Hi, there! Slipped in a mid-week chapter, after all. Thanks for reading and reviewing, Bow Echo, Tikatu, Whirl Girl and CreativeGirl29. Hola, Rainha dos Ladroes, Helensg and Taylorj2000. You are all much appreciated! =)

2

On Tracy Island, confined to base-

Their situation could have been worse, or so Scott kept telling himself. It was early morning, and he'd gone out for a jog, using fatigue and exertion to drive away stress. With Dad gone, he was it. The man with his finger on the big, red button, and everyone expected him to come up with a workable plan.

To his left, the ocean rumbled and crashed, pulling away from a shelf of raggedy coral and lava rock, then surging back in with a loud, hissing roar. Sea weed fluttered and waved. Small fish flashed silver in those peekaboo tide pools. To his right rose a sheer, rusty-black cliff face, pocked with tough, scrubby plants and hanging birds' nests. Atop that, the jungle had begun to quiver and steam in the gusty winds of dawn. Sea birds… and one escaped pterodactyl… wheeled and cried overhead, mere silhouettes on a golden-pink sky.

Scott's feet thumped a brisk rhythm in dark, gritty sand. His breath rasped, and his heart pounded. Sweat ran in stinging rivulets down to his eyes and mouth. Throat was dry, but he refused to break pace for a swig at his water bottle… and maybe it wasn't to punish himself.

Had to find a way out of all this, and soon; before some class-A disaster happened, and no one was there to respond. Or (maybe worse) those telegenic kids that EarthGov was training, got themselves killed in fake Birds.

The real ones, out at Harmony Field, would allow no one close, much less inside of them. The World Council's response? Build new ones. Never mind that they hadn't got the technology or know how; hadn't got Brains or John to manage the nano-structures and make it all function. Having been given an opening by Colonel Casey, EarthGov was making the most of it. Gathered for the frickin' feast. Scott had the feeling that they'd been planning all this for a while, just waiting for any excuse.

Only, their stupid eagerness to take over International Rescue was going to cost lives, unless he could come up with some way to stop them. His current notion, shared with John before the astronaut's departure, felt sort of risky, but…

A sudden sparkle out to sea made Scott glance over, still without breaking stride. GDF drones, tasked with watching the island and its grounded pilots. Not Union Jack, though. The flag-class cutter had been ordered back to patrol duty in the South Pacific, without Captain Kraft, who was over in London, answering questions. Virgil would have gone to her, but Scott forbade it, for now.

His tentative plan required John to hack those GDF surveillance satellites, combine their data with video from Thunderbird 2, and broadcast it all over the world. In the meantime, Scott, Penny and Virgil would crash the World Council's meeting, to present their case.

Pros? Likely to have a major impact and tough to ignore. Cons? Might get John hauled up on illegal hacking charges, while he, Virge and Penny were busted for trespassing.

Understandably, Scott was reluctant to pull the trigger, just yet. John had expressed a few doubts, but their situation was serious. Something had to be done. As the sun rose over a shining Pacific, Scott thumped determinedly onward, scattering damp sand behind him.

In his minds' eye, the handsome pilot could see EarthGov's latest commercial for their "new crew", "Rescue 2.0". The oriental girl and astro-pilot, Janice Ming. The white-blond computer genius and tech-whiz, Cody Beech. The engineer and mechanic, Josh Kelly; bronzed and big as a house. Their cocky young rescue diver, dark-haired, freckled Caleb Gonzalez… and Piper Austin, violet-haired pilot and medic.

Their images had whizzed across the screen with thumping background music and shots of those fake, cut-rate Birds. "Thunderbird 1" looked especially chintzy, and their space station was a joke; clearly slapped together from pre-fab modular units.

Besides a slight flare of jealousy, Scott dreaded seeing any of those kids try to swing into action in their GDF death-trap toys. How would they deal with a hurricane or an avalanche, much less a monster like the Mechanic? Or an idiot on par with Langstrom Fischler?

