14

Thunderbird 5, in geosynchronous orbit over Tracy Island-

Having docked in a hurry, skipping most of the safety protocols, Captain O'Bannon came sailing in through the guest entrance. Wasn't much distracted by rings, or anything else, because Kayo and Eos were suddenly busy. On the bright side, she knew her way around the station by now, and was quite accustomed to encountering John waist-deep in machinery, tinkering.

She found him in the dome's central core, un-installing something. Almost done, too, by the look of things. As he was surrounded by a small, carefully placed galaxy of bolts and tools, she came in at a shallow angle, and stopped well short. Even so, the air currents produced by her micro-G glide stirred up his cloud of machine parts, making them orbit him.

John looked surprised, pleased, and complex to see her. Always more than one thing going on in there, she'd learnt.

"Wait… don't tell me you didn't send that message, and it was some kind of trick to get me away from Global-1?!" she snapped. Ridley O'Bannon had never forgotten the Hood.

But John shook his head. As always, his sheer physical beauty came as a wavering shock. One of the reasons she rarely brought him to her station, was that no one ever got anything done, with Tracy floating there, looking like that.

"No, Captain," he told her, pressing a virtual switch. Instantly, a swarm of Mini-Maxes swooped in like gulls to seize all those floating mechanical bits and bobs. "I just wanted your ship."

"The Mark IV?" she asked, watching the Maxes dart, wheel, snatch and fly off. "Why? I thought the plan was to refit your Bird, just in case you need sudden mobility."

John grunted, flipped a small spanner to one last, hovering Max, and then glided on over to join her.

"That was plan G, Captain. We're all the way up to K.2, now. It's complicated." By this time, he'd got there, pulling O'Bannon as close as two spacesuits and terrible haste would let him. "I need to reach Mars… within the next few hours… Can I requisition a ship… without getting you in trouble?"

Tough to think while being kissed like that, so she pushed him away just a little.

"Four of your brothers are out there, already, plus the Mechanic. What can you do that's different, Lieutenant?"

An opening as wide as a barn door, that was, but Tracy took her seriously.

"I can code fast enough to figure out how an inorganic, hostile lifeform functions and thinks, Captain. Lee's present, and Kayo… probably. They can get another generator from Brains, and finish up, here. I need to be there. It's important."

O'Bannon thought fast, one hand pressed flat to his broad, blue-suited chest, the other tucked through his golden utility sash.

"A few hours?" she probed cautiously. "As in, you could have it back by tomorrow afternoon, 1300 ST? Because then I can code its use under miscellaneous, personal… You'll have to retcon the log, though."

"And it won't impact your record, or harm your career?" He asked, both hands gentle-tight on her spacesuited waist. The station's central dome turned gently around them, but all they saw was each other.

"I'll be fine," she maybe sort-of half lied. "You're the one with the complete disregard for personal security. Need me to come along, Tracy?"

John moved a hand. Touched her face. His gloved fingers felt warm, there; not like a spacesuit, at all.

"No," he said. "I need you here, ready to help with evacuation, if that proves necessary." He needed to know she was safe.

Ridley might have argued, but Captain Taylor soared into the dome, through the hab entry.

"Change o' plan?" he guessed, tossing them a couple of food packs, and pre-warmed coffee bags. "Eat. Everthin' makes more sense wunst you've got outside o' sumthin', even if it's just space food."

He was right about that, and the peanut butter and jelly sandwich meal was one of her favourites. Tough to screw up.

"What's this fool tryin' t' sell ya, Robbie?" the handsome old astronaut joked, slapping John's back. (Fortunately, Eos steadied them all with an artful ballet of air currents.)

"I need to borrow the car," Tracy explained, smiling. Then, growing serious again, "They're in trouble, out there."

Lee's bushy brown eyebrows lowered over those pale, blue-grey eyes.

"Then I guess ya better get movin', Jase. Me 'n Tina c'n hold th' fort, here. Take it y'll be needin' th' generator?"

"Yessir," John nodded. "But I'll bring it back in one piece." He'd finished his cheese sandwich in two rapid bites. Drained the coffee bag dry and twisted, as well. Hadn't realized that his stomach craved something to do. Just like… every once in a while… he actually needed to sleep. Needed other things, too, maybe.

The red-haired astronaut reached over and seized the back of O'Bannon's head, half-pulling her black-and-white snoopy cap off. Auburn hair sprang loose as he drew her in and kissed her forehead, through a seaweed jungle of drifting long strands.

"I'll bring the ship right back, too. With me in it," he promised, letting her go.

