22,400 Miles Above

by WillowDragonCat

Perfect is not when compatible people come together, it's when they are opposites but in that way they complete each other. Part Two of the ongoing Opposites Attract Series. I suggest reading that first. (Rated mature for occasional strong language and some scenes of danger, violence, sexual situations. All efforts will be made to add trigger warnings at the start of a chapter)

29. Fighting For Space

"I'm so bored!" Selene's fingers drummed impatiently on the steering wheel, her eyes fixed on the cars that surrounded them on all sides, hemming them in. She sighed dramatically, glaring at the car in front. "Urghhh, we're going to be stuck here forever."

"No, we won't," Alan promised her.

"We will," she huffed. "I knew we should have flown home."

"You know we can't fly in such a built up area, that's why Parker drives everywhere in London too."

"Can't we just try to shift a little bit?"

"I think we're stuck pretty solid so it's probably best to stay put."

"This sucks. We had such a great day and now look at us, stuck in a car that's going nowhere dressed as a knight and Xena's uglier sister."

"You're Selenia the Crazy, not Xena, and at least you aren't sitting in armour."

"You could have taken it off."

"And miss out on looking this cool?"

Selene sighed. "At least we have our memories of an awesome day at comic con."

"Stop being dramatic, you're acting as if we're going to die here."

"Nah, I can't do that, then who would bug your brother?"

"Just try to relax, they'll clear it as soon as they can, we don't have any choice but to wait."

"How can you be so calm? You're used to racing everywhere in a damn rocket, you go everywhere at a million miles an hour and you're telling me to relax and wait?"

"Yep, want some water?"

Selene opened her mouth in silent demand and he directed the straw between her lips, allowing her to suck down some of the liquid.

"How did that happen anyway?"

"The straw came with the drink."

"I meant you, flying a rocket, at your age. You were what, fifteen when you first started in Three?"

"Fourteen actually, fifteen when I got my license, but it's a long story."

She lifted an eyebrow and turned her head a little to slide a glance at the cars that surrounded them.

"We got time, come on, it'll stop me dying of boredom."

"One, you're not gonna die. And two, why does everyone always focus on the rocket?"

"Because it's crazy and unusual?"

"Not in my family."

"Nothing is usual in your family, but for the rest of us commoners it is. Surely there are rules or something about teens flying?"

"Of course there are."

"Well there you go, tell me the story of how you seem to have been allowed to break them."

"Fine," Alan huffed, shifting to relieve some of the discomfort caused by the metal of his armour digging into his chest. "But it's not as exciting as it sounds."

-x-

"You need to get some rest."

"Look who's talking, you don't have bags under your eyes, you have a full set of luggage."

John glared at his eldest brother, although he knew that the fact he was doing it through a holographic projection and not in person would severely dampen its effectiveness.

"I'll sleep in a while, I've just got to finish updating these files and set the auto-monitor, but you, you just got back from two rescues and have been awake for 28 hours, you need to go to bed."

"You've been up longer than me," Scott argued.

"But I haven't been out on a rescue today."

"No, but you went on one yesterday and that's the reason you've been awake longer than me." Scott gave his brother his own version of the 'don't mess with me' glare that all Tracy boys were famous for.

John sighed, giving in gracefully, for now, knowing that there was no way he could get Scott to back down and listen to reason, not when he had spoken the truth. While they were all space rated, only he and Scott were trained for solo space flight, meaning that all space rescues fell on them. Add in the fact that Scott was their acting commander in charge of their rapid response vehicle and that he himself had Thunderbird Five and their space monitoring to do, it didn't leave either of them with much down time, if any.

"Leave the filing until tomorrow, turn on the auto-monitor and get to bed if you won't come back down tonight," Scott ordered, his tone daring John to disobey him. "Or I'll come up there and drag you down."

John opened his mouth to protest that he wasn't a child and that he would very much appreciate it if Scott would stop treating him like one, when another voice piped up, someone they had both forgotten was even there.

"None of this would be an issue if you would let me take the rocket up." Alan hadn't even taken his eyes off the games console in his hands. "I could take some of the pressure off you both, help out a bit, come on you know it makes sense."

"Alan we've been through this," Scott sighed, dropping his head into his hands to massage his temples, feeling a headache brewing. "You don't have a licence and you aren't space rated."

"But I could be," Alan protested. "I could get my licence easily, I've been flying my whole life, I've been in space with you guys countless times, it would be a piece of cake."

"You're too young," John reminded him.

"I'm not that young."

"You're only thirteen." Scott's headache was threatening to consume his entire face and the main cause was sibling related. "It's fourteen for a learner's permit for a car and sixteen for a full pilot's licence, let alone a rocket ship. The answer is still no."

"But why?"

"Because it's the law?"

"Well the law is stupid," Alan huffed, crossing his arms. "What's the point of having pilots and astronauts as brothers if I can't take advantage of it?"

"Because the world doesn't work that way, Squirt."

"Well it should do, I bet if you asked Colonel Casey she could pull some strings," Alan argued, purely for the sake of it, he knew that there was no way it would ever happen but he was sick of constantly being dismissed because he was the youngest. He had opinions and views too and damn it, they should be valued too.

"That's not gonna happen," Scott said, cutting in before Alan could continue.

"I just want to help!"

"I know, but there's nothing you can do."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot, I'm just the baby of the family, too young for anything, too useless," he exploded, tossing his console aside and getting to his feet. "All I ever hear is that I'm too young. Alan, do your homework, Alan, brush your teeth, Alan don't play that game for too long, Alan, go to bed or you'll be tired tomorrow! All I ever get told is what to do, when you two can't take your own advice, you just work yourselves into the ground because you think that's what Dad would have wanted."

John and Scott stared at him, shocked by his outburst. Alan, for his part, didn't know what to do or say. He knew that he might have gone too far but it was far too late to take his words back now, he had to own them.

"I'm going to bed, it's probably past my bedtime anyway," he snapped, letting loose his final parting shot as he stomped out of the room. So what if he'd made them feel bad, they had done the same to him. He wasn't a baby and he was sick of people treating him like one. He'd done more in his thirteen years of life than most full grown men did in eighty. So pardon him for wanting to use the skills that he'd been taught to help people like the rest of his family did.

"That went well," John deadpanned, his tone weary, showing the tiredness he felt.

"Didn't it just?" Scott sighed, raking his fingers through his hair, making it stand up on end, the gel he used holding it in place like some kind of rooster comb.

"He just wants to help."

"I know he does, but he shouldn't even be thinking about it. All he should be focused on is his studies and which vlogger to follow next, not saving the world."

"He's a Tracy," John pointed out quietly. "What else would he be thinking about other than saving people? We knew he'd want to help, International Rescue has been a part of his life for as long as he can remember, either in the abstract when it was just an idea, when Dad was running things or as it is now. There was never a question of whether he'd want to join in."

"I know that, but why does he have to pick now to start being a jerk about it?"

"Was he being a jerk, or was he being honest about how he feels?"

"It's far too late and I'm far too tired to start psychoanalysing right now," Scott groaned. "I just want to get to bed so that I have at least half a chance of getting some sleep before we're called out again."

"All I'm saying is that maybe we need to give him a little more credit for knowing his own mind," John pushed. "It wouldn't hurt for me to look into it."

"Into what?"

"Seeing if there was any possible way to fast track him."

"Get him space rated now? That's not gonna be possible, John, you know that."

"Well, actually we don't know that. As Alan pointed out, we do have connections that might be useful."

"No, we aren't calling in favours or using our name to get what we want," Scott said, his tone firm, like it was a done deal. "It's too dangerous for him to be going out there at his age, he's too inexperienced, too naive. We've already lost Dad, I'd never forgive myself if we lost him too, just because we couldn't say no to him."

"For god's sake, Scott," John snapped, beginning to get pissed off, tiredness mixing with frustration at his brother's apparent need to wallow in guilt about their father all day every day. John could understand why he felt that way, why he thought that if he'd been there to help them maybe things would have been different, but it was getting old. They took risks on a daily basis, something they knew when they signed up, and it was past time Scott remembered that. Their dad had made his choice, he'd chosen to get into the Zero-X and he'd chosen to engage, that was all there was to it. No one's fault, at least not anyone in the family and John was sick of watching his brother not only blame himself, but take it out on Alan in the most overprotective way possible. "I'm not suggesting we stuff him in the rocket and send him off on a joyride. I'm talking about him doing his full training, the same as we did, just at a younger age. You know him as well as I do, this was merely another night in a long running list of times that he's said the same thing, he won't let this go, he's too stubborn. Afterall, h-"

"He's a Tracy," Scott supplied, a reluctant little smile twitching his lips. He knew that he'd been beaten. John was right, Alan was a Tracy and that meant he was headstrong and self confident, which had the potential to be dangerous. Stubborn people hardly ever listened to reason, they were too busy trying to prove themselves. The last thing they wanted was for Alan to do something stupid out of desperation and a burning need to show them how capable he thought he was. Just like the time that Alan had insisted he could handle a short solo flight, it was better to let him try with their backup than to do it alone. "Fine, you can look into it, if it's possible then we'll go and talk to Casey and see if we can get the ball rolling. But if she says no that's it, no bugging her, no trying again, he'll just have to wait it out like the rest of us did. OK?"