Unconsciously, Scott had started to run faster, as though greater speed could whisk him to better solutions. Wished he could talk to John, whose station was just visible overhead, as dawn caught… and briefly gilded… Thunderbird 5. But the less comm, the better. John wasn't supposed to be up there, and had worked some major surveillance hackery with Brains, to sneak back upstairs. They could not risk giving him away.

All of this trouble whirled in his head, as Scott pelted over that black sand beach. Managed to control his breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth, over and over. At last, he rounded a bend in the shoreline, approaching the small lagoon where Tracy-1 rode at anchor. His usual halfway point. From here, he could turn around and head back, or duck through the marina and into the island's network of tunnels. Except, he wasn't through running. Didn't have any more answers now, than he'd had when he set off at five AM that morning. Worse, the family was meeting at noon. Scott needed a safe, solid plan before then; some way to straighten this mess out, get the Birds back, and keep five kids alive.

Over in Norway, his opposite number was also concerned, for she'd never led anyone into an actual rescue scenario. Patrolling the trade routes, mopping up accidents and preventing piracy about summed up her experience… and that was a puzzle, for there had been several candidates with more flight and rescue time.

Janice didn't like to think that she'd been chosen for her looks and youth, but those were certainly the attributes that EarthGov was playing up. Only, she wanted to be a Thunderbird, not a d*mn fashion model. She wanted to help save lives.

So, her rocket plane wasn't quite the real thing. Janice ran a hand along its silver-blue fuselage, out there at the northern GDF training base. Smooth, cool metal and bumpy rivets slid beneath the trailing fingers of her right hand as Janice Ming performed her preflight inspection. Climbed a rolling ladder to check out the engines and control surfaces, testing the seal on her canopy. Perfect or not, Thunderbird 1.2 was still a beautiful aircraft, and she, Janice Ming, was its pilot.

The setting sun cast long blue shadows of rocket plane and girl far across the dark tarmac.

"We'll show 'em," she whispered. "Doesn't matter if they chose me for my cup-size, or the way I fit into a crystal slipper. I'm a Thunderbird, now and I'll make the world forget all about Scott Tracy. Watch me."

Not far away, Josh, Caleb and Piper were checking out their own rescue craft, preparing for their first night-time training exercise. Cody was up in a hovering heli-carrier. Just Beech and a swarm of obedient robots, because the space station wasn't quite ready, yet. Tapping her uniform's comm badge, Janice gave her crew a swift pep talk.

"This is it, guys," she said, as the night breeze snapped her black hair like a banner. "Tonight, we fly solo, respond to the mock distress call, and show the world what we can do. Tonight, we stop being a bunch of contest winners, and turn ourselves into a team. You with me?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Josh replied smartly, a big smile all over his deep voice.

"I'd follow you anywhere, Leader-babe!" said Caleb, sounding as slick as his gelled dark hair.

"I can do this… I know… I mean, I'm pretty sure," fretted Piper, who was a far better pilot than she realized.

"I'm on it," said Cody, who wasn't much of a talker.

Janice nodded briskly. Started to smile, then opted for steely resolve.

"International Rescue is back," she announced, "and better than ever before. Let's go kick some ass, troops!"

XXXXXXXXXX

Manchester, England, at the highly exclusive Enlightenment Academy-

Alan Tracy wasn't happy. Essentially stolen from family and home to cold, drizzly Europe, he felt as shaken and tossed as dice from a cup. Oh, the campus was alright, if you liked living under a great, big "biosphere" dome, with the goats and the lentils and campfire singalongs. The live-in house counselors, Eddie and Shala, certainly meant well. Eddie had even tried to do that fatherly arm-drape thing, back when Alan had first arrived… only, he didn't need any more fathers.

The other students were a select bunch, being the sons and daughters (or, "young citizens", since here at the academy, there was no gender) of prominent merchants and politicians. Frankly, he terrified them.

