'Allo! Back again. =) Many thanks hereby extended to Bow Echo, Tikatu, RVFan, CreativeGirl29, "Guest" Akimakel and WhatHaveWeDone. Plus, special gratitude to RVFan, for explaining those un-gendered pronouns. Alan will shape right up, I promise. ;)
3
London, former U.K., at the Global Defense Force Tower-
Slipping into Colonel Casey's office wasn't particularly difficult. Not if you had the will and the talent to simply make everyone else look aside; the skill to avoid spy cameras and laser-eyes. Also, critically, the hour was 3 AM, just that time when the average human mind would be at its sleep-sodden, deep least alert. Even… especially… the night shift.
But, Tanusha Kyrano-Tracy hadn't gone there to start trouble. God knows, she'd done more than enough of that. Rather, she'd snuck past the GDF's cartoon defenses, intending to make things right. Could move like a beautiful wraith, when she wanted to; unsealing safes and locked doors with her own version of the patented Aloysius Parker multi-tool. Took her nine minutes, from street to inner sanctum, and got there not even breathing hard.
Another time, the sleek, lovely girl would have paused to congratulate herself. Now, though… Well, there was a weight on her heart. A heaviness. Her family was trapped, John damaged, their Birds confiscated, and Alan taken away, because of her.
Right. Time to do something positive. Time to make amends, starting right here and now. Moving lightly, she'd passed through Casey's large reception area. Of course, the colonel had a good-looking young secretary, with an office of his own. Guard station, just outside that. Getting past it was almost as simple as dodging Langstrom Fischler's defenses (which amounted to stern warnings taped to the walls, and a few laptops with webcams turned on). This office had a pressure-sensitive floor, but her gecko gloves meant that Kayo could cling to the ceiling like a fly, avoiding unpleasantness with electro-nets and shock-collars.
Having scurried inside Casey's office, she'd intended to have a go at the colonel's data files. Only, someone had beaten her to the punch. Tanusha could see the figure hunched over a desktop computer, silhouetted against the soft, amber glow of lights from the plaza, beyond. Colonel Casey had an entire wall made of one-way perma-glass, and another that served as a giant view screen. Handy.
From her position on the ceiling, Kayo could see that this other intruder was female, and very intent upon cracking the colonel's security codes. Too busy to notice a silent young shadow hanging there, just overhead. Still, waiting about for the would-be hacker to crack those files might have taken forever. Tanusha preferred to hurry matters along.
So, the girl dropped to the ground as though she were trickling ruin, landing in a silent crouch, before rising to seize the chair-back and whirl her fellow invader around.
The other woman did not start from her seat, or cry out. Scent and mental 'feel' were familiar, and not especially pleasant. Dark, bobbed hair, brown eyes, and a plain grey custodian's uniform completed the unwelcome picture.
"Miss Cavanaugh," she said, very quietly. "What a surprise."
The pest and TV reporter smiled.
"Call me Kat," she responded, not even slightly abashed. Then, eyes narrowing thoughtfully, "Kayo, isn't it? IR's resident spook, and kid sister?"
Tanusha's hand tightened on that big leather office chair.
"I'm free-lancing, at the moment," she snapped, keeping her voice low enough not to set off any security sensors. "Doing a bit of industrial espionage. What's your excuse?"
The reporter, who'd crossed paths with the Tracys on Hackenbacker's doomed space hotel, and again, out at the ranch, gave her a mock-rueful shrug. Behind her, the computer screen flashed once, and chimed.
"Same as always," she said with a smile. "Digging up dirt, and finding out what the big boys would like to keep hidden. Or, the big girl, in this case. Gone and got yourselves in some real trouble, this time, haven't you, Ducky?"
Kayo's left eyebrow twitched. She felt her own pulse quicken.
"It's sorted," she growled. "A simple misunderstanding that'll be cleared up, just as soon as I…"
"Break into GDF headquarters, hack their data files and steal classified information? Yeah, that'll go over real well," Kat mocked her, leaning back in the chair. Kayo felt herself flush.
"I made a mistake," she admitted. "I'm trying to fix it. There has to be something in Casey's files that'll clear my dad and brothers, or divert the public's attention! Anyhow, what do you care? You're on nobody's side, but your own!"
Kat's thin-lipped smile stretched a bit wider, briefly.
"Investigative reporter, Ducky. I like toppling icons and ripping off masks… and right now, you and your delicious brothers are the underdogs. Thus, I am intrigued."
"I liked you better when you were half-buried in rocks!" Kayo snarled. Kat only grinned at her. Then, the reporter's expression and voice altered, entirely. All at once, she was wide-eyed, fragile and innocent.
