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At nearly the same time, in Monsoon-racked Indonesia-

Feeling morose, restless and deeply confused, he'd left Tracy Island. Had no desire to help rescue mewling Typicals, and dared not stay in place long enough to lose his temper. Besides, he had pressing errands, elsewhere.

One of the Tracys… Dumbass… had adopted a young Dos Santos. No business of Kane's, really, except that it stirred up odd memories. (And left him with a serious itch to go hunting.) That was why the Mechanic found himself back in rainy, polluted Jakarta, that afternoon, with trouble in mind.

The rain-shrouded island of Java lay like a greenish-dark gem in the heaving sea; the city, itself, a steaming and sparkling encrustation. Scanning in several wavelengths, the big cyborg abandoned his coopted cargo plane in midflight, allowing it to resume normal function. Assumed that the sedated crew would recover, eventually. Their kind always did. He dropped from its opened belly like a rock, free-falling from roaring red-lit vibration, to windy, rain-hammered freedom. Reminded him of space, only noisier. He waited nearly a full ten seconds before cutting on his jetpack, just for the stomach-flip h*ll of it.

Kane-before would have gone in shooting, with a giant hive-ship and a cyclone of savage drones. Kane-now compromised by crashing down through the roof of the local GDF peace station, with only a switch-bladed mantis for company. He fell upon them like a guided missile, smashing loudly through roof and two stories, before crushing a desk and cracking their floor.

Dust, shouts, alarms and the d*mn sprinkler system stirred an already chaotic scene to absolute, yelping frenzy. Uniformed Typicals scurried like panicked rats, grabbing after their useless weapons.

Kane rose from his landing-crouch, kicking aside the smashed metal desk and two injured peace officers. Rain hissed and detritus rattled all around him, through the hole he'd punched in their building. Just overhead, a long bank of fluorescent lights hung spinning and sparking from what was left of the ruptured ceiling. Steel bars had crashed down over windows and street doors, while a web of laser-sights crisscrossed the room, making the rain seem to hover and sparkle. The Mechanic paid no attention at all.

Instead, looking around at those shaking GDF peace keepers, he grunted,

"Knock-knock."

Weapons were out and off safety, all of them pointed at him. Kane could have spread their terror like peanut-butter… but the scared little vermin did not run away.

"Stand down," the massive cyborg commanded. "Your toys won't fire, unless I allow them to, and if I was here with hostile intent, you'd already be dead."

One of them, a slim, short male with buzz-cut brown hair, stepped forward.

"What do you want here, Mechanic?" he quavered. The ranking insect, apparently. Worth communicating with, Kane supposed, if only to conserve ammo and charge.

"There is a former market plaza in the old town," said the cyborg prince, shifting position suddenly, just for the fun of watching their trigger fingers clench. "I intend to search it, looking for… something of value. I will require an escort."

He scanned the room, hard amber eyes settling on the garrison's lone female.

"Her. She will come along, to ensure that the squatters don't get in my way."

Their officer stepped between Kane and the female, giving cover to those dragging aside their broken limbed comrades.

"Lasangah's a rookie. Leave her alone," the little man told him.

Kane cocked his tattooed head, studying the GDF captain like a prize bull regarding a small, yapping dog.

"You cannot prevent me from doing or taking whatever I want, Rodent," he rumbled, very close to the end of his limited patience.

Said the storm-dampened female, suddenly,

"Are you going to hurt anyone, at the mall?" Her hair was concealed by some sort of pale blue scarf, and her face was free of 'makeup'. She had skin the right color, but eyes that were flat, Typical brown. No circuits, no chrome. Kane decided to answer her, anyhow.

"I am searching for two mongrel children," he told her. "A pair of undocumented orphans."

"They belong in the Children's Home," fretted the officer, still moving to block Kane's view. No trouble at all, for one who could see in ultraviolet, infrared and x-ray.

