Edited.
Addendum: Three Women
Determination-
She'd been very much younger and more foolish when the notion took her to work for Red Path. It had seemed a good bargain at the time; what her paramour would have termed "another iron in the fire".
Together with British Intelligence and International Rescue, Red Path provided quick money, high adventure and a sense of living beyond the ordinary pale. In Lady Penelope's view, she didn't break the rules so much as simply flit above them, for a noblewoman had only herself, her peers and the king to answer to. Trifling dangers such as the granting of hostages had hardly signified, for Penny did not intend to get caught. Yet… she'd been found out at last, and an innocent person had died because of it.
Riding in the back of a bullet-proof limousine, Penelope lit the cigarette at the end of its long holder and switched on her personal comm. A few keystrokes later, she was gazing once more at an absolutely dreadful picture. It'd surface in all the tabloids, soon, with equally beastly headlines: Francois, designer to the smart set, DEAD!
Suicide, they'd undoubtedly proclaim it, as he'd plunged twelve stories to shatter like an egg at the base of an elevator shaft. Except that he had no reason to kill himself. Business could hardly be improved upon, and his latest show had been a positive triumph. Also, she'd received the picture and message well before police alerts went forth. No, Francois… her friend and favorite designer… was dead because of her.
There were two further 'hostages'. One, Elspeth Morgan, was her lady's maid. But Elspeth she'd already whisked off to safety in Scotland. The third hostage…
Penelope blew a cloud of smoke and shifted about on the limousine's capacious leather seat, seeking comfort without wrinkling her 18,000-Euro dress.
…the third hostage was an old chum; one she'd lost touch with, but retained a certain fondness for. Penelope had forced herself not to call, for she was traveling in disguise in hopes of confusing pursuit. No sense revealing herself with a foolish conversation, then.
The limousine slowed as Parker pulled off the main thoroughfare and onto a smaller, private road. Her windows were darkened for privacy and thought, but Penelope could fill in from memory the crumbling masonry, twining ivy and stone lions.
Another time, she'd have requested John's help, but no more. Matters between them had changed. With his needless elimination of Stirling, his marriage to that woman, and Penny's strange memory lapse concerning John's past, her former associate was no longer an option. She'd had something "on him". That much, Penelope recalled. There remained, yet, a sense of satisfaction, of "well, that's settled, then" smugness attached to certain blurred and missing bits of their past.
He'd done something to her memory. She knew it. Somehow, by drug or hypnosis, John had found a way to make her forget. Obviously so; for, in place of the missing information, she now bore a powerful, conditioned refusal to betray International Rescue or even to mention them.
Damn him! However had he managed it? And damn him still further for mattering so much, yet caring so little! But, first things first.
There was a Deathmark upon her for the destruction of Red Path's plans and leadership. Together with the hostage situation, this was of primary importance, and would have to be dealt with immediately.
That done (and once settled in Tewkesbury), she'd dispatch Parker to destroy Goliath and its inconvenient ghosts. Only then, when she'd settle accounts with the new leader of Red Path, might Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward turn her attention to other matters and different men.
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Concern-
How do you follow up Mars? How do you top being one of an elite and close-knit crew, picked from all the Earth to explore another world? For the first time in many years, Linda Bennett had found a sense of family. She'd had an important role, not a mere job. She'd helped plant flag and humanity on the Red Planet.
Now, unwillingly retired, she was… what? The Tracy family's official doctor? International Rescue's dedicated EMT? Or simply John's wife?
She'd been married for close to three years, had a child, even. And yet, she'd never so much as cooked a private meal for her husband and daughter. She had no personal home and an uncertain future. What, really, was she supposed to do next? Accept the Tracy triple-platinum credit rating and shop herself insensible? Take up knitting?
'Grandma', the fierce and influential matriarch of the Tracy family, wanted to speak with her privately. For that matter, so did John's father, Jeff. So far, she'd avoided both little chats, but couldn't do so forever. Sooner or later, Linda was going to have to discuss what had happened; how she'd become pregnant when supposedly unable, and how she'd then agreed to marry the baby's father in an extremely rushed civil ceremony on Mars. How… despite all the weirdness… she genuinely loved him.
Tracy Island was certainly a beautiful place and John's suite more than big enough for two-and-a-half people. He'd even suggested showing her around Thunderbird 5, once construction was finished. But, was this home? Was the end of all her astronaut training and preparation a private island in the South Pacific?
There was something more bothering Linda. Something inside of her hurt, as though she'd taken an awful, heartbreaking gut-punch. Something about John. For the life of her, though, Linda Bennett-Tracy couldn't remember what... or who... it was.
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Happiness and Exploration-
Freedom had a taste like sunlight and fresh pineapple; a little sweet, warm, bright and tart. It thrilled along the spine and caused sudden bursts of silly chatter and grateful hugs.
TinTin Kyrano feared coming close to no one, now. Not Alan, Scott nor Jeff Tracy, himself. Not when a mere glance aside or 'volume up' on her iPod might soften the impact of their presence. Nor did she dread returning to school in Tahiti. Everything… the universe entire… seemed bright, fresh and filled with hope. Surely, school would be, as well.
She ought to have been more sober, the girl knew, after such a trial as the world had endured from Red Path. But here was the little one, calling her "Timpin" and toddling up with both arms out-flung. How could she not cover Janie's face with kisses and hark to her latest request for swimming? (The closest thing to microgravity on "Urf".)
Only Gordon's return from Europe could improve matters, and he would not be much longer away. TinTin scooped the golden-haired little girl off of the tiled floor, tossed and caught her.
"Very well, ma petite! We shall once more descend to the pool, you and I, despite my continuing dampness. See how I am enslaved to your whims, terrible infant? I know… I know… you are not a baby!"
Janie regarded her most seriously. Snuggling her little face against TinTin's long neck, she replied,
"I din' say anythin', Timpin. You could call me 'baby', if you want."
Auntie Cho always had, and maybe things down here weren't so bad, after all.
