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17

Thunderbird 3, in orbit around Mars-

On the theory that he was bigger, and therefore easier to spot, Alan had slipped his Bird into high orbit. Not pinging, or generating any real comm noise, but blazing every light that he had and, well… sort of shimmying. Picked up two of those Interceptors; one in good shape, one partly destroyed. The fighters were short-range vehicles, not meant to spend loads of time in space. More hit-and-run types; and too far from Mars to make it back, before they ran out of fuel (especially since only the towing space-fighter had any).

Alan got the pilots close enough to their base to head home, giving Lieutenants Singer and Reeves a cheery wave on the way out. Stayed between them and that giant alien ship, too, long enough to see them safely around the limb of the planet. Then, he parked Thunderbird 3, circling Mars like a bloodhound.

Finding the Chaos Cruiser was tough. Alan had to let them come to him, which took almost three hours. He'd been going nuts; forcing himself not to call out or scan, putting off heading for Mars base, and singing a hundred dang verses of 'The Song That Never Ends', when finally, he saw them.

"Woo-hoo!" Alan exulted, punching the air and bouncing against his seat straps. "There they are!"

His brothers hadn't crashed into the derelict, been captured and sold by space pirates, or any of the thousand other horrible things his worries had conjured. So, okay, that was the frickin' Chaos Cruiser, and he couldn't actually talk to anyone… some kind of wrist comm interference, now… but, at least he wasn't just waiting around.

Back in his element, the young astronaut used his steering rockets to roll Thunderbird 3, so that her docking hatch faced the oncoming Cruiser. Best if they did most of the fine maneuvering, being so much more agile. His job was just to wait for hook-up and boarding… and hope that it really was Scott, Virgil and Gordon in there.

"Okay, Scott… I know that's you," he muttered, "'Cause nobody else is gonna drive, unless they tie you up, first… Nice and easy, just like the sim. Bring her in… NO! Too close, too close! Whew, that's better… there you go! Match speeds and roll 3.5 degrees starboard…"

And so on. Of course, Scott couldn't actually hear him, but it always made Alan feel better to talk. He and the cruiser matched speeds, floating side by side over the dry, barren surface of Mars. The smaller ship nuzzled as close as a newborn baby whale, making little darts and jets of gas to align itself with Thunderbird 3. Alan helped out some. The Mechanic (or somebody) altered their hatches to fit without a boarding tube, and the two ships at last came together; docking with a loud, booming clang and the hiss of matched air pressure.

The golden-blond astronaut unstrapped in a hurry, grabbed something vaguely weapon-like, and then soared off for the airlock. Y'know… just in case his boarders turned out to be space pirates, after all.

Caught himself on a bulkhead brace and stopped, when he saw Virgil come swooping in, towing a bungie-cord string of bobbing and crashing, frozen villains. The Hood and Chaos Crew, caught in mid-threat and savage snarl, like the world's ugliest string of Christmas tree lights. Alan blinked, and then started to laugh, doubling up in midair as his spanner went drifting away.

"What… how…?"

"Laugh it up, Gumdrop," growled Virgil. "They're all yours, now. Find a storage locker, or something, and bar the outside. No way Scott's leaving them behind." With the Mechanic, he did not say aloud.

Alan had busted out whooping so hard that he cried, and had to wipe twin, quivery tear-domes off of both eyes.

"Oh, crap…" he gasped, accepting the tow-rope. "That's awesome. What happened? You guys ran into Medusa, or something?"

"No," said Scott, gliding in, next. "We bumped into a kid with some really weird time powers. Ask Gordon… after you deal with our 'guests'."

Alan cocked his blond head like a curious monkey, flicking the Hood's stony cheek with a forefinger.

"Will they stay like this?" he asked, moving down the line to peer at Havok, who seemed to be in pain; nose and ears bloodied, eyes squinted half-shut.

"Long as he's here," replied Scott, jerking his head at Gordon, who'd just come aboard with a very young, wide-eyed boy.

"Hey, Buddy!" cried Alan, delightedly. (Anytime he wasn't the youngest, was a good day for Al.) "Welcome aboard! How's it going?"

Only, the little guy didn't seem very friendly. Sort of scared and confused, clinging tight to Gordon's right hand.

