Far below Thunderbird Five, the sun blazed down on the tropical paradise that was Tracy Island, the secret base of International Rescue. Jeff Tracy, former astronaut, father of the five Tracy brothers and founder of the secret organisation, sat at his desk, his brow creased with concern as he listened to his youngest son's report.
"So that's the situation, Father," Alan finished, his video feed broadcasting from his portrait on the far wall.
"Why would they go and do a fool thing like that?" he grumbled, tutting to himself. "Some people don't have the sense they were born with. How many people are we talking, Son?"
"Three men including the pilot, and four women, so seven total."
Jeff shook his head in disgust, his broad shoulders lifting as he sighed deeply. "I'd better call the boys. Thanks, Alan, keep me posted."
"F.A.B." Alan cut his feed, his video link vanishing to be replaced with the original portrait view.
Turning in his chair, Jeff pushed the button that would connect him to the poolside. "Scott? John? Look lively, we've got a rescue on our hands."
Jeff's middle son, John, sat up on his sun lounger and pushed his sunglasses up on the top of his head, looking over at the pool where his eldest brother, Scott, had been completing his daily laps.
"Did you hear?" John started, but Scott was already pulling himself up out of the pool.
"Sure did, let's shake a leg."
"Right behind you," John assured him, tossing a towel to his brother, who caught it one-handed.
Scott was still rubbing his dark hair dry as they entered the lounge less than two minutes after they had been summoned, both still in their swim gear. John glanced at the empty couch, surprised to find that their brother, Virgil, wasn't there already. Virgil flew and operated Thunderbird Two, their heavy-duty equipment transporter, and as such he was involved with most rescues. This could only mean one thing.
"Time to suit up, boys, you're needed in space," Jeff announced, confirming John's suspicions. Virgil and Gordon would be staying behind in case another rescue call came in.
"Alan will fill you in after you lift off," Jeff continued as the two men made their way to the seemingly ordinary couch that was really a hidden launch chute to their rocket ship, Thunderbird Three.
"Where are we going?" Scott asked, sitting down on the couch where John joined him.
"The Moon, so I hope you packed your toothbrushes," Jeff answered as he pushed a button on his desk, starting the couch on its downward descent to the hangars below.
-x-
"And you say you never get to go on rescues," Scott teased as he straightened his distinctive blue sash. "You know what they say about being careful what you wish for, this is the third this week."
"I guess I spoke too soon," John chuckled as he settled himself behind the controls of the Thunderbird. "But at least this one means I get to take this baby somewhere other than the space station."
Scott grinned. "Then get a move on, fella. Less talking, more blasting off."
John's smile widened as he checked their feed one last time, his fingers flying over the complicated controls with the ease of much practice. Much as he loved his space station it always felt so good, so right, to be sitting behind the controls of their rocket ship. It had been too long since he'd gotten to pilot her on a long run like this and he was determined to make the most of it.
The engines rumbled into life as he indicated to Scott to start the countdown. "Right there with you, big brother."
-x-
Scott Tracy had seen some sights in his time, but as Thunderbird Three caught up with the stricken rocket, he couldn't believe his eyes. The titanium hull shimmered in the heat building up from the straining engines and even as they watched the engines spluttered, and the rocket shuddered, vibrations rolling through the body of the craft.
"Say, that's a real mess," he muttered, shaking his head in disgust before turning to his brother. "So, what now? Is there any way we can remotely pilot it from here?"
John shook his head. "No can do. Look at that thing, it's gotta be at least twenty years old, so it won't even have a universal connector. No, there's nothing we can do but board her and pilot it manually."
As they watched the rocket seemed to buck in mid-air, dipping a little at the nose before levelling off.
"You have better knowledge of older crafts than I do. It's gotta be you," Scott decided.
John nodded, "You got it." He pushed up from his seat, making room for Scott to take over the controls. "Hold her steady for me."
Scott saluted, "F.A.B."
As John moved towards the cabin door, Scott stopped him with a gruff, "Be careful out there."
John smiled to himself as he assured him, "I always am."
Leaving the ship in his brother's more than capable hands, John quickly headed to the cargo area where they kept their portable equipment and spacesuits for the times they needed to go EVA.
Finding his suit –which was a little longer than Scott or Alan's and designed to his exact measurements– John carefully removed it from its storage locker and climbed into it, pulling it on over his uniform.
After stepping into the boots and bolting them into place, he settled his helmet over his head and locked it into the collar of the suit. After a quick equipment check and test of his oxygen supply, he was pulling on his gloves ready to move to the crew lock.
Advances in technology, as well as their superior equipment designed by Brains, International Rescues' chief engineer and designer, meant they no longer had to spend hours inside their suits as the air was pumped out while preparing to spacewalk, but they still liked to have one, just for safety's sake, using it as a secondary airlock should the first one fail.
