Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Thunderbirds Are Go - they belong to the late Gerry and Silvia Anderson
Author's Note: I promised a lot of people that I would definitely be updating this fic and I hope I haven't kept readers waiting too long! I've still not recovered one hundred percent from my operation but I have somehow managed to churn out two separate TAG fic chapters in twenty-four hours! Hopefully, this is a sign that I have finally shaken off the dreaded writer's block!
A massive thank you for all of the comments / reviews - you have no idea how encouraging they are to read!
Orbs of aquamarine shielded themselves momentarily as John Tracy blinked owlishly.
"I need another coffee..."
"I would highly recommend against it, John," EOS said softly as she rotated on her ceiling rail to regard him. "You have consumed a total of eight servings of coffee within the last-"
"I get it already, EOS!" John waved his hand in a dismissive - and slightly irritable - manner. He cringed as the words left his mouth, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry. It's just... This is turning into a very long day."
The A.I. paused for a moment, initially pondering if her creator was beginning to show signs of space dementia before realising he was using a figure of speech. Her tone softened; volume decreasing a notch. "I wish there were some other way I could console you, John. I may not have a human heart, but I do not wish to see you in such internal anguish."
Her efforts were rewarded with the faintest of smiles from the redhead.
"Contact!"
John practically jumped out of his skin at Alan's sudden shout over the comms.
Almost immediately, the space monitor sprang to life; a deft hand bringing up a new holographic screen, fingers tapping across icons and keys in a flurry of movement. He cursed softly when he remembered that the console housing the remote access modules to the rocket was one of the components damaged by the blast that had put them all in this precarious situation. "I have limited control over Thunderbird Three. I'm going to try and bring her in closer to your position."
"F.A.B. Make it quick, John," the energy in Alan's youthful voice had been replaced with a mixture of fatigue and concern. "Please."
The redhead winced at the sluggish response from Thunderbird Three as gloved hands glided gently across the holographic projection before him. Sweat beaded across his furrowed brow as he channeled the majority of his concentration into guiding the stricken rescue vessel through the minefield of floating debris and closer to her primary operator. He knew that EOS was silently doing whatever she could to assist him but he was also extremely aware that Brains would have his work very much cut out for him once the red craft had touched back down on Tracy Island.
Perhaps they should request that Kayo and Lady Penelope investigate into just how the Chaos Crew - or, more specifically, The Hood - was able to gain access to such powerful explosives...
'Priorities, John... Focus on the present.'
Heeding his internal monologue, John remotely fired up Thunderbird Three's remaining two forward-facing thrusters, bringing the rescue craft to as much of a controlled halt as the damaged ship could muster.
"This is as close as I dare, Alan," John had not even realised how tightly clenched his jaw had been up until now. "The rest is up to you."
"F.A.B.," there was a slight waver in Alan's voice that John numbly identified as underlying panic. "En-route back to Thunderbird Three now."
John waited a beat before he dared to ask his next question, internally loathing the fact that he was still unable to observe any bio readings due to the sheer volume of space debris.
"Situation?"
Silence.
"Thunderbird Three. Update please."
John's gloved hands were so tightly clenched that it was starting to hurt.
"Alan! Please respond!"
"John! I'm finally picking up some suit diagnostics from Scott, but the data is incredibly limited," it was the child-like voice of EOS that broke the strained silence. "I believe his flight suit may have taken some damage and shall attempt to boost the signal."
It was extremely rare that John was unable to fully interpret the tone of his A.I. companion, however this was one such occasion.
A holographic screen projected itself to the space monitor's right. Aquamarines focused on the new screen and John's brows furrowed, a frown spreading across his face.
"Heart rate shows bradycardia: Thirty-four beats per minute and dropping. I am unable to access respiratory data," EOS stated. "I will contact Tracy Island and have the medical bay prepared as a matter of urgency."
John gave a short nod of his head as his gaze directed itself back to the original holo-map.
Alan had just reached Thunderbird Three.
Time to try again.
"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Three. Alan. What is your status? Please respond."
Static.
And then...
"John. I... I'm back in Thunderbird Three..."
Even though John could not see his youngest brother, he definitely did not miss the hiccuping sobs that intermittently cracked his voice.
His heart ached, but he was still acutely aware that the rescue ship was so low on fuel that a safe re-entry into atmosphere would very soon become impossible.
"Alan, you have to make re-entry to Earth now before you're out of fuel," as much as he wanted to ask if Alan was okay, he knew that they were fast running out of time. "Did you find him?"
Another pause accompanied by a sniffle.
"I've got Scott but..." Alan's voice trailed off to a whimper. He seemed to cough and take a shuddering breath in an attempt to finish his sentence. "John, he's.. He's not breathing. And he's so cold!"
John's jaw tightened in frustration. They needed to leave. There were so many more lives at stake. And that's what he needed to keep telling himself.
Alan was going to hate him for not sympathising but...
"Are you fit to fly? The remote access module is too damaged for me to safely guide and land Thunderbird Three."
The response was not what he had anticipated.
"I'll pilot."
Neither was it the voice he was expecting.
John blinked, cocking his head.
Was he hearing things?
"Thunderbird Three. Repeat your last transmission."
"I'll take control of Thunderbird Three and land her."
John's mouth fell open and EOS pivoted on her rail to regard her creator. "John. Are you alright?"
Given his years of service as Thunderbird Five's space monitor, John thought that he had seen and heard enough to not get caught out on such a level of surprise.
Apparently not.
Clearing his throat and shaking his head, John spoke again - this time, bringing up another holo-screen and activating all International Rescue communication channels. "This is Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Three. Please identify yourself."