'Allo! Back again. =) Thank you to Bow Echo, Whirl Girl, HelenSg, Akimakel and Pirate Girl for their valuable feedback. I do have fun with this!

26

Jakarta, on the rusted fire stairs, outside of an occupied Grand Central Mall-

Sherna Lasangah was a GDF peace officer first, and a frightened young woman leading four kids, second. She had a job to do, though she fully expected to see the Mechanic burst out of the mall's emergency exit, or to have a vast swarm of bug-mechs descend on them all. To keep herself calm, she spoke to the children.

"My name is Sherna, Little Ones," she told them, carefully testing the next pitted, quivering stair-step. "I am new to the station, but already I like it very well. What are your names?"

The youngest spoke first. He, it was, who kept hiccupping. Also slipped his grimy small thumb in his mouth all the time; a bad habit. He had dark hair and eyes, and his skin was like hers, golden tan.

"I'm Akash," he said. "I dunno where's mom and dad, no more. Please help me find them?"

She'd been in the act of swinging him over a missing step… they were some sixty feet above the ground… and couldn't help hugging the little fellow, whose wide, trusting eyes were fixed on her face.

"I will do all that I can, Akash," she promised him. It seemed to be enough, for he managed a watery smile. The oldest, a boy about the same age as the one who'd betrayed her, but with dark, tightly curled hair and brown skin, said,

"My name's Samir. The bugs ate up my mom and my brothers. Dunno why they din't eat me, too. I tried to fight 'em and help momma… but I wasn't any good, they just knocked me down." Standing there hugging himself, he started rocking back and forth; a boy's alternative to crying.

"You were very brave, Samir," said Sherna, clasping his thin shoulder. "The bugs saw you for a warrior, and brought you to the Mechanic… but now you are free."

He bit his lip and leaned against Officer Lasangah, too proud to directly ask for comfort, but grateful for her embrace. The next little boy pushed up against her, holding tight to Sherna's left leg. His hair was pale brown, and his eyes were hazel in the dying sunlight.

"I'm Jordan," he said. "Everyone was screamin' an' runnin', an' I din't know what to do. I'm scared, Miss. I want my mommy."

"Me, too," admitted the officer, guiding this one, as well, over that dangerous, crumbling gap. "If Amma were here, she'd make everything better, but I'm doing my best to be brave. Will you help me, Jordan?"

He looked up, then gave her a solemn nod, and a fierce little hug.

"It's okay to be scared sometimes, Miss. Mommy told me that. You just gots a keep goin', anyways."

"Very well," she replied, equally serious. "I'll try, if you will."

Sherna stroked the hair from his grubby, bruised forehead. Then, she turned to reach for the girl. She was a little beauty, with wavy dark hair, grey eyes and coppery skin. Had a bit missing from the top of one ear, now, thanks to the Mechanic, but still looked like a small, cast-off angel. She reached up with both arms for Sherna, saying,

"My name's Maryam. I live at the annex, an' my daddy sells flatbread. Please take me back, an' he'll give you some, Miss. It's really good."

Sherna's heart broke. Had she been braver, she'd have told the truth, but just couldn't extinguish the hope in Maryam's eyes.

"I am certain that I shall find it delicious, Princess," she said. "For now, though, we must get off of these stairs, and get to a place where I can call for help. We must be firm in mind and heart, now, or someone may fall and be lost. Boys take a great deal of watching, and we have three of them!"

Maryam placed both little hands on her hips like a put-upon mother, and nodded.

"They run around all over the place, and break stuff," she complained, adding, "Daddy says boys are a trial, an' that's why he's glad to have me, instead." Then, "He'll be really sad, if I don't come back soon, Miss."

Sherna said, after a bit,

"Then, we must hurry along."

She loved them already. Could do nothing about what had happened, but maybe give them a future, somehow? A good plan, the Lieutenant decided; one that started with safety, right now.

The sun was quite low in the sky, casting long, violet shadows. An evening breeze had set up, blowing across Low Town and over the mall's cracked, weedy car park; a wasteland of beer cans and derelict vehicles. The stairs shuddered and hummed with each cautious step, shedding big brownish flakes, and threatening to pull free of the wall.