"Help me, p- please!" she whimpered. "My legs… I … I think they're b- broken!"
"One bad sprain, and a hairline fracture," Kayo snapped, adding, "Don't tell me you staged that whole stupid accident?!"
Cavanaugh's sly face returned to normal. A bit wickeder than before, possibly.
"What better way to get inside your compound and have an escorted look around?" she chuckled. "Getting to ride on Scott Tracy's lap was just icing on the five-layer cake." Then, shaking her head in mock sympathy, "you must be one busy girl. On your back from dawn to dusk."
Kayo wasn't trying to read her mind, but Cavanaugh's visuals were tough to miss, and extremely embarrassing.
"It isn't like that!" the girl insisted, feeling herself redden. "They're my brothers!" Except for Virgil, of course. Many, many times, she'd imagined one of their sparring sessions going further, ending in a wrestling match with him pinned to the mat, and…
The reporter snorted.
"Sure thing, Ducky. Sell me another one. Somebody on that stud-farm's got you taking nightly cold showers."
By this point, Tanusha would have risked alerting security and going to prison, just to shut the woman's big, flapping mouth. Power that she'd sworn never to use again (unless she really, really had to) began to gather within her slim, trembling body.
"Fortunately for you," Cavanaugh went on, seeming amused by the girl's evident struggle, "I love a good human-interest story, and nothing wins the public's heart like hot young men, unjustly accused. My fellow bloodhounds are all focused on the "new crew" … churning out training montages, glamour shots, that sort of thing."
Behind her, data began scrolling past on the computer screen, too fast to read. There was a flash-drive inserted into one of the device's free ports. Kayo's hands itched to steal it, but Kat was still talking.
"Me, I like to swim against the tide, especially if it means that I get to rub up against, Scott, John or Gordon. So… tell you what, Ducky. Let's cut a deal. You give me the inside scoop… tell me what really went down, on Ross Island… and I'll share what I've dug up from the Casey files. We clear your brothers, I get a few nights with one or two of the afore-mentioned heroes, my ratings explode, and the World Council takes a bath."
Grinning slyly, the dark-eyed reported thrust out her right hand. Naturally, she'd been recording all this.
"What do you say, Ducky? Have we got us a deal?"
Tanusha bit her still-raw lower lip, trying hard not to visualize this loathsome harpy with one of her brothers. Then, with a small shudder, she reached out to shake Kat's proffered hand.
"Deal," she whispered. "Just… help me fix this mess, and don't give them any diseases."
"You're sweet," smirked the reporter. "Now, quit squirming and spill it, Ducks. Time's a-wasting."
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Tracy Island-
Stiff, sore and drenched in sweat, Scott had had to take a fast shower before meeting the others, down in the ring. Ate half a chocolate-chip protein bar while toweling off in his big, tidy bedroom. Got dressed in pressed slacks, loafers and a blue-striped rugby shirt, double-quick, and still was late, according to the Jeff Tracy mantra: If you're early, you're on time. If you're on time, you're late. If you're late... my office, now. He wasn't the first one there, which already had him on the back foot, control-wise.
Virgil was seated beside Gordon, on one of the ring couches. They'd taken a spot in front of the big picture window, meaning that Scott would have to darken its glass, or else squint. The muscular cargo pilot was back in his red flannel shirt, jeans and work boots, leaning forward a bit to slump with his forearms on both thighs, and his hands loosely clasped. He, Gordon and Brains had been working overtime to create a new, prototype rescue vehicle. All three were exhausted.
Gordon leaned back with an arm flung over the top of the couch, half-asleep. He was wearing a painfully bright orange tee shirt and khaki board shorts, and that beard was starting to come in, again; reddish and scruffy.
Lee and Grandma were present, as well, poring over something displayed on the astronaut's tablet screen. Mars, looked like.
Only Penny, Parker and Brains hadn't shown up, yet. Of the three, Brains was probably down in his lab, still, with Max, while Penny… Well, she was in dutch with EarthGov, for all this, and might have simply gone home.
As usual when he felt stressed about something, Scott had grown distant and tense. They hadn't made love since before Ross Island, nor had he had time to come up with a ring, or speak with Sir Hugh, Penny's father. Just… too much crap going on right then, to worry about non-essentials, y'know? He did not expect Kayo, as their sister was in deep cover, finding things out. She'd get in touch when she wanted to.
As for John, his holo was missing from the assembly, but that wasn't really surprising, as the young astronaut was trying to keep a low profile. Scott glanced at his wrist comm for the time. 11:57 AM. That only soured him further, as he should have been there by 11:30 at the latest, and here it was gone nearly twelve. More harshly than intended, he strode down into the ring and snapped,
"Fine. We'll work with what's here. Let's get started."
