John settled himself by falling into his routine.

Get up.

Dress.

Initialise Thunderbird Five

Breakfast.

Full systems check.

Monitor overnight situations.

Check for natural phenomena that could cause issues.

Morning briefing.

All the while monitoring the hundreds of calls coming through for emergency services. He could lose hours directing people in need to those who could help the best. For the past few days he had. It had been easier, thinking he could stay up here permanently as long as he was helping. That there was a purpose to the prison he'd unintentionally created for himself.

He waited for the day he'd start to hate Thunderbird Five.

But, the day had never come and it was never going to. He'd done his job. He'd helped a young girl in distress and, yes, while he may not have been acting inside the law, he was sure she was alive because of him. A biomechanoid may have fought their way out of the small room Oracle had found herself in for that very first meeting with Salvatore, but a regular person? The odds were much longer and she'd still have a criminal chasing her down.

John's conscience was clean. His home amongst the stars remained his sanctuary. Now though, he wanted to return home. He needed his family around him. Maybe not in the way most people thought, but right now he just wanted to have a conversation with a flesh and blood brother instead of one who shimmered with solar radiation.

But his rotation wasn't up for another three weeks and even then, now that dad was onboard with the potential threat to Thunderbird Two (damnit Gordon!) he still might want John to stay where he was so that they had the full might of Thunderbird Five behind them.

John was under no illusions about how powerful he'd made his 'bird. He also wasn't prone to flights of fancy. He didn't think of Five as a she or imagine that she had moods or that her gentle workings were song. Thunderbird Five was a powerful machine. Partially of his own creation. It worked the way it did because he'd programmed it to. It worked better for him because he'd helped create it.

He loved being an organic part of it.

The thought stopped him cold.

Man and machine working in unison. Had that been the initial thought that eventually lead to the Bionics Wars and every evil thing that followed it?

Thank God he was an astrophysicist more than a theologian.

"Thunderbird One, what's your status?" his father's voice cut through John's thoughts.

Scott had been deployed to a forest fire in Southern Austrailia. Gordon and Alan following behind in Thunderbird Two.

"Assessing now father" came the cut reply. Scott was professional but he hadn't quite buried his emotions towards their father. It had barely been two days since Scott told John he had strong armed their dad into confessing all. John admired him for it. He wasn't sure he'd have ever managed to do the same.

"The fire isn't as bad as the locals feared, father. The fire breaks seem to be holding well. Thunderbird Two, what's your eta?"

"Eleven minutes" came back Gordon's crisp response.

"When you land deploy the bull dozer first. We'll cut a wider firebreak on the northern edge of the blaze. Have Alan stand ready with the Firefly."

"FAB."

"Thunderbird Five, the wind is very light, tell me it's going to stay that way."

"Affirmative Thunderbird One" John replied. He triple-checked the local weather feeds, taking the measurements from the source and running them through his own software rather than just replying on the broadcast report. "The low-pressure system looks set for at least the next twelve hours."

With luck this one would be relatively easy. The only reason International Rescue had mobilised at all was due to the remoteness of the location. There were scattered villages in the area, putting a human factor to the risk, but mostly International Rescue were there because they could get to the blaze before it became an inferno.

[Thunderbird Five do you read me?]

John quirked an eyebrow in surprise, quickly muting the rescue. Jasmine never called in on this line any more. She also wasn't due to check in for another few hours.

[I read you, Jasmine] he replied watching as Thunderbird Two arrived in the danger zone.

[I need to ask you a question about the pilot of Thunderbird Two.]

John winced, a few days with Virgil and she'd figured it out. John didn't blame his immediately younger brother for giving himself away. Jasmine had proven to be very astute at times. She'd even worked out that John couldn't survive the day without a bagel and some chocolate though he wasn't sure how she'd done that. But they had decided to tell her as little about IR as possibly. Virgil had even said that she'd decided not to ask to many questions so that she couldn't give things away accidentally.

[What would you like to know?]

[I want to know if he was military training.]

John paused. Maybe she was trying to figure out if Thunderbird Two's pilot was Gordon or Virgil? Though how she could have decided those were the only two options was beyond him.

[Why do you need to know that?]

Gordon was taking his time landing. Scott would be about to blow a gasket. John briefly considered distracting the eldest Tracy to buy Gordon some time – after all he wasn't doing anything wrong. He just wasn't doing it as swiftly as Virgil.

[I don't need to know. But I'd like to.]

All thoughts of Gordon and Scott were abandoned. There was something in her voice that demanded attention. John had spent too many years listening to people to not know when they were on to something important.

[Jasmine, what's happened?]

[I met someone today. Virgil told me I could stay at the Azure, did you know that?]

[I did.] John had been keeping an eye on the bill after all. Not that Jasmine was taking advantage of Virgil's offer of free room service. But John was the one quietly moving money to the right place.

[A man met me in the lobby today. He introduced himself as Steven and said we'd be working together. He likes me] she said with great distain. [He said we had the same interests, the same tastes. He said it was nice to find someone else in 'our' line of work who understood the way things should be. I've never met him before, but I've met his type. He's a sociopath. He's also Salvatore's chief interrogator.]

There was a clatter as the stylus John was holing dropped to the ground. Training meant he flicked his eyes to the rescue at hand but his mind was screaming a hundred questions at him.

[Why do you want to know if our pilot is military?] he asked with a dry mouth. He knew the answer.

[Because, if we fuck this up, they will need resistance to interrogation training.] He heard her take an audible breath. Or maybe it was himself. [I know some of your personnel have military training. Gordon's actually pretty reasonable in a fight. But some don't. Hell, Gordon's a swimmer, right? So, he's probably navy? WASP if we're lucky? He might not even have done resistance training. Thunderbird Five, I have met sociopaths before. This man scares me. He loves his job.]

John raised a hand and pulled up a blank screen. He needed more information. He accessed the London Azure's booking records but wasn't surprised to find no one booked in under the name Steven (no matter how it was spelled.) He then looked at single, male guests who had arrived in the last 24 hours. There were five. Three of the checked out as being on business trips. Two had last minute bookings.

[Describe him to me] John said.

[Smallish, maybe 5 foot 9 or 10. Silver hair but young face. Unassuming grey sweater over long sleeved pale blue shirt. Black trousers, highly polished shoes. No visible tattoos or scarring, no glasses. More tanned than you'd expect. Looks natural.]

John compared the two photographs and began pulling everything he could on the first man. The second was too portly to be described as 'smallish.'

[He's English] she continued [He has a pretty good southern accent but every now and then a northern inflection creeps in. Dead eyes though.]

[Jasmine] John asked slowly. [Where are you?]

[In a taxi] she replied.

[Where is Steven?]

[Sitting next to me.]