Another mini, because it just seemed to stand alone. Might be all for this weekend, unless the writing bug bites again. Thank you, Creative Girl, Tikatu and Thunderbird Shadow, for reading and reviewing... and "Hi, there!", Dragon Mage. =)

37

The rumbling and changing Red Planet, near Mars Base-

Admiral McCord had heard Alan's comment… he had a helmet comm, just like everyone else… and now, he signaled the young man aside. Not out of sight, as Charlie's time-lock effect didn't cover much ground, but enough to be private.

The boulders and lava-bombs were appreciably closer than they had been, and Thunderbird Prototype was on the ground, ready for loading, but Pete had something to say. Motioning Alan to cut off his comm, the Base Commander did the same, then stepped forward until their helmet faceplates were touching. His eyes were quite narrow and ferociously blue as he snarled,

"Let me get this straight… you brought Havok and Fuse… wanted criminals… onto my base?!"

His voice shook with barely suppressed wrath. With trying not to explode. Having grown up around McCord and Taylor (who was on his way over) Alan knew exactly how angry the gap-toothed commander could get, and just how profane.

"Sir, I…"

"Shut up. I'm going to do you a favor, Son, and assume you weren't in charge. That it wasn't your dumbass, insane, f*cking idea to sneak a couple of Goddam felons onto my planet. Tell me I'm right, Tracy."

"Well, you see…"

"I said, shut up! It happened. It's done. They're missing, or dead. I'll have my people run scans. Tough to hide on Mars, unless you can f*cking sneak in with a trusted Goddam visitor! And don't give me any sh*t about following orders, Tracy. Your vessel, your command, your right to f*cking decline!"

Alan felt about three inches tall. Didn't try to cut in, this time because, really, what could he say? McCord was still raging.

"Don't you ever d*mn well lie to me again, Mister… or try to conceal vital information, any of you! Now… I want those f*ckers accounted for; dead or alive doesn't make a d*mn bit of difference to me, except dead, they're easier to f*cking evict. Am I clear, Mister Tracy?!"

Alan nodded, the constant background rumble and howl making this pretty close to his vision of absolute hell.

"Yes, Sir," he whispered. By that time, thank heaven, Captain Taylor had got there; hurrying forward, while somehow appearing completely relaxed. Like an old friend just there to catch up and pass the time, he draped an arm across Pete's rigid shoulders, then jerked a thumb to indicate that they ought to go for a stroll.

Feeling like he'd just been released from frickin' Tartarus, Alan stumbled off. He'd been reamed out a few times by Scott, of course, and frozen by John's icy withdrawal, but that had been nothing, compared to this. 'Cause, yeah… they should have told him. Pete had trusted them, not even checking their hold, and they'd snuck Havok, Fuse, the Hood and the Mechanic onto his territory. Now, maybe, he'd never trust them again. Maybe his friendship with Dad would be over.

Together with the frozen destruction of Thunderbird 3, and his still-missing brothers, all this was too much for Alan Tracy. He wanted to crawl off somewhere private and cry. Only, there was no place to go, and nothing to do but pitch in with evac.

Gordon came bounding over with Chip, then, both of them looking concerned.

"Not good?" his brother asked, in clumsy, gloved signs.

Al shook his head, no; fighting not to break down in front of his brother and little nephew.

"Worst," he signed back.

Fascinated, Charlie tried to copy their hand motions, which were modified ASL. (Long story, involving their cousin Stephanie, before her implants restored full hearing.) Gordon got distracted by his kid's fumbling efforts, and began teaching him a few basic signs, plus the old alphabet. Alan left them to it, wandering miserably off to find someone with scanning equipment. It'd been a heck of a day at sea.

Havok and Fuse were not on the rocket, which was finally allowed to go ahead and explode… but not until Alan had his chance to stand there, alone, one hand on an engine nacelle, and say farewell.

"You've been a great ship," he whispered, under that ashy, rock-studded sky, "and you didn't deserve this."

He'd used a field projector to snatch a few shards of hull plating from midair, and pulled out the rocket's processing unit, meaning to work them into his next Bird.

"We'll rebuild you, I promise… and Pete's right. My ship, my command, my rules. Never again, no matter what Scott says. So, I guess… I guess… goodbye, Girl. Goodbye."

And then, Alan Tracy lifted his blond head, turned around and walked away to rejoin the waiting others. Purposely avoided the cockpit as they took off, instead sitting down beside Kayo's marine, back in the crew section. Max offered a cherry soda, which he shakily took, but couldn't drink. Then, a few minutes later, Charlie released his hold on the frozen spaceship. Thunderbird 3 erupted in flame and jagged shards, leaving a giant crater on surface and heart… but it wasn't the end.