55
Yokosuka, Japan, at the Navy Town hospital's lush VIP suite-
While the city below tried to pick up its pieces, Captain Taylor was good and determined to d*mn well glue his back together. One boy down; brain-scraped and… hang on. 'Bombed', he'd been thinking. Same way Doc Richey 'd got the crap bombed out'n hisself by the Chaos Crew, turning him blind and deaf as a Goddam post.
Only, Spencer could see and hear. No visible damage, at all. But Brain Scraping didn't fix nuthin'. If that was Spence, he shoulda been busted up pretty bad, as well as losing his eyesight and hearing. Instead, he was over there talking to Jase and the doctor.
Lee shifted position, brow furrowing as he tried to work this thing out. Was about to signal Jason, when his comm buzzed. Vibrated, actually. He'd set it on mute, for the hospital.
Checked it reflexively, having never got used to that whole "retirement" thing. The message was short, and it come from Jeffery, out on Thunderbird 5. 'Imposter,' it said, and 'explain later'.
Imposter? As in, maybe that weren't the real Spence? Now, that was a whole 'nother ball game. One he proposed to win.
"Jase!" Lee called out, putting the silenced comm back into his pocket. "C'mere, Son. Need ta talk t' ya."
The younger astronaut turned to glance across the room, nodded, and then said something quiet to Spencer, who seemed awful nervous. Because he'd just been scraped and lost all he knew… or because he'd never had it to begin with? Anyhow, Jason gave his 'brother' a warm shoulder clasp, and then came over to stand beside Taylor.
"Sir?" he asked, gaze roving 'twixt Spence, Miss Polly and young Tina. In a low voice, Captain Taylor said,
"Y'r brother jus' wrapped up a fight with the Chaos Crew. Wyatt says he up an' walked right inta one a' their screamers. Same bomb whut turned Doc Richey stone blind an' deaf. Now, you tell me, Jase. Whut's wrong with this picture?"
Jason's blue-green eyes narrowed, and his face hardened, suddenly.
"He's not hurt, and he can still see and hear," the redhead replied, real tense and quietly. Maybe not quiet enough, because Tina twitched just a little. D*mn. Had she always been able to hear that good, or had he just tipped his hand? Could there be more 'n one fake? Come ta think on it, Tina hadn't come here in Shadow, neither. What if the reason was that she couldn't? Didn't know how to fly a d*mn Bird? And Wyatt? Was the Marine any more trustworthy? He'd been with Tina and Spencer, down there in the city.
Indicating heart-broke Miss Polly with a slight jerk of his head, Taylor said,
"Make an excuse. Any d*mn thing. Jus' git 'er on outta here."
Officially, he and Jason now had the same rank, but the boy didn't ask no questions. Just strode across to Miss Polly, took her arm and said sumthin' hushed. Meanwhile, Taylor went over to Spencer's physician, doing his best to look sorrowful, 'stead of loaded for bear.
That's when, by Lee's figuring, all hell and most o' damnation broke loose, right there in Yokosuka.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Global-1 space station, parked in orbit near Thunderbird 5-
Military leave wasn't something you just blinked up like a genie. Not even if you were the d*mn station commander. First, you had to apply through the proper channels, arrange coverage, leave a contact number and address, and then wait around for approval. Matter of hours to days, depending on circumstance, and the wicked small gremlins that always threw sand in the gears of administration.
This time, Ridley got lucky. Less than a day after applying through GDF Comm-Net, her leave was approved. Placing Lieutenant Moore in charge, and packing light, Captain O'Bannon commandeered a fast shuttle, then headed back down the well to meet Emma Kraft, her best friend. They were due to rendezvous at 0330, in Honolulu. From there, they'd catch a mail flight to Tracy Island.
Ridley piloted herself, because she'd always hated just riding. Knew she could trust her own skills at the stick, or John's. Anyone else, especially a subordinate or civilian, made her uneasy.
Now, as she pulled away from that clunky antique of a space ark, Ridley worked on self-control. In less than five hours, she'd be back with Tracy, a fact which left her all flutterguts, as did the sight of his gently whirling station. Her biomonitors were all over the place; picking up accelerated pulse and breathing, plus elevated core temperature. Hormones were spiking, too, and… according to her ever-helpful heads-up display… Ridley's pupils were dilated. 'Crazy in love', transformed into dry biometrics.
She wanted to hold his hand, drink herself drunk on his scent, be wrapped up tight in powerful arms. She wanted to kiss him deeply, and let him inside, even if only on Earth, in boring 2-D.
Made it hard to focus on piloting, and that meant possible trouble, what with all of that backed-up freight traffic. Captain O'Bannon was far too professional to daydream while flying, though. Much. To cool herself off, she commed Emma.
"Afternoon, Captain," she greeted her Navy comrade, once Kraft had picked up the line. GDF time was standard; the same, everywhere.
Emma grinned at O'Bannon, being apparently out on her vessel's weather deck. She wore dress whites and had to speak up over wave song and engine noise.
"Afternoon, yourself, Captain! Where are you?"
Ridley checked her polar coordinates.
"About… one-hundred-fifty-five thousand feet above sea level, on track for Pear Harbour in thirty-six minutes. You?"