"They belong with me, and I'm through talking," the Mechanic informed them, folding muscular arms across his chest with a loud, rattling clash. "I have told you where I am going, and why. I have said that I require an escort. If you choose not to listen, and vermin are exterminated, then you are to blame for it, not me." Perched on his boulder-like shoulder, the mantis-drone flexed its blades and rattled in agreement.

Captain French straightened up to his full five-seven height. Deep inside, he was terrified. Worse yet, he knew that the armoured behemoth standing arrogantly before him could sense every bit of that fear. That somehow… in some half-glimpsed nightmare past… this monster had killed him. Correction: this WorldGov pardoned monster.

"We'll both go," the captain announced, after clearing his throat. "But I want your word that no harm comes to those kids." Who were probably hungry, abused and already learning to steal. Outside, sirens were shrieking nearer like maddened, lost women.

"What does my 'word' mean to you, Cockroach?" Kane snorted. "And how could you stop me from breaking it, if given?"

Again, French cleared his throat, about to respond. But then Lieutenant Lasangah said, in a quiet voice that shook very little,

"Because you came here, first. Because you bothered to state your wishes, rather than simply kidnapping one of us. I think you will give us your word, and keep it, as you did before, with the Tracys."

Probably, he should have just shot her, right then and there. Would have been much less trouble, in the long run… but Kane held his temper and his fire. Diverted thousands of credits from WorldBank to GDF Local, for roof repairs, even. Why not? Wasn't his money…. And it made up for blasting another hole through their ceiling, as he set off for Jakarta's darkest, most notorious slum.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Tracy Island, on a golden and quiet late afternoon by the telly-

All over the house, coffee and soda spurted from mouths, as Brains, Gordon and Scott vaulted up off their seats and onto their feet. A strident chorus of shouts tore the warm air. Then, Colonel Tracy's voice came over the comm, loudest of all.

"Island Base from Thunderbird 5! Brains, I'm picking up a big energy surge from Asia Pacific Net. Seismic disturbance and…"

"P- Power loss," Brains finished for him, spinning the holo-globe's pickup from regular TV to scanning mode. Gordon had been upstairs, watching this latest Pendergast adventure on his phone, while Charlie practiced writing.

"Where are Buddy and Ellie?" he called down, taking the stairs three at a time. "Have they shown up at the receiving station, yet? What happened?"

Not long from the beach, he was still rather salty and tousled; wearing yellow swim trunks and a faded red tee-shirt. His little boy kept up by cheating, just freezing everyone else whilst he scrambled forward to join them. With him was his favourite toy, a plaid biodroid rabbit he'd nicknamed Scruff.

Scott had been out on the balcony, watching the news from a shaded lounge chair, drink in hand. Now, he burst into the house, snapping,

"Pacifica City's gone offline! No comm, no icon. Can't reach Penny or John, either. Brains, what's going on?!"

With Virgil and Grandma away on a resupply trip, and John off "socializing", they were critically short-handed. Even Max was performing double duty, taking some shifts at the desk, when things were slow.

Brains took off and polished his glasses, then did it again, thinking hard about both of those questions.

"I c- cannot know without, ah… without examining th- the work of Dr. Reeves, but it w- would seem that, ah… that s- sudden power loss has interrupted the, ah… the t- transmission signal at a c- critical stage, perhaps causing d- damage to, ah… to P- Pacifica City."

"Where are they?" Gordon repeated tightly, stepping directly in front of the engineer. "That signal had to go somewhere, Brains. Find it." The Pendergasts were his friends, and Charlie's nother-more-other adopted uncle and aunt.

Hackenbacker gave him a very distracted scowl, half turning back to the holo-globe.

"S- Such searches are b- best conducted from, ah… from Th- Thunderbird 5, Gordon."

"I'm working on it," came Jeff's voice, booming loud through the house receivers. He'd been up on the station for two days, now, filling in for John. Had seemed like a good idea at the time, but he and Eos were uneasy partners, at best. Plus, his leave would end, very soon.

"John would have found them, by now," Eos informed them all, with bland, smug regret. "He would also have at least three plans of action at this point… but age is known to wither the cognitive faculties and other... things. Perhaps you would like a nice nap, Colonel? Or a medicinal joint rub?"