"You got it," John assured him, covering a yawn with his glove clad hand. "Now go to bed, I'll speak to you in the morning."

"Only if you promise to do the same."

"Fine, I promise."

"Then I'll see you in the morning."

-x-

"I've done my research," John insisted, his 'don't test me' scowl firmly in place. "And the law itself doesn't include a minimum age to be space rated and certified, all it states is that you've completed and fulfilled all the requirements for training. The training itself is age rated but again, that's not a law, that is a guideline and a rule set by the training organisation itself. All the law asks is that you are physically fit and capable and that you have completed your training to the required legal standard."

"I'm aware of the law, thank you," Colonel Casey responded coolly. "The only reason there isn't a minimum age by law is because no one has ever attempted it before, so there wasn't a need for it. But the fact remains that Alan is too young to attend our training facility. So the point is moot."

"Who says?" Scott asked. "Because the only entry requirements John found was the list of skills needed and Alan ticks every box."

"I know he does," Casey sighed, "but I can't make allowances for him just because he comes from a privileged family that's given him a leg up the ladder. The other candidates would resent him, he would be at risk of bullying or worse and I don't think any of us want that."

"Of course we don't, but we also know that whatever happened, he could handle it," Scott insisted. "We just want you to give him a chance."

Casey opened her mouth to say something but paused, closing it again. She looked at first Scott, then John, studying them intently for a few moments, before slowly nodding. She knew the family well, had watched the boys grow up from kids into men and she knew that when they had set their sights on something nothing in the world could dissuade them. They were their father's children through and through, and if there was one thing she knew, it was Jeff Tracy could never be told no. It was better to work with them than even attempt to push against them.

"No special treatment," she said firmly, her tone broaching no arguments, needing to retain some kind of control over the situation. "No shortcuts, no allowances, no exceptions. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," John said.

"We wouldn't expect anything different," Scott answered, his eyes meeting hers and refusing to look away."Nor would we ask for it."

"He's going to have to complete every single part of the training just like any other trainee would."

"Of course."

"He's still in school," Casey reminded them, even though she knew that she was risking them seeing it as an insult. "His education cannot take a back seat to his space training, not in any way, shape or form."

"We would never allow that," John promised her, trying so hard to keep the disgust he felt out of his tone. As if they would ever allow Alan's desire to fly to interfere with his schooling. They all knew that practical knowledge could only take you so far, the real power came from the theory. Book smarts was something that couldn't be ignored or glossed over, it couldn't be shoved aside and ignored, nor would he ever have allowed it to. If anyone valued education, it was him.

"He'd have to do the work alongside his school work and make sure he keeps up with it, the moment he starts to fall behind I'll pull him from the program, that is non-negotiable." Casey knew she was pushing them, maybe even offending them, but it was far too important to worry about treading on any of their precious feelings.

"We'd do the same," Scott assured her, keeping his tone as even as he could, he knew that she wasn't saying it to be nasty but because she cared about Alan too. "He's not stupid, we know he can handle it."

Once again Casey paused, searching their faces for any hint of dishonesty there, not continuing until she was satisfied.

"He needs to complete the entry exam, just as anyone else would, if he passes that then he can start with the theory portion of the training," she offered, attempting to be fair but also keep her authority firmly in place. "He can attend online lectures and lessons and, if he can manage the studying alongside his school work, then he can take the theory exams. Only when he's completed that can he start basic training. That will require him to be here in person, so that needs to be arranged with his school, we all need to be on the same page."

"Consider it done," John said. "I've already spoken to his school and they have agreed that as long as he stays as far ahead as he is, he can take a reasonable amount of time off if needed."

"Looks like you've thought of everything already."

"Looks like we have," Scott shot back, the beginnings of a grin forming on his face.

"Then I guess I have no option but to conditionally allow him entry." Her tone sounded weary, resigned, as if she were still reluctant to even allow it but they knew better than that.

"Can we tell him now?"

"Am I right in assuming he's outside?"

"Of course he is, you don't think he would have allowed us to leave him at home, do you?"

"Then I suppose you had better let him in and put him out of his misery," Casey said, fighting to keep the smile off her face. These Tracy men were something else.

"Shall I do the honours?" John asked, already moving towards the door.

Scott glanced at Casey, who nodded her agreement.

John opened the door, admitting the eager Alan who was waiting outside. He barreled in through the door like an excitable puppy. He'd not been able to hear a thing from outside, Casey's office being soundproofed, but since neither Scott, nor John had stomped their way out in a huff, he was taking it as a good sign.

"So, what did you decide? Am I going to space camp?" Alan looked around at their serious faces, his shoulders drooping as he realised that he probably wasn't going to get the answer that he wanted.

"I'm sorry, Alan," Casey started, trying hard to ignore the defeated slump of the youngest Tracy so she could continue. "I'm afraid that you'll be too busy with your studies to go to any kind of space camp."

"I knew it," Alan sighed. Why had he gotten his hopes up?

"Because you'll be too busy studying for your entrance exam for Tracy College."

"Entrance exam?" Sorry, had he heard that right?

"I'm treating you like every other applicant," Casey informed him. "Pass your exam and you're in."

"I'm in?" Alan's eyes darted to each of his brothers in turn and then back to Colonel Casey.

"Not yet, and if you do get in the training won't be easy. There's a lot to learn includin-" Casey started but Alan cut her off, his excitement too much for him to contain.

"I know, I know," he assured her, almost babbling in his rush to get his words out. "The requirements are piloting skills, which I already have my licence for, scuba diving knowledge, you know there is no way I couldn't have those with Gordon for a brother, basic medical skills, Grandma has that covered, morse code which Dad already taught us, basic engineering skills which isn't a problem with Virgil and Brains around, and knowledge of how a spacecraft works, which I already have experience in. Other than that the training involves deep diving, survival training, flight simulation training, Zero-G training which I've already had some experience in and the learning of the theory, most of which I've already read from John's old books."

He ground to a halt, realising to his embarrassment, that he'd interrupted her to show off. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to butt in."

"It's alright," she soothed, finally allowing herself to smile at him. This was the Alan she knew, excitable, too smart for his own good and dedicated to whatever he set his mind to."I should have guessed that you would already know everything about the training before you even came here. You're just like your father, self assured and won't take no for an answer."

"Is that a bad thing?" Alan asked softly, afraid that he had messed up in some way by being overconfident, no one wanted a cocky shit on their register.

"Definitely not, it means that I know you're going to be a natural."

-x-

"It's a-all set up exactly as it w-would be at the college," Brains promised him, moving aside to allow Alan to slip inside the little capsule and into the seat. "N-now some of the controls are holographic, whereas in the real craft they would be p-physical, so they won't respond in quite the same way, but it should be accurate enough to mean that any skills you gain will translate smoothly into the practice shuttle at Tracy College."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, don't sweat it, Brains, I got this."

"John has tested them all to make sure they downloaded properly, as they are directly from the college's interface rather than something we put together ourselves."

"I know, you've both told me that numerous times."

"It's b-best to be sure."

"Not being funny, Brains, but can we please get on with this?"

"Oh, yes, of course." Brains backed out of the way, allowing the door of the capsule to swing shut and lock into place.

As soon as the door shut Alan huffed out a sigh of relief, the nervous energy of the engineer having rubbed off on him. He paused for a moment or two and then sucked in a deep breath, held it for the count of four and then released it with a loud huff.

"It's just like a video game," he promised himself, "you play them all the time. There's nothing hard about this, you know how to fly, space just has less drag and light." Honestly, he knew that he was kidding himself, this wasn't just another game where the scores didn't matter to anything but his pride and place on the league tables, this was part of his future in International Rescue. Sure, he knew that he would always have a place within the organisation, but he didn't want to be given just any place, he wanted to forge his own. Each of his brothers were standouts in their fields, they knew exactly what they wanted to do and how they were going to get there, and he thought he did too.

With a family like his it had been inevitable that he would pick something that one of the others had done first. Which in his mind meant that no matter what he picked, he'd have to find his own way of doing it just as well, if not better. Space was his chosen place and he was determined to get there. All he had to do was ace this simulation, the results of which were being monitored and beamed straight back to the college for analysis, just as they would be if he were there in person, and then he would be cleared to attend the physical training on the summer program. Sure, it meant giving up his summer vacation, but it would be so worth it. But first he had to get this right, if he didn't his journey would come to a screeching halt.

"No pressure or anything," he muttered under his breath, having managed to psych himself out even more with the directions his thoughts had taken. "I've gotta get a grip. I can do this."

"Ready, A-Alan?" Brains asked, his voice coming through the discreetly hidden speakers inside the capsule pod.

"As I'll ever be."

"Is that a yes, or a n-no?"

"Just get on with it, please, Brains."

"Right."

The speakers cut out, the soft sound of background noise that had come from them silenced, leaving Alan with nothing to hear but the sound of his own breathing and the fast thumping of his heart.

"I can do this," he repeated as the console lit up, the holograms projecting out a perfect replica of the inside of a Jupiter Nine cockpit, along with a physical representation of the craft, just as they would have at Tracy College.

