PART ONE: THE LEAD*
There is a steady vibration that becomes part of who you are when you're on board Thunderbird Five. An underlying thrum of electricity, machinery, that can almost trick you into believing you're orbiting Earth in a living, breathing creature rather than a space station you helped design.
This is his home every other month, except when one of the other three of his brothers has to take their two weeks of duty in space. He doesn't mind switching off with Alan, but he finds the comparative silence of the air on Tracy Island leaves him feeling empty, like a part of him is missing.
And when he returns to this place he loves so much, while it leaves him more in solitude than when he's on the planet below, he comes alive again with the lighter-than-gravity artificial atmosphere and the gentle song of transmissions in every imaginable language surrounding him.
As much as Virgil believes his Thunderbird speaks to him; as much as Scott believes his 'bird responds to his every touch; as much as Alan believes his rocket listens to his words and Gordon believes his sub cradles him gently in the depths of the oceans, John believes his girl is alive.
Right now, she is telling him something he was hoping she wouldn't. Data flows across the monitor he's seated himself in front of and he frowns at the readout. For the past three months, he's been using Five's powerful antennae to monitor transmissions of high-frequency radio waves shooting into the ionosphere surrounding Earth.
It comes from the Ionospheric Research Instrument, IRI, being run by the High Frequency Active Auroral Research Program, known as HAARP. Located in Gakona, Alaska, it's a research program funded by the U.S. government that John's kept tabs on since Thunderbird Five first came on-line, simply because a friend from his days at Harvard University is now a researcher there.
Assured by the Navy and Air Force, by the University of Alaska and the Department of Defense's research arm that the transmissions weren't affecting the planet any further than by causing some interesting occurrences of the Aurora borealis over that part of the world, John's friend Devrat Verma had agreed to head up the team that maintained, and made improvements to, the phased array doing the transmitting of the signals.
Five picked up the signals herself, because of course they didn't just stop at the ionosphere. One of the things John had decided to check into during his rotations, was whether these signals were having any undue effect in space. What his girl's data is telling him now, is that they're having an impact all right. Not out there with him in space, but back on Earth.
Conspiracy theories abound as to what the military's really doing with HAARP, but John's one to go with cold, hard facts, and hasn't ever really bought into alarmists and their insistence that the world's out to get them and everyone else. However, data doesn't lie, and if what he's got in front of him means what he thinks it means, well…he shudders at the idea.
A call to Alaska is in order.
"Ah, John, my friend, tell me, what trouble are you getting yourself into on that space station of yours?"
"Now, how much trouble can I get into on a Tracy Aerospace research satellite, Dev?"
The Hindu man chuckles. "Point taken. What has your father tasked you with this month, pray tell?"
"It's not so much what my father's got me working on, as it is what you're working on."
Dev's face registers a bit of surprise. "The IRI?"
"Got it in one."
"Have you begun working with HAARP without telling me? John Tracy, you are a devious man, sneaking in under my radar this way."
John quirks a grin at him. "Not doing anything official, Dev, just my own tracking and monitoring of those signals you guys are beaming into the ionosphere."
A gentle frown creases Dev's forehead. "I'm not certain I understand. Are you doing something you should not be doing?"
"It's all above-board, honest. I'd really like to talk to you about this most recent data I've gathered, though."
"Is there a problem?"
"I don't know, Dev," John sighs, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair. This has the unfortunate effect of letting lose the cowlick he tries so hard to keep in check, and a curled wisp of hair falls over his forehead. "But I can tell you that I don't like what I'm seeing from the seismonitors in Alaska, and if I'm not mistaken, your Lens Effect on the outer edge of the ionosphere's gotten a little out of hand."
"Your data must be flawed. Only yesterday we completed a scan of the entire area our beams have been pinpointing for the past three years. The bulge in the ionosphere is no greater than it was last year, and the heated portion has not increased in temperature since last April."
"Six months ago, the ionosphere hadn't reached two hundred eighty-one Celsius," John counters, leaning forward and settling his elbows on his thighs. "Just let me send you what our little space station picked up, okay? Secure channel."
Dev tilts his head just a bit and gets a small smile on his face. "You wouldn't be turning into one of those conspiracy theorists whose only certainty in life is that the military wishes to destroy the very planet we all depend on for our survival, are you?"
"Hardly," John replies with an eyeroll. "Just take a look at what I've got, including the hypothesis I've developed based on my own interpretation of multiple pieces of ionic and signal data, and the extrapolation of my own findings from the AEIC**. We're talking a twelve-month timespan, so it may take you a while to get through it and check my calculations."
