Hi, there. =) Thank you for reading, and an especial deep bow to Tikatu, whose brilliant idea worked awesomely well in this chapter. Bow Echo, Creative Girl, Guest and Whirl Girl, I appreciate all your support and feedback.

3

In space over Tracy Island, in Thunderbird 5's central sphere-

John took advantage of all the emotional chaos, below, to do some private planning. He'd never had any faith in the power of big, public meetings to accomplish crap. The bigger and more numerous the mouths, the smaller the total brain-load, in his experience.

In a lab or cyberverse setting, he worked best with Brains, a good friend. On missions, he teamed well with Scott and Alan. Kayo, not so much, because emotional considerations tended to make him overly cautious. And, always, in every aspect of life, there was Eos.

If he found himself not very hungry, it was because she'd used ambient energy to reprocess his food, converting it, over and over, into something his body could use. If he hardly needed to sleep, it was down to her vacuuming up all those plaque-forming stress and exhaustion chemicals, before they could damage his brain.

In short, Eos was always there, inside and out, making for a pretty nearly sealed system. If he didn't think about it too hard, John Tracy was happy enough; right where he wanted to be, with an interesting challenge ahead. Because, d*mn… this was a big one.

C'mon, Brainiac, think.

World Council meeting wouldn't do any good, whatever Kane said. It was going to have to be them, International Rescue, with maybe the GDF and Mechanic along for backup. So…

Problem: Giant, alien derelict on a crash course for Earth, packed (maybe) with vicious, life-ending nanites. Couldn't open up Pandora's box for a look inside, because, yeah… not a suicidal moron.

Job one: shift vehicle trajectory.

Job two: end the threat, permanently

Options? Rolling a bit as he drifted, John considered his possibles. Plunge it into the Sun… time crystal manipulation, sending the derelict very far forward in spacetime, to heat death, or the Big Crunch… rift it into another, already lifeless dimension (win-win, that one; Earth would be happy, and so, presumably, would the nanites' programming).

Time frame? Right the h*ll now sounded pretty good. Scratch that. Yesterday, with a little help from the crystal.

Costs? A crap-ton of power, any way you looked at it. Rapid sunward acceleration, increasing the time crystal's effective range, and rifting space were all jaw-droppingly expensive solutions, power-wise. Wasn't sure Earth had all that to give, even with last-ditch, "All Whos together" cooperation. Have to put Scott on that one, John decided; he was the family diplomat.

Then again… maybe Kane hadn't been suggesting Chancellor Shaw's World Council? He didn't seem to have much respect for what he called "typicals". Wasn't in character for him to turn to them, now. Maybe the cyborg had another idea. Only one way to find out, John supposed, though it meant going downstairs, again.

Thinking deeply, the astronaut drifted inside of that beautifully lit up and functional micro-G sphere. The suit itself, prompted by Eos, issued small jets of air to keep him from bumping the bulkheads or consoles. Second best place to think (though he'd never admit it aloud) was down by the ocean, or riding a horse, with no place in particular you needed to be.

Then, just as he'd got comfortably sunk in detached, free-associative planning mode, Eos whizzed up and said,

"John, there is a visitor. A shuttle from Global-1 has requested docking clearance, but you are thinking, and not to be disturbed. Shall I send it away?"

Global-1? This muddled timescape had changed a great deal. John could sense that. But the big space station's commander, Captain O'Bannon, was… His blood pressure rose, and his heart rate and breathing sped up, until Eos hit him with some kind of chemical soothment.

"Stop it," John snapped. "Quit messing with my hormones, Eos, and let her in."

"Yes, John," his friend and guardian responded. Her tracked camera lens was some ways off, but he could see that its LED ring had gone all infrared sullen. "As you say."

"And no screwing around with the airlocks, Eos. There's nothing funny about explosive decompression." (At least twelve of his alternate selves knew this for a fact, according to Eos. Knew, as in past tense. Very past tense.)

There wasn't much sprucing up that John Tracy could do, in here, although he seemed to hear Virgil, urging him to comb his red hair and put on a clean shirt. He wasn't wearing a shirt, though. Just his blue, circuit-shot environment suit. Could dust that off a little, maybe…

Then, a voice from the airlock's comm system broke through his thoughts, saying,

"Lieutenant, put your helmet on, stat. I'm wearing full gear, and I've triggered a level-10 decontamination bath, but this is important. Acknowledge, Thunderbird 5!"

"Acknowledged, Global-1. Helmeting, now."

John was surprised… and not. Somewhen, he'd been frozen, suspended near death from an awful, unstoppable virus, to be thawed out much later as part of the cure. Then, he'd died. Made sense that O'Bannon wouldn't risk catching and spreading that sh*t. Plus, yeah… she outranked him. Better to play ball than piss-off a superior officer.

So, he reached out and fielded the helmet that Eos sent tumbling his way. That made John, too, start spinning, but much more slowly. Part of the reason he loved it up here was freedom from gravity, unrestrained flight, all that sheer beauty, and solitude.

Well… mostly solitude. Once he'd confirmed that his helmet was on and locked down, Captain O'Bannon came in through the "guest entrance". John met her down in the slow-spinning perma-glass ring, just as Earth rolled into view. Here, they could stand up and talk.

Sure enough, she was wearing full EVA gear, and still glistened with the most powerful antimicrobial spray that Eos could muster. For just an instant, they stared at each other; grey eyes to sea green. He didn't quite know what to say, because females, other than Kayo, Grandma and Eos, were a complete and total mystery. At last, she said,

"Are you all right, Tracy?"