"This is Lawrence Ground Control, you are cleared for take off in T-minus Five minutes," a voice said, making him jump slightly.

"Jupiter Nine response?" the same voice, sounding a little more demanding, called out to him.

"Oh, erm roger that, Ground Control," he replied, realising that he would have to treat this exactly as he would a real flight. This wasn't just a simulation to test his piloting skills but those of communication and the following of orders. Exactly as he would have to do on a real flight. He could have kicked himself for not realising that sooner.

"Roger, Jupiter Nine, you are go to commence take off procedures."

"Roger," he answered, a little more quickly this time.

His eyes danced over the console, mentally locating and cataloguing everything he would need. It was fine, he had studied this ship over and over with both John and Virgil, he knew the layout, he knew what he should be doing. It was all in his head already, he just had to translate that to his hands.

He reached out a hand, not in the least surprised to see that it was shaking slightly, and pressed it onto the handprint scanner to activate the console.

The console beeped in acceptance, the words 'Alan Tracy- Astronaut level Three' appearing on the screen under his picture. The sight of it thrilled him more than he could say and, even though he knew that it wasn't yet true, it brought it home to him that it was a very real possibility in the future. It was so close he could almost taste it.

With the confirmation of his identity came the first words, just as it would in a real shuttle. The screen scrolled through a dizzying array of instructions, each of which he followed without a moment's hesitation. This was easy, this was something he had practised, something he knew almost as well as he knew his two times table. This was familiar and comforting, reminding him of sitting behind Scott and their father in the family jet, going through the start up procedure. This was just like sitting in the co-pilot seat of Thunderbird Three with John. This was something that he had absolutely no doubts about.

With just under a minute to spare, a whole thirty seconds ahead of schedule due to his memorising of the launch preparations procedure, he was ready and waiting for his countdown.

He knew that it wasn't real, but he still felt a burst of adrenaline shoot through his system as the voice of ground control rolled through the five…four…three…two and finally, one. It felt like time had slowed to a crawl, like seeing the world in a haze of slow motion. Almost as if he were on autopilot he went smoothly through the motions, hardly registering what he was doing, where his fingers were touching, what buttons he was pressing. It all coalesced into just the right sequence that led to…

"We have lift off!"

He felt the capsule shudder and vibrate, just as it would if he had been in a real rocket and the main thrusters had fired. Dimly he sent a silent thankyou to Brains, Virgil and John for doing such an amazing job of creating the simulator just for him.

Bringing his mind back to the task at hand he followed through with the prompts on the screen and from the radio, easing the acceleration controls back, giving the rocket the lift it needed to clear the ground.

All around him screens lit up on the walls of the simulator, showing a view that was identical to what he would have seen through the rocket's windows if he were in one for real, their inclusion making the whole thing feel so much more real to him.

He watched, keeping his focus split between his controls, his verbal updates of speed and rate of ascent, and the windows. The blue sky rushed past him, the earth became smaller and smaller the further up he travelled. As he watched the blue darkened, from a lighter sky blue, to darker denim to an almost navy colour before it eased into black so complete that without the cockpit lights he might have thought he'd gone blind.

He checked his controls although he didn't need the readouts to tell him what he already knew.

"Ground Control, this is Jupiter Nine, I am now clear of Earth's atmosphere."

"Roger that, Jupiter Nine. Sending coordinates to destination now."

"Roger, Ground Control." This was no surprise to him, he'd been warned by Scott, John and Virgil, who had all gone through the Tracy College basic training, that they gave a custom route to every trainee, that way there was no chance you could cheat by memorising it.

The destination, along with a brief summary of his mission, popped up on the screen before him. He scanned it briefly, it seemed like a standard supply run to him, nothing out of the ordinary. He was to travel to what looked to be a spot just outside of the moon's orbit between Earth and Mars, where he would meet up with the Global Four space station to drop off their monthly supplies. Seemed simple enough, but he was mentally prepared for anything, knowing that the point of this simulation was to test him on not just his knowledge of space travel, but his ability to make a quick decision and to think on his feet. In reality he was pretty certain it would be anything but simple.

He switched from thrusters and main engines to just the main engines, easing the craft into a smooth cruising speed that he knew would eat up the miles at a steady pace but still give him time to react to anything that came his way.

Once he was happy with his speed he took a moment to log the coordinates given to him into the navigation system and allowed the autopilot to take over while he performed a standard check and scan of the instruments and systems on board. He knew there should be no reason to do such a thing, nothing had gone wrong on take off, but being around International Rescue for so long had shown him that most situations occurred due to people not knowing that anything was going wrong until it was too late to do anything about it.

He had only just finished the checks and allowed himself to relax back in his seat when a warning beep sounded from his monitor. Straightening up he tapped a button on the console, bringing up the feed from the radar scanner that revolved around the craft in a constant motion, monitoring the area within a twenty mile radius of the craft at all times. And damn was he glad he'd remembered to set it. As he watched a debris cluster of unknown origin came fully into his flight path.

He had a number of choices, as his dad would say, under, over, sideways or through, there was always a way. A quick calculation showed him that going under wasn't an option, that would bring him into the restricted area of what had been dubbed the interstellar highway, the area where space freighters were required to fly while making deliveries. No one was permitted to cross into that flightpath without a designated time slot.

Going through it was also out of the question, it was far too much of a risk, one that should be avoided at all costs. This wasn't the time for showboating, he was there to prove that he had what it took to make good decisions and that he was safe enough to be given his licence and free rein in space.

He checked the readouts again, weighing up his options. Going over would be the easiest, but that always meant the possibility of encountering a satellite or another craft on what most thought of as the International Flightpath, but going around them risked a piece of debris escaping the cluster and moving into his path.

Whatever he chose had its own risks, and he knew that the AI programme would adjust the simulation according to his decisions, so anything was possible.

What would Dad do? That was something he heard his brothers parrot all the time when things got tough and God, he really wished he knew. Much as he hated to admit it, he hadn't known his father well enough to have any kind of clue what the great Jefferson Tracy would do in this situation, although he had a niggling suspicion it would involve a dicey dance straight through the middle just for the thrill of it. His mind slid in the other direction to John, his fellow space lover and this time he knew exactly what to do. His brother was all about calculated risks and confidence in his own expertise. John wouldn't risk endangering any other craft by moving into a potential flightpath, he'd go around the cluster and trust that he'd have the skills to get there safely.

Decision made he began to adjust his course.

"Jupiter Nine to Ground Control."

"This is Ground Control, go ahead Jupiter Nine."

"Scanners are indicating a debris field of unknown origin in my designated path. I'm taking evasive action to move around the cluster, avoiding the Interstellar Highway and the International Flightpath. I've set my scanners to alert for anything coming close so it can be avoided."

"Roger that Jupiter Nine."

Alan breathed a small sigh of relief that control had given him the all clear to proceed. He'd heard horror stories from others in his study group that if the AI thought you were doing something dangerous or against the rules it would shut off the simulation for an automatic fail.

His confidence bolstered, he scanned the area around him once more to assure himself that there was nothing in his chosen path, be it from the debris field or a wandering satellite. Once he was sure he commenced with his manoeuvres. Slowing down a little to give himself more time to react should he need it he moved smoothly over to the left.

Up ahead through the cabin windows he soon got his first glimpse of the debris. It seemed to be made up of an assortment of things often seen in space junk clouds, bits of metal and parts that were likely from old satellites or possibly some kind of ship wreck, along with chunks of organic matter that could be pieces of space rocks and meteorites that had gotten caught up in the debris field's pull.

It didn't look too big and from what he could see the floating pieces seemed to be pretty well contained within their cluster, in the minute or so he'd been watching as he approached he hadn't seen anything split off from the group.

"Piece of cake," he told himself. All he had to do was stick to the path he had mapped out and everything would be fine.

He throttled back a little more, giving himself a longer reaction time, not that expected he would need it but he'd rather be safe than sorry. He was just past the halfway point indicated by his scanners when the first piece broke away and hurled itself in his direction, the electronic beeping of his radar scanner alerting him to its presence.

"Woah!"

The ship was nowhere near as reactive or easy to manoeuvre as Thunderbird Three was, but it didn't take much effort to avoid it, letting it skim harmlessly underneath his craft.

The next two were a little harder to dance around but they too missed his craft by a metre for the first and several inches for the second.

"Nearly passed it." The debris cloud was thinning out, the largest parts behind him now, but he still kept his eyes on the monitors, just in case.

He was glad that he had. Only his quick reactions, and piloting skills honed from hours in the sky avoiding birds and other crafts, helped him to move in time to avoid the large piece of space rock that was flung out of the debris cloud and straight at his ship.

"That was close," he muttered under his breath. He relaxed a little, the cloud almost gone now, travelling in the direction he'd just come and away from him.

Dink.

It was just a small noise, a tiny metallic clunk that he barely heard over the sound of the engines, but he was sure he hadn't imagined it. He'd not felt anything connect, nothing significant anyway, and his first instinct was to ignore it, although he knew that was stupid.