Grandma's silver head lifted, and her lips tightened.
"Scott William Tracy," she fussed, "You wasn't born in a barn, nor raised by wolves! Manners, boy!"
He gritted his teeth, but managed a respectful nod.
"Yes, Ma'am. I'm sorry, Ma'am. Good afternoon, everyone. We've got a lot to cover, so…"
"Not the way I see it," Virgil interrupted, his deep voice cutting straight across Scott's, and adding one more twist to the screw. "The way I figure, we got exactly one major problem, and that's this no-fly situation. Get that handled, and everything else 'll fall into place."
Beside him, Gordon woke up enough to nod his sandy-blond head.
"Yeah, 'cause… if we're not grounded anymore, it means we never did anything to deserve it, so we can reclaim the Birds, Alan comes back, and… and, um…"
Lee ended the sudden awkwardness by explosively clearing his throat.
"If y'r tryin' a work around ta discussin' y'r daddy, Godfrey," he said, "Scuttlebutt has it, he's stuck on Mars, f'r a spell. My guess, f'r whatever it's worth, is that someone up high on th' food-chain don't like competition, an' wants his ass out where he can't interfere. Notice we ain't heard much from Casey, neither, now she's gone an' given the World-hens what they allus wanted. Bet she's mindin' a weather station out in Greenland, somewheres."
Taylor's blue eyes had gone narrow, and his expression was uncharacteristically grim. He pretended not to notice the wave of relief that passed through Scott, Virgil and Gordon at this bit of news. Under the Hood's terrible influence, their father had shot Alan and Gordon. Virgil would have been next, had his exo-suit not suddenly sprung to life and saved him. (Some trick of John's, maybe?) Anyhow, no one was ready to deal with all of that raw fear, betrayal and hurt. Not yet. The topic was very much ND: Not Discussed. Said Scott, after a moment,
"Right. Thank you for the information, Captain Taylor. Please keep us posted. Anything else from the grapevine, Sir?"
Lee huffed a sigh through his bristling moustache.
"Just that the GDF's really pushin' them new kids ta be flight-n-rescue ready, yesterday. Plus, they might be stagin' sumthin' ta give 'em exposure as Thunderbirds, but…" he shook his greying head. "Friend a' mine up in th' brass section says they ain't anywheres near ready, yet, Spence."
Virgil stood up, suddenly, thrust his hands in his pockets, and started to pace. Fists clenched, handsome face deeply troubled, he growled,
"Of course, they're not ready! It's been less than two weeks since the GDF held their d*mn cattle call! And maybe those counterfeit birds are the best EarthGov can come up with, but they're nothing like ours!"
Gordon snorted.
"Ours?" he scoffed. "You mean, the World Council's confiscated property? I mean, d*mn… they got everything, even Al! Okay, he's annoying, sometimes, but he's just a kid. He's my brother. And I say, we need to get Alan back, first!"
That started a loud, heated uproar, which only grew worse when Brains showed up with Max, looking haggard and weary. Even the robot was drooping.
"You're late," snapped Scott, once again losing his grip on those slippery manners. "Take a seat, and once everyone shuts the h*ll up, give us a progress report on the new Bird."
The engineer nodded, feeling terribly out of place amid all those large, angry heroes. Then, Grandma Tracy scooted over and patted the seat beside her. She gave him a fond, encouraging smile, which the shy engineer hesitantly returned.
"Th- thank you, Mrs. Tracy. Good afternoon, m- my friends. I, ah… I apologize f- for my unseemly lateness, but a c- critical bit of work remained t- to be done, and so…" he spread his hands and shrugged.
"Well, you got there sooner than me," came a familiar calm voice, and sudden blue gleam. John had arrived. His holo, anyhow. Giving Grandma and Lee a quick nod, he said, "I've got to keep it short, guys, while Eos is scrambling the GDF receivers and blaming it on solar flare activity. Those things don't last long. Short answer from here is, the Birds are alright, so far. I could remote fly them, at need. Only, it might get ugly, if Harmony Field scrambles pursuit. The GDF's been sending work crews to try forcing an entry, but the force shields will hold, so long as their batteries last."
"And how long will that be?" Scott demanded, facing both his ethereally floating, transparent brother, and the skinny engineer.
John's blue-green eyes shifted focus to Brains, in an 'all yours, Buddy,' sort of way. Beside the doctor, Max chirped a fast stream of data to Eos, who replied with a brief, ringing chime. AI business, and none of theirs, Scott figured, leaning in to hear Brains.
