Back, with a little bit more. Guess everyone knows that I don't own them, though they DO occupy a great deal of cranial real-estate. ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing, guys. Your ideas inspire me.

16

Kyoto, Japan, in the Yamato Tower's lofty demonstration chamber-

Scott Tracy had run full-tilt into another d*mn bomb. Mostly flash-bang, but still pretty bad. Helmet and bodysuit saved his life, as a searing glare, stone-shattering noise and sledgehammer concussion flung him right back into the stairwell, like somebody's cast-off toy. Was unconscious for a minute or two, at most, Scott figured. Hard to be certain, as his heads-up display had vanished, along with all but a few tiny sparkles of light.

Sounds were muted, as well, which seemed unlikely to Scott. Conclusion: he'd been partially blinded and deafened, with the status of Rigby and Dr. Reeves uncertain. Dammit! He hurt everywhere; couldn't see, couldn't hear… and still had to deal with the Chaos Crew.

Was lying crumpled up on what felt like the maintenance stairs, unsure of direction. Too much vertigo to simply get up. So, instead, Scott began patting himself down and counting limbs. Sudden movement made him throw up, which was a bad idea, inside of his helmet. On the brighter side, he hadn't eaten in… Well, he couldn't recall his last meal, but all that came up was thin, sour bile. Legs and arms were all present and accounted for, though. That was something.

After a few seconds, he tried again to get up. Worked about as well as you'd think, without vision or a sense of direction to guide him. He had to feel around for the railing and stairs, reaching out for anything solid, at all. He'd managed a crouch, was halfway to standing, when a pair of armed security drones crowded close and sedated him. After that, things got rough.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Earlier, Pacifica City, slightly above the flooded ballroom-

Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward did not panic. Wasn't in her. Never had been. When that first brilliant flash half emptied the chamber below, she simply leant through the opened panel, and called John's name. Would have leapt in after him, had Parker not restrained her.

"Milady, H-I must h-advise against plungin' back down there. 'Is Majesty and 'Er Grace needs you t' lead them t' safety. H-I'll go in h-after Mr. John."

Much of the water and part of that shark had entirely vanished, as the beam of his patented multi-tool showed them. Penny bit her lip briefly, and then nodded.

"Very well, Parker. I shall escort His Majesty and the Duchess to a position of greater safety, leaving you here, with our guest. I shall expect you and John to join us, directly."

Parker smiled, rendering an already homely face rather less than half as attractive as it had been.

"That's th' spirit, Milady. Remember th' family motto."

Penny smiled back, whispering,

"First in battle, First in Honour, Faithful to the last…. Or, as Clarence would have it, 'Always scrapping, ever boasting, far too stupid to run'." And then, she laughed just a little, dabbing at foolish tears. Rather inanely, she added, crouching there in the cold, dark maintenance crawlspace, "I miss Clarence, and Scott… and Dear, stubborn John."

"You'll see 'em h-again, Milady," promised her driver, tugging a wrinkle out of the white tuxedo jacket she'd borrowed from her red-haired astronaut 'lure'. "Just keep t' th' task that's h-in front o' you."

Penelope nodded determinedly, listening as the domed city settled and creaked all around them.

"Very good, Parker. Onward," she said.

They parted company there and then; Her Ladyship taking the multi-tool, while Parker lowered himself through the opened panel, hung there a moment, then dropped away into darkness.

"Be safe," Penny whispered after her old friend and protector. Then, straightening as well as she could in that cramped, musty space, she turned and took charge of those bleary, half-frozen others.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Tracy Island, at around the same time-

Alan Tracy was crazy busy; part of his mind on those staticky body-cam screens, most on Thunderbird 1, which he'd had to take off of autopilot. Tough combination, but he'd faced worse in simulation, and Piper was there to help out, watching the cams, while Al shifted rubble and hunted survivors.

Finally, Grandma emerged from Charlie's room, having carried a towel-wrapped bundle quite firmly from tub into bed, talking and singing nursery rhymes, the whole time. As there were no GDF cameras in the bathrooms, bedrooms or private halls, the ruse was pretty effective. (Mostly because Alan was still screwing around with reception, on top of everything else.)

Anyways, she came out of the former guest room at last, having told a quick story and whispered a bedtime prayer, just like always. Then, placing a light, slender hand on Alan's shoulder, Sally Tracy commanded,

"Go on, Sprout. Y'r brothers need ya."

Alan just about vaulted out of the desk chair, signaling Piper to follow him.

"Which situation, Grandma? Where do I go, first?" Because, dang… they were all in trouble: Scott, in Kyoto, Virgil and Gordon, at Pacifica City, and John, up northeast, somewheres. (He'd picked up a signal... sort of. Real brief, real quiet, and NOT in Pacifica City.)

Sally frowned momentarily, brushing a strand of silvery hair from her face.

"Lee 'll be here, afore ya know it. He's th' one ta head f'r Pacifica City, 'cause he c'n handle th' most passengers, in Thunderbird P. Kayo 'll help Scott deal with that mess in Japan. So… follow th' power surge, Sprout, an' find them lost explorers." John Matthew would just have to wait, wherever he was.