"Suspected impact," he said out loud, knowing it would be picked up by the onboard recorders, sometimes still referred to as the black box, that were standard on every craft be it space, air or underwater, in order to help investigations should anything go wrong. "Computer, run a precautionary diagnostic scan, just in case."

"Initiating scan now," the computer responded, its voice reminding him of Lady Penelope, it had such a clipped and precise way of speaking.

Alan watched as the scan results scrolled past on his screens, green check mark after green check mark confirming that everything was working just as it should do.

"Error found in autopilot navigation system."

"Excuse me? Computer, please repeat."

"Autopilot navigation system has developed a fault." Yep, right there in front of him, nestled amongst the green checks was a bright red cross.

Alan knew he shouldn't swear but damn it was tempting right now. Not trusting the computer system he checked for himself, pulling up the details of the error file. There it was in the standard plain font, mocking him. Well it could just go away, he wasn't prepared to be dictated to by an error message on a screen. There was always some way to work around obstacles, he just had to find it. He read the report again, a theory starting to form in his head. Surely it couldn't be that simple...

Grabbing the controls he switched back to manual, huffing out a relieved breath when the fault cleared. One more diagnostic run confirmed what he had suspected.

"This is Jupiter Nine to Ground Control."

"Jupiter Nine, this is Ground Control, receiving you."

"Debris strike seems to have caused a malfunction of the navigation system."

"How severe?"

"Not too bad," Alan replied. "The navigation appears to be working fine while on manual control, but the radar scanner has been compromised meaning that the autopilot is not operational."

"Roger that, Jupiter Nine, please confirm your course of action."

"I can continue on," he said firmly. "Global Four needs its supplies, I'm more than halfway to its location. Navigation systems seem to be fully operational when on manual, I'm confident I can continue without the assistance of the autopilot."

He bit his lip, holding his breath while he waited for their verdict. What he had said was true, he did feel confident that he could do it, navigating in space was not really that much different to navigating a plane in the dark and he'd done that enough during his pilot training. He just had to hope that the simulation was aware of that and gave him permission to continue.

"Jupiter Nine, you are cleared to continue."

"Roger that, Ground Control."

The radio cut off, leaving Alan alone once again.

"At least I got permission," he said to himself. "Computer, please bring up the live feeds from both the rear, roof, belly and side cameras. I want you to keep them on permanent display on screen three."

The screen to his left split from one camera feed box to six. His eyes roamed the images, seeing nothing but empty space all around him. That was good, that was exactly what he wanted to see.

Checking once again that it was all clear to the right of him he manoeuvred back into his designated flight path where he had been before the debris field had forced him to move. On screen two he checked that he was still on course, the navigation system showing the blip that was his craft to be exactly where it should be.

"All good, let's just hope it stays that way."

The rest of the flight, once Alan got into the rhythm of it, was boringly uneventful. Just an endless stretch of space outside his cockpit window, and on his camera feeds, and his own thoughts as he concentrated on staying on course and keeping his speed constant. It was like the most uninteresting computer game he had ever played, one that he would definitely have turned off an hour ago and given up on. Unfortunately, this computer simulation wasn't a game and his future depended on how well he played along. Losing focus or abandoning his mission wasn't an option. Still, as much as he knew that, it was still mentally taxing to be so focused but also to have nothing much to occupy his mind.

When Global Four came into range he was more than ready for it, leaning forward a little in his eagerness to catch a glimpse of the massive space station that was part of the GDF fleet spanning the whole area around Earth. Ostensibly Global Four was supposed to be just a monitoring satellite, but in reality it was part of a highly classified mission that he only knew about because John had been involved on a low level due to the research he'd conducted for his Harvard thesis, based on contact with planets and matter in the outer limits of the universe. With his background in communications, he had been the ideal person to help with some 'theory' for them.

"Computer, open up a line to Global Four." A second later the computer beeped to indicate that the communication line had been set up.

"Global Four this is Jupiter Nine, come in please."

"This is Global Four receiving you strength five, Jupiter Nine."

"I've got a fully loaded cargo bay here, requesting permission to commence docking procedures."

"Permission granted, Jupiter Nine. Commence docking at number one port."

"Roger that, Global Four." Alan cut the connection and pulled up the schematics of Global Four from the mission file, locating number one dock port. It was on the right hand side of the cargo bay and should be easy enough to connect to.

Once Alan had manoeuvred the Jupiter craft into position it was a simple case of lining up the universal docking collars and locking them into place.

Aware that there was no real cargo that needed to be unloaded, Alan was relieved that the simulation didn't make him wait for the ninety minutes that the unloading would have taken, the time stamp speeding through to the time he would have been ready to depart.

"Jupiter Nine this is Global Four, the unloading is complete, you may initiate undocking at your convenience."

"Roger that, Global Four, enjoy the supplies." As soon as he said that he felt a pang of worry hit him. Had he just messed up? Had he just ruined all his hard work by being over familiar? He was supposed to be a real astronaut and he'd acted like he was chatting to a friend.

"Roger that, Jupiter Nine, it will be nice to not ration toilet paper for the next month, have a safe flight."

Alan barked out a surprised laugh, glad that the simulation had the human characteristics to react to the situation, and his comments, in the right way. This knowledge gave him a little more hope that hadn't completely messed up as he released his craft's hold on the docking ring and detached from the space station. The navigation system had automatically registered that the first part of their journey was over and was now displaying the return route home, all he had to do was follow it.

"Home run. Nothing but stars. Nothing to do but fly…" Damn, he wished he had some music or something to help the time pass a little quicker. His back was aching from sitting in an uncomfortable seat for so long, his hands were starting to cramp on the controls and his eyes were beginning to sting from looking at the screens so intently for so long in the relatively low light of the cockpit. The Jupiter fleet of ships were not designed to be piloted by a human for long periods of time without a break, that was what the autopilot was for, and it was taking its toll on him.

"Keep a routine," he coached himself, repeating one of John's mantras. "Find your routine and stick to it. Rear camera, front view, left camera, front view, right camera, front view, roof camera, front view, lower camera, front view."

His eyes followed the sequence, eyes flicking back and forth between camera feeds, repeating the mantra every now and then to keep himself focused. He was so familiar with the controls from weeks of preparation that he barely looked at them, his hands moving instinctively, hardly needing to focus on what they were doing. All he had to concentrate on was the repetitive roaming from camera to camera even though there was never anything to see other than blackness broken up by speckles of stars.

He glanced from the roof camera to the front view once again, pausing for a moment. "Huh…" if he wasn't mistaken… "Computer, extend the radar sweep by five hundred metres."

"Recalculating."

Alan's eyes stayed firmly fixed on the front feed, there was definitely something coming up on him and fast.

"Craft detected, identified as a CargoKing nine-eight-five freighter."

"Can you open a communications line for me?"

"Requesting now."

Alan waited a little impatiently, watching the speck that was the cargo transporter growing bigger and bigger as it neared him. It shouldn't be there, all commercial goods freighters were supposed to be confined to the interstellar highway beneath him. He was in the path reserved for official flights and deliveries, while above was the international flight path, the one that they usually used while on rescues.

"They do not respond."

"Can you put me on broadcast only?"

"Yes."

"Then do that, please."

"Communication line is open."

"This is Jupiter Nine transporter calling CargoKing nine-eight-five, do you copy?"

He waited a moment or two, giving them time to answer, before trying again.

"CargoKing, this is Jupiter Nine. You are in my designated flight path, please commence evasive action."

As before, there was no answer. Alan knew that it was just a simulation, but he still felt his heart rate pick up, felt the prickle of sweat break out across his shoulders.

"CargoKing, can you hear me?"

The freighter was blue, he could see it illuminated by his outside lights. He risked taking his eyes off of it for a second to check the radar feeds again, confirming that there was nothing to the right of his craft. No designated flight path, no unidentified objects, nothing that would pose a danger to him in any way. That was good to know.

"CargoKing, this is Jupiter Nine, you are in my flight path!"

The freighter continued to barrel at him, showing no signs of slowing down, in fact it looked as if it were gaining a little speed.

He had to make a decision, and fast. The freighter wasn't answering, there was either an issue with their communications or something had happened to the pilot. Either way there was nothing that Alan could do to help. He wasn't in a Thunderbird, he had no equipment on him that could help and no permission to do so.

This isn't a mission, he reminded himself, this is doing things by the book, not the Tracy way. Remember your theory, remember your lessons. Decision made his fingers tightened on the controls as he waited for his moment. If he planned it right he could at least do a little something to help.

The freighter chugged its way closer and closer, so close that his radar scanner started blaring a warning, but he knew his limits and knew he could do it. Unable to bring his ship to a stop in that short a time, he slowed down and waited until the cargo ship was almost on top of him before he rolled his craft sideways out of its path. As it rolled his eyes searched out the cockpit windows, looking inside.

Just as he had suspected he saw nothing, the cockpit was empty, which meant one of two things, the pilot had taken ill or had left it on autopilot and wandered off elsewhere in the ship. Either way it was dangerous and needed addressing.

As soon as the ship had passed by he manoeuvred back onto his original flight path and called it in.

"Jupiter Nine to Ground Control."

"This is Ground Control, go ahead Jupiter Nine."

