John Tracy's footsteps were muffled as he traipsed through the familiar empty halls of his satellite, hot coca in hand. He dipped his head under the airlock, his tall frame casting shadows on the corridor wall as he entered the brightly illuminated control room. His lips quirked into a smile at the multicoloured fairy lights flashing across the ceiling, the colours refracting off his cobalt eyes. He set his mug down before pulling on his ruby crushed velvet hat with the white fir trim and cracked his hands. Time to get to work.
Sitting at his desk he pulled up the code he had been tweaking all week, his mission tonight was to help the boys and girls on earth track Santa on his Christmas eve journey by following his route across the globe. The North American Aerospace Defence Command (NORAD) used to track Santa but as the risks to air territory increased and their budgets reduced, international rescue had taken over duties since 2065. It was close to their hearts, John having actually conducted a few Santa trackers when posted at NORAD on work experience and Scott having actually escorted Santa across north America in one of his fighters during active service. Jeff had fond memories of the tracker when he was overseeing NORAD in their teens, so he had only been too happy to offer their services when it became apparent NORAD were struggling to aid Santa.
For John it meant a long night monitoring the radar for infrared signatures of Rudolph's nose and plotting where he was at any given time. He'd be knackered in the morning but he wouldn't miss it for the world, he loved watching the videos and blogs afterwards of kid's reactions all over the globe. It made it all worthwhile.
Forty-seven satellites used to be used in monitoring Santa now they needed just one, his Thunderbird five. Typically, Santa started his journey in the south pacific (Close to home ironically) before travelling to Australia and beyond. John glanced at his watch, five minutes to 9pm. It was almost time!
As he set the countdown, he pondered what his brothers might be up to this Christmas eve on Earth. He reckoned Scott was most likely indulging his partner Rose as he knew they were together for the holidays; he was fiercely protective of her after the events of the last year (Rightly so) and no doubt would be doing his upmost to make this difficult year a distant memory. Virgil would be playing a jaunty little Christmas jingle - most likely a Michael Bublé number on his baby grand. Gordon could be playing a game of chess with Brains or maybe devising a prank of two for the big day, dear Alan was coming to terms with the fact he was single, probably still wallowing in last years memories if his film history from last month on five was anything to go by. Their dad? Well, he was most likely doing what he always did Christmas eve which was to sit at his desk completing reports so that he could have a well-earned short break for the Christmas period.
A lot of people would be outraged to have to work on Christmas but with their professions it had always been part of their Christmases. It was rare that they were all home to celebrate so they had learned to adapt their Christmases. Personally, for John it was a privilege, knowing that he was keeping a vigil for those in need at a time when emergency services were pushed to their limit, he was only too happy to assist.
"5..4..3..2..1… Santa is go!" John toasted the air before taking a swig. Instant messages started to ping in from all over the globe with pictures, Gifs and postcard pins popping up all over the map as children and their families wished Santa a safe journey with plenty of, please stop here! signs. John smiled to himself. He loved the magic of it all.
The evening drew on, John amusing himself with a sudoku, a bit of observation interspersed with regular check ins on the tracker. He prepped his presents at the foot of his bed in the cabinet before wandering to the kitchenette to decant his bagged mushroom risotto, he'd debated having the Christmas dinner but talked himself into saving it tomorrow like he should. If his grandmother had been alive, she'd be horrified at such thoughts.
Eventually he cleaned up and wound down the station for the night leaving only essential comms and the tracker on. He peered at the screen; Santa was now halfway across the world in Eastern Europe. John glanced at his watch, he should really try and catch some shut eye but he liked to make sure he didn't miss anything so he picked up the latest journal on Jupiter written by his old colleague that he'd promised he would read. Slowly his platinum blonde lashes started to drift, his breathing becoming deep and regular as his chin crept towards his neck. The tablet slipped from his hand to the floor with a light-hearted thud. He started to emit a soft wheeze as his windpipe was constricted in the awkward position, the steady thrum of conversations around him his only companion.
There was an uncomfortable nagging at the base of his spine, the pain forcing him back to reality. He groaned, unfurling his long legs from underneath him where they had cramped. His arm had gone numb but not as numb as his face that was dented with the outline of the edge of his desk. He muttered. "Gee I wish I'd learn to go to bed." As he swiped at his eyes before tentatively stretching his back. Finding the courage, he pushed deep into the back of the chair with a satisfied hiss as vertebrae snapped to attention. His head cocked to one side as he took in the tracker. Santa was now almost over western Europe; it was Christmas day at home. "Hmm… you shouldn't be there" he bit his lip as he checked his coding. John had the map extended out to view the whole Earth and way above Earth's atmosphere was a red blip. John liked to (just on his feed) overlap the real satellite data with Santa's so Santa could avoid things in real time airspace but this blip was in space and seriously close to Thunderbird five's location.
"What are you?" John used his fingers to pinch the section of the feed before logging in to pinpoint the radar. Whatever it was it was substantial and moving at speed. It could be a ship but unlikely, John wasn't aware of any recent launches or scheduled re-entries. He thought for a moment if his brothers might have planned to surprise him with an impromptu visit but the profile didn't match Thunderbird three. "Well, that's mighty strange." John frowned; his forehead creased with worry. He got ready to capture an image, locking on he took several images in quick succession before waiting for them to load.
His fingers tapped impatiently on the desk; time was of the essence. He was cross checking reports from ISS while he waited and moon base. He also checked the debris register but could see nothing. 100% complete flashed across his screen as he eagerly clicked the file. The colour drained from his face so he almost matched the fir lined trimming of his hat. "Oh boy! But…. How has this not been detected?" There had been no warnings, no registered reports. He zoomed in on the images quickly clicking through them as the projectile came closer and closer. John gazed on, slack jawed at what once was a large Elon satellite, pieces sprinkled from it like dark stardust. That thing was on a collision course with Thunderbird Five's orbit. He had just three minutes till impact.