Inside of his helmet, John nodded.

"Yes, Captain. I'm fine. I don't think that the illness exists, in this splinter of spacetime. Won't get you sick, if that's what…"

"Me?! Get me sick?!" she flared suddenly, beginning to leak from her eyes (a little). The tracks glowed in Earthshine, subtly blue.

Impulsively, John reached out to touch her big, bulky white spacesuit, but O'Bannon jerked away from his hand. He didn't pursue her, even though she was quite definitely crying, now; and inside of a helmet, which made no sense, at all.

"Not w- worried about me, Lieutenant! Goddam scared to death for you! I remember, I know, somehow, and I'm not going… not ever going to do anything that puts you at risk, John. If I'm carrying anything, I'll space myself, rather than pass it to you! I just… wanted to be sure you were here. Wanted to see you, is all. I'm fine. Be okay, and I'll go now."

Females.

"Hang on, Captain. Eos!"

"Yes, John," chirped his AI companion, from a fast-zipping overhead camera. "Shall I vent the ring? You will need to be braced, as I sweep for persistent foreign contaminants."

Really? Double-plus females.

"No, Eos. I want you to scan Captain O'Bannon down to her quarks. Check for any and all bio-contaminants, and eliminate same. Understood?"

The AI was rebelliously quiet, as something like hope began to grow in O'Bannon's wide, steel-grey eyes.

"Understood?" John repeated, a bit of an edge creeping into his voice.

"Understood, John. Scanning for no doubt a plethora of STDs and fungal infestations. Most likely riddled with parasites, as well."

"End commentary, Eos. Just do it."

Longest three-minute wait of his life… but John took his helmet off, anyhow. The h*ll with it. If staying safe meant that he couldn't even…

"Scan complete. No viral contamination detected, beyond incipient rhinovirus or 'common cold' infection. Antivirals may be acquired via link with the bulkhead bio-med station."

O'Bannon was shaking, a little. Still too spooked to react, maybe. Risking an Article-15… court-martial, even… John took hold of her helmet, flipped a few tabs to get it unlocked, and then twisted it free of her neck-ring.

"I'll take my chances with catching cold," he told Ridley, using a gloved hand to swipe at her tears. Her own spacesuit gloves were too bulky for that. "Besides, there's always aspirin, fluids and plenty of rest."

Earth was rolling past at their feet, blue and white as Dad's favourite snow globe. O'Bannon leaned her face into his hand, still trembling with shock and something like love. He knew that, now. Tricky to deal with, though.

"Um… want some pizza? I've got plenty, and it'd be no problem to heat some up. If there's one thing I know how to do, Captain, it's nuke and rehydrate."

She turned her face so that, just for a second, her lips brushed the palm of his glove, which he could feel, soft and warm. Then,

"Yes, thank you, Lieutenant. I'd like that very much. Then... maybe you could fill me in on that sudden no-fly zone that's just been declared. Casey, herself, no less."

Back on safe ground, again, holding her chunky-gloved hand, John nodded.

"Sure thing. Maybe you can help me work through a few options for a small problem I've got, while we're at it."

The words "sure thing" and "at it" made O'Bannon have to bite her lip to stifle a giggle. But… John was safe, he was alive, he was right here… and she found herself just about drunk with relief because of all that. He smelled good, and she soon found a moment, there in the galley, pizza warming up in the background, to thoroughly kiss him.

XXXXXXXXXX

Tracy Island, upstairs-

He was online, typing madly away in a closet, at a quick-summoned virtual screen. Yeah, stuff was going on, downstairs, but this mattered, too.

Hi im alan… U thr?

Y/ hi alan…Sup?

im a big fan

cool… subscribe yet?

LOL…Duh! Love how U took out those walkers at teh mall… gr8 AR at teh fountain

Thnx bro… nice to B noticed… got all dunked, tho… LOL

Alan Tracy's heart crashed around in his skinny chest, there on that pile of old clothes and table cloths. (Upstairs hall closet, not far from the bathroom. Literal frickin' only place he could get some alone time.) She'd told him about that fountain incident, before; how she'd fallen right into it, in front of a million people.

not a meme this time R U? he typed, feeling something sting at his eyes.

ROFL… Bleev it… only bad pub is no pub… meme = fame, bro

Alan grinned, his freckled face lit up by screen-glow.

know wht U mean, Pip… culd meet sometime? no weerd. just frndz.

It seemed like forever before she typed back,

sorry… just got pinged frm WLDGV! (row of emojis, none of them good). Thy wnt 2 C me! wot 4?

Well, that he could help her with, totally.

Sok… thy wnt U 4 space pilot… like 2 fly? culd teach U

right… WTFug?

Taking a deep breath, fingers flying, Alan responded,

trust me pls… its alan tracy… tell thm Y/ pip

And then, as inspiration struck,

U cn hunts zombeez on traC Ilnd… nobodeez dn tht B4

A moment passed, as though she'd had to verify his link and ID. Then,

LOL… ur weerd… i lk it… ok… sed Y/

W00t! C U soon hopes

C U, A-T… g2g class (snoozing emoji)

Alan wanted to kiss that beautiful virtual screen, and the purple-haired girl on the other side of it. Settled for,

hv funs… l8r pip

l8r… O/L

He'd done it. She'd be there. Alan Tracy cut off the screen and sat back, pulling up lots of outgrown clothing and linens to hug. Piper was coming. She'd be there, just like she'd promised somewhen, otherwhere else.