"Reporting evasive action. Attempted to contact CargoKing nine-eight-five that had veered into my designated flight path. Freighter unresponsive, cockpit appears to be empty so I'm calling it in."

"Received and understood, Jupiter Nine, continue to base."

"F.A- Roger that, Ground Control." Damn, he'd almost slipped up, his head had been firmly in International Rescue territory, something he'd have to be careful of. He checked his readouts before continuing. "ETA, forty-eight-point-five minutes."

"Roger that, Jupiter Nine."

Alan completed the rest of the flight in a kind of daze, his mind skipping back and forth through everything that he had done over the course of the four hours he had been in the simulator. He couldn't help it, couldn't keep the thoughts at bay as he scrutinised his actions ruthlessly, just as he knew the examiners would do. Was there anything he could have done differently? Hell, was there anything he should have done differently, or shouldn't have done at all? He'd done his best, he'd made the kind of decisions that he'd thought his brothers would have made if they had been in his position. He'd done all he could, now he just had to hope that it was enough.

The landing was textbook, the ship coming back down to earth with a gentle bump, every manoeuvre precise and as perfect as could be.

"This is Ground Control to Jupiter Nine, you are safe to disembark."

That was it, that was his cue. He unbuckled his belt with slightly shaking hands and got to his feet. His legs felt stiff, as did his back after so long sitting in one position, not daring to move for even one lap around the cockpit as was usually recommended, knowing that without the autopilot, his own attention and actions were all that stood between him and potential disaster.

His throat felt dry, he was hungry and thirsty, but most pressing of all was the need to empty his bladder. The moment the door of the capsule lifted up out of the way he took off to the hangar bathroom, almost ploughing through Brains and Scott who were waiting for him.

"How did you do?" Scott called after him.

"I don't know," Alan called back. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

-x-

"Come on, Franklin, you can do it," Alan whispered under his breath, watching as his dive partner struggled with the removal of the damaged solar panel, hindered as they both were by their gloves. Once again Alan wished he were in one of their International Rescue uniform suits. Lightweight, comfortable and fitting like a second skin, their suits made even the most difficult of tasks as easy to perform as if they were wearing their everyday civilian clothes. In comparison the GDF issued space suits were heavy, cumbersome and not at all flattering. He was pretty sure they hadn't been updated since the glory days of NASA, reminding him of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from the old Ghostbusters movies. They needed to get Brains on board to design them a whole new wardrobe.

As Marcel Franklin continued to fumble with his first panel, Alan got his second one free and let it float away, just as they would if they had been in space and not the Neutral Buoyancy Lab pool on Tracy College campus. He took hold of the cable that was attached to his belt -not the one that was currently locked on to the side of the replica space station that prevented him from floating away- and pulled it towards him, yanking the replacement panel closer.

He made a mental note to thank Gordon profusely for all his help over the past few months with the training he'd devised and run through with him. Days spent deep under the waters around Tracy Island learning to move with confidence in the suits, learning to counteract the carefully balanced weights that were integrated into the near 300lb suit that created the neutral buoyancy he needed to simulate the weightlessness of space, had gone a long way to preparing him for this test.

Replacing the panel was a piece of cake for someone that had watched at least two of his brothers do the same kind of task on more occasions than he could count. The panel slid into the housing just as it was supposed to and the magnetic screws that had stayed in place were tightened with a few quick twists of the automatic socket screwdriver that he'd positioned over the bolt heads.

Beside him Franklin was still working on his. Without stopping to debate the wisdom of his decision, Alan pulled himself closer and reached out a hand to steady the panel, holding it in position as Franklin loosened the last screw. Taking the panel from him Franklin gave him a nod of thanks as he let it float off into the water as Alan had done. Nodding his own head in acknowledgement, Alan moved back to his assigned position and his own work.

"Thanks for your help back there," Marcel said an hour later as he entered the locker room where Alan was sitting, still damp from his shower.

"No problem."

"Not that I'm not grateful, but why did you help me?"

Alan shrugged. "I'm not really into the whole every man for himself mentality that some people around here have."

"Yeah, I-"

Marcel's words were cut off by the sound of harsh laughter coming from the other side of the locker room.

"Something to say, Barnes?" Alan asked, his tone dripping with boredom and much more bravado than he actually felt.

The laughter died instantly to be replaced by a sneering snort as Donovan Barnes swaggered around the corner of the lockers and into their space.

"Yeah, I've got something to say, Tracy. I'm getting sick of you trying to make us all look bad."

"Excuse me?"

Barnes moved closer, getting up in Alan's personal bubble, using his height to his advantage to tower over him, radiating intimidation. "You heard me."

Alan looked up at the man, suddenly feeling very small and not at all like the capable and confident astronaut recruit that he was supposed to be. All the 'helpful' advice that his family had given him rolled around his head. Be confident, don't let anyone push you around, keep your head down and just get on with your training, don't engage, don't open your smart mouth, don't let anyone talk down to you, a few smacks wouldn't hurt. None of it helped! Everything that one recommended contradicted something another had made him promise not to forget.

"What are you, stupid?" Barnes continued, obviously not liking the fact that Alan had been staring at him but not saying anything for a full thirty seconds.

Alan wet his dry lips, he had to answer somehow. Did he attempt a Gordon-like joke to defuse the situation? Did he tough it out like Kayo had advised? Or did he just ignore the problem and hope it went away like Brains had told him to do?

"See, I told you he was too stupid to have gotten into the program without special treatment," Barnes sneered, turning to look over his shoulder at his ever present shadows Wesley Carter and Ian Peralta. "Isn't that right, Tracy?"

Alan shook his head dumbly.

"You're denying it? Denying that you've had special treatment from Casey just because your daddy was famous and your brothers fly the big machines? Easy to get what you want when you've got the money, isn't it? How else would a weedy little kid like you get in a place like this?"

"I got in because I'm good at what I do," Alan answered, his voice rising as indignation flooded through him. He'd worked hard to earn his place on the program, he'd put in hours of extra work at night after he'd finished his school work, he'd given up game time to run simulation after simulation in order to ace his test. He was here, during his summer vacation time, to attend this training camp and he was damned if he was going to allow some overgrown knucklehead to make him feel bad about being there.

"Good?" Barnes laughed again, a harsh bark of sound that set Alan's teeth on edge. "What's good about paying someone off to fudge your simulation results."

"I didn't pay anyone for anything."

"Bullshit, there's no way that a fifteen year old could do that well on his own."

"Yeah," Carter added. "I heard Lieutenant Cambell talking to Captain Fraser and he said that Tracy passed with a distinction and that hardly ever happens. The last distinction they gave out was to his brother, so it's obvious that he cheated somehow. I heard that he was allowed to do the simulation at home, I bet he got his brother to do it for him"

Alan's eyes narrowed, if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was being compared to his brothers. All sense of self preservation went flying out the window faster than Thunderbird One when Scott had a craving for apple pie. He pushed himself to his feet, forcing Barnes to take a step back to avoid a collision.

"Let me tell you something about being a Tracy. We don't take shortcuts, we don't accept special treatment and we certainly don't get people to lie for us. We get where we want to be with hard work and determination, something you should learn about, it might do you some good."

A deathly quiet descended on the locker room, nothing but the sound of Barnes's heavy breathing destroying the silence. Alan shifted uncomfortably, he hated silences, they made him want to say something, anything-

"You're pushing your luck, kid," Barnes warned him through gritted teeth. "Now would be a good time to learn something, like when to shut up."

"Yeah, I think you should let it go, Al," Franklin whispered, nudging Alan for good measure.

"No." Alan brushed aside Franklin's warning. "No, I won't shut up and I won't stand here and be insulted and accused of cheating by someone that barely scraped through their simulation and is only here because their mother sent so many fruit baskets they felt obligated to let you in, not that you'll get to stay long."

"You're gonna regret saying that," Barnes snarled, his fingers clenching into a fist. "I hope you're not too attached to your face, Tracy, because I'm about to rearrange it for you real good."

Barnes started forwards before Alan had time to do anything to react. No time to duck or cover. All he could do was screw his eyes shut in preparation for the pain that was about to come his way.

"What's taking you all so long, the results of your water test are out." In the open doorway stood Lt Cambell, his eyes quickly taking in the scene before him. "Is there a problem here?"

"No, no problem at all," Barnes said, his whole demeanour instantly changing from threatening to one of comfortable friendliness. The hand that had been aiming at his nose dropped casually down around Alan's shoulders as if that had been its destination all along. "We were just chatting about our simulation training, weren't we, Tracy?"

The hand that was Alan's shoulder tightened to the point of pain, making his meaning very clear.

"Yeah, yeah we were," Alan agreed hurriedly.

Lt Cambell glanced from one to the other, searching their faces. He didn't look like he believed them.

"We don't allow any kind of bullying within our programs," Cambell said, his voice casual but with an underlying tone that told you not to argue with him. "We expect all our recruits to work as a cohesive unit, one whose members will always be able to count on each other when the situation calls for it. The only time we encourage competition and showboating is in a constructive and organised environment."

"Yes, sir," Alan mumbled, feeling like it was the right thing to do.