As he waited for the pressure in his suit to adjust he busied himself with picking out and packing the tools he thought he might need into his belt. He checked his oxygen flow one more time and reached for the safety tether attached to the inner side of the airlock. He clipped it into place on the utility belt of his suit and gave it a hard tug. Only once he was satisfied that everything was correct did he open the airlock. It wouldn't do for the rescue team to lose a man due to equipment failure or negligence on his part.
The moment his timer reached zero he pressed the hatch release. The locks and bolts shifted back, allowing the door to slide open. Because of the crew locks lack of air, he was able to glide out of the hatch rather than being forced out due to the vacuum of space. Holding on to the outside handles of the airlock he attached the tether on the outside of the hatch to his suit, making sure it was secured before he unhooked the one that attached him to the inside of the craft, which retracted back into its holder. Safety was paramount when it came to spacewalks and no matter the emergency, his attention had to be fully focused and all procedures completed in full before he could get to work.
Brains had improved upon the standard thruster packs that NASA and other space agencies used, meaning it took him very little time to propel himself across the void of space towards the stricken rocket which, compared to Thunderbird Three's great speed, was practically crawling.
Close up he could see that the rocket was in worse shape than they had first believed.
"This thing is practically prehistoric," he muttered to himself as he reached the airlock. "I sure hope it still works okay."
A push of the button proved that his hopes were in vain.
"Great, just what I need," he grumbled before opening a line to Alan in Thunderbird Five. "Alan, the airlock hatch has malfunctioned, so it's gonna take me a little longer to get in than we originally planned for. Can you alert the passengers and pass the information on to Scott?"
"F.A.B.," Alan replied. "What's it looking like down there?"
"Not great, give me a second." John broke off as he prised open the safety cover to reveal the circuit board to the locking mechanism. "The wires on the board have corroded, looks like they've been this way for a while too."
"So how did they get in?" Alan asked. "Do you think someone opened it from the inside?"
John continued to explore the circuitry, it really was a complete mess. "They must have, there's no way this has opened recently."
"Can't we just do that again? Get someone to open it from the inside?"
John thought about it for a moment but ultimately, he shook his head. "I'd rather fix the issue myself if I can. If something goes wrong or the power goes out once we land, we might be stuck inside."
"Good point," Alan agreed. "Alright, I'll make the calls, let me know if there's anything else I can do to help."
"F.A.B.," John responded as Alan cut the call.
It was quiet in space, not the kind of quiet that one would find on Earth, but a deathly silence, a complete lack of sound that was so alien. On earth, even when everything and everyone around you was silent, there was still noise. The sound of the wind in the trees, birds outside, maybe an aeroplane flying overhead or the creaking of your house. Here in space, all John could hear was the sound of his own breathing. Most found it eerie and John was no exception no matter how long he spent up there.
As always, in a bid to ease the silence, he hummed a little tune as he worked, a few bars from some half-remembered pop song that Tin-Tin had been listening to the past few weeks. Using the automatic screwdriver that Brains had included in the toolkits, he opened the catches that held the wires in place. Thankful for the magnetic tips on the forefinger and thumb of his gloves, he carefully pocketed the screws for later.
Working quickly, he pulled the wires out of the connectors and pushed them aside to get a proper look. The connectors were rusty, which told him that the unit was no longer air or watertight, not that he was surprised. Luckily they appeared to have used widely available connectors of which he always carried spares. It was a quick job to replace the affected ones, cut off and strip back the corroded end of the wires and feed them back into place. As an afterthought he checked the fuses, finding that two had blown. He replaced these too, then screwed the panel cover on tight and called it good, it wasn't like they needed the fix to last forever, besides, there was nothing else he could do out here if it didn't work.
"Okay, Alan, I've done all I can here, I'm gonna try the hatch again."
"F.A.B.," Alan sent back. "Good luck."
"Thanks, I'm gonna need it."
This time, when John pushed the button to activate the airlock, the light went from red to yellow and then, thankfully, to green. The doors slid open, allowing him to pull himself through the gap. He repeated the process of attaching the tether from his belt to the inside of the hatch, and then he allowed the one attached to Thunderbird Three to float free and begin to retract. Only once he was sure he was secure did he allow the doors to shut.
Looking around he realised that the ship didn't have much of a crew lock either, but he doubted it was down to superior design as theirs was. No, this was negligence pure and simple. With no need to wait for air to be pumped out, he unhooked his tether and moved straight to the secondary hatch, which opened easily without his assistance.
He didn't have time to congratulate himself on a job well done for the moment he climbed through to the main body of the ship and his feet hit the floor he was bowled over by the most enthