Gordon stared up at his father.
How? How could he do this?
Virgil stood between Scott and Dad, a muddy and dirty physical barrier if anything. He was more brown than green or blue.
Their father's lips tightened. "Language, Virgil."
Virgil's frown intensified. "Explain to me why you want to go into space. What's the emergency?"
John cleared his throat. "Virgil, it's Callisto. Berry and Ju have gone missing."
Dark eyes blinked. "What happened?"
"Commander Walters reports they disappeared off sensors while on an exploratory mission two days ago. He needs our help."
A glance at both his eldest brother and father before focussing on the latter. "Let Alan and Scott handle it."
"No."
Even from a distance, Gordon could see the fire in his father's grey eyes.
"Why not?"
His father swallowed and shifted his stance, his cane scratching the floor. "It's Berry and Ju, Virgil."
As if that explained everything.
"And you don't trust Scott and Alan to do the job."
Typical Virgil, cut to the chase. Scott shifted behind him.
Dad moved, too, as if he had itching powder under his skin. "I need to do this." An exasperated sound. "We were a team. We were the team. Berry, Ju, Lee and me."
"Callisto is weeks away. You'd be risking a serious health relapse tolerating zero-g for that length of time. I can't allow it and Grandma will back me up."
Dad straightened at that and took a step closer to Virgil, their height difference as stark as the anger in their father's eyes.
Virgil stood his ground and Gordon bit the inside of his cheek.
"We can use the Excel!" John's voice was uncharacteristically harried. "She's ready for her first space run. We can be there and back in a matter of days."
Every eye turned to stare at the hologram in the middle of the room. Scott's expression shifted from shock to fury. "John? What the hell?"
Their astronaut brother didn't flinch. "He's going to go anyway. At least we can minimise the impact."
Virgil rounded on his younger brother, eyes wide under his frown, betrayal an obvious component. "We can't risk it. This is Dad's health."
Dad flared. "This is my decision." He turned to John. "She's ready?"
John shrugged. "As you know, Brains, Alan and Michael have taken her to the moon and back with no issues. They are itching to try a longer trip." John opened his hands. "Besides taking Thunderbird Five and all her scanning equipment would be to our advantage. We will find them." There was the same fire in John's eyes that was in their father's.
The anger emanating off Scott was a physical thing. Virgil still had his hand on their eldest brother's shoulder, but his fist was now catching uniform material and pulling it tight.
Their father either failed to notice, or just simply ignored them. "John, begin preparations for launch."
John's eyes darted to Scott.
The commander's lips thinned, his expression set ready to obliterate anything or anyone who stepped in his way.
But he nodded.
Just once.
It was obvious the argument was far from over.
John's 'FAB' was short and sharp as he flickered out.
Gordon did not want to be in the astronaut's shoes the next time he crossed paths with Scott. Space bro was on a trajectory to becoming space dust.
Gordon felt inclined to help pulverise him.
But his father was still standing there defiant, eyes now pinned on Scott as the most obvious source of opposition.
Gordon shifted, dropping the shit in his hands to the floor with a clatter.
Three sets of eyes shot in his direction.
Gordon glared at his father. "I cannot believe this." He felt Virgil's betrayal and Scott's anger like a vibrating echo of his own. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"
"Excuse me?" Dad had the nerve to sound offended.
Stepping up from the lounge, he pushed between his brothers and his father, stalking into the older man's personal space.
He pinned him with his eyes. "How can you do this?"
"Gordon-" Virgil grabbed at his arm, but he shook the hand off and squared his shoulders.
Grey eyes scorched him where he stood. "Do you have something to say, son?"
Again with the 'son'. Not as a familial noun, more as a rank.
"Un-fucking-believe-able!"
"Gordon!" Scott's voice was sharp.
Gordon ignored him.
"How can you do this…to him?!" He shoved a finger in Scott's direction and barely registered his brother stepping back as if it was a gun.
"Gordon!" This time it was Virgil. Virgil, ever the peacemaker.
"No, Virg. I've had it. He can't do this to Scott. He can't."
"Do what?" His father's voice was so sharp, long ago reflexes had Gordon straightening where he stood despite everything.
"Can't you see it?!" It itched under his skin, the anger, the outrage, trying to get out. "You're hurting him!"
Gordon had spent the last few years watching his eldest brother walk a road of pain. It started with Gordon's own injuries and his long recovery, combined with the hunt for their father. He had seen Scott wade through shit before, but he had never seen him that desperate, that driven, that hurting.
And then they had found Dad. The relief had been immense. But not all stories had perfect endings. There were health issues, there were more worries, more moments where they thought they might not have rescued all their father, that he might not recover everything or, at one point, anything at all.
Hell.
There was no other word.
And now their father was safe. Things had settled. There were still challenges, but Dad was safe.
Except now he was willing to throw it all away. All their hard work and his eldest son's sanity. All for a joyride.
A hand clamped down on Gordon's bicep and pulled him back. There was no shaking this one off. It was followed by an arm wrapping around his chest, a combination of restraint and comfort.
Virgil's wrist controller poked through the thin material of Gordon's shirt. "Gords, c'mon." Worried, but quiet.
Gordon only had eyes for his father. The man's mouth was partly open, his eyes wide, and for a second Gordon thought that perhaps his point had sunk in.
But those eyes narrowed. "I do what needs to be done, Gordon. I always have." His father's voice was cold.
Gordon's heart broke. Voice ever so quiet. "Yeah. Yeah, Dad, you always have."
The arm around his chest tightened as Virgil exhaled behind him.
There was no sound from Scott.
Dad's cane tapped on the hardwood. "Begin preparations. We leave as soon as possible. We can debrief in flight." With that he turned back to his desk in obvious dismissal.
Gordon growled deep in his throat.
But Virgil had him in a vice grip and was dragging him towards the elevator. Gordon vaguely registered that Virgil's other arm ended in a fist knotted in Scott's uniform.
Still Scott said nothing.
He was shoved into an elevator car and as the doors closed, Virgil let him go.
The second eldest slumped against the elevator wall, leaving smears of mud on the silver metal.
No one said anything.
Shock was the only word.
-o-o-o-
"What were you thinking? We can't let Dad out on a mission. Not one that far away at least." Alan was staring at him in wide-eyed bafflement. "Did you see Scott's expression? He's gonna kill you for that."
John spun where he was floating, propelled himself out of the central hub of Five and landed smoothly on her spinning gravity ring. Earth drifted past his feet a moment only to be replaced by stars as the ring rotated.
Alan stepped smoothly into the light gravity behind him. "John? Talk to me, bro. What were you thinking?"
John ignored him a moment longer while he commed Brains and Michael, asking them to return to Five.
The Excel was a huge presence moored to the rear of the orbiting satellite. Connected to an airlock on the side of Five's tail rather than docked fully, the former Zero XL superstructure dwarfed his 'bird. Her massive lightspeed engines blocked stars. Despite this, she was slaved to his Thunderbird. All her brains and currently a good percentage of her power was being sourced from Five. Brains and Michael, formerly the Mechanic, had been working on the ship for a year now. Mostly installing secondary systems and extra engines to replace the two Thunderbirds that were no longer practically available.
Thunderbird Five still slotted in as she had previously to act as the vehicle's brain, but the Excel now supported her own set of massive thrusters and ion engines for journeys that did not require lightspeed. Thunderbird Three could still nestle in the centre of the giant machine, but she was extra and more 'shuttlecraft' to the deep explorer.
Alan was quite miffed at that definition.
But since he was primary pilot of the Excel, he wore it well.
The Excel still required multiple crew, so she would never be a lone pilot 'bird. John himself was co-pilot and it was recommended that an engineer be aboard at all times.
Brains was still pushing Michael to be nominated for that position.
Scott was still resisting.
But apparently things were coming to a head today.
"John?"
He turned to face his little brother.
Blue eyes weren't really accusatory, more worried and confused.
"Alan, have you considered that one day both you and I will be grounded, never to go into space ever again?"
The younger astronaut blinked. "Sure." He shrugged. "I guess."
John pressed his lips together. "Have you really thought about it? How it would feel to watch others come up here and yet never be able to join them?"
Alan frowned. "You're talking about Dad?"
"Yeah. If you were stuck down there, what would you do to be able to fly again?"
"But Dad's different. Why would he want to go into space again? It nearly killed him."
"Would that stop you?" A pause. "It hasn't stopped me." He sighed. "I think this might be something Dad needs, you know? A successful end to his astronaut career rather than the incident with the Zero X."
"I guess." Alan looked down as Earth spun past again. "Scott is still going to be angry."
Another sigh. "Scott is going to be a lot of things and none of them happy."
-o-o-o-
Nothing was said on the way to the locker room. Virgil didn't need to drag his brothers. They all knew their duty and responded accordingly, no matter their emotional state.
Virgil eyed both Scott and Gordon. The latter was still fuming, his every movement abrupt and loud. His locker door was slammed shut enough for it to bounce on its hinges and would no doubt need repair when they returned.
Virgil blinked and realised that somewhere between the lounge and the locker room he had decided he was going. Space was not his speciality, but this was his family and the thought of them leaving without him on the Excel…
No, he was going.
He unclipped his baldric and harness, shucked them onto the bench, and began peeling away mud-caked uniform.
A shower of dirt hit the concrete floor around him.
The movement reminded him of the landslide and all the bruising that entailed. His arm ached.
He bit back a grimace as he slid out of his sleeves.
Scott was already down to his undershirt and shorts, ever the fastest dresser/undresser of them all, but instead of stripping and diving for the showers as usual, he instead grabbed a medpack from the far end of the room and pulled out a scanner.
Virgil's shoulders dropped as Scott approached him.
"Take your shirt off."
"Scott-"
"I said, take your shirt off." It was a command as sharp as any in the field and sure sign that not everything was right with his brother.
Blue eyes glistened in the overhead lighting.
Virgil did as he was told.
The underground air cooled his skin and goosebumps rose as he dropped his sweaty shirt on the bench.
Scott's lips were tight as he waved the scanner over Virgil's torso, eyes narrowing on the purple bruising on his left arm.
Virgil bit back his 'I told you so' and instead stared at Scott as he examined the injury. He noted the slight drop of his brother's shoulders as he diagnosed exactly what Virgil had told him it was.
Scott's touch was ever so gentle.
His brother straightened. "Keep an eye on it and try not to bash it again in the next few days."
There should be a smart-ass remark answering that prescription, but now was definitely not the time.
Instead, he reached out a hand and touched an ever so tightly wound shoulder. "Scott-"
His brother looked at him. "We have a mission. Shower, get kitted out and give me a list of the equipment we might need." Scott turned away, packing the scanner back into the med pack and returning it to the shelf at the other end of the room.
Virgil let his hand drop to his side.
Scott was right.
They had a mission.
He muttered under his breath.
"FAB."
-o-o-o-
"Is there any way we can exclude him from this mission?"
"Gords, you're asking me to find a way to stop Dad? Why?" Alan eyed Brains sitting beside him. The engineer was absorbed in his tablet, but Alan suspected he was listening anyway.
He ran through pre-flight in prep for disengagement. Three was docked and integrated into the Excel. Separating from the great ship was considerably different from an all out launch from Three's silo on the Island. It took a little extra finesse.
Gordon's uniformed hologram hung above the main console, agitation in every movement. "Because he shouldn't be doing this. Virgil is worried sick about his health. This could set him back – a lot."
"If it is that bad, get Virgil to lay down the law." Pre-flight complete, Alan brought up Three's engines, eyes tracking as each came up green on his board. A nudge to the forward thrusters and she began drifting backwards and out of her docking bay.
"You saw him, he tried that. It didn't work."
"Get him to try again."
"You didn't see what he was like after. What he did to Scott. Dad was cold, Allie. Damned cold and didn't care."
"You're kidding." Three slipped free and he manoeuvred her away from the Excel before turning her towards a re-entry trajectory.
"No, I'm not. Dad is going and nothing is going to stop him."
Brains looked up at that, but didn't say anything. Gordon was obviously unaware that Brains was even there. The aquanaut had to know Alan was returning him to the Island before their departure. It was a sign of how agitated his brother actually was. What the hell had happened after John signed off?
"Why are you asking me?" He double checked the computer's calculations and gave the trajectory go ahead.
"You're an astronaut. You can talk the talk."
"That's bullshit, Gords, and you know it. You know the deal as much as I do." Though admittedly, space was Gordon's least favourite medium. Virgil tolerated it, but Gordon was definitely not a fan despite the similarities between deep space and deep ocean.
Or perhaps the lack of similarity.
Deep ocean wasn't Alan's favourite medium either. It flipped the equation – in space everything wanted to get out, in water everything wanted to get in.
Maybe Gordon had a point.
"Talk to Grandma." The bow of Three lit up red as she breached the edge of the atmosphere and started carving her way down.