He was Alan Tracy, youngest member of a fallen, quasi-criminal organization, and rumors abounded that he'd struck people, flown in deep space, and even fired a weapon. His classmates watched him with mingled awe and wide-eyed apprehension. At lunch, they fought to sit anywhere else but beside him.

The teachers were polite, friendly robots, programmed to be expert in their subjects, and to treat everyone with the same firm, gentle fairness. Either gold or silver in colour, each robot instructor sported a bright, six-inch oval on its chest, imprinted with a name (Albert, Isaac, Marie, Leonardo, Mohandas, Sylvia, Murasaki) and a subject.

Their faces bore a slightly surprised, sympathetic look at all times, and their voices were chirpy and soothing. Needless to say, Alan was in Hades. Spent a lot of time checking out of class for "peace walks", finding that one shifting spot at the dome's edge from which he could sometimes contact John.

The nanites had healed up his exterior damage, even re-growing most of his hair (though it stuck up funny, in the front). Couldn't do anything about the inside, though, no matter how often they all gathered out in the prairie pod, under fake stars, listening to Eddie play his guitar and Shala shake her tambourine. Five rousing choruses of 'Together as One', 'Personhood for All', and 'We are the Future' could not stop his nightmares.

His roommate soon asked to be transferred, because Alan's tossing and mumbling kept him/ her awake. Didn't want to bother anybody… just really wanted to go back home. Anyways, how could he ask for help, or explain what was wrong, when the worst thing in these kids' lives was the goats getting into their communal garden, again?

There were other differences, too. Like, Alan was taller than almost all of them, and way behind in his studies. Also, the only one with a breaking voice. Something in the water, maybe?

Yeah, so, at one point, in social responsibility class, Mohandas had gently asked Alan to describe a recent crisis or trial.

"Young Citizen Tracy," the robot chirped, as they all sat in a sharing circle, one afternoon. "Perhaps you would care to relate an event which has stretched your personhood in new directions, hmmm?"

Young Shaw had just talked about having to give half of his/ her stipend to those less fortunate, on World Celebration Day. Everyone had shared a non-judgmental response and compliment, and there should have been two more people before Alan, but nooo… The boy squirmed on his cushion, out there in the open-air sharing session.

"Um…" he looked round at all those soft, large-eyed faces. The Mechanic? Nope. Titan? Better not. The Hood? Oh, heck no! Being kidnapped to Ross Island and then nearly strangled to death by a murderous cyborg? Absolutely not.

"I'm… afraid of horses. They're, um… big, and junk," he finally told them. "But, uh… my brothers all ride, especially John… so I try to act brave and do it, or else pretend that I sprained my leg, or something."

Everyone murmured words of comfort and inclusion, some even risking a shoulder-pat. Said Mohandas, with a very slight creaking of metal joints,

"And has your selfhood been enhanced by these bouts of emulation or prevarication, Young Citizen Tracy?"

"Uh… no?" he hazarded. "I mean, I just don't want to get laughed at, or fall off the saddle, again. That junk hurts!"

The dome's fans circulated a constant stream of warm air around the environment pods and outdoor classes. Today, Mohandas had chosen to have them meet in the "desert", with its sandy pink dunes and gnarled cacti. The fake sunlight bounced off of his polished chrome surface with every slight movement, almost blinding the watchers.

"And, does the laughter of others adversely impact your personhood and self-worth, Young Citizen?"

"Not if it's Gordon," Alan replied promptly, "'cause then my fist just impacts his face."

Gasps of shock erupted at that, except for one of the citizens… a colonist… who grinned and winked at him. Alan grinned back, really hoping that his new friend turned out to be a girl.

His ID badge buzzed a gentle reprimand for the use of violent imagery, and Mohandas managed to look genuinely sorrowful. Didn't matter, though, because Alan Tracy had found a kindred spirit, at last.

XXXXXXXXXX

London-

As for Kayo, she did what she'd always exceled at: stayed off the radar, and snooped around. Wasn't sure what she was looking for, really, the night she broke into Colonel Casey's office. Except that she didn't find "what", she found "who".