Sick as a dog, myself, ironically; which is why I have all this writing time. Thanks you, HelenSg and Creative Girl. The answer to your questions is still in flux.

36

Tracy Island, down on the beach-

Gordon went racing down to Tracy-1, all right. But, not to hide out and stay safe. The dimly-lit yacht had a powerful comm unit up on the bridge. So, after he'd reached the ruined marina and dived from the seawall (no skiffs still in one piece, and he was faster, himself, when he needed to be), Gordon swam hard for the big, listing vessel. Family joke, eyesore, money-pit, party central… whatever you wanted to call it, the yacht had a kick-ass comm system. (Great beds and mood lighting, too.)

Had to swarm up the anchor chain to get aboard, clinging tight, despite algae-slick links and knife-sharp barnacles. Got in through the hawse pipe, with a certain amount of cussing and raw determination. Then, panting, abraded and dirty, Gordon ran for the bridge, which had been left on standby. Brought the comm online with a few quick taps, then said,

"Tracy Island, to anyone within hailing distance. We need a doctor. Someone versed in exotic medicine, or mutated flu germs, if possible. Otherwise, anyone at all. We've had an outbreak, and we need help."

The comm crackled, and then replies began flooding in; everyone, from Union Jack to Brisbane Control, to a passing freighter. If nothing else, the young man realized, as he began fielding offers, International Rescue was deeply loved.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mars-

A few kilometers overhead, the other evacuees were no doubt mounting a search party. Down here, with a high rubble wall between themselves and the colony's central hub, there were frequent tremors, and a quiet resolve to push through.

Walker had sustained a bad concussion, when his helmet channeled that last shock wave just the wrong way. Couldn't stand up or climb, for sh*t. Jeff Tracy and Pete McCord looked on from below as his two guardian angels… Rollins and La Benita… wrestled him up that shifting and dangerous wall; their progress marked out in wavering helmet-lamp beams, oaths and encouragement.

Pete was still leaning on his crutch, steeling himself not to wince or cry out each time an unthinking weight-shift burdened his fractured right leg. Beside him, also gazing tensely upward, Jeff struggled to find a comfortable position. He had a shard of radioactive metal piercing his Mars suit and gut, would die of sepsis, if he didn't get help… but hey, everybody's got problems, right?

The trio above had gotten about two-thirds of the way up, when a sudden, bass chuckle echoed around them.

"Aww…" somebody drawled, from the shadows. "In't that sweet? Tryin' to help each other get out."

Jeff and the base commander whirled… almost fell over, actually… and saw a big, armoured young man step into the light of their helmet lamps.

"I'm Fuse," he announced, grinning savagely. "And you're dead."

Then, he stomped on the tunnel floor.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Up top, by the collapsed hangar-

Captain Hesse had divided her forces, because she'd had to. Half of her team were headed back into the colony dig, in search of Commander McCord, Colonel Tracy, and the repair crew. The rest were here, keeping watch, and pulling out useable parts. Whatever they built didn't have to fly far, just get them all into high orbit, where Mars-1 still rode at powered-down gravitational "anchor".

Dawn was not far off, the end of her usual shift. Lina Hesse was tense and tired, but cautiously optimistic. There'd been no sign of their mysterious saboteur, and she had good people, here. They'd be just fine, if...

"Hi, there," somebody said to her, materializing from literally nowhere. With a sly smile, the armoured, dark-haired young woman flipped an armed electronic charge at Captain Hesse. "M' name's Havoc."

The startled young officer reached for her weapon, got most of a warning out, then…

XXXXXXXXX

Tracy Island, the infirmary-

John woke up, feeling clear-headed and utterly drained. He was… tubes, wires, bed… confused, because the last thing he recalled was coughing blood all over the table. Really cold and weirdly lucid. Decided to get up, only somebody put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. O'Bannon, sitting beside the bed. Looked like she'd been sweating her eyeballs, again.

"No, you don't, Lieutenant. Your ass is lying still, or I'll get Hackenbacker in here to strap you down."