Gordon didn't immediately comment on that and Alan understood why. Going around Dad was…difficult and had repercussions.
Virgil managed it with health issues, but it was a sticking point. One or both parents could roast any younger Tracy alive.
There had been arguments.
Alan loved his father, but the new family dynamics were sometimes tricky to navigate.
"I might have to." Gordon's voice was sad. "He won't listen to any of us." A grunt. "Except John."
Alan swallowed as the fire at the bow of his 'bird began to calm, the blue of ocean in the distance taking over. Always a relief post re-entry, it was also very beautiful from this high angle so far above the clouds.
"John has a point."
"What?! You agree with John?!" The immediate anger in Gordon's voice actually hurt.
"I didn't say that. I just think we need to look at this from both points of view."
"Who's point of view, Alan? This is Dad's health at stake, there is no other point of view."
Alan sighed, the Pacific ever so blue beneath him, the puffs of white clouds looming ever closer as he approached.
"What about Uncle Lee? What does he say about this? He's Dad's age and is still operating in space." Actually, come to think of it. Uncle Lee was currently on Earth. Something about sourcing extra funding. Alan had fetched him about a month ago.
"Uncle Lee didn't spend eight years stranded in the middle of nowhere."
"Ask him anyway. He knows the deal. And Dad listens to him, doesn't he?" An old astronauts' club of two happened whenever the two of them managed to make time to get together. Alan had been taxi driver for the older man on more than one occasion recently.
Aotearoa loomed to his left as Australia set below the clouds, Three following to finally dip between the white of cirrus and alto-cumulus. He skipped along the Kermadec Ridge over the top of Raoul, and Tracy Island finally appeared below.
The Island's security system gave him a green light and, killing almost all his speed, Alan manoeuvred his 'bird into vertical flight on approach to docking.
A pause midair, and he let her drop ever so smoothly down through the roundhouse and into her gantry.
Exhaust puffed up in clouds around her cockpit as he disengaged her engines and let her settle with the creak of well worked machinery.
Brains packed away his tablet ready to disembark, but Alan lay back in his pilot's seat and let out a breath. "Gords?"
But the signal was gone and his brother didn't answer.
-o-o-o-
"Mom?"
The sound of her son's voice on comms made her jump just a little. It was in sharp contrast to the quiet of the sterile waiting room.
It wasn't that she was unfamiliar with using comms, it was just unusual off the Island and likely it meant something not good.
She touched her collar as she stood up, eyeing the receptionist and making her way outside the building for privacy. "Jeff?"
"We have a situation."
That was nothing unusual. "Do you need me?"
"No. no."
There was something in his voice that had her immediately suspicious. "Jefferson, out with it."
"There is an emergency on Callisto. Berry and Ju have gone missing."
She had a moment to blink, connect the dots and do the calculations before he said exactly what she feared he would.
"I'm going."
"No, you're not."
"Mom-"
"You know your medical condition. That distance is too far and too dangerous."
"We're taking the Excel. The length of time will be minimal. I need to be there. These are my people."
"Still far too much of a risk."
"Mom, I have to do this." She heard him swallow. "I-I have to get out there again."
She held her breath, reminded of the nightmares, the sight of her ill son as he struggled to regain pretty much everything. She was so proud of him.
"What does Scott have to say about it?"
"He has made his opinion clear. As have Virgil and Gordon."
Hell. She left home for a day. A single day, and the family imploded.
But then her grandsons had their own nightmares.
"Mom, I have to do this." The repetition, the resolution in his voice was so familiar…
She blinked. "I know." It was out before thought and it hurt.
"We're dropping communication buoys on the way out so we can keep in touch real time." He paused. "How are you doing?"
How was she doing? A little worse than a moment ago. "I'm fine, Jefferson. Don't you worry."
"Mom…keep me updated."
She swallowed. "It's going to be alright, honey. You look after yourself and our boys." Her throat clogged up.
"I love you, Mom."
She forced the clog down. "I love you, too, honey." Another hard swallow. "Fly safe." She had to blink to clear her vision.
"Tracy Island out."
And he was gone.
The clog in her throat returned as a sudden sob and she clamped her hand over her mouth to keep it in. The world blurred around her and wouldn't clear.
A warm northerly wind tangled in her hair.
God, please be safe.
-o-o-o-
End Part One.