Captain O'Bannon nodded, not really expecting anything further. John Tracy wasn't verbally demonstrative. Never had been. Hit like a cannonball, when he said,

"I love you."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The space pod, tumbling away from Mars, and that derelict alien ship-

He was safe, for the moment, but out of control and disoriented, with nothing but dark, star-pocked space filling the windows. No sign of the Interceptors, or Thunderbird 3. Still, Virgil reasoned, they had to be somewhere nearby. Mars, too. Just a matter of getting that spin back under control.

Wanted to send a signal, but he'd gotten Pete's message. No contact, no cries for help. Just wait for pickup, hoping somebody knew where he was.

The handsome pilot began working his pod controls, adjusting throttle and steering rockets until the little spacecraft righted itself and stopped whirling. Without scanners, space was a mighty big place, but… there. He'd located red, swollen Mars.

You'd think that a ship as big as Thunderbird 3 would be easy to find, visually, but it wasn't. All of that spreading chaff, the two speeding moons and necklace of satellites made it tough to spot one IR rocket. He saw the impactor, though; still big as a land-sliding mountain, even from here. Still pointed directly at Earth; blue and pale in the distance.

Something happened to the controls, then. He'd been sitting there, getting his bearings, big hands loosely gripped to the throttle and joystick. Jumped a solid foot when the nav gear started to move on its own.

Virgil grunted in shock, and let go; leaning as far back from those haunted controls as the small pod would let him.

"What the h*ll…?" he muttered, as the pod flipped around, and then began zipping through space like an arrow. Where was he going? Had the alien ship managed to wrest control of his guidance computer? Fighting the stick got him nothing but a painful electric jolt. Twice.

Well, he was wearing a helmet. He could eject. Or… not. Pulling the red handle didn't work, either. The canopy refused to blast open, and the catapult under his seat wouldn't fire.

"Well… sh*t. Looks like I'm taking a ride."

Virgil triggered his short-range wrist comm alert, while groping around for plan B.

XXXXXXXXXXX

London, former U.K., outside the WorldGov Chancellery building-

His message had been received, and relayed. Jeff had no sooner left the imposing stone chancellery, than a familiar pink limousine purred up to the kerb, custom-made tyres crunching on pavement.

Jeff Tracy lifted a hand as the big, sleek car pulled to a stop in front of the building's grand staircase. Even in back, the place was ornate and well-guarded. He had his ID checked, yet again, and was cheerfully waved on by WorldGov security. Meanwhile, Parker leapt out of the driver's seat and strode over to open and hold the car door.

"Good h-afternoon, Mister Tracy," said the muscular, grey-haired chauffeur; blue eyes trained on that perfect middle distance.

"Afternoon, Parker. Thank you."

Jeff ducked his tall frame into the limousine, to find Penny inside, with Sherbert. Once again, he was treated to dog-breath and slobbery kisses, as the ecstatic pug leapt up to plant both front paws on his chest and lick his face.

Parker shut the door and went back around to the driver's seat, as Jeff greeted his hosts, and strapped in.

"Thank you, Lady Penelope," he said, handing back that eager small dog. "And Sherbert." (Closest thing he had to a grandchild, at the moment.) "Good of you to pick me up, like this."

"Of course, Jeff," Her Ladyship replied, trying to force images of what she and Scott had done in this car from her thoughts. Managing a smile and graceful nod, she enquired,

"You'll wish to return to your office, I presume?"

Jeff shook his head, as Parker pulled their vehicle away from the Chancellery and back to the road. Not much ground traffic, but then, there never was.

"Not yet, Penny. I'd like you to find someone, first. Only have a first name, but she's one of Shaw's interns. Zara something. She tried to warn me about the Chancellor, and I'm worried that he'll… I'm worried. Want to be sure she's okay."

Lady Penelope kissed Sherbert's nose, then set him down on the leather seat between herself and the Colonel, saying,

"Be a good wee lad… there's a luv. Mummy's working, Dearest."

Then, Penny drew a special gold compact from her vintage black Chanel boy-bag.

"Zara, you say? No ID code, I expect? No? Pity, but there are always workarounds… employee lists… Ah. Here we are. Pretty thing, isn't she? Looks rather like me."

The lovely young noblewoman smiled, at that, unconsciously fussing with her blonde up-do. Then, as she learnt more, Penny's smile faded.

"Oh, dear…" she said. "Would have no reason to be out in Battersea Creek, would she?"

"No," Jeff snapped, "she wouldn't. Parker!"

"H- Already movin', Mister Tracy. H-If y'll send those coordinates, Milady, we'll fly there, quick as never-you-mind."

Penelope pressed one of the jewels on her compact.

"Done, Parker. Do hurry, please. The poor dear is sinking."