Handling the ship like a pro, John sent them hurtling towards the stricken space station. The explosion had knocked its orbit and one of the bulkheads was open like a gaping wound.
"I hope no one was in that compartment when it blew," Matthew said.
John fired the retros to slow International Rescue's spaceship down.
"Okay, Alan," John said. "We've arrived. Can you patch us through to the crew?"
"I'm attempting a comm. bridge now."
After a moment, sounds blasted into Three's cockpit.
"You're patched into their comms.," Alan said. "Icarus crew, assistance has arrived."
The crew's distress was palpable. They could hear everything that was going on inside their helmets. The laboured breathing, the whimpers of pain, the fear of an inevitable death.
John clutched the controls so hard his knuckles went white. In his mind's eye, it was Amelia inside the stricken station. It was himself who was in fear of his life. It was all too much.
No, it's not, he thought. Do your job, Tracy.
"Icarus crew, this is International Rescue," he said. "We'll attempt to dock and bring you aboard."
"Negative, International Rescue." A woman's voice cut through the rest of the noise. "Our port has been damaged. You won't be able to dock."
There was another surge of fear over the comm.
"Don't worry," he said. "How much O2 do you have remaining in your suits?"
Four voices spoke at once and John brought his hand up to one ear.
"Please, one at a time," he said.
The woman's voice overruled the others.
"Three of us have around half a tank but my suit was damaged. I only have around five minutes until my tanks are empty and it's goodnight Grace."
Grace.
Matthew stepped in as he saw John stumble.
"Never worry," he said. "We'll bring you aboard in two, then."
John breathed in deeply and unbuckled his restraints. It's not her. It's someone else.
"I'm going EVA," he said. "Take the controls. Bring her in as close as you can to minimise the distance I need to travel."
"Are you gonna be alright?" Matthew asked.
John was already exiting the cockpit on the way to retrieve his space suit.
"Why wouldn't I be? Just keep Three steady."
As he slid into the EVA suit, John's heart was thundering. His muscles were tense and he felt as if every fibre of his being was coiled in anticipation. You can do this, he thought. You've logged hundreds of EVA hours. You're not a rookie.
Steadying his nerves, John entered the airlock and readied his tether.
"Okay, Matthew," he said, his own voice sounding tinny in the helmet. "Open her up."
"F.A.B., boss."
Soundlessly, the airlock slid open and John attached his tether to the side of the ship. For the briefest of moments, he looked out into the vast expanse of space, at the blackness that reached in all directions. That's how I felt, he thought. Empty. Totally empty. Then he looked down at the planet below, at the thick covering of clouds and protruding thunderhead storms over what could only have been the Amazon basin. It was visceral, beautiful, powerful… Alive.
Like me.
Feeling better than he had in nearly a year, John pushed himself out of the airlock. With his own momentum, he made his way across the expanse of blank space, manoeuvring with the EVA suit's thrusters. The space station grew closer and soon enough, he found himself at one of the access ports. He clipped the other end of his tether to the station.
"Icarus crew, I'm at access port L-5. Can you open the airlock for me?"
"I'll try now, International Rescue," a new voice said.
"Hang in there," John said.
Within ten seconds, the airlock opened and John entered. There was little point in closing the inner door, since there was no remaining atmosphere in the station. As soon as the airlock opened, all eyes were on him. It was a small crew, only four in total – plenty for a tiny research outpost.
"Someone call for a ride?" he asked.
"Grace is nearly out of air," one of the others said, scooping the woman up in his arms. They floated towards him with ease. "She needs to get back into breathable atmo straight away."
"Okay," John said, reaching out to take her. "I'll bring her over first. The rest of you can follow. Clip yourselves onto the tether line outside. Can you make it across yourselves? Is anyone injured?"
"We're fine, International Rescue," the crewman said. "Just scared as hell. We can make it."
Using a spare cable and heavy-duty carabineer, John secured the woman to his own suit and headed back for the airlock. He peered at her face and saw that her eyes were closing, her lips starting to take on a blue hue.
"I've got you, Grace," he said, trying not to stumble on the name. "I've got you."
The trip back to Thunderbird Three was difficult but not impossible. With the help of his suit's thrusters, John managed to get the woman back on board. He asked Matthew to cycle the airlock to allow him to get her back into breathable atmosphere without waiting on the other crewmembers.
When he unclipped her helmet, air rushed into her lungs and she gasped.
"Oh my God," she wheezed.
"Ssh, shh." John said, laying her helmet aside. "Don't speak just yet. Breathe."
The airlock cycled again and the three other crew members entered, casting aside their own helmets.
"Grace? Is she okay?"
"Grace is fine," the woman said. She tried to sit up but John stopped her with a firm hand. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. "Thanks, International Rescue."
John smiled.
"Any time. That's what we're here for."
"All aboard?" Matthew's voice called through the comm.
"All aboard," John repeated. "Start descent protocols," he said.
"Uh –"
John cut off Matthew's protest straight away.
"I'll be there in five," John said. "You can do it."
"F.A.B."
He'll never get there if he doesn't try, John thought. Then he returned his attention to the crew.
"Follow me," he said, reaching out a hand to Grace. "I'll take you to your seats."
She accepted it, their gloved hands crinkling as John pulled her to her feet.
