Hiya! Rainy day, over here. Good time to stay indoors. And a big hug to Tikatu, Bow Echo and Creative Girl, for their kind reviews. =)

30

Tracy Island, upstairs, about twenty minutes later-

He could see the headlines, already: SCOTT TRACY AT IT AGAIN! Fiend eliminates entire GDF squadron!

…because, count on it; they'd find a way to blame him. The price of command, he supposed, rubbing at tired blue eyes. After all, it had been his decision to lower house defenses, after that nightmare, back at the ranch. Back then, Brains' counter-measures had seemed a little too much. Now, they hadn't been effective enough.

On the bright side, John had just landed, and would appear as soon as the hangar lift brought him up from below. The rest of the family… plus those rescued New Crew and GDF personnel… had gathered in the main house, riding out the storm and making their various plans.

Despite her exhaustion, Lady Penelope had joined Grandma Tracy in getting everyone shoehorned onto a bed, couch, air mattress, cot or other flat, stable surface, and the house now resounded with whispers and snores. Meant that the boys and Kayo 'd had to give up their rooms, but no one much cared. At least they were home.

Scott could have used sex or a stiff drink, but there was time for neither, just then, so instead he worried and paced. With his thoughts going round and round in his head like rabid hamsters on a motorized wheel, Scott couldn't rest, or quell his own blossoming migraine.

"Past or future," he demanded, while Brains tinkered with Chips' data feed. "Which way did it carry them?"

Peering blearily up through his glasses, the engineer said,

"J- Judging by the, ah… the d- data, Scott, they were c- carried into the future."

"How far?" asked Virgil, from his perch at the edge of Dad's desk. He, too, was worn to a nub. Wouldn't quit, or lie down, though. (Partly because there just wasn't room.)

Hackenbacker uttered a short, gusty sigh. He was propped up by coffee, and a rubbery slice of Grandma's meatloaf surprise. With enough ketchup, you almost couldn't taste the stuff. Almost.

"Th- That is very difficult to, ah… to say, Virgil. Judging b- by the amount of energy released, it j- jumped approximately seven hundred years into the f- future."

"Give or take a decade?" yawned Gordon, slumped somewhere in the vicinity of the staircase. Even tired, he had to find humour, and pass it around. Meanwhile, wind shook their steel-shuttered house, and John stalked in.

"Hey," he said, by way of greeting. Accepted a kiss from grandma, and a cookie, as well, being too weary to fend off the weapons-grade chocolate-chip disk. Wasn't stupid enough to bite into it, though.

"Hey, John," Scott responded. "What d'you hear from Dad?"

His red-haired brother came over, glanced futilely around for somewhere to sit, then gave it up as a bad job.

"Nothing yet," he admitted. "They're either too deep in the hab tunnels, or there's too much interference. Still trying, though… and his icon hasn't turned black. How about you? Found the GDF crew, yet?"

Scott grumped something wordless and impatient, jerking a thumb over his right shoulder at Hackenbacker.

"He's working on it. If you've got any juice left, Little Brother, go help him. If not, lie down before you fall down."

John hesitated, looking around the big room at that sea of unfamiliar faces. He hated crowds, unless they were up in the stands, watching and cheering his pitches.

"Um… let me grab a shower and a thirty-minute nap, and I'll get right on it, Scott."

Virgil had threaded his way over, by that time; stepping carefully around dozens of somnolent bodies. Gordon had started to snore, though, while Alan and Kayo were just plain gone.

"You oughta do the same thing, Scott. No one's moved into the upstairs hall bathroom, yet. Take a break. I'll keep an eye on things," said the big, dark-eyed pilot, suppressing a mighty yawn.

"Actually, I want all three of ya down, f'r at least a few hours," ordered their grandmother, weaving a path through that forest of occupied cots and floor mats. Reaching up to rub Virgil's broad shoulders, she said, "Cain't get ta Mars in less'n a week, most likely, an' if them lost GDF boys is up in the future, somewheres, they'll keep. Just publish a message, so the folk with the big heads an' green skin 'll know ta look out f'r 'em."

Brains opened his mouth, and then shut it, again.

"P- Publish a public message?" he mused. "As H- Hawking did, after his t- time party?" Pushing those blue glasses back up the bridge of his nose, Hackenbacker added, "Th- That is a brilliant idea, M- Mrs. Tracy. Your insight shames me."

Sally reached across to muss the engineer's black hair.

"I just ain't s' tired, is all. Now, go clean up, an' take a power nap, all of ya. I got th' con. If'n sumthin' comes up, I'll, uh… I'll call Lee." (Who was out in the kitchen, stuffing his face with her cooking… without ketchup, even.)

Scott, John and Virgil would have protested, if they'd had the energy. Instead, her weary grandsons just grumbled and drifted away upstairs, along with Brains.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mars, a few hours after nightfall, by the ruined hangar and landing pad-

Don't panic: Rule number one.

A thin, freezing wind hissed through the valley system, and between the gathered survivors. Standing at their head, Captain Hesse gazed at the tangle of wreckage left over by explosion and structure collapse. She was no demolitions expert, but Lina Hesse recognized sabotage when she d*mn well saw it. She and her small group had made their way on foot along "Interstate 1", from Bio-pod 3, to… this.

Under battered floodlights and cold, Martian stars, the hangar was become a pancaked ruin, about four-and-a-half feet tall, at its highest. A few curving spars stuck out of the wreckage like spindly ribs. They hadn't been designed to bear much weight, because Mars was a low-gravity world. A few well-placed explosive devices had completely demolished the hangar, simply because no one had expected deliberate sabotage, or thought to guard their transports from hostile activity. Sandstorms and meteor-strikes, yes. But, who'd be stupid enough to destroy the colony's reactor, and then demolish their only means of escape? And, more importantly… were the perpetrators still here, plotting further destruction?

Take command of the situation and prevent further damage: Rule number two.

Looking around herself at the shattered hangar and her growing band of refugees, Captain Hesse announced,

"Not enough air on this rock to propagate a decent explosion. That means that some of those spacecraft parts can be salvaged. Harper, De Claire, get in there… careful, don't set off any possible booby traps… and see what's still useable. If we have to, we'll construct our own transport. Pujals and… and Kale, pick the troops you can personally vouch for, and set up an armed perimeter. This was no accident, people, and job one, from here on out, is staying alive, and finding Commander McCord."

She'd had contact from Rigby, confirming the skipper's survival. That was something. But, they were under murderous siege on a dangerous planet, and a very long way from help. When things on Mars went wrong, they went very wrong, very fast. Then again… the tall, robust blonde straightened inside of her survival suit… their attackers hadn't reckoned on dealing with Lina Hesse, when truly, deeply pissed-off.

"We're going to get through this," she promised aloud, "because Martians are Goddam tough."