"It might serve you all well to remember that we have a reputation to uphold. We produce some of the best astronauts in the country, we do not accept any candidate that has not met our very strict criteria. If you are here it means that we deemed you good enough, please do not make us regret our decision."

"Yes, sir," Barnes said, his chummy smile still firmly fixed on his face.

"So, may I suggest that, if there is indeed some kind of problem here, you find a more constructive way to solve it," Campbell finished. "Now, if you would be so good as to follow me to the briefing room, some of us would like to get on with our day."

-x-

"You think you're so tough, Tracy? Well I can't wait to see just how you and your little friend get through this. It'll prove that you're not good enough to be here."

"Or it'll prove that I'm better than you," Alan countered, feeling confident enough to answer back now that the trainers were watching them and listening from the front of the helicopter.

"Oh yeah? First team back wins."

"What do we win?" Franklin asked, leaning around Alan to look at Barnes and Peralta.

"Winners get bragging rights, losers have to do a lap of the training circuit naked," Barnes declared, his cocky confidence out in full force.

Franklin visibly paled, not liking that idea at all, but it hadn't been him that had been insulted and accused of cheating, it had been Alan and that was something no Tracy would ever let go unchallenged.

"You're on." Alan slapped his palm against Barnes's outstretched hand, accepting the deal making handshake.

"Entering drop zone one," Captain Fraser announced over their helmet comms. "Get ready team A."

Wesley Carter and Jennieve Baker stood up and moved to take their places beside the open cargo door, looking out over the blackness of the night.

"On my mark," Captain Fraser called, looking back over his shoulder to make sure they had given him a thumbs up in acknowledgement. "Three, two, one, mark!"

Carter went first, jumping straight out of the open door, with Baker close behind. The others didn't get up to see if their parachutes had deployed or if they had made it past the tree cover safely, they were too busy getting ready themselves.

Alan checked his straps one last time, trying to push down the nervous anxiety that was fluttering like butterflies in his stomach. He wasn't afraid of heights, nor was he scared of jumping out of a plane, he'd seen and done as much with Scott to prepare for this, but that was with IR technology and that somehow made him feel so much safer. This was GDF equipment and he couldn't help but worry, just a little.

You're well prepared, he reminded himself, you've got this. And he should be prepared, he'd spent a weekend a month for the last six months out in the wilderness, in all kinds of terrain and weathers with Scott, learning and practising for just this moment. Scott was a rescue scout of old but had also done the same training exercises for both his astronaut training and his time in the Air Force. If anyone knew what they were doing when it came to survival it was Scott, and his big brother had bestowed upon him every bit of knowledge and wisdom that he possessed. He'd get through this, there was no question.

"Team B, you're up!"

Alan glanced at Franklin, who looked like he was debating whether to throw up on his own boots.

"Let's go, dude." Alan got to his feet and moved to the door. He needed to just do it, to just throw himself out into oblivion as Scott did and trust that his equipment would do its job if he did his. No problem, he could do this.

Franklin slowly made his way over to stand beside him. Alan could see that his friend was shaking, much to the delight of Barnes and Peralta.

"We've got this," Alan told him, ignoring the jeers from the idiots in the peanut gallery.

"Ready?" Fraser called and Alan lifted his thumb in acknowledgement. "On my mark. Three, two, one, mark!"

Alan didn't think about it, he just threw himself forward as he had done with Scott. He let the wind take him, feeling it buffeting at his clothes, stinging his face, the only bit of exposed skin he had. His hand closed around the pull cord of his parachute, his eyes firmly fixed on the altitude metre of his wrist worn navigation device as he waited for the right moment to deploy his chute.

When the numbers clicked over to 6,000 ft he pulled the cord sharply, feeling the whooshing flump of the chute unfolding, then the yank back and instant slow as it opened fully, catching the wind just as it was supposed to.

Damn he missed their jetpacks, it would have made steering so much easier, though he did his best as his designated landing spot flashed up on the navigation device. He wasn't too far out and with a few adjustments he managed to land with little trouble, spotting a small clearing from the air and managing to avoid hitting or tangling into any trees on his way down, which was all he'd been hoping for really. He was a little out of the way, but it was easy enough to follow the navigator's instructions and he made his way along the tree edge, staying out of plain sight as he'd been instructed, and to the designated spot in under twenty minutes.

He didn't have a clue where Franklin was, he'd heard over the helmet comms that he'd jumped, which was half the battle, now he just had to find him. The first rule of survival if you were part of a team was to give them adequate time to reach you, if you all went wandering off looking for each other there was a high chance that you'd walk straight past.

It was nine at night, getting colder and they needed to set up some kind of camp in order to stay safe until morning and the edge of the clearing seemed like it might be the best place for it. The trees were dense but not so tightly packed that they couldn't find a good place to make a fire and still have shelter.

He'd have to trust that Franklin would find his way to him, since he was at their assigned starting spot. Their timer wouldn't start until Franklin was with him and they both activated their beacons. So, until then there was nothing much he could do but keep himself busy by setting up their camp.

He started by digging a hole for the firepit and finding some kindling and dryish branches to go with the firelighters they had in their packs. He'd been in charge of his own pack, making sure that he had everything he thought he would need and he'd been meticulous about checking and rechecking before he had left the compound. He had no brothers out here to bail him out, no one he could call for a ride home or help of any kind. It was just him and Franklin, if he ever made it to him, and Alan was damned if he was going to suffer needlessly just because he hadn't been responsible enough.

He'd gathered water from a nearby stream and dropped a purification tablet in, cleared the ground of any hard rocks or dangerous debris and erected his popup survival tent in the time it took Franklin to finally huff and puff his way towards him.

"Sorry, I caught a big wind and got blown a bit far off target."

"You alright?" Alan asked, noticing that Franklin had developed a slight limp in the time they had been apart.

"Twanged my ankle on landing but I'm walking it off." He looked from side to side, his headlight illuminating the area. "Hey, you made camp already, nice one."

"No problem. Now, let's activate our beacons so they know we're together and then we can get on with our tasks."

"Right, yeah, beacons." Franklin fumbled around in his pack, nowhere nearly as neatly put together as his, Alan noticed, and held it out, face up in his hand. Alan placed his face down on top of Franklins and their GPS's connected, sending out the signal for this, their first check point.

"Location logged," said the automated computer voice.

"What do you think we should do now?" Franklin asked, a little overwhelmed by it all. He'd always dreamed of going to space like his grandfather had done, but now that he was actually there and doing it he wondered if being a technician would have been a better fit for him.

"We need to be sparing with our resources," Alan said slowly, his mind whirling as he thought through all the possibilities. "We only have a small amount of everything, so I say we sleep here, that will stop us from feeling hungry for now, wake at first light, which will conserve the energy of the headlights, have a quick breakfast and then move on. Travelling in the dark is counterproductive, not to mention dangerous, we'd likely waste time, energy and resources to get half the distance we could in the daylight, if we even went the right way at all."

Franklin didn't look too convinced by Alan's plan to stay put, he knew that the others would likely already be forging ahead, making good time while Alan wanted them to sleep.

"Trust me, it'll work," Alan assured him with far more confidence than he had felt when he had first devised the strategy, but he wasn't about to undermine himself by changing his mind now. That was one thing that had been drummed into them by their father, make your decision based on the information you have and stick to it.

"If you say so," Franklin agreed with an easy shrug. He knew his limits and surviving in the wilderness was one of them. "What can I do to help?"

"Not much at the moment, just pop your tent and try to get some rest. I've looked up what time the sun rises and set my watch already, so we won't overseleep." Alan moved towards the firepit where he had already constructed the base of their fire. It was a simple task to apply the firelighter to the dry leaves and stripped bark he'd used as kindling. The flames leapt into life, quickly consuming the leaves and spreading to the branches he'd carefully laid.

Franklin nodded approvingly and with a quick flick of his wrist he unfolded his tent and stomped the pegs down into the ground.

"I guess I'll see you in the morning," Alan said, crawling into his tent where he had already laid his super lightweight but extra warm sleeping bag on top of the thin, blow up bedroll they would sleep on to protect them from the hard ground.

"See you, Tracy."

-x-

"That's two checkpoints down," Alan said proudly as he tucked his GPS back into his pack. "I just wish we knew how the others were getting on."

"Yeah, it sucks not being allowed to know until we get back but I suppose that's so we don't get caught up with the winning rather than concentrating on being safe."

"Makes sense," Alan agreed, sitting down to take a drink from his water bottle, trying to ignore the tiny specks of dirt and other debris that floated in there. He knew that it was safe to drink, his bottle being equipped with a filter straw that, along with the purification tablets, ensured that he wasn't ingesting anything that he shouldn't be. Didn't make it any more palatable though.

Alan tucked his bottle away and took out a Celery Crunch energy bar, ripping open the wrapper. The sight of it made him think of Gordon and he had to fight down a pang of homesickness. This camping trip was nowhere near as much fun as the ones he'd been on with Scott. He had blisters the size of couch cushions on his feet, he'd been up since 4am, he was hot, dirty, badly wanted a cheeseburger and, as nice as Franklin was, they had very little in common so their conversation had died out more than three hours ago.