"It's okay, Kiddo," said the swimmer. "He's my other other brother. Sort of goofy, but you get used to him, after awhile."

Really? That was it? Goofy, but tolerable in small doses? Alan scowled at his jerk-face brother, moving in close and snapping,

"Yeah?! Well…"

"No!" Gordon cried out…

…and then Alan blinked, having apparently blacked out for a few seconds. Like, woke up in a totally different place, with Scott and Virgil around him, looking worried.

"You okay, Al?" asked his oldest brother, seizing both of his shoulders in an iron-hard grip.

"Uh, yeah… fine, I think. Why?"

"Nothing," Scott sighed, letting go.

Added Virgil,

"No more yelling. No sudden moves at Gordon or Charlie, until he figures out we're all friends."

Charlie? That kid? Alan looked around, super-confused to find himself down in Medical.

"How'd I get here?" he asked. "What the heck just happened?"

"You got time-locked," Scott told him, moving away, now that Al was awake, again. "Fill him in, Virge. I've got to get back to the cockpit."

As their always-busy, very stressed older brother left the cabin, Virgil turned back to Alan, saying,

"Long story, Sprout. Got a minute?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

FAB-1, coming down over Clarendon-

The family hunting-lodge was an ancient stone palace. Set in a lush, park-like wood, it had been leased to the Creighton-Wards by a cash-strapped royal in 1533. It was a grand old place, built of dressed flint and lime-washed masonry. Charmingly ramshackle, too, with its four buildings and gatehouse gathered conspirator-close round a paved central courtyard.

It was there that Parker touched down, after having shaken his passengers like dice in a cup, getting shed of that drone. FAB-1 came in with a low, humming roar, settling to the flagstones with a very slight creaking of springs and gimballing tyres; creating a whirlwind of leaves.

The gatekeeper turned out in surprise, along with the family's game warden. No other staff appeared, for the tenants had not been expected back for another month.

"Milady!" cried Morris, her stout, cheerful gatekeeper. "There's nothin' prepared, Ma'am! We hadn't thought…"

Penelope stepped from the limousine with a hand-up from Parker; appearing somewhat battered and damp, but luminous in the fading light of late autumn.

"No matter, Morris. It is a mere visit. We should prefer as little notice as possible, if you please. Sandwiches, tea and mead in the hall. Build up a fire, as well. The Colonel has taken a chill, and we've a half-drowned young lady in need of assistance. You might ring the village doctor."

"Yes, Milady," said the white-haired, treasured old servant. "Chilton, help Her Ladyship's guests inside!"

Beside the doctor, Morris managed to produce a daughter, Elspeth, to assist at the house. Rather impressive, how homey she made the old lodge, and how swiftly she managed a meal.

As the doctor attended young Zara, upstairs, Jeff and Penelope waited in the great hall. A fire had been lit in the big, marble-pillared hearth, which looked capacious enough to roast a whole ox. Its flames crackled and leapt, mumbling logs like a contented old dog with a beef shank. Tapestries and portraits hung on the walls, giving the giant room a bit of color. Furniture was a mix of heavy old wood and worn crimson velvet.

Jeff sat on a chair that was probably older than he was. He faced the flames, feeling tired, but restless. Drank the warm mead that Elspeth had brought, finished a third ham sandwich, and considered what to do next. Having already called Brains about the confiscated wrist comm, the Colonel had other problems.

His presence here… and Zara's… might very well endanger Penelope. After all, the hunting lodge was no secret. Once they'd failed to turn up in Creighton-Ward manor, this, and the family's Australian estate, would be next on the list of logical hiding places. After that, Tracy Island. Question was, where could he go that Shaw wouldn't expect?

'Scotland,' he decided. D*mned if he'll be set for the badlands, or willing to follow me in.'

Setting his pewter cup down on a low-crouching table, Jeff turned to his hostess and said,

"Penny, I have to leave, and take the girl along with me."

XXXXXXXXXX

The Chaos Cruiser, near enough to that alien ship to keep watch-

He'd been temporarily robbed, but was learning patience. After all, there was more than one way to get at the Hood, and a wise man made use of his resources.

"Beech," the Mechanic rumbled, "come here."