Chapter 14: Tastes like Strawberries
Summary:
Alan's education continues, and a happy reunion.
Notes:
How wonderful is it to see so many new fics appearing after SOS? Thanks, Rob Hoegee.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The inside of the module revealed a tangled mess of bodies. Many were simply lying where they had stumbled or crawled into the refuge. Alan stopped on entry and sent Gordon an enquiring look.
"Find the quiet ones who aren't moving," Gordon said evenly.
Education was a movable feast as far as Alan was concerned. In the lift, Gordon was fizzing, riding an adrenaline high; already, Alan saw that he was stamping that down as best he could, reining in his own joy at survival in the face of suffering. It was something to recognise and think about for Alan's evolution as a rescuer, the way Gordon brought his own emotional state down in order to meet the needs of the people they were rescuing.
Alan nodded and set off. It was a difficult idea to convey, perhaps, because it came from such a contrary base; people in pain were always a dreadful thing. But Alan couldn't help but love the fact that the S2s brought such instant relief that he got the privilege of watching faces twisted or strained or frozen in stress almost immediately melt into relief like bliss. He wouldn't have been the kind of boy he was if the moment didn't bring such pleasure.
Patiently and steadily he worked through the crowd, occasionally pausing to meet up with Gordon and re-supply him with new canisters to insert in the second hypodermic and then continue down the lines of prostate rescuees.
A cry.
Alan swung his head around.
A woman – he recognised her from the initial ledge, someone upright and stern – was struggling to her feet, and calling out towards Gordon.
Alan hurried over, unsure of what was happening.
"Izvini, izvini."
He didn't understand what she was saying, but her face, one he would have thought severe, was suddenly flooded with the kind of happiness that caught at his own heart. It transformed her into someone much younger than he'd thought, someone beautiful with purpose.
"Galina!"
Gordon was embracing her, and Alan knew that this, this moment right here, was everything International Rescue lived for.
Well, that and the awesome.
"I'm okay, I'm okay."
Tears were falling from Galina's eyes, but she was so transparently joyous that Alan fell just a little in love.
Anyone that happy to see his brother deserved it.
"I thought you were dead."
"Ha! Me too. Dived – " and Gordon, the dork, demonstrated with his arm – " into the sea."
"Idivyitelnyi!"
Another voice from the floor, rasping and weak.
"Chuvak…"
"Yuri!" Gordon was kneeling beside two of the young men, quickly assessing them, then looking up at Alan. "We need to decontaminate these guys, Al. Let's get that happening."
"Yeah, sure." Alan stepped over the supine figures to the back of the module, to where one of Jeff Tracy's insisted upon inclusions waited.
Jeff and Brains had both been acutely aware of the possibility of exposure to toxic chemicals on a rescue. A lesser man might have rested his hope and his ego in the quality of his own uniform designs, prepared to assert the superiority of his work above all demands upon it. Though all great inventors needed imagination, the one thing that most differentiated Jeff Tracy from his competitors was his empathy; his imagination combined with the essential and unwavering concern he had for the people who were going to be operating his creations. The thought came to him, very early in the process, of helmets off, unforeseen containment dangers, unexpected contaminant leakages, and the unacceptable cost of each. In every module, a hidden compartment at the back expanded to include five decontamination chambers; small cubicles, brilliantly designed, that neutralised anything untoward on clothes, on skin, and even in lungs and stomachs. The de-activating agent was not invented by Tracy Industries, but Jeff Tracy identified and acquired it, immediately releasing the patent to the world but also instilling it as a matter of urgency in every IR craft.
Access to decontamination also operated as an essential aspect of rescue work when the prospect of spreading toxic chemicals while going about a rescue remained.
Alan hit the panel that opened the chambers up for access. Five small cubicles propelled forward from behind their sheltering panels, lit with green and bright white lights. Every Russian nearby pulled back.
"Nyet," one muttered.
"It's okay," Aland said, brightly. "This gets rid of the volcanic gas. It will make you feel better."
It was an odd feeling to watch people he was trying to help physically recoil from him. It was far beyond his known experience of the world to understand what might have people so frightened of unknown technology. The thought was an ugly one, and vaguely frightening, so in characteristic fashion he pushed it aside.
Gordon and Galina joined him, Galina leaning heavily on Gordon's arm as she wheezed for breath.
"Galina, these are decontamination chambers." Gordon released her arm, holding her instead by her forearms. "We need people to get in here. They'll help a huge amount with breathing"
Galina nodded. "Always trust. Of course. I will go in." She kicked out a foot. "And so will these two. Yuri. Arkasha."
"Wait." Two small blond heads had caught Alan's eye. "We need the kids in first."
"Good call. Galina? You and these two, and the children. Their lungs will need this."
Gordon brought Galina to the first chamber, then nodded to Alan. He'd go and get the kids. Alan bent to lift Yuri, with his friend Arkady helping as best he could, given his own debilitated state.
It was all going in a straightforward way, Alan thought, until he glanced up and saw the deep scepticism if not outright fear on every face watching them.
