Hi, again! =) Just me, checking in with a chapter. Your kind reviews and comments are very much appreciated, as are suggestions. Creative Girl, Bow Echo, Tikatu, Whirl Girl and Guest, thanks!

6

Space, between the orbits of Earth and Mars, in the hurtling Chaos Cruiser-

They'd set off a number of remote perimeter satellites, thanks to their vessel's speed and its mass, which could not be effectively cloaked. Interceptors had been launched from Mars and the Moon, according to Fuse. Annoying, yes. Disastrous, no. The Hood would have preferred to face the Tracys later, at a time of his choosing, with a swarm of devouring nanites behind him, but… no matter. He was well-enough armed, already. Hideously so.

Something had happened to alter reality. He was aware of the loop, where at least two mighty timelines came together and battled for dominance. Which one would emerge from that Gordian knot was uncertain, but the Hood found those extra perspectives highly enlightening. To put it more simply, he now knew what not to do.

He'd also learnt where and just how to capture certain quite useful weapons, which he would very soon need. Through Tanusha's eyes, he watched the furor on Tracy Island that presaged a launch, and sneered, caressing the arms of his throne-like command seat. This time, International Rescue was very badly outgunned; their plans wide open to inspection. Better yet, they now harboured not one, but two potential traitors, because the Mechanic was not free of him, no matter what that robotic behemoth might choose to believe.

"By all means," purred the Hood, gazing out at the distant red disk that was Mars. "Come try to balk me again, International rescue. You shall find me more than prepared!"

Hearing the barmy old coot mumbling away behind her, again, Havok turned in her own seat to look at him.

"Talkin' to me, was you, Guv?" she enquired.

Off at the tech station, Fuse rolled his dark eyes. Couldn't accomplish that feat without making a rude noise, unfortunately. Then again, His Nibs was too loosely-packed in the grey-stuff to notice. So, there you were; Havok, stuck in the Cruiser with as daft a pair as ever fled lock-up. Toss in the Hood's special "cargo", and she was flying a ruddy lunatic bin.

"Hold your tongue and fly the ship!" her employer hissed, like a viper disturbed at his plotting. "We must arrive before the Tracys do! We must gain entry!"

"Aye, Guv. Just as you say," Havok grumped.

Rather sucked, it did, having to work for a living… but if their share of the take was as large as the Hood had promised, she and Fuse could pay off what they owed for all their equipment and implants. Then, they could turn to more lucrative crimes, instead of just ferrying nutters liked Hoodwink, back there.

For this reason, Havok flipped her brother another Milk Bar to quiet him, and poured on the speed. Things were about to get nasty… in the very best possible way.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Tracy Island, Hangar 3-

The launch silo rang with talk and activity, as Scott snapped commands and planned strategy. Virgil was a major part of things. Really. He just also had a certain phone number stuck in his head. One that he needed to call, before all h*ll started slinging big globs of sh*t at the active volcano of Tracy existence.

Picking his moment, the big, dark-haired pilot ducked into a blast-shelter alcove, and whipped out his private phone. Wasn't supposed to have that during a mission, but, hey… what Scott didn't know, wouldn't hurt him, and Virgil had someone important to call. A scent, a touch, a half-recalled laugh, and a feeling. Emma Kraft, Union Jack's newly promoted captain. He knew her… and much more than that.

Looking swiftly around to be sure that no one was watching, Virgil punched numbers into the keypad. Waited what seemed like forever for the call to go through to her ship, then get relayed. She didn't pick up, at first, and the call clicked over to 'leave message'. Well, y'know… ship's captains were busy. He got that. It's just…

beep!

At the tone, Virgil started to talk, trying to make sense of a messed-up tangle of feelings and half-glimpsed impressions.

"Hey… it's me, Virgil Tracy. Um… we met after the Mechanic busted up the house, and you guys came over to help. I, uh… I know this is gonna sound funny, but I feel like there's more to us than just friendship, Angel. I feel like we're supposed to be… I dunno… together. So, I know you're busy, but I'm headed out on a mission, now, and…"

"Stop!" a woman's breathless voice jumped on the line, just as Virgil was starting to say his goodbyes. "Don't you dare ring off, Mister!"

"Emma?" he asked, beginning to smile. Stood up straighter, too, and ran a big hand lightly across his gelled hair, to be sure it was set right.

"Yeah. It's me. Sorry, had to leave the bridge and take it in private. Captain O'Bannon called, too, and she said… she said it was okay. That you… all of you guys… were safe, now. I just thought, I mean, maybe it's better if…"

"No," Virgil told her. "It's not better, and never will be, again, if you aren't part of my life, Em. There's, uh… some stuff I gotta tell you about, once I know more, myself, but, hey… I'm still the hottest guy you ever met, and you know you want me."

The strangled sound on the other end could have been laughter, or the start of a sob. Maybe both.

"Confident, aren't you?" she teased, at last.

"When it comes to you, absolutely, Angel. Like I say, I got some stuff to handle, but I'll be happy to make your re-acquaintance, just as soon as you can get back here. I promise, it'll be earth-shaking."

"All that, huh?"

"And then some. I love you, Emma Kraft. I always will. Come on home, and let me prove it, again, and again, and…"

"Okay! Understood. Message received, Tracy. I don't make my own orders, but we'll find some excuse to slip Jack into port."

"Heh! And then, I'll slip…"

"Right! Gotta go; Admiral McBig-brass, on the other line. Love you, Taz. Stay safe, and come back in one piece."

Virgil grinned, leaning against the alcove's concrete wall like she was right there in front of him.

"Any special part you want back in one…"

"Union Jack, out!" she blurted, cutting the call.