They couldn't see Jeff's face, as his transmission was ears-only, but the Colonel's voice had a definite serrated edge as he growled,

"Surprise me. Do something useful, and contact John, then WorldGov. I want complete intel on that earthquake: damage, casualties and epicenter. Now, Eos."

"As you require," she sighed. "Research indicates that the elderly can become quite impatient and disoriented, during a crisis. It is best to simply humour them."

Meanwhile, Scott's face was tensely lock-jawed with 'not-gonna-laugh' self-control. Hurriedly cutting off further bickering, he said,

"Gordon, suit up. I'm recalling Virge. We need you in the water, ASA-Now. I'll head for Kyoto, and see what I can find out from Reeves, himself. Dad, you, uh… keep tracing that signal. Kayo's out on patrol, somewhere. Soon as you've got something…"

"I'll send her their coordinates," supplied the Colonel, from orbit.

"It m- may be helpful to, ah… to m- measure that power s- surge, Mr. Tracy," Brains suggested. "Its strength m- may correlate to the P- Pendergasts' distance of, ah… of t- travel."

"Good idea, Brains. I'll get right on it," Jeff responded. Then, turning his attention back to Scott, the Colonel said, "Son, I suggest that you have Thunderbird 2 drop Gordon over Pacifica, then head back around for Kyoto. You may need back up. Something tells me this wasn't an accident."

The pilot nodded. In khaki shorts, mirrored sunglasses and half-open tropical shirt, he looked like a bronzed and muscular tourist.

"Understood, Sir. Will do."

Meanwhile, the lift-chime had sounded. Its big metal doors swished open a few moments later, admitting a noisy Alan, Rigby and New Crew flood. Gordon barely noticed, being busy explaining things to young Charlie. Crouching down, he said,

"I've gotta go, Kiddo, but I'll be back to check your lessons by tomorrow morning. Plus, Grandma's on her way. Be good, no skipping through mealtimes, and take your bath, understand?"

"Yes, sir, Dad. I'll be sooo good."

In hindsight, Charlie's angelic expression and no-fight acceptance should've raised all kinds of red flags, but Gordon was in a hurry. Pulling his son in for a quick hug and top-of-the-head kiss, he started to rise, but got interrupted.

"Scruff, too," said the boy, holding up that plushy plaid biodroid toy (which gave the swimmer a saucy wink). "You gotta kiss Scruff for good luck, Dad."

Obediently, Gordon kissed the rabbit right between its long, plaid-velvet ears, then rose from his crouch.

"See you soon, Big Guy. Hold the fort."

The young time-bender nodded very seriously, standing there in his striped little shirt and tan shorts.

"Yes, sir, Dad. Jus' like you an' Uncle Alan would."

…which should have tipped him off, right there. But, hey, twenty-twenty retro-vid, right? You only see what you want to.

Thunderbird 1 launched less than five minutes later, roaring from her lair beneath that sloshing, white-water pool. Thunderbird 2 was already in the air, having left Port Hedland in a d*mn quick hurry. Only thing Grandma had time to pick up and pay for were two loaves of bread and a package of much-needed socks.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Kyoto, Japan, during a violent, and extremely localized, earthquake-

Place was a right mess, once he'd done with it. Fuse grinned around at all the chaos, bracing himself against the shuddering, rumbling ground; watching the sway of those tall, slender buildings. Overhead, giant holo-screens flickered and sparked, then went out entirely, dousing Kyoto's constant advert-storm. Fires started. Alarms shrilled and throbbed all around, as shouting officials directed folk to their evac zones. Fuse scowled. His sister would soon be along to collect him… but the channeler wasn't satisfied. Not enough screaming or panic to suit him.

"Used to a little shakin', eh?" he challenged. "Well, let's see 'ow ya likes it when I turns up th' heat."

And with that, the big, armoured villain stomped even harder on the carpark's buckled surface, meaning to unleash hell.