A little bit more. Can't be the end, because I hate to stop with an even number. :/ Gotta be odd. Prime, if possible. Thank you, Bow Echo and Creative Girl, for your kind reviews. I am not the master of brevity that Echo is, but this one is short.

36

Tracy Island-

Very carefully, Jeff moved; maintaining the stance and direction that kept all his parts still connected. Something like walls streamed horribly past and through him. Light dripped, puddled and streamed, in that chilly-pale shade that said: fluorescent paneling. Still in the lab, then.

He stumbled onward… or leapt, or surged… hard to tell, except that small moves on his part seemed to yield huge gains, yardage-wise. Anyway, tough to think. Too much (literally) going through his mind. But, he needed an open, safe place to take off the… the thing. The dimension walker. It buzzed at his wrist; strongly, when he'd faced the wrong way and started to drift, more gently when he was back out of danger. Didn't want to risk coming out inside of a wall, or the dining room table, so Jeff kept on moving.

Then, he at last felt Morse code gusts of wind. Smelled occasional bursts of ocean. Outside. He'd escaped the lab and mountain. Swallowing hard and muttering half a Hail Mary (the part he remembered), Jeff tore off that bogus wrist comm and threw it as far away as he could. Instantly, several things happened. The world jerked itself right again, like a billowing, unfolded shirt. He could see straight and breathe deeply, once more. Then, he started to fall, being an unfortunate fifteen feet above open water, at the Island's windward side.

The dimensional walker was caught in midair by one of his hovering nanny-bots, but Jeff simply plunged, wind whistling past till he struck water, hard. Bubbles and current swirled in his ears. Warm, bitter seawater shot up his nose, and had to be snorted back out again, once he broke surface. Had the wedgie of a lifetime, too. Jeff sculled and began treading water, riding those tall, hissing swells like a cork. He'd always hated ditching at sea, and the experience wasn't much better without an aircraft.

The Maxes (or two of their clones) zipped and banked overhead, flashing and beeping excitedly.

"Shut… hunh, hunh… up!" he cough-gasped ferociously. "Not… a d*mn… word, to anyone! Get home… myself."

And then, Jeff started to swim for a big, dark splotch on the near horizon, jeweled with flickering lights. The sky behind it still glowed deep blue with bent sunshine, and the first few jittering stars. (Though that effect was fading, as the time and gravity waves settled down.) It was a nice night for a swim, he was Jeff Tracy, and nothing had happened. Nothing at all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In transit-

The probe employed a weak carrier wave, which was boosted at a primary satellite station, and once again at a central receiver, halfway to the third world. Most of the streaming data-traffic from fourth world was being routed to ping an island, while the rest went on to a large, carbon-base authority site.

The survivor was uncertain, yet. Did not know enough to avoid making errors, and preferred to avoid attention. For that reason, at the moment of decision, he switched his signal to the island, which pulsed with data, but not many lifeforms. There were machines present, though few of them sapient, and none at all Ancient. No threat of capture, for one who was cautious.

From fourth world to third, sixty-four time parts. To the island, another one-and-a-half. Then, uncertain where to release his host (which was clearly unwanted by its fellow organics), Survivor flashed in through the main antenna, and skated the area broadband. Settled among grouped images on a sturdy, dry wall, as dots and lines on an image frame. As for his erstwhile host...

The Hood materialised in mid-chamber, where several Carbon-bases had met to exchange data. There was immediate excitation.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

So, Colonel Tracy emerged from the centre lift, grumpy, tired and damp, still toweling off. His mother's eyebrows flew up at the sight of him, stomping through the doors in one of Scott's ill-fitting (but dry) uniforms. Penny, Kayo and Zara turned, too; questions rising like bubbles in orange soda.

Then… no lie… out of literally nowhere, the Hood showed up, looking wild and deranged. Like a d*mn God-send. An effing excuse. Jeff, Kayo and Penny all lunged at once, but Colonel Tracy got there first, and busted that bastard right in the face, hard enough to break the monster's nose, and drop him right in his tracks. Struck with all the force of a pissed-off Tracy, the Hood staggered, swung halfway around, and then just collapsed to the ground, spraying blood and broken teeth.

Jeff split his own knuckles doing it, but d*mn, that felt good.