"Th- Thank you, John," said the engineer, straightening, slightly. "I sh- shall endeavor to be, ah… be s- swift in my s- summation. Without active replenishment f- from their engines or p- powerplants, and with, ah… with continual f- force shield and electrical d- discharge draw, Thunderbirds 1, 2 and 3 will lose all power in thirty-six hours, g- give or take a f- few minutes."
Before her grandsons could erupt, again, Sally Tracy said,
"So, we've got about three days t' get them Birds back, or they're gone f'r good."
"Well…" drawled Taylor, managing to brush against the slim woman with an elaborately staged yawn and stretch. "That explains why they ain't been too particular 'bout them fake rescue craft a' theirs. They wasn't plannin' ta use 'em very long. Bet all a' th' sim time them kids 've been loggin' s, on mockups a' th' real thing… 'cause in three days, they figger they'll be flyin' 'em."
"That would explain a lot, Sir," John agreed, from above the ring's center. He turned his head slightly, when Eos said,
"John, I can maintain the deception of solar-flare comm failure for a further three minutes, forty-two seconds, point-nine milli-seconds. Afterward, the magnetic storm shall have ceased, and ground-based sensors will detect our ruse."
"Thanks, Sweetie. I'll wrap it up." Then, turning back to the others, "I've been in touch with Al. He's okay… just lonely and bored. They seem to want to make him over into one of their second-gen pilots. So, whatever we're planning to do, we need to hurry, Scott."
The field commander's heavy dark brows drew together over those sapphire eyes.
"Sh*t," he muttered. "Makes sense, I guess. He's the youngest, and he's been through a lot, lately… and having one of us on the new team would give it legitimacy. Stay with him, Little Brother. He needs to keep hearing our side, before they have him totally brain-washed."
"Will do," John replied, seeming as remote and serious as a finely-carved idol. "Got to sign off, or they'll find out that I'm up here, Scott."
The pilot nodded.
"Right. Tomorrow at sunset, John. My personal channel. Got it?"
The red-head nodded.
"Understood. Talk to you later, guys, Grandma." And then, his image flicked out like a candle flame.
Everybody else turned to regard their suddenly lonely commander. Still no Penny, Parker or Bertie… nor any messages. Well, he had more important things to worry about than females. Rubbing his hands together like Dad, or Lee, Scott said,
"Okay, team. Here's what we're going to do…"
XXXXXXXXX
Norway, at the GDF-North training field, snug in the cockpit of Thunderbird 1.2-
Janice Ming touched a button on her control panel, felt the Bird come alive all around her. The engines first growled, then snarled, and then howled. Vibration was ferocious, but Jan didn't care.
She was on her own, this time; no robot instructor to cut in and take over, should she botch her VTOL launch, or screw up the mock rescue… and frankly, she couldn't have been happier. Much like the man she intended to replace, Jan lived for flight-time and danger.
Smiling a little, she hawk-watched the rockets' power gauge. When the bar hit green, Janice engaged control, and pulled gently back on both levers. Oops… not quite evenly. The Bird tilted a few degrees to the right, and started to yaw. She over-corrected, sending the rocket-plane sliding backward and left. There was a huge difference, she was discovering, between simulated, supervised flight, and the real thing. But, if she could fly a GDF scout ship while dodging pirates and asteroids, she could surely manage her own, brand-new Bird.
"C'mon, Herbie," (which was her name for the sleek, silver aircraft) "Get it together. It's you and me, Buddy. I'll fly my arse off, if you will."
The rocket-plane bucked some, juddered a bit, and then straightened. Janice grinned. Carefully, she hauled back on the control levers, sending 1.2 soaring smoothly into the air over GDF-North. Airfield, buildings, vehicles and people dropped away, fast. Soon, they were nothing but distant toys.
Off to one side, she saw the giant blue hulk of Thunderbird 2.2 arcing up through the night. 3.2 was already out there, her bright-orange gleam almost lost in the color-shot sky. Solar flare activity had caused beautiful, sky-sweeping auroras of green, pink and violet, like silent fireworks launched for their first quasi-mission. Then, right on schedule, she heard a brief chirp, and her comm screen lit up with Cody's icy-pale face. In a dry, calm voice, he said,
"I've just picked up a distress call, Janice. Sounds like one of those ancient, off-shore oil rigs has broken up, and is leaking oil. Three crewmen are trapped. Oh, no."
Ming shook her head. Mock mission or not… secret boyfriend, or not… they were supposed to be taking this seriously.
"Game face, Cody," she reminded him, being a college basketball star, herself. "Upload those coordinates, and we'll get underway. Join us, as soon as you can, with whatever equipment that carrier's got. This is it, folks… Thunderbirds are go!"