"Which way next?" Franklin asked, bringing Alan's mind back to the present.

"Oh, erm…" He pulled his sleeve back to check his navigator. The blinking red dot that indicated their next checkpoint was there, along with the green dot that was their current location, but there, off to the left of the checkpoint was a blue dot that hadn't been there earlier. "What's that?" he said out loud. Franklin moved closer, looking over his shoulder at the screen.

"Dunno, looks like it might be another GPS tracker maybe."

"It has to be linked to our system somehow," Alan muttered, "otherwise it wouldn't register."

"Would it not?"

"No, don't you remember what Lieutenant Cambell said at the briefing?"

Franklin shook his head. "Cambell said a lot of things."

Alan sighed briefly before answering. "He said that the navs had a blocker installed so that we wouldn't get confused by other signals. These mountains and woods could be full of them, from animal chips used for conservation tracking to safety beacons for those lost out here. So it has to be from our system, maybe it's one of the other teams."

"Then I say we avoid it, we don't want them following us or anything, we've got a bet to win."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Come on, let's get moving, the next checkpoint is a good mile and a half out."

"If I never have to walk again, it'll be too soon, at least we'll be weightless in space."

"You've got that right," Alan laughed. He got to his feet, holding in a groan of pain as his sore feet protested. It wasn't like he had much of a choice, it was walk or give up. The training centre had provisions for anyone that was badly hurt or wanted to give up, you could activate your emergency beacon and be picked up, but that meant an automatic fail and that was not something he was prepared to do. He was a Tracy, Tracys never gave up.

-x-

"Franklin?"

"Yeah?"

"The blue dot hasn't moved," Alan said, holding up his navigator as if he needed to prove his point. "If that is another team they might be in trouble."

"Urghh, no, Tracy." Franklin groaned, closing his eyes in despair. "This isn't the time to try any of your heroics, the sun's gonna be gone soon."

"I know, but we can't just ignore it."

"Sure we can. What if it's Barnes and Peralta? They wouldn't even stop to think about abandoning us, they would run past laughing."

"Well, I'm not them," Alan said firmly. "And I'd hope that you wouldn't be like that either. Imagine how you would feel if you were in a situation and no one cared?"

Franklin wanted to argue, Alan could tell. They were both exhausted and getting irritable and he really didn't want to get into an argument with the one person that he was getting along with and wasn't treating him like a child, but he would if he had to. He'd been brought up to offer help whenever he could, no matter the situation, no matter who it was. He might not be a member of International Rescue yet, but he had been preparing for it his whole life, and International Rescue didn't leave anyone behind.

"Look, I understand if you don't want to mess up your chance, you can carry on without me, I'll take the wrap for it and say that I left you and you didn't have a choice, but I can't leave without at least checking it out."

Franklin sighed. "We're a team, right?"

Alan grinned, knowing that he'd worn his friend down. "Yep."

"I'm so gonna regret this."

"Let's hope not," Alan said with a relieved laugh.

-x-

"Hello? Is there anyone out there?"

They were right on top of the blue dots location, it had moved a little but not enough to be of significance. Night was drawing in, their surroundings growing darker by the second and they had been forced to turn on their headlamps just to keep from tripping over.

Maybe Franklin was right, Alan thought, maybe we should have carried on, we haven't even made camp yet.

"IS THERE ANYONE OUT THERE?" he yelled at the top of his lungs, cupping his hands around his mouth in an effort to project his voice out still further. He paused to listen, sure that he had heard something over to the right of their path.

"Franklin, did you hear th-"

"TRACY? IS THAT YOU?"

"PERALTA? WHERE ARE YOU?"

"UP HERE!"

"I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING, CAN YOU SHINE A LIGHT?"

Alan turned off his own headlamp, motioning to Franklin to do the same, his eyes scanning the darkness…

"There!" Franklin yelled, pointing towards a clump of bushes higher up the incline they were standing on.

They found Peralta sat beside Barnes, who was spread out on one of their bedrolls, his knee supported by a backpack. In the light of their headlamps they could see that he looked pale and sweaty, clearly in pain.

"What happened?"

"Hit a tree on the way down, my chute got tangled and I had to release it to get down. I hit the ground and felt a pop." Barnes gestured to his knee. "I think I've done some serious damage. Lost my pack to the tree, so all I could do was wait there for Peralta to find me. Took him a few hours."

"So you've only got one lot of supplies?" Franklin asked as Alan hunkered down to examine Barnes's knee.

"Careful, Tracy, it hurts like a bitch." He winced and let out a pained hiss as if to prove the point when Alan gently felt around his kneecap.

"Yeah, that happens when you dislocate your knee."

"Shit." Barnes groaned, flopping back down onto his back, having sat up to keep an eye on Alan.

"You're gonna have to activate your emergency beacon," Franklin told him.

"No way! I'm not giving up, if I do that I'll be out of the program and will have to wait a year to try again."

"You can't walk with your knee like that, dude," Peralta said. "We've not gone further than half a mile in five hours, we'll never make it with you like this."

Barnes let out a frustrated growl, his fingers fisted in his hair. He knew what he had to do, he just didn't want to do it.

"Tracy, you got the best scores in our trauma training, can you fix this?"

Alan looked up, startled that the man was actually asking him a favour, and not just asking by doing it nicely.

"Yeah," he answered, his tone filled with as much confidence as he could muster. He'd watched the paramedic training that all his brothers had gone through for as long as he could remember. He'd followed along and learnt as they had and when he'd signed up to the college, Grandma and Virgil had made sure that he had a leg up on the others. He'd gone along on rescues with Virgil, he'd watched and knew exactly what had to be done. "Yeah, I can do it. It'll hurt though, and you won't be able to walk far, but it'll be better than it is now."

"Where do you need me?" Barnes asked.

"Just stay where you are and find something to hold on to."

Peralta moved to sit behind his friend, offering his forearm for the man to grip hold of.

Alan moved the backpack out from under Barnes's leg and shoved it aside towards Franklin who scooped it up.

"You ready?"

"Just do it," Barnes ordered, his eyes already closed, teeth gritted as Alan slid his hand under the man's calf.

Alan rested his left hand on the patella, making sure it was in line and pushed firmly as he lifted the leg with his right hand, extending the knee.

Barnes grunted, his fingers digging into the flesh of Peralta's arm as a fresh wave of pain radiated out from his leg.

"Just a little more," Alan promised, his hand feeling resistance from the knee, he was so close. "Brace yourself."

"I am bra-ceeeeed!" His words ended in a howl as Alan gave his knee an extra firm push while extending the leg in one continuous movement.

Alan huffed out the breath he had been holding as he felt around the knee to make sure all was as it should be. It was swollen, but that was to be expected. He lifted the leg again, his hand under the knee for support, encouraging Barnes to help by bending it himself. Alan could tell that it hurt like the dickens, but the fact that Barnes could do it showed that he'd done his job right.

"It's back in place," he announced quite needlessly. "I've got an emergency cold pack on me, we can use that to try and get some of the swelling down, then we'll put a support on it."

Barnes watched as Alan riffled through his pack, busying himself with locating the items, snapping the ice pack to activate it and wrapping it around Barnes's knee.

"Hey, Tracy?"

"Yeah?" Alan looked up at Barnes, expecting to see his usual sneering expression now that he had gotten what he wanted. What would he say this time?

"Thanks, man."

Alan blinked, surprised by the sincerity and warmth that had overtaken the hostility he was used to.

"Oh, you're welcome, I guess."

-x-

"We're nearly there," Alan promised, moving ahead of the tight group of three men that were following him along the path he had cleared.

Barnes grunted in acknowledgement but didn't say anything, he was too focused on staying upright between Peralta and Franklin. He had an arm around each of their shoulders, their arms were around his back for support as he hopped along on one leg. His knee was elevated and supported behind him by a makeshift sling that Alan had fashioned from a ripped up section of his parachute, the length of material looped around Barnes's ankle and then up to tie around his waist.

"You said that four hours ago," Peralta muttered just loud enough for them all to hear.

"Well, if I had said that we had another seven to go you would have been more pissed off than you are now," Alan pointed out, quite sensibly he thought.

"So, what you're really saying is that your idea of nearly there is another three hours?" Barnes asked tiredly.

"Yeah," Alan admitted. "But think about how great it will feel to sleep in a real bed and eat real food again after three days in these woods."

"You had better order me a pizza with some of your millions or I'm gonna tell everyone you shit yourself on your jump."

Alan just grinned, knowing that the man didn't mean it in the slightest. There was something about shoving someone's knee back into place and dragging him halfway around a mountain that earned you a certain degree of respect, and Alan now had that in spades. There had been no more cracks about his age or right to be there, no more threats to his face or accusations of cheating.

It had been Alan that had sat up with Barnes, keeping him company while the other two slept. He'd found out that Barnes was there on what amounted to a scholarship, something that he had worked damned hard for, having worked two part-time jobs to pay his way through college to get the degrees he needed to enter the program. He'd then had to apply for funding through a number of charities and secure the promise of a job to get in. Tracy College wasn't a charity and, unless you had joined the GDF just as you did the air force or army, had an employer who was paying for your training or were lucky enough to have rich parents, you didn't get in unless you were pretty special.

