Mind Crime, a thunderbirds fanfic

'Rise and shine, Soldier.'

There was a kick to the bed and before he knew it Scott was up and standing to attention. His brain didn't kick in for several seconds and he was thankful for the muscle memory and the ingrained obedience he'd learned firstly from his Dad and then from the USAF.

As his brain caught up with him he frowned. Something…something wasn't quite right. He couldn't put his finger on it, but then he didn't have time to ruminate on it – the demands of being a soldier kept him too busy to dwell at the moment. The man who had woken him was long gone by the time Scott realised what he should be doing next.

Ablutions complete, Scott returned to his bunk and surveyed the room. There was a vague stirring in the back of his mind that the room wasn't right, that there should be several bunks in here, but the more he tried to catch the thought the more it refused to be tied down and the more Scott began to realise he'd woken up with a headache. Still, he'd worked with worse so he dressed in his fatigues and laced up his boots and thought about the day.

It was a with some concern he realised that he didn't know where to go for the mess hall.

His room door opened and a petite blonde woman with the caduceus on her sleeve and the name FURORE, H. on her uniform stood before him, a tray with some medication and a drink on it in her hands. Scott stood aside and allowed the woman entry.

'Major Tracy, how are you this morning, sir?'

'I'm fine.'

Now why did he say that? He wasn't fine, not by a long shot, but for some reason it was the answer readily on his tongue.

'Good. Here are your meds, Major. Once you take them I'll escort you to the mess to get breakfast before your appointment.'

Scott didn't want to admit that he didn't know what the medication was for, nor what the appointment was either, but he was a soldier through and through, and he took his meds without hesitating and followed the woman out into the hall.

There were few people in the small mess hall, and it began to occur to Scott that he was either in the officer's mess or he was in some kind of military hospital. There were so many things he couldn't remember but he sat where he was directed and ate what he was given. Eggs, cornbread and orange juice and plenty of bitter black coffee.

Afterwards she came back and escorted him through the small building to a small room. A desk, three chairs and a side table. Behind the desk sat a man in full Colonel uniform. He was busy working at something, the light shining of his bald head.

Something stirred in Scott. Fear. Something about this man was triggering Scott's fight-ot-flight reflex, and he found it difficult to raise his eyes from the floor.

He suddenly became aware that the medic had gone, that the door was closed, and that the Colonel was watching him.

It was an effort to override his instincts – instincts that had saved his life on more than one occasion – but Scott mastered himself, forcing his body to obey his mind, and stood to attention. The Colonel smiled at him and he bit down hard to suppress a shudder.

The man's eyes were a weird yellowish-hazel. But they seemed hypnotic, and once he looked Scott found he couldn't look away. The skin around the Colonel's eyes crinkled and Scott realised he must be smiling, but it took some effort to pull his eyes away to look at his commanding officer as a whole.

'Stand easy, soldier.'

Relaxing into the correct posture, hands clasped behind his back and knees soft, Scott waited. The Colonel looked him over with an apprising eye and then nodded.

'Take a seat, Major.'

'Yes, Sir.'

Scott waited as the man picked up the pad he'd been reading and glanced over it again.

'The medic tells me you are more yourself this morning, more 'with it' as she says than you've been since you were rescued.'

'I – I don't remember.'

'I know. The doctors have discussed your unique situation with me.'

Again the man smiled. Scott didn't like that smile. It was too intimate, promising that he knew something Scott didn't, and that whatever that information was it was important, something that would explain the increasing uneasiness creeping up Scott's spine and nestling in his belly.

A sudden piercing pain lanced through his head and Scott stumbled backwards. That feeling of *'flee!'* was overwhelming. He became aware that the Colonel was calling his name but when he looked back up the man's eyes were flashing and he found that he couldn't move.

The Colonel's face broke out in beads of sweat as his eyes continued to glow and Scott continued to struggle. He couldn't break free, though, and he couldn't tear his eyes away. Suddenly there was the prick of a needle and the cold feeling of sedation spread up his arm.

Just before he passed out completely Scott was sure the man's eyes returned to normal and he collapsed back into the chair as sleep completely claimed Scott.

'Rise and shine, Soldier.'

Ablutions complete, Scott returned to his bunk and surveyed the room. Scott began to realise he'd woken up with a headache. Still, he'd soldiered on with worse so he dressed in his fatigues and laced up his boots and waited at the door for the medic.

His room door opened and Furore stood before him, a tray with some medication and a drink on it in her hands. Scott stood aside and allowed her entry and she smiled at him.

'Major Tracy, how are you this morning, sir?'

'I'm fine.'

'Good. Here are your meds, Major. Once you take them I'll escort you to the mess to get breakfast before your appointment.'

Scott was a soldier through and through, and he obediently took his meds without hesitation or question and followed the woman out into the hall and into the small mess hall. Eggs, cornbread and orange juice and plenty of bitter black coffee sated his appetite and soon they were moving on to

'Stand easy, Major Tracy.'

'Sir.'

'Please sit. We have much to discuss.'

'Yes, Sir.'

Scott sat. The Colonel looked at him and smiled.

'How are you this morning?'

'I'm fine, Sir.'

'Come now, Tracy. Be honest with me.'

'I took my meds this morning. I have a slight headache but I actually do feel fine, Sir.'

'Excellent news, Major. What can you remember?'

'I assume that something happened to me and that's why I'm here in some kind of military hospital. But I don't remember much. In fact, I don't remember anything.'

'Well, you are right. You were on a mission that went wrong and we lost you for a while, but you were rescued around six weeks ago. I've been told to give you only the basic facts. You need to remember this stuff for yourself if you are going to get better, although that might take a while.'

'Yes, Sir. That makes sense. I – I'm eager to get back to work, sir.'

'I bet you are! I want you back too, but not before you're ready. The medics say at least another week on the medication before they will think about weaning you off and then we can talk.'

'Sir, yes sir. I guess that I still have a mission to fulfil?'

'When you're up to it, Major Tracy. When you're up for it. For now I want you concentrating on getting better. There's some light paperwork in your room for the time being.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Dismissed.'

Scott saluted and marched smartly to the door. His hand was on the handle when the Colonel spoke again.

'It's good to see you back again, Scott.'

Smiling to himself, Scott nodded and left, closing the door behind him and returning to his room. He'd see Furore later no doubt, when it was the next time for his medication.

As soon as he'd gone Havoc slipped into the 'Colonel's' room.

'How's it going, Boss?'

'Like a dream, Havoc. Tracy is almost ready for the mission we want him to do.'

'He honestly thinks he's still in the military?'

'Yes. Interesting what a couple of drugs can do to a person. He's almost completely obedient to my command. Soon – soon we'll have him fully in our control.'

The Hood turned to the window, ignoring Havoc's smirk.

'I hope you're ready to get your boy back, Jeff,' he murmured.