Officer Lasangah kept them all moving, testing each stair in turn, while chatting of this and of that. Ended up having to carry Akash, who was small, and soon tired. Took them about ten minutes to reach the ground at that pace. The whole time, Sherna's back prickled with the expectation of a bullet or drone-strike. She felt sure he was toying with them; releasing his prey as a cat will do with a mouse it has caught, just for the pleasure of hunting, again. She'd had to re-holster her weak little peace-keeping gun, and felt terribly naked, without it.

Once on the ground, they held hands and ran forward in stages, keeping low and using available cover to stay out of sight. Sherna made a game of it, offering to race, and letting them win, every time. Finally, they'd passed that last row of bent, shattered light poles, and run panting out through a wreckage-strewn overpass. There, at last, Officer Lasangah dared to rest, and to take out her powered down phone.

As the children collapsed all around her, coughing and gasping, Sherna tapped in her Aunt's work number. No answer. She tried again, and then again after that, because persistence might gain what affection would not. The fifth time, her Aunt Menna finally picked up, looking frosty and disapproving; her long hair decently covered by a bright, spangled shawl.

"Sherna, how dare you to call me at work, when you know that I… I… What is wrong, Child? What has happened?"

And then, only just not sobbing aloud, Sherna said,

"Ammaayi, he's here! He's in the mall, and nothing is to come near, nor fly overhead, or he will kill us all!"

"Who is here? Start from the beginning, Marumahal. You are not making sense."

Menna Mangalam had not become magistrate by accepting confusion or nonsense from those around her. So, Sherna told her everything; beginning with detecting that odd power drain, through the crash and her captain's death, to her encounter with the Mechanic. Ended with how she'd bargained for, and escaped with, four young hostages. Aunt Menna's eyes were quite wide, by the time Sherna stopped talking. Then, her expression turned grim. She had been quite a beautiful woman, once, and remained attractive in middle age, but very strong-willed.

"So, the Mechanic is here, and we wish him not to be… yet he must remain undisturbed in his plan."

"He will kill us, Ammaayi. He has said so, and I believe him," Sherna repeated.

Menna nodded briskly.

"Very well, then. Nothing shall fly, or approach that wretched ruin of a mall. I should have had that place pulled down, years ago, only people live there, so…"

But Sherna shook her head, no.

"Not anymore, Ammaayi," she whispered, for the children were beginning to sit up, and perhaps they'd been listening. Menna's expression darkened. She said,

"I will send a GDF ground car. Come as far toward the main city as you can. It will follow your phone signal. And, Child…?"

"Yes, Ammaayi?" Sherna responded, rising and dusting that form-fitting bottle-green uniform.

"Be careful. You have gained the attention of someone terribly dangerous. A demon of metal and flesh. I do not know that he will let you be, even if his demands are met, Child. And the GDF…" The magistrate shook her head, revealing a bit of silver-streaked hair in the process.

"Are helpless against him," Sherna finished, as she drew the older children around her and slung Akash back onto her hip. "Is there no one who can stop him?" she whispered, feeling suddenly very alone, and terribly vulnerable.

XXXXXXXXXX

Thunderbird 3, in the vast, empty reach between Jupiter and Saturn-

John glided into medical, towing Captain Taylor behind him. The man's chest pains had increased, and his breathing was becoming a harsh, panting labor. Didn't want anyone making a big deal over it, though, and kept insisting that all he'd done was pull a muscle. Well, that, and curse a lot… but John had heard worse, and made him take aspirin, anyhow.

Gordon was ready at the treatment center, having primed its computer to deal with a possible heart attack. He looked jumpy and concerned, but masked it with humor, saying,

"Over this way, Guys. Guest of honor goes here."

John helped him to get the grumbling astronaut out of his beloved old spacesuit and into a medical coverall, then harnessed him up; agreeing that, yes, it was probably just a bad sprain… of course, he'd be out, as soon as the mistake was cleared up… and, for certain, he could go right back to piloting, again. Just had to have a quick little check-up, first.

