Greetings, you guys. :) Off for Thanksgiving, at last. Hope things are peaceful and happy, 'round your way. Thanks, Tikatu, Bow Echo, Creative Girl, Thunderbird Shadow and Whirl Girl... and really interesting notions, about that pollution sweeper! ;) Edited.

20

Kyoto, Japan, at the first blush of morning-

Sometimes, now, he saw things in colors he didn't recognize, at speeds and angles that his brain couldn't quite put together. Came from sharing head space with a bodiless alien, maybe. Whatever the case, Wayne Rigby witnessed that flashing, crystalline bomb arcing up through the air like a jewel-studded golf ball. Despite thousands of glowing hologram cats, wall-shaking music, and the fact that he was facing the wrong direction, Wayne tracked Havok's bomb.

And then, with a split second to react, Rigby did what seemed best; he lunged to protect Dr. Reeves by shoving the smaller man onto the deck. Too late, he spotted Scott's sudden arrival. Would have called out a warning, but then the bomb went off like a shrieking, sun-glaring thunderclap. Not just loud and bright, though. The thing was deliberately targeted at a human sensory range; meant to deafen and blind. An icepick would have done less damage… except that, even dormant, the Survivor defended his host.

When that searing glare and nerve-shredding scream gouged at his senses, the alien's power deflected the worst, leaving Wayne mostly unharmed on the floor, covering Tycho Reeves. The assault lasted a minute, maybe two. Hard to tell, because it contained a nasty EMP punch, on top of everything else, knocking out Rigby's electronic comm unit.

Once the blast ended, Wayne shifted position, bracing for further attack. The Chaos Crew were gone, though, leaving a giant hole in the tower's outer wall. Heart still hammering, he looked down, saw that Reeves had lost consciousness. Might have been for the best. The poor guy's ears were bleeding, his brown eyes glazed and half-open.

"It's alright, Doctor," said Rigby, more out of hope than fact. "You're going to be just fine."

The transport chamber was a shambles (again), full of caved-in wall and tightly-rolled, gleaming white robots. One of these eventually beeped, flashed and then uncoiled, forming what looked like a clawed and wheeled armadillo.

"Honoured Guest," chimed the security bot, zipping past fallen stonework and shattered glass to join him. "Do you require assistance?"

There were bits of masonry, metal and drifting insulation pattering down around them, from the Chaos Cruiser's entry hole. Wind, too, although the holo-cats and jangling background music had vanished.

"Thank you, I'll be alright," said Rigby, as a wave of GDF troopers came pouring into the chamber. "This man needs help, though," he added, indicating Dr. Reeves. "And my client, Mr. Tracy, might be in some trouble."

The robot's wedge-shaped head dipped and raised again, approximating a human nod.

"Understood, Honoured Guest. A med-bot approaches. Initiating scans for Client Tracy."

Right. Rigby took a second to make certain that everything he owned was still attached and functional. Then, he lurched to his feet. That took some doing, because the bomb had affected the captain's inner ear, too, throwing his balance off. He got better fast, though, thanks to Survivor.

Said the security-bot, after scanning the area,

"Client Tracy not found, Honoured Guest. Misfortune is strongly suspected."

Rigby had absorbed the impact of two bombs in rapid succession. He'd HALO dropped out of Thunderbird 1 with a jetpack he barely knew how to control (in approved Marine fashion) and then been resurrected by his alien guest. He was not at his mental freshest. Nevertheless,

"Misfortune?" the Captain repeated, catching on fairly quick. "You mean, he's been kidnapped?" A Tracy? Drug anywhere he didn't want to go? How? By what?

The robot didn't respond aloud. Instead, it performed a complex little dance on the cracked, littered deck, as if drawing a 3-D picture. Rigby memorized the odd diagram without understanding what he was seeing. Then, the defense force rushed up to surround him; concerned, polite, and determined to learn what had happened.

Like most lawyers, Wayne Rigby had a knack for talking a lot without saying very much, all the while plotting strategy… except that this wasn't a military court case, or even a GDF mission update. He'd lost Scott Tracy, who was not just a client, but the brother of the young lady he very much longed to impress.

Naturally enough, she picked that moment to appear, seeming to slip from the long morning shadows and wind.

"Wayne," she said, touching his right shoulder, briefly. "Are you okay? Where have the Chaos Crew got off to, and where's Scott?"

Acutely conscious that he was wearing baggy green coveralls with RECRUIT printed across the chest in bright yellow letters, Captain Rigby cleared his throat. Needed to lock up his feelings, stay completely professional… but couldn't, quite. Not around Tanusha, who was green-eyed and sleek as a cat; so pretty, she hurt to look at.

"I'm fine, thank you for asking. The Chaos Crew appear to have fled the scene in their vehicle… and I suggest that we begin searching the premises for your brother, Miss Tracy. With haste."

Kayo took a deep, sudden breath, doing things to her upper anatomy that made thought fairly difficult.

"He's gone after them?" she demanded, once again reaching for Rigby's arm. "Jetpacked onto their ship, or something?"

Wayne scowled, fighting off the effects of that gentle, warm touch. Mostly.

"Were this anyone else, I'd say 'no', but as we're discussing a Tracy, here... leaping onto the hull of a streaking escape ship sounds absolutely in character. Or… he may have departed unwillingly."

Kayo's brilliant green eyes narrowed, but she didn't probe further. Too many listening ears and devices. Just,

"Then, let's go find him, Captain," she declared, knowing that Rigby could refuse her nothing.

"Yes, Ma'am," he responded, prepared to pull rank with the local GDF. Blond haired and blue eyed, with a tall, stocky figure, Wayne wasn't as handsome as her brothers, and he knew it. What he lacked in looks, therefore, he'd have to make up for in courage and charm. "You arrange transport, and I'll make sure that Dr. Reeves is taken care of."

Kayo favoured him with a nod and another brief touch.

"He's the only one who really understands this transporter," she said, indicating that scarred and sparking neutronium disk. "We need him awake and talking, ASAP."

…Because, according to intel, Reeves' device had opened an unstable wormhole with portals deep in the ocean, and high over barren, abandoned New York. If not shut down, soon, that widening hole could drop half the Pacific onto an already suffering continent.

"Thunderbird Shadow's right outside," urged Kayo, leaning close to the weary Marine, "Set a guard, and let's go."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Meanwhile, not high enough over shifting and turbulent waters-

The sky was turning from star-pocked black to pale grey, wind steady at 24 knots, out of the west. Virgil had some flickering power, but next to no steering; could do little but keep her nose up and goose those engines for all he could get. Only, his hand-twisted connection wasn't the finest. Worse, that second network had not been intended to control Thunderbird 2's massive airframe and ailerons. All he'd done was buy time, not repair the actual damage. Would have called Base for help, but, yeah… they could probably see through his body cam, and what could they do besides pray?

"C'mon, Sweetie," Virgil muttered, willing life back into that flash-fried instrument panel and processing unit. "Wake up."

Maybe a wiser man would have bailed out, but Virgil stayed with the crippled Bird because… well, that was just Virgil. He could no more help being loyal than Scott could stop snapping orders, or John avoid making elaborate plans. He'd ride her straight in, if it came to that.

Sunrise was quick and bright at these latitudes; a symphonic blare of reds, pinks and violets, showing him just how close to the ocean he'd slid. Not going down without a major fight, Virgil Tracy took a firmer grip on the steering yoke, wrestling 2's nose into the wind for a whisper more lift. Her engines alternately roared and whined, responding to unsteady, partly-blocked signals.

Then, something struck the hull by his overhead hatch, sounding like a hailstone hitting a tin shed roof... or a targeted mech.

"Hunh?" he remarked, alertly. Ought not to have hailstones out of a managed weather system, and Kane was an ally, of sorts. But, all of a sudden there were tens, hundreds of sharp, ringing CLANGs, and a few little skittery noises. Then, all at once, Thunderbird 2 seemed to shudder and flex. Her instrument panel spat like a grease fire, and then came right back online.

He'd been unconsciously humming, of course, something he did under stress, or while thinking. Now, made-up words burst forth, too, as Virgil hauled back on the steering yoke, filling his view screen with nothing but sky.

"Not goin' swimming today! Thunderbird 2's on her way…! People to save, stayin' outta the grave… not goin' swimming todaaaay!"

And, just like that, he was back in business. Could figure out how, later on. For now, all that mattered was eight-hundred people, plus Penny, Gordon, Charlie and John.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Pacifica City, far below Thunderbird 2-

Properly motivated, a clever girl with a multitool could accomplish great feats. Guided by weirdly sparking red lines, Penelope belly-crawled over the damp, creaking maintenance space to a hatch on the distant bulkhead. Locked, like all the rest of that undersea city's doors, this one nevertheless yielded to the right combination of know-how and pressure. Not for nothing had Penny learnt the art of Zen safe-cracking from Parker… whom she devoutly hoped had found John, and another way out.

This hatch was double, with a small, between-bulkhead airlock and second door. Cold to the touch and faintly vibrating, the next hatch possessed no porthole, through which she might glimpse what lay on the other side. There was an LED status light above the hatch combing, but its bulb had gone dark. No power, you see.

"Blast," Penny murmured, aware that she had to lead those waiting people to safety, somehow. And Bertie? What of her wee, precious lad? Was he shivering, cold and alone in the darkness, waiting and hoping for Mummy? Or fighting for his life in rising black water?

Penelope shook her head, driving these grim visions out of her thoughts. His sodden Majesty had meanwhile been passed into her small space by those behind, recovering enough to ask, hoarsely,

"Is the rest of the city flooded, as well, Lady Penelope?"

"Sir, I cannot be certain," she admitted. "Had I managed to retain my purse, I might use a certain device to scan our premises and call for help, but, as matters stand…"

"We must depend upon wit and good fortune," the king finished for her, inclining his head in that faintly red-gleaming darkness. "Surely, large-scale flooding would have collapsed the city," he reasoned, after a pensive moment.

"Indeed, Sir… or caused a much greater tilt. I believe, then, that beyond this hatch there is no water, or perhaps very little. Shall I open it, Your Majesty?" Penny enquired. More people, including the Duchess and young Libby, were crowding into the airlock. They would have to move on or go back.

King Denys smiled grimly, then quoted an ancient poem, saying,

"On the plains of hesitation lie the bones of countless thousands who, When victory was nigh, paused to rest, and resting, died. Onward, Good My Lady, to whatever awaits us, beyond."

The lovely blonde noblewoman nodded once, then took up her multitool, and set to work.