A short one, this time. Thanks, Bow Echo, Tikatu, Creative Girl and Whirl Girl, for reading and reviewing. Don't know about anyone else, but I kind of like Captain Rigby. The Chaos Crew, not so much. ;)

21

Thunderbird 2.2, beating rapidly south, toward Tracy Island-

A lot had happened in the last sixteen hours, most of it still tumbling around in the aquanaut's brain. Not even music could get him past that. Gordon Tracy stretched and squirmed in the hard centre seat of Josh Kelly's rescue Bird, which really did feel like an aerial death-trap. The cockpit was a loose, shaky nightmare, seemingly held together with chewing gum, elastic bands and fervent prayer. Nothing was in the right place, fit correctly, or seemed likely to last out the night. Already, Gordon had mentally rehearsed getting the h*ll out of Dodge with those kids, should the Mark-2 Bird go down. The ride was bumpy and rough, too, like a speedboat on seven-foot waves.

Even her engine noise and vibration felt wrong; flat, or something. Virgil would have had fits. Josh, on the other hand, seemed totally psyched, like he was livin' the Thunderbird dream. The pilot's big, dark hands touched those controls and instruments like a lover; like he would have liked to touch Penny or…

Stop. Gordon shook his blond head, trying to clear his own sudden confusion. For something to do besides think about trouble (and out of reach females) the aquanaut turned to face Caleb Gonzalez. The dark-haired young sub pilot was leaning back in the far-right seat, feet up on the control panel, ankles crossed, hands folded behind his head. You'd never have guessed that he'd come within spitting distance of losing his life in a horrible demo gone wrong. Sensing Gordon's attention, Caleb turned his head, flashed a grin, and said,

"Smile, G-man! The day is officially saved, and we make one awesome team. Once we get those dings knocked out of our subs, we can start flying more missions together. Y'know… compare notes, share war-stories, and stuff."

Gordon cocked a sandy blond eyebrow. He could have made a snide comment, then, but just didn't feel like it. The kid had done all right, considering his crap equipment and training, and he sat there now, grinning all over his freckled face. So, Gordon smiled back, saying,

"Right. Just make sure to use the dark crayon, when drawing reports, Junior."

"…and no cursive, or you won't be able to read it. I know," Caleb finished triumphantly, having turned the insult completely around.

"You mean, you finally learned how to write, little fella?" Gordon jabbed, pretending to be shocked.

"You can read without your glasses, Grandpa?" Caleb shot back. They would have gone on for hours, but then Josh said,

"Hey, not to interrupt, or anything… but where are we planning to land, Gordon? My Bird doesn't have all that much fuel left, and it'd be nice to set down, before we fall down."

That got Gordon's attention. Frowning, the muscular swimmer craned for a closer look at the fuel gauge, then mused,

"Yeah… I think we're all pretty low. Thought the target was somewhere on Tracy Island, but I'm not sure we've got any way to refuel or shelter you guys once we get there. Hang on a sec… I'll call in." And he tapped his wrist comm for Scott.

Except, no snappish blue holo showed up over his outstretched arm. Apparedently, his oldest brother was occupied. Fine. John, then, who… seemed kind of distracted, himself.

"Mission critical?" his second brother demanded, looking tense.

"Um… yeah it is, actually. 2.2's low on fuel, and her pilot wants to know when we're gonna pull over and hit a rest stop. Junior, here, can't hold it much longer."

"Grandpa Gordy's depends are soaked!" Caleb snickered, winking a dark-brown eye at Josh, who just shook his head. John seemed even less amused; like he wanted to say something important, but didn't have time, or privacy.

"The plan's still Tracy Island, or Site B, as far as I know. Brains 'll have to come up with something for the point-twos, on the fly. In the meantime, Gordon, you might want to gear up for another long road trip."

Gordon blinked, glanced over at Caleb, then back to John. "Road trip" was a loaded term, as the last one had brought them all the way over to Titan.

"Right," he said, catching on that this wasn't the time or the place for clarification. "So, where's Josh supposed to put down, John?"

His brother's blue-green eyes shifted sideways. Quite clearly, he had a lot on his plate, besides flying Thunderbird 1. Looking back over at Gordon, he said,

"Most of the heavy weather's east of the island, still. Get the Birds below, as fast as you can, and then find Grandma. She'll handle arrangements from there. Brains' construction hangar can deal with 2.2 and the Prototype… but there's no place out of the storm that's in range of that second rocket. Not on low fuel, anyhow. Is she space-rated?"

Gordon looked aside at Josh and Caleb, both of whom gave him embarrassed shrugs.

"Maybe?" said Josh. "We never tried, 'cause the station wasn't ready for action, yet, so Piper didn't have anywhere, really, to go… except maybe visiting you, Mr. Tracy."

John nodded, still thinking hard. Then, his holo said,

"Okay, Plan B: let 3.2 land first, in Alan's silo. I've run the specs, and she should just about fit. Then, if Al can hover up where it's calm, we've got two options: get 3.2 pulled out to the maintenance bay, freeing the landing pad, or have Thunderbird 3 dock up at the station. I've got a fuel reserve he can tap into, for getting home."

"Woo-hoo!" Gordon hooted. "And that, folks, is why we pay him the big bucks!"

John looked surprised, then smiled a little.