"Need to… get up and… help," he insisted, as reasonably as he could, while being restrained by a female.

"Need to lie down and get better," she corrected, not looking at his bio-monitors. John couldn't see them, either, which was probably just as well.

"I'm cold," he said to the beautiful, grey-eyed captain. Instead of getting a blanket, O'Bannon surprised him by lowering the bed rail, and climbing onto the mattress beside him. The bed creaked and rustled, dipping a little as she embraced him. Felt good. Not as good as it would have, in space, but still nice, having her pressed up against him and donating warmth, like that. Could've said a lot of things, then, but settled for burying his face in her braided, long auburn hair and murmuring,

"Hey… guess what?"

"What, Tracy?" she whispered back.

"I love you."

XXXXXXXXXX

Upstairs, at the desk-

Sally was busy, because people kept on ignoring warnings, pushing the boundaries, and making stupid mistakes. None of the Thunderbird craft could set forth, but that didn't mean that she couldn't be useful, directing emergency response teams.

Her voice was scratchy, and her vision had a way of suddenly blurring, but Sally Tracy kept right at it. International Rescue was more than just five precious, remarkable boys. For them, and for Jeffery, it had to keep going. Lee was down below, helping Brains with her grandsons. He was the only reason Sally Tracy could stay at her post, and she loved him for it.

She was sending a GDF cutter out to a stranded freighter, and trying to get hold of Mars, when somebody entered the room. One of the New Crew; pale blond hair, wolf-grey eyes. Cody, something-or-other. (The kids had been allowed to remain on the Island, until such time as their Birds were back in safe flight condition.)

"Mrs. Tracy," he said, crossing the floor to Jeffery's old desk. "How much do you know about the man you married?"

Sally adjusted her glasses, and then handed the rescue back over to Pac Central.

"Grant?" she said, challengingly. "I know he was strong, handsome, an' good clean through. A lot like Virgil. What else is there ta know?

The pallid young man's silvery eyes narrowed.

"I'm going to proceed as if you know exactly what I'm talking about, Mrs. Tracy, because time is short, and you've got enemies. Yours is not the only "special" family, Ma'am. The De La Vegas are masters of disease. The Hiros are shape-changers. The Kyranos are psions… everything from telepathy to mind control and telekinesis. The Kanes… well, they're odd, Ma'am, even by our standards. They're cyborgs. The Harrises generate fire. And my kind, the Beeches, we shift entropy. Doesn't sound like much, and has terrible consequences most of the time, but can turn things around, in a pinch. We're weapons, all of us."

"What's that got ta do with my boys?" she demanded, stiffly.

Cody ran a hand through his lank, white-blond hair.

"A lot, Ma'am. The Tracys… how to put this… don't play by the rules. They're dangerously public, for one thing, and they out-breed, for another." He paused for a moment, grimaced slightly, and then went on. "They're also brave and heroic. As I've, um… had a chance to find out. I'm only here because General Steele had some of my family locked away, brain-scraped and helpless. Me, he wanted to use on his team. Not my own choice, Ma'am, believe me. Reason I mention this at all, is because that fever isn't a random occurrence. Someone's taken it upon themselves to wipe out the Tracys."

Sally's thin shoulders drooped, briefly. Then she flared up with,

"Why?! Them boys never done harm ta nobody what didn't deserve it! All they've done, all their lives, is help people get outta trouble!"

Cody nodded.

"Strangely enough, with a shift in perspective, I agree with you, Ma'am… but others see only a dangerous public spectacle that puts us all at risk of discovery."

Can you help them?" she probed, gesturing in the direction of the hangar lifts and infirmary.

Cody Beech lowered his head.

"I can try, Mrs. Tracy… but I can never predict the outcome, or the price. I can't just stand by and let this happen. Only, you have to understand… this isn't an isolated event, and it won't be over, even if we're able to save your 'boys'."

Grandma's lined face hardened. Then, she said,

"I trust ya, Son. Do whatever ya have to, but save them all, please."