Hearing this, Alan had understood why Barnes might have thought that he was there because he had bought his way in with bribes and fabricated results. For someone that had had to work for everything he had, the idea that a teen from a rich family deciding he wanted to go to space and everyone fawning around him to make it happen, wouldn't have sat well with Barnes. Now that they had talked, and Barnes had learned that Alan was just as capable as they were, maybe more so, due to his own hard work, he had cooled off and was actually being a pretty decent guy.

They had used their GPS devices to continue logging in at every checkpoint, Alan and Franklin's green dot right there beside Barnes and Peralta's blue one, making sure that each team was logged before they moved on.

Alan, having moved on a little further, being too short to help with Barnes, was the first to see the last checkpoint, the end of their journey and the place that they would be retrieved from once they had logged in.

"It's just over this hill, come on, think of that pizza I owe you all!"

Whether it was the promise of food that didn't come from the canteen, the thought of a soft bed, or more likely, stronger pain relief than the ibuprofen that Alan had with him, Barnes made a last, herculean effort. He cleared the hill with his one good foot on the ground, rather than resorting to being carried as he had a few times during their slow trek.

"Tracy, you go first. Log in."

Alan glanced at Barnes, confused by his order, having completely forgotten about their bet over the course of the last few days.

"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "We got here as a team, we'll get home the same way." He took his GPS from his pack and handed it to Franklin.

Barnes, aided by Alan, collapsed to the ground as Franklin and Peralta took the GPS units, using them to log their final location. The GPS beeped, indicating that their position had been logged and located.

-x-

"All of our recruits have been on a journey, maybe not out of our atmosphere yet, but they have certainly taken the first steps along their path to space. The purpose of this training, apart from the obvious, is to test our recruits on the things that they would really need, such as the ability to think on their feet, to remain calm in a dangerous situation and to work as part of a team. One recruit received a record number of votes, standing out amongst his fellows as someone who embodies everything that it means to be our MVP, most valuable person. It gives me great pleasure to present this award to Alan Bartlett Tracy!"

"What?" Alan wheezed, stunned to his core. There must have been some kind of mistake.

"Go on, Tracy, get your ass up there." Peralta grinned, smacking him soundly on the shoulder.

The cheer that went up, both from the other trainees and the assembled Tracy family in the audience, was deafening as Alan got to his feet and stumbled forward, pushed along and encouraged by the helpful hands of his fellow astronaut recruits as he made his way down the line of seats to the aisle.

He blinked in shock, having never expected such a thing to happen to him in a million years. He'd actually voted for Barnes, who had taken on the role of his big brother over the remaining two months they had trained together.

He almost tripped over his own feet as he navigated the five steps to the podium on which Captain Fraser stood, holding out the medal as well as a rolled up piece of paper.

Fraser pinned the medal on the lapel of Alan's Tracy College issued flight suit and pressed the scroll into his hand.

"Is this it?" Alan asked, still in a daze, unable to believe what had just happened.

"Sure is, son, that's your learners licence."

-x-

The big, red rocket came to a gentle rest on its launchpad in its hangar and Alan cut the engines. He breathed a sigh of relief, something he always did and wondered if he would ever stop doing, whenever he touched down. He pushed the safety bars out of the way of his shoulders and stretched his arms up into the air, moving to work the kinks out of his back.

John reached over to the console and pushed a button, stopping the mileometer that had been Alan's constant companion for the last four months, well, that and either John or Scott. Another flick of his finger and John sent the data winging its way across the pacific ocean and into the databanks of the Tracy College computers.

"It's done, your last accompanied flight, how do you feel?"

"Honestly?" Alan paused to think for a second before his face broke out into a wide grin. "I feel great."

"You did good, little brother." John clamped a hand to Alan's shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze, the strength he held in his rather delicate looking hands always surprising. "I'm proud of you."

Alan didn't say anything, but his cheeks heated a few degrees.

"I mean it," John said, pushing his own safety bars out of the way so he could stand up. "We're all proud of you and you should be too. You've done something that others have only dreamed of and you've done it all by yourself. That's something worth celebrating."

"I didn't do it on my own, you guys all helped," Alan protested. "You and Scott took me on flights and Grandma made sure I knew how to patch a wound and Virg-"

"That's what family does," John said, interrupting smoothly. "All we did was give you the knowledge, you were the one that applied it and worked your ass off to make sure we hadn't wasted our time."

Alan wanted to argue again, but the happy grin on his brother's face had him swallowing down his protestations. "Thanks, John."

"You want to go get some food? Maybe we'll get lucky and dinner won't be waiting for us when we get up there."

It took Alan a moment to register exactly what John had said, but when he did he couldn't help the little grin that formed. "You go on up, I want to do the post flight checks and take a minute, if that's OK?"

"Sure." John shrugged easily, then winced, rolling his shoulders to loosen up the knots in them. If Alan noticed his brother's discomfort he didn't say anything as John left the rocket in Alan's capable hands.

Alan moved through the checks on autopilot, having done it so many times now that he barely had to think about what he was doing. The cockpit felt empty without John's presence, even though his brother didn't talk that much. Scott was a chatter, he liked to spend the time they were together grilling Alan on everything he'd been doing, what games he was looking forward to playing and what books he had read lately. Keeping up with his life, Scott called it. Alan called it being a nosy big brother.

John was totally different, John was happy to sit quietly, not feeling the need to fill the silence. That wasn't to say that Alan couldn't talk to John if he wanted to, he loved talking to John about all things space related, but John didn't make him feel like he had to.

Both brothers had their merits and Alan realised with a small pang of disappointment, that he would really miss their trips together.

He'd gotten used to hearing Scott calling from the lounge to tell him that he had some down time and did Alan want to clock up some miles. He'd come to look forward to hearing the beep from the monitor on their dad's desk that announced that the space elevator had docked. He loved the fact that John, who they rarely saw for social reasons, was making regular trips down from Five just to take him out.

When Colonel Casey had confirmed that Scott and John were more than qualified enough to act as co-pilots for Alan while he clocked up his real life experience miles, he had been a little put out. He'd wanted to spend a little more time with the rest of the astronauts that he had done his basic training with. And, honestly, who wanted to spend that much time with brothers you saw all the time when you could be hanging out with your friends?

He did, as it turned out. He'd ended up learning a lot during the time he had spent with Scott and John. Finding that he looked forward to their rides not just for the practice but because he enjoyed spending time with them away from the island.

Scott had so many cool stories about his time in the air force that he would happily regale him with after very little prompting. Alan had been sworn to secrecy about a certain incident that had happened during Scott's own astronaut training involving a blow up squid pool toy he'd borrowed off Gordon and the training pool.

And John, he had the experience of astronaut training and flight training, as well as spending three months on the new ISS and a month solo on a communications satellite to ensure he was prepared for all the time he would spend in Thunderbird Five.There was nothing that his brother didn't know about space and space travel. Every question Alan had, John had the answer. Every time he was unsure of something, John was there with an encouraging word and to talk him through the problem until he found a solution.

The past year had been an intense time, full of ups and downs. There had been times that he had felt like he would never be able to do it. When the words of his lessons blurred because he could barely keep his eyes open, when he was being looked down on and teased for being the youngest in training or accused of being the special pet of Colonel Casey. He'd wondered more than once just why he was putting himself through so much stress, so much extra work when he could just wait until he was old enough to attend like everyone else. But when he'd had those thoughts he had looked at his brothers, going out there every day, saving lives and bringing hope to otherwise hopeless situations, and knew that he wanted nothing more than to be part of that.

He let his fingers run over the console and it lit up, showing the last screen that John had brought up. There, in big black letters, was the confirmation. He'd done it, his accompanied flight hours were logged and completed. Now all he had to do was collect his pass certificate and full licence from Tracy College then he was good to go. The other trainees he'd been with would be going on to find jobs and do more training for their chosen areas, while he would be going straight into International Rescue.

This was the end result of a year of late nights studying after he'd done his schoolwork. A year of spending every weekend in simulators rather than playing games. A year of missing out on movie nights with the family and weekend lay-ins to fly the rocket, clocking up miles as often as he could. A year of hard work that had culminated in him being the youngest registered astronaut in the world. No matter what happened, he knew he'd never regret it. It was worth every moment.

"I did it," he whispered, a small smile beginning to form. "I'm gonna be a Thunderbird."

-x-

"And that's it, I told you it was long. Still think I'm cool?" Alan glanced across at the other seat. "Sel? Sel?"

Her eyes were closed, her head slumped forward over the deflated airbag, a small bubble of blood forming in her nostril with each wheezing breath she expelled.

"Sel, come on, wake up."

He looked around desperately, looking for any sign of help coming their way but they were too deep in the mess of twisted metal for anyone to get to them yet.

"They'll be here soon, I promise. Scott and Virg will are on their way. I just know they are."

He looked at his smashed comm and hoped with all his heart that he was right.

"They always come, you know that."

Alan reached over as best he could and caught hold of her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"We made a deal, Selly. I told you my story, and you promised you wouldn't die."