"Fancy rocket," she said. "I'm glad you were nearby."
"So am I," John said.
For more reasons than you will ever know.
~oOo~
When he found himself outside Matthew and Elijah's Cliff House apartment, John wasn't quite sure what his intentions were. I'm just here to see a friend? he thought. That's all. Lyra was with her grandfather, since by the time John had returned from the rescue, she was already asleep for the evening.
It turned out that he wasn't the only visitor. The figure that opened the door was not either of the twins; it was Gordon.
"John!"
He found himself enveloped in a tight hug. He stiffened, not quite knowing what to do.
"Hey, Gords," he said, awkwardly patting his brother on the back.
"Good job today, kiddo!" Gordon said.
John knew he was pouting but he couldn't stop himself.
"Kiddo?" he asked, incredulous. "You're the kiddo around here, you baby-faced squid child."
Gordon waved him off and jogged back into the apartment.
"Johnny's here," he said as he vaulted over the couch, landing heavily.
"Whoa, G-Man!" Matthew said as he bounced upwards. "You're going to make me die – no, no, no, NO!"
There was the unmistakable sound of a character dying and as John approached, he saw that the two men were playing some kind of video game – something gore-filled from the look of it. He glanced over to the kitchenette and saw Elijah sitting at the breakfast bar with his head propped up on one hand.
"Christ, save me," he said. "These two are complete bin lids."
John chuckled and raised an eyebrow.
"Bin lids?"
"Idiots," Elijah clarified.
John chuckled anew. Gordon had grabbed the controller from Matthew and elbowed him in the ribs.
"Let me show you how a real man does it," he said.
Matthew jabbed him back.
"A real man? I'll show you a real man!"
Suddenly the two were a tangle of arms and legs and flailing fists. John let his arms hang loosely at his sides and blinked. Elijah covered his face and shook his head.
"This is the third time they've been rolling around on the floor," he said, voice muffled by his hand.
As Gordon and Matthew continued to wrestle, Elijah stood and walked over to John, whose face was pulled with amusement as the two redheads tumbled around the floor, knocking game controllers and empty soft drink cans every which way.
"Looks like Gordon has found a new playmate," he said.
Elijah motioned towards the French windows that led to the patio area. John nodded and the two men escaped from the cacophony of their brothers' roughhousing.
It was a clear night with a balmy temperature. The two men leaned on the balcony wall. John was immediately looking up at the stars. When he saw a familiar constellation, he nudged Elijah.
"There's one for you guys," he said. "Gemini. The Twins."
Elijah squinted his eyes.
"Where? I can't see it?"
John pointed; Elijah tried to follow the sight line.
"Up there. Can you see that bright, orangey star?"
"Yeah."
"That's Pollux, or Beta Geminorum. It marks the head of one of the twins. The one just up and to the right is Castor – Alpha Geminorum. The rest of the stars look like their bodies. In fact, they look like they're holding hands."
"Oh yeah," Elijah said. "I see it now."
"They're supposed to represent Castor and Pollux or Romulus and Remus – depending on the mythology," John said.
Elijah shook his head.
"I don't care much for myths and legends," he said. "Tell me something scientific about them. Something that actually makes sense. Something that's factual."
John was a little taken aback. Hardly anyone asks me about the science of stars. He gathered his thoughts for a moment before beginning.
"Well, Pollux is about 34 light years away and has approximately twice the mass of our sun. The Castor you see isn't really one star but is actually a six star system with three binary stars orbiting around each other."
"Wow," Elijah said. "That's cool. What other constellations are visible at the moment?"
Feeling a little braver, John took Elijah's hand and uncurled his index finger, pointing it to the right of Gemini. It felt as though his heart was palpitating but he managed to keep his voice steady.
"Just there is the constellation Taurus – or the Bull."
Elijah made no attempt to retract his hand.
"Tell me about it," he said.
"Its brightest star is called Aldebaran. In fact, it's one of the brightest objects in the night sky. It's 65 million light years away and is classified as a K5III star. Its diameter is about 44 times the size of the sun's."
"Wow," Elijah breathed again.
"It's pretty awesome."
Elijah turned towards him. They were on par for height, so their eyes met easily. They stood there for a time, simply looking. I don't know what's going on any more, John thought, but I don't care.
So much had happened that day. Not only had he been back on both Thunderbird Three and Thunderbird Five, but he had proved to everyone – including himself – that he wasn't a delicate flower in need of constant protection. I still have a ways to go, he though, but at least I know I'm getting there.
There were butterflies in his stomach. Elijah dropped his gaze for a moment. John looked down too and saw what his companion was looking at. Their fingers were interlocked.
They looked at one another again. Then…
"Gah!"
They leapt apart as the French windows flew open and Gordon and Matthew burst out onto the patio, limbs flailing in all directions.
"Dammit!" Gordon said.
"Christ on a bike," said Matthew. "That door's catch isn't very strong!"
"We weren't spying," Gordon said, straightening up and brushing down the front of his shirt.
"Nope," Matthew said, nodding his head with vehemence. "We were…checking the glass for cracks."
"Yup, cracks. That's it."
John folded his arms; Elijah did the same. Then, in unison, the two began to laugh.
The sound was musical and it carried far.