"Have no fear, the intrepid Dr. Verma is on the case!"
John grinned. "Namaste, bhai."
"Still keeping up with your Hindi, I see. Farewell, brother," Dev says with a tip of his hand off his forehead, and the video feed winks out.
John initiates the data transmission to Dev's secure line, then leans back in his chair again and looks up at the smooth metal ceiling overhead. He really hopes that somehow he's wrong in what he's found. That Dev will call him back tomorrow or the next day and tell him of his error, that he's missed something very simple indeed.
Either way, there's someone else he needs to talk to about his findings. John keys open one of International Rescue's encrypted lines to Base and breaks out into a full-blown grin when the sleepy-faced, bed-headed man who answers yawns unceremoniously.
"Not again," John says with a shake of his head.
"Oh, hi, er, John. Do you, uh, know what time it is down here for us mere, er, mortals?"
John glances sidelong at the digital time list atop the long bank of monitors that is Thunderbird Five's main control console. "Three in the morning."
"A-and what do we do at three in the morning?"
"What do we do, or what do you do? Typically, you're running a volatile experiment in the lab that somehow manages to wake the whole island even though you've got triple soundproofing and you're embedded in volcanic rock."
The man blinks and slides his large, blue-rimmed glasses onto his face. "The one time I decide to sleep," he mutters.
John chuckles. "Sorry, Brains. How was I supposed to know you've become a deviant of your own norm?"
"Ha. Ha." Brains scowls, rubs an eye beneath the lens of his glasses with two fingertips, and heaves out a sigh. "What's happening?"
"I've got some data I want to send you. You've heard of HAARP, I presume."
"Sure. I-it's the military project undertaken to investigate the, ah, potential for—why am I repeating this, you obviously already, er, know it yourself."
"That I do. A friend of mine's a researcher there. I've put together some information that started with me noticing a pattern to some of our rescues."
Brains suddenly appears wide awake. "Pattern?"
"Yeah, it was something about the locations we were being called out to, the types of disasters they were, the underlying cause behind each of them."
"Over what period o-of time?"
"The past twelve months."
"And this is the first I hear of it?"
"Hey, calm down, I'm not leaving you out of anything exciting on purpose. I had to be sure it wasn't just my imagination. Dev Verma's looking into this for me, sans any readings associated specifically with IR, of course."
"Send it right away, er, John. I'll start having a look at it right now."
"You betcha. And Brains?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry I woke you, man. Really."
"For something like this, I would have, er, admonished you much more severely if you hadn't!"
"I figured as much. Get back to me when you're through, will you?"
"Of course. Brains out."
Well, that's the most John can do at the moment. He's due a few hours' sleep anyway, so now's as good a time as any.
It takes Brains a little longer to sift through John's data than he anticipates, and before he knows it, he's switching duty with Gordon, whose face belies just how miserable his outlook is on the next two weeks of his mandatory space duty.
John does as he always does when it's Virgil or Gordon. He snipes at Gordo. Cajoles him. Pokes his ribs a bit, and in the end, leaves him with so much to do, that the two weeks will pass before Gordon knows what's hit him.
He also gives his younger brother a hug before he steps into the airlock. A quick wink and a smile, and John is homeward bound, never mind that it took him thirty-five minutes to get Scott to leave Gordon alone about everything. As far as John's concerned, 'field commander' equals 'mother hen.'
The view of his 'bird as Thunderbird Three takes him further from her never ceases to capture his attention. And the view of Earth soon fills the viewscreen. It's a welcome sight, too. He's looking forward to reconnecting with his family, and to putting his head together with Brains' to see what he thinks about the HAARP theory.
He and Scott chat easily back and forth about everything and nothing. When you've got the most sophisticated equipment surrounding you for a month at a time, nothing that happens in the world gets past you. Nothing that happens in your family gets past you, either.
Scott won't talk about the row he had with Virgil. John knows better than to pry. Scott's more than happy to fill him in, though, on the debacle that was Alan's foray into underwater explosive devices which nearly sent Thunderbird Four to an early, watery grave.
So far they've kept that one from Dad.
John shakes his head. Kids, he thinks. And they wonder why one month Earthbound at a time is plenty for him.
*Lead: To be the first climber up a pitch and to place protection along the way while being belayed by a partner from below.
**Alaska Earthquake Information Center