep for just a little while longer. There was a storm brewing, that might mean the end of all that mattered to Penny and Kayo, both.