Gordon Tracy was their best field medic, not a doctor; but he knew how to push buttons and order a diagnosis. John hovered nearby, watching as Gordon got Taylor linked up, and then began scanning his condition.

"So… you were up there lifting thousand-pound weights, and arm wrestling John on max suit-power, Uncle Lee?" he joked, keeping up the pretense of a muscle-pull. Taylor snorted.

"Can't arm wrestle no one in space, Godfrey. All that happens is ya end up rotatin' like a Goddam propeller. Believe me, I've tried. Y'r daddy, Pete an' me had ta come up with a new set o' rules f'r winnin'… based on… on who got sent spinnin' the futherest. Pete's th' little guy. He allus… allus lost." Lee was beginning to lose consciousness, being all at once very tired and sore. 6Gs would do that to a fellow.

"How about Dad?" asked Gordon, checking the readout and ordering a dose of beta blockers. Heart muscle was damaged, cardiac enzymes were present in Taylor's bloodstream… but not too badly. Not yet. "How'd he do, Uncle Lee?"

"Jeffery?" Taylor scoffed, opening his eyes, again. "That man cheats like he breathes. Jeff Tracy don't like ta lose, Son. If'n th' game ain't goin' his way, he'll just rig th' d*mn thing. H*ll of a pilot, though. Gotta give 'im that. No one else coulda flown us out through them Martian canyons… durin' the worst sandstorm ever seen, or heard tell of."

Gordon smiled, despite his worry. His sandy blond hair, uncut for too long, was starting to form ringlets, and his half-shaven, bandaged face had a calmer look to it. Possibly because Lee's medical status lights were switching from red, to amber.

"I don't think Dad knows how to lose," he said. "Even when the situation looks bad… like when he disappeared all those years… things always work out, where he comes out on top. It's kinda… I dunno…"

"Intimidating," John supplied. Safely, because Taylor had fallen asleep, lulled by painkillers and conversation. Gordon looked over at his tall brother, hazel eyes growing wide with surprise.

"But… you're an astronaut!" he objected.

"And you're an Olympic gold medalist… and we're both convinced that Dad…"

"Could've done it all, better," Gordon finished. "He's just so… big. The legendary Jeff Tracy, and his five amazing sons." Then, "You ever want off of the ride, John? Just… y'know, go off someplace and live a regular, private life?"

"Um…" John rubbed at a knot of muscle at the back of his own neck. "Not sure I'd know how to do that, Gordon. I mean, first it was baseball, then the Space Corps, and now IR. What does a private life even feel like?"

Gordon shrugged, bobbing in midair as comfortably as anyone, now.

"For me… I think it would be getting up whenever I d*mn well please, going down to the beach every day, and having someone I love, who wouldn't be in danger because of who I am, and what I do."

John thought that one over for a minute, turning it around in his mind like a puzzling business card. Then,

"You'd get bored," he grunted. "You'd miss Thunderbird 4, and all that attention."

"Yeah…" Gordon agreed. "I got the coolest job in the world. Just… it's been the coolest job in the world for what feels like all my d*mn life. Sometimes… I just wonder, y'know? Am I crazy, John? Kinda feels like it, since I woke up with you guys all staring at me, and Uncle Lee pointing his gun up my left nostril."

"At your chest," said John smiling briefly. "Get it right. And, no… you're not crazy. It's been a h*ll of a road trip, is all. Even Scott would need therapy, at this point."

Gordon chuckled.

"You mean, Captain Caffeine and Testosterone? Spilling his secrets to a doctor? Mister 'Swings Boldly into action, Wielding his Mighty… Rescue Craft'? Yeah… that'll happen." (Like John would lead London in televised karaoke on New Year's Eve.)

Indicating Lee, who hung there in medical harness, peacefully healing, John changed the subject.

"He'll get better?"

"Of course, he will!" Gordon insisted stoutly. "I mean… he's got to. Who else 'll screw up our names, make passes at Grandma, and cuss us awake, in the morning? Guy deserves a medal, just for loving her cooking. That's gotta count for something, in the great big scheme of things."