Alan nodded, and kissed his grandmother's cheek, though she brushed him off like a fly; ashamed of the tears that were stinging the back of her eyes.

"Hurry," she snapped. Then, turning back to those tense recruits, she singled out Jan. "Come here an' sit down, Girl. Y'r about ta fly y'r first mission."

XXXXXXXXXXX

Shortly thereafter, in an Antarctic mountain stronghold-

Nikorr Kyrano sat back, allowing his desktop holo-globe to go dim. The after-glow of that violent explosion still flared in his memory, bringing intense satisfaction. Not because the stupid, greedy child was dead… she wasn't, yet… but because he'd acquired valuable tech, in such a way as to 'frame' the Tracy's most dangerous, blood-thirsty ally.

Something had happened between Kane and the Kyranos, back in that otherwhen, before the destruction of an alien derelict had altered time. Something which could only be scrubbed out with blood. Despite all the shifts, Nikorr remembered the deaths of his people, the stronghold's ruin, and Kane's theft of Sentinel. Now, the Mechanic had attached himself to the Tracys and Tanusha (one of Niko's own kind). A problem, that one; she troubled him with her mongrel-stench and perplexing attractiveness.

Restlessly, Nikorr looked around at his chamber, taking in the rough-carved black walls and polished stone floors. He had never craved luxury. Just security for his people. Safety from a world government determined to hunt down and enslave them all. Against single targets, the Kyranos were quite powerful, but faced with the massed might of a billion Typicals, they could not remain free for long. The situation could only end in conflict. A fight that he meant to control.

To that end, Nikorr had begun to make plans. Tiny moves, in and of themselves, but very important, when seen as a whole. First, he'd psionically "pushed" the Dos Santos to leave his young, fragile son with the Tracys. Second, he'd planted a seed of confused searching in Tanusha, his stolen cousin. Third, he'd acquired Transport tech, and plans for a Thunderbird. Next… slowly, inexorably… he would drive an irreversible wedge between Kane and International Rescue. After that, when all was arranged to his liking, Kyrano would bring down the World Council and their Tracy pawns, forever.

Nikorr nodded, returning his gaze to the plain wooden desktop. He was a handsome young man, dark-haired and green-eyed, like all of his people, and a powerful psion, besides. The girl… Havok… had never stood a chance. Under Kyrano's influence, she'd destroyed the original transport device and blown up her own aircraft; never realising that the "mark" was reading her traitorous thoughts. Controlling her movements.

Well, perhaps she'd survive to learn better. Made very little difference to Niko. All that mattered now was power. That, and his people's survival. Nothing…not the Mechanic, the World Council or the other Families… could be allowed to stand in his way.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Tracy Island, in the meantime-

Alan had plunked himself down in the TB3 launch seat, over in the ring. Happy to be back in action, he was double… quadruple… thrilled, because Pip would be riding shotgun, wearing one of those green RECRUIT coveralls.

Giving his purple-haired opposite number a confident "thumbs up", Alan triggered seat-descent, causing their part of the couch to sink down through the parquet floor and into the echoing hangar, below. There followed a swift, theme-park style ride through a long tunnel. Alan cracked a few jokes and pointed out the sights, wanting Piper to love his Bird as much as he did. Wasn't sure he was getting anywhere, until… just before their two seats split, at the fork… Piper leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Gotcha back!" she teased, leaning just out of counterstrike range. Then, their chairs moved off on different tracks, leaving Alan red-faced and grinning. 'Cause, wow! She was… was… y'know? She just was.

As the launch seat clicked onto its pneumatic lift, then began rising, Alan was pecked at by a flock of uniform-maintenance bots. He had to sit real still through the process, or risk getting dumped in the cockpit with both boots on his head, and the pants wrapped round his neck like a scarf.

Alan had a lot on his mind; a major rescue coming up… but he seriously did not want to look like a chump in front of Piper. Didn't move one micron, showing up in his Bird perfectly dressed, beside the most beautiful, amazing girl in the world… who'd somehow retained her pink flower-crown. (Later admitting she'd sat on it.)

Their seats switched orientation from ninety-degree lie-down to upright, as Thunderbird 3 rumbled to life around them. Alan glanced over, saw that Pip was impressed, and felt himself grow, like, six inches taller.

There were preflight systems-checks to run, and Al didn't cut any corners, letting the girl see exactly what he was doing, and why. Then, when he'd got through the boring-important stuff, it was time to have fun.

"You ready?" he asked her, fighting the urge to grin like a stupid kid. Piper nodded.

"Sure am, Boss-guy. To the danger-zone. Floor it!"

Heh. He was supposed to check out, wait for clearance, blah, blah, blah… but wanted to look good for the girl. So, the heck with procedures. Just, y'know, this once.

As Thunderbird 3's massive engines came howling to life, Alan dropped the silo's force field, then power-launched. That long, crimson rocket fired itself like a piston; rumbling out of her tube and straight through the ring house. Dawn was just breaking pale and pink, as Alan and Pip shot off.

"Thunderbird 3 is go!" he exulted, ready to take on whatever the world was throwing.