All hot and bothered, now, Virgil took a second to get himself back under control. There was a definite swagger present, when he left that blast-alcove to rejoin the others. Mission accomplished.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Almost simultaneously, just thirty-one yards away to the right-

John had had an idea. Two of them, really; one smarter than the other, but desperate times call for dumbass ploys, y'know? So, the astronaut strode over to where Scott was assigning teams, pointed upstairs and said,

"Fifteen minutes."

His brother scowled.

"Make it five," he ordered.

"Ten," countered John, prepared to become insubordinate, if he really had to. Luckily, Scott didn't push it.

"Ten," he agreed, adding, "Hurry."

No problem. John had already summoned the space elevator, which would have landed, by the time he got up to the pad.

"John," Eos asked him, as he was vaulting stairs, three at a time. "What are you doing?"

"Oh…" he panted, up there where the crowd noise was less, except for basic launch prep. "Just letting a genie out of his bottle, and hoping he isn't too pissed."

See, in this timeline, somehow, Jaeger had never been freed of that AI trap. He was still up there in Thunderbird 5's most secure, inaccessible lockdown, waiting for John M. Tracy to do something dumb. Eos' response was immediate, and predictable.

"John, are you certain that this course of action is wise? The Hunter's AI system is untested since capture. Releasing it could…"

"Make things worse how, Pretty Girl? I'm betting he's the same basic guy, and that he remembers that other timeline, too."

His AI companion wasn't at all reassured; tightening the environment suit's grip on his shoulders like she wanted to give him a sound, proper shaking.

"John, what can Jaeger accomplish that I am unable to do for you?"

The red-haired astronaut paused at the grey metal surface-lift doors, saying,

"He's a battle computer, Sweetie. He thinks like a pre-conflict soldier, and he's willing to fight dirty."

"If he remains on our side, which is a highly questionable supposition, John Tracy."

Ouch. Full names now, huh? As the lift doors whooshed open, John lunged inside, swung himself around with one hand to the threshold, and then slammed a fist on the red, flashing 'up' button.

"I know what I'm doing, Beautiful, trust me. We need all the help we can get, and nobody's better at controlling machines and equipment, not even Kane."

The lift lurched into motion, flinging them rapidly upward.

"Another who must not be trusted!" Eos insisted, as the lift reached top, and John muscled its doors apart. Bent one, but, oh well… that's why Brains had repair mechs, right? John sprinted the short distance from lift to launch pad, where the space elevator was already waiting, hatch open wide.

"Go!" he snapped, diving within and nixing the preflight. "Go, go, go!"

"Once would suffice, John," she complained, as a very slight sting hit his neck. "Your cortisol and adrenaline levels are quite elevated. Administering re-uptake chemicals, now."

"No sedatives," he ordered, strapping in with one hand, and pulling up 5's main computer, with the other.

"No sedation," she agreed, as his heart calmed, and he did begin feeling better. Admitted it, too.

"Thanks, Sweetie. Be ready to slam the lid back on, if I'm wrong… which I'm not."

"I shall prepare for the absolute worst. You do require a great deal of looking after, John. Whatever would you do, without me?"

John blinked. He'd never really thought about that. Then,

"I'd be lonely, again… and, yeah… probably dead by now. I'm glad you're here, Pretty Girl. You do good work, for a scrap of independent game code."

"And, for a mass of self-willed organic sludge laced with bubbling hormones, you manage quite well, also."

"Thanks, I think. Can we go any faster?"

The claws had released, as upstairs, the ring began spinning, reeling them home to the station.

"Certainly, John, provided you wish to arrive as an inch-high, bio-organic paste. Shall I increase speed?"

"Yeah. If I black out, wake me up. Long as I don't actually die, we're in business. Not in a hurry to go through that, again."

Because somewhere, like Schrodinger's unlucky cat, he was actually dead. Weird sensation. Like a cold, dark wall, with something distantly warm and… pulling at him… at the far side. The words to "Dead Man's Party" had never made more sense.

"Very well, John. Prepare yourself."

Eos increased their already serious speed, causing acceleration to crush down on John like a hammer. He didn't lose consciousness. Much. For very long. Just sort of mentally drifted, until they thunked into place, capture was achieved, and Eos spiked him awake.

He was up and unstrapped before full consciousness took hold, pulling himself in through the hatch and then soaring straight for the station's centre. Would have spent more time enjoying his flight, but time was exactly what they did not have, so John shot straight for the shielded main core, entered his ID, retinal scan, access code… the works.

Then came the moment when John had to open that cartridge-sized, red-blinking AI trap, and release what he hoped was a friend.

XXXXXXXXXX

Downstairs, in hangar 3-

Scott Tracy drummed his fingers, but didn't start yelling. John was right where he wanted him, anyhow. Just needed Thunderbird 5 ready to break orbit in a hurry, was all.

"Okay," he told them all. "Alan, you and I are in 3, with Gordon, Virgil and Kane. We'll go after that cloaked intruder. John's in 5, and I want Captain Taylor and Kayo in there, with him. Brains, you, Grandma and Caleb 'll hold the fort, here. Need you coordinating the mission, and…"

All at once, Scott stopped talking over all of those clattering, self-assembling drones and out-gassing engines, because someone had entered the big, booming room.

Lady Penelope stood in the background, not speaking. Just looking at him. She'd given Bertie to Parker, but all that Scott could see was her. He took a step forward, but Penny was already running. Then she was in his arms, caressing the back of his head and neck, half-crying, half-whispering his name; soft and insistently moving against him. And, just like that, just for a little while, nothing else mattered but the woman he loved.