(And, holy crap… had he just counseled John?!)

His red-haired brother puffed out a long, relieved sigh.

"Okay. Thanks, Gordon. We take risks all the time. I know that, but…"

Gordon followed his brother's gaze back to the battered old astronaut, who'd muttered something unprintable again, in his sleep.

"…some folks we just can't afford to lose," the swimmer finished. "And we won't. Not while I'm on the job. It's handled, Bro."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Starmaid, in low orbit, crossing Asia-

Scott Tracy continued to battle, curse and cajole; fighting a scrap-worthy patchwork ship with weak engines and a gibbering computer. Also, the filthiest bridge he'd ever seen or set foot upon. Had he been able, Scott would have retracted his limbs and just floated there; a horrified, disgusted balloon. Only, this was no time for the squeamies.

The Earth kept on pulling, with a force that this zombie tub could not get away from. Scott was firing everything she had, even venting air from the aft-most cabins, and all she could was maintain her altitude. Sort of. Barely.

In the meantime, Kayo had reverted to her usual, very serious, business mode. She'd called up Thunderbird 5 on her wrist comm, and was patching into the station's helm. Or trying to.

"How's it coming?" he asked; not, like, to rush her or anything, but…

"Scott," snapped the slim, dark-haired girl, not lifting her eyes from the image of Thunderbird 5, "You know how you specialize in daring rescues, yelling a lot, and sneaking pain meds?"

"What?!" the handsome pilot jumped in his seat straps, looking both angry, and caught. "I don't…"

"For the headaches, dummy. You're not fooling anyone, least of all, me. Well, my business is security, and pinch-hitting for whichever brother is out of the picture. I know all of your jobs, and right now, I'm doing John's. Now, shut up and leave me alone, before 5 ends up all over Wichita, in pieces."

Tough to argue with that, only… Very quietly, Scott said,

"Um… you wouldn't happen to have a few aspirin, in that med-kit, would you?"

Kayo fished something out of the kit, by touch, and skimmed it over. Small, foil packet, marked: Migraine/ Tension Relief, Extra Strength. He caught it out of the air, still fighting Starmaid's controls with one hand. Got the packet ripped open with his teeth and off hand, swallowed the contents, dry. Almost immediately, Scott began to feel better.

"Thanks, Kay," he mumbled, slightly red in the face.

"No problem, Brother Dear… but maybe fewer secrets, from now on. Especially when they're not, y'know… very secret." Then, "Bingo! Gotcha, you snotty d*mn ice-queen! Come to Kayo!"

Thunderbird 5's thrusters engaged on one side and on top, propelling the reluctant station out of her orbit. Slowly.

"Kay…"

"I know, Scott! I'm hurrying, but 5's got an ass-load of inertia. Plus, her systems keep trying to fight me. John must've… dammit… beefed up security. Big Bertha… does not… want… to move!"

Scott (who was having troubles of his own, trying to keep that mishmash bucket both out of the soup, and all in one piece) said,

"Does she have a code word, or something? Can't be just… urf… personality. John doesn't… have one."

Kayo shot her oldest brother an irritated look. Needing to defend John, she snapped,

"Yes, he does. It's just… locked up in boxes. Code word, huh? Okay, what the h*ll: Beer, 5! The access command word is beer!"

And, just like that, Thunderbird 5's computer system quit fighting her, and started to follow commands. Promptly, even.

"Transparent as glass, sometimes, Brother-mine," Tanusha said fondly, mentally snuggling close. "I miss you."

Actually, felt something, then; very brief, very faint, and very far off. Also, extremely surprised. Kayo's jaw dropped. Had she got through? Had she actually reached her brother? Just for an instant, she'd heard/ felt/ sensed: 'Little Bit?'

Hard as h*ll to focus on steering the big space station, under the circumstances, but Kay managed. Kept her mind on the job; firing thrusters and checking distance, time and fuel burn. Trick was to get her here, in a d*mn quick hurry, while still leaving enough fuel to escape low orbit, with a ship in tow.