"Tell that to Grandma," he said. "My trust-fund disbursement hasn't been raised since I turned twenty-one. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some cargo to offload at Saipan. Later, Gordon."

"You got it. Fly safe, Bro," the swimmer responded.

"Same." With that, John broke their connection, leaving Gordon to spread the news of Plan B to the others, and add that upcoming trip to his list of concerns. 'Cause… seriously. What the h*ll else could go wrong?

Back in Thunderbird 2.2's medical centre, meanwhile, Janice Ming lay stretched on a cot, one long-fingered hand twined with Cody's. Having got her strapped in and stabilized, he should have gone up to the cockpit, but found that he just couldn't leave. Didn't want to.

Instead, the ice-pale young man pretended to work on Jan's med-scanner, while pushing chaos and entropy as far from his "girlfriend" as possible. Touched her black silky hair, the side of her face, and that no-longer broken right shoulder. Just watching her breathe. Letting her rest.

He'd been warned, and had blundered right into it; this terrible, gut-deep attraction to one of their females. Falling into a bond so strong, it felt like nothing else mattered, in all of the world.

Jan's dark eyes fluttered open after a moment; searched for, and found him. Their hands tightened.

"They probably need you up front, Cody," she whispered. "I'll be okay, now."

Yes, she would be, because an icepick of disorder and havoc had been dumped on the storm, fatally smearing its organization. And, because more trouble was springing up, in a hundred less obvious places… and people.

"Can't be too careful," he objected. "You could have sustained a concussion." Or nearly died, insides pulped by the force of that crash.

"I'm fine," she said, "and I love you."

Typicals often spoke that way, he knew… but still felt his heart jerk and pound in response. Grew warm and aroused, too. A feeling like alcohol, almost. Cody Beech had not come to this team by his own choice. Now, explosions and storms couldn't tear him away. Love, huh?

Touching his own forehead very lightly to hers, Cody next straightened, smiled and said,

"Still working out what that means, Commander… but all I've got and all I am, are yours, forever."

They kissed, then; just for a moment shutting out all that had happened, and what lay ahead. Just being together, in love.

XXXXXXXXXX

Thunderbird 1, approaching Saipan, near dawn-

His dad was in trouble on Mars, but John had to deal with the current situation; his own, and everyone else's. On the bright side, he was flying, which tended to make everything just a bit better. Could have done without that beeping "low-fuel" alert, though.

The island ahead was beautiful, even in greyish-pale twilight. Even in rough, choppy seas. Growing before him, its chalk cliffs and dark, steaming forests stood out against water and sky, as did the rounded white bluff of Bird Island.

John had been there before, and knew where to land. The people were friendly; quite accustomed to International Rescue stopovers. Had a cottage industry of sorts, tending off-loaded victims, till GDF pickup.

Better yet, there was an airstrip on Mount Tapochau, and a much-needed special fuel depot. All things considered, d*mn near paradise. Cutting his airspeed, John flew past Bird Island, then over the sparkling coast. Called in for permission to land, and got it, from Mayor Ansang, herself.

"Thank you, Ma'am," he told her, once he'd been cleared for approach. "It's a turn-and-burn, this time. Just one rider, and a rapid refuel."

"Understood, Thunderbird 1. You are most welcome here, whatever is said by those of the government. Be safe and at peace, for as long as your stay."

"That's some of the best news I've had all night, Ma'am. Thank you."

John rolled his shoulders, as well as he could with the exopod on. Some of his tension had started to ease, and that made him venturesome. Ready to lawyer the sh*t out of this. To Cavanaugh, he said,

"Okay, here it is. One, Kayo was under duress at the time of her promise. That makes your agreement non-binding. You took advantage of her. Two, I'm already seeing someone. She loves me, and that's too important to risk. If you're willing to help us get out of this mess, we'll pay you back in whatever reasonable way we can… but not like you made my sister promise. Are we clear?"

He'd adjusted the overhead mirror, so he could see her again. Once more, Kat seemed amused rather than upset. Shifting his gaze forward, John dropped the landing skids and then settled Thunderbird 1, bracing against a very slight thump and bounce. As a blood-coloured dawn broke over them, Kat said,

"Can I quote you?"

John shook his head, sending red-golden hair sliding into his eyes.

"I don't like publicity, Miss Cavanaugh. It affects concentration. Now, my associate has been through all of your images, and returned a few of the safer ones. Saipan has World Net access, so you can file your report as soon as you step on the tarmac. And… I think that just about covers it."

Engine noise dropped from scream, to whine, to ticking silence. They'd made it. John triggered the canopy, allowing his seat to drop into cool morning wind and birdsong. He leapt down to the damp pavement, still in his winged yellow exopod. A few shadowy figures hurried up from the fuel and maintenance hut, waving and calling.

John lifted a gloved hand, then turned to help Cavanaugh out of the badly depleted Bird. Wind was up, and he was extremely tired… but glad for the smells of plant life and seashore. Glad to have got here in safety.

The reporter behaved herself coming down from Thunderbird 1. Just smiled, stuck out a hand and said,

"I'd like to try this again, John… like we just ran into each other, right this moment. What d'you think? Is that possible? I won't tell your brothers, if you don't… and I'll still do my best for you guys."

Huh. Might've been a mistake, but…

"Pleasure to meet you again, Miss Cavanaugh," he played along, shaking her hand. "And thanks for the offer. we need all the friends we can get, especially now."