"Uh – you know? Maybe I should go first? Decontaminate my suit."
He tapped at his chest. Someone in the crowd called out.
"You have helmet."
"Oh. Yeah. Guess I do. Okay." With a quick twist, the helmet was freed and his head bared. "Okay?"
No response, but he felt all eyes upon him.
He gave a quick, wide grin, and opened up the first chamber. On closing, he heard the soft musical chimes that heralded the gas release, and the a swirl of pink was around him, soft and warm, working with the most utterly deceptive efficiency to deconstruct and absorb all the chemicals that had attached to his suit and skin. In fact, the repellent quality of the suit and his limited exposure meant he barely needed it; but the truth was, he always kind of liked it. It tasted like strawberries. And its sweet softness was a balm after the last ten minutes of his life.
In thirty seconds it was done. The light flashed green again, and he stopped out.
"See? It's really nice." Wisps of pink ghosted up from his shoulders, but he was pleased to see that the expressions surrounding him were more intrigued than fearful now.
Gordon was waiting with the two small children, each one tucked onto a hip and wheezing pitifully, with a young woman close in behind him.
"Hey Al. Say hello to Minka and Sasha. And this is their mum, Sorya."
"No," Galina said. "She is their sister. Their parents – they did not make it from Moscow."
"Ohhh, no wonder," Gordon turned eyes full of sympathy to the young woman. "Sorya, you're doing a real good job with these two. Now we're going to make them feel a lot better. Okay?"
She clearly didn't understand his words, but the message was conveyed. She said something in a low voice to the children, who after a pause, nodded.
One child was put into the chamber Alan had just left, the other, without a murmur of complaint, into the one beside it. Yuri and Arkady took the next, Galina the last.
A new satisfaction, watching the lights change, seeing the doors slide back and five people who had entered struggling for breath coming back out upright, lungs cleared, the mortal fear finally gone from their faces. Clothes stiff with ash now hung clean and limp, warm again in their colour.
Galina called out, and people began climbing to their feet, coming forward.
"This is very good. Your technology is impressive."
"Most of it is down to that genius I mentioned," Gordon said.
"Give him my thanks. For all of us."
Three lots of five survivors had gone through the decontamination units by the time Alan felt Thunderbird Two drop height and speed, aiming for Umnak, and each round brought the same feeling of achievement. This rescue had been all kinds of horrible, but he began, in the back of his mind, to catch that feeling of excited triumph that Gordon had shown in the cockpit. In spite of all the danger and obstacles, it seemed like this was going to be one of International Rescue's most glorious days after all.
He was about to say something to that effect to Gordon when he noticed his brother sway forward, both hands coming to his knees. Under his helmet, his normally tanned face looked a shade whiter.
"Uh-oh. Looks like you just got your adrenaline crash."
"Me? Nah. This is my pretzel imitation."
"You want a wall?"
"Wall would be good."
The only spare space in Alan's immediate sight was beside the large man with the suitcase, so he steered Gordon over to him and let him slide down on legs clearly wobbling.
"Whoo. Haven't had one of these for a while." Gordon dropped his head back against the bulkhead of the module. "Just goes to show how truly awesome that dive was."
"Big deal. You went for a swim." Alan grinned down at him. "Some of us were busy doing the stuff we're supposed to be doing."
"Dive and swim. From off the top of a volcano." He shook his head, slowly. "Should have been a camera there."
The man beside him ignored everything Gordon said. He was slowly pulling pages of handwritten Cyrillic text from within his jacket, old papers that looked sere and strange in the harshness of the module lights, scrutinising each as if they held secrets he already knew but needed to affirm in the face of their near destruction. Gordon rolled his gaze towards them.
"Huh. Cool. Russian writing. Last time I saw writing like that was in a freaky submerged laboratory full of dead Russians."
The man stilled. He didn't look at Gordon, but the slow turning stopped. His dark gaze narrowed; then he continued his reading, nothing else escaping from him to confirm what Alan instinctively knew.
Saying that out loud was a mistake.
"Yeah, okay," Alan said as loudly as he could. Several people stared at him in surprise. "So Galina, the people already here will need decontamination too. Maybe get everyone ready to swap over? There's a hangar where the others are waiting. Super cold out there, so we need to get everyone into shelter soon as we can, bring the others in here. Oh, but tell the ones already decontaminated not to touch the others yet."
"We will do this," said Yuri, his usual level of energy if not restored at least evident as keeping him going for now. He said something to Arkady and the two of them began leading people towards the front of the module.
Thunderbird Two came to a gentle halt, the module lowered to the ground, and it was as if every inhabitant of it let out a kind of sigh.
They were on the ground. They did not know what they would see when they opened the access hatch and stepped out, but the earth beneath their feet would not be shaking, and the skies above their heads would not be hunting.
For that, there would be gratitude for the rest of their lives.
Notes:
Chuvak – dude
Izvini - sorry
Idivyitelnyi - wonderful