Oddly, since her brief, maybe-contact with John, the task felt easier… like something she could handle, because it wasn't new. She'd done it before, with Cirrus and Global-1.

"Scott, I take it all back. Sneak all the pain-meds you like. I'll even bake you some migraine-strength brownies. You are a genius."

"Yeah. Thanks," he told her, once again bashing that flickering comm panel; filling the bridge with curses and echoing thumps. "Fun fact, here, Kayo… our ass is now dragging the stratosphere… got two minutes till flaming, tail-first crash dive, unless you can… urk… pull a… d*mn miracle, fast."

"Aye-aye, Captain!" for Thunderbird 5 had arrived, like a great big, glittering swan. Kayo did not park her, or even slow down. She simply engaged the station's mooring claw, firing her space elevator at Starmaid like a harpoon. "Hang on tight, Scott. Get your helmet on. We've no time for fancy, or gentle." She'd already seen to the injured pirates; had no time to strap in, herself.

"What?" Scott quipped tensely. "No kiss? No reach-around? Bet you won't even leave me your number, afterword."

Kay scarcely heard him. In her mind, she was that hurtling claw, prongs spread like talons, blasting down for a lock on anything. Anything at all, that wouldn't rip clean off under stress. Bow was the sturdiest section, being mostly one ship. Target acquired.

"Scott, lock everything up!" Kayo shouted, as that claw thundered down upon Starmaid, like a stooping hawk. "Seal blast doors! It's…"

A vast, crashing impact seemed to up-end the universe. Everything rang like the inside of a giant bell. All systems went dark. In the grip of the atmosphere, now, Starmaid began to shudder and twist; dropping like a sack of loose concrete.

Kayo had been hurled into a bulkhead, but dammit, refused to lose consciousness. Keeping her wrist comm up and locked on, she screamed/ thought/ gestured: "Retract!"

XXXXXXXXXXX

Jakarta, in the gutted mall/ hangar-

Another comm- ping. From Scotland, again. The Mechanic lowered his hands and stepped back, allowing his drones to take over building the aft engine mount. All around him, the great, ringing vessel was filled with scurrying purpose. Construction was going well. His mechs were having to forage further afield for raw materials, though. That was an issue, as Kane had a carefully scheduled plan, and could afford no delays.

Wanted no interruptions, either… but ignoring the call was not the same thing as avoiding it. He was going to have to respond, if only to keep from being tracked down and confronted, before time. Still… not here. In private.

The crowding didn't bother him, for Kane was long accustomed to being climbed, collided with, and antennae-brushed. The nest was a busy place, and he was its center, always surrounded by mechs. Needed psychological space, though, and a way to hide his progress. Thus, the move to a small interior cell with no viewscreens. There, he finally answered that call.

Minor insult, that; a summons from the head of the family was meant to be received with formality, in surroundings of appropriate opulence. The Mechanic had chosen a storage bin. The Kane appeared as a holographic image, radiant with cybernetics and physical power.

"Madame," he said, inclining his head, just a bit. With distinct and forceful irony, he added, "How can I help you?"

Her guards would have slaughtered him for that, had he been in her actual presence. Well… they'd have tried, anyhow.

"You can stop making trouble, and return to the stronghold!" she replied. "The families do not fight one another. It is part of our agreement. You know that."

Kane merely shrugged.

"I know that I do what I want, and take whatever I need. I require no one's permission. No communal agreements. Not anymore."

Her nostril flared, and her eyebrow jerked, on the meat side of her face. On the other side, her target-lock flickered. Becoming angry. Though never strongly enough to control him.

"Enough of this!" she snapped. "Evan, there is a legitimate path to power, for you!"

Yes. One that led straight through his mother's shattered body and leaking fluids. And yet, she would doubtless throw the fight for him; dying with genuine pride in his power and skill. The h*ll with that.

"The conversation is ended," he told her. "I will gain control of the greatest weapon and the mightiest AIs on the planet. When next we meet, Madame, we'll do it as equals."

And he waved a hand through her image, cutting her off before she could snap a response. Family, Kane thought, as he stalked from that cramped little cell, was a real pain in the ass.