"Already in port, Ree. We were due to put in for refueling and maintenance, anyhow. The XO's already in charge and loving it. Jack 'll be fine. Meet you at the O-club?"
Ridley smiled, anticipating tropical drinks and a catch-up with her best friend.
"Sounds like a plan. Have you heard anything more from yours?" (Her Tracy, Ridley meant.)
Emma nodded once, squinting at wind and bright sunshine.
"Yeah, I have… but it's better to talk face to face. What about you?"
O'Bannon shrugged, as much as the pilot seat's straps would allow her.
"Just the usual "I'm okay" texts. He's at the hospital with you-know-who, visiting."
"Right," Emma responded, green eyes all at once grim. "Best to be ready for anything, is my advice. The boys have a way of landing in trouble, y'know?"
O'Bannon snorted with laughter, swooping her shuttle down over Pacific Air Space.
"Oh, believe me, Em… I know. Tracy can't cross the street without…"
"…causing a ruckus, or having to settle one," her friend concluded the sentence, as Pacific Flight Authority OK'd her approach. Outside, black turned to blue and the stars faded away as Earth's atmosphere took hold. Her shuttle rattled and bounced, its forcefield flaring as it absorbed all that energy.
In the space of a few short breaths, the planet had gone from a serene, spinning globe alongside her, to a flat spread of ocean and jade-like islands, below. She ought to 've gotten used to that, by now, but the sight never failed to surprise her… kind of like gravity. (And a good thing she'd packed a bra, Ridley thought; the "blouse bunnies" did not enjoy that suddenly harsh downward pull.)
"Well," she mused, banking around to circle Hawaii. "Maybe we can help them get out of whatever flavour crap the universe is dishing out, this time."
Em rolled her eyes.
"It's a tough job," she joked.
"… but somebody's got to do it," Ridley concluded, smiling. "And women all over the globe salute your courage."
"He's not that bad," Emma laughed, "Except when he runs out of hair gel. Now that's a red-hot emergency."
"Or, no beer and pizza," added O'Bannon, chuckling fondly. "Send in the Marines!" Then, sobering up, "That's love, is it? Missing even the stupid stuff?"
Kraft's smile changed at that, growing softer; less merry.
"Yeah… I think it is," she said, as O'Bannon received permission to line up and land on runway twelve. "And I wouldn't trade it for anything; worry, heartache and all."
A sentiment they'd soon get to put to the test.
XXXXXXXXXX
Elsewhere, on a night of pale moonlight and gathering clouds-
Thing was, there were serpents in Paradise, and every haven had thorns.
"So, what 'd you want to tell me about?" John asked him, that night after dinner. They were back in their room, with the windows open to a gusting warm breeze. Lights off and supposed to be sleeping. The grey tabby sat on their cushioned window seat, folded up into "meatloaf mode"; limbs tucked in and tail curled close around.
Scott stared up at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars on their ceiling, picking out those familiar old patterns.
"I dunno, Little Brother… maybe it's only a dream… but I think I remember being some kind of rescuer. Part of something Dad started up, to help people in trouble. Does that make any sense?"
His brother's voice in the darkness was cautious.
"That Dad would start up his own rescue squad? Yeah… I could see him doing that, if he didn't stay with the Space Force and bring us all over to Mars Base, or something. So… we're like firemen? Or EMTs?"
Scott rolled over in bed, tucking one bent arm under his head, to frown at his shadowy brother. Outside, the wind had begun to pick up, driving shreds of cloud past a full, grinning Moon.
"All of the above, plus pilots and hackers, too, in your case and Alan's."
"Alan?" John blurted, sounding incredulous. "He's just a kid, Scott. Why would Dad put him up in an airplane and out into trouble?"
"Rocket," Scott corrected. "We go into space, John. You have your own station, up there."
John was silent a moment. Then,
"I made it to space? I'm an astronaut?" he asked, very softly.
"Yeah, Buddy. You made it. Top marks at the academy, two-year stint on Mars, with Commander McCord, then back home, after Dad… well, after he disappeared."
Weirdly, it all felt so dream-like, now; like a show he'd caught on TV, not his actual life. John digested this in silence for a bit, saying finally,
"He left us? Took off? We don't have very good luck in your fantasies, do we?"
Scott laughed at that because, y'know, it was sort of true.
"No… I guess we don't, with enemies all over the d*mn place, and only Grandma sticking around the whole time… plus Uncle Lee. He was there, too, pretty much. Then Dad came back, I think. We found him, or something." Couldn't recall the details, for some reason. Added, when John kept quiet,
"You think I'm crazy?"
Heard his brother's long hair hiss and swish on the pillow, as John shook his head.
"No… you sound alright to me. Just mighty confused. Didn't, um… hit your head, or fall in love again, did you? Last time you acted this weird, it was Sherry Knight's fault."
"No," Scott grunted impatiently, flopping over onto his back and folding both arms behind his head, fingers laced. "But I don't know what's true anymore, Little Brother. That life, or this. It's…"
So peaceful here, he'd been about to say, just as emergency weather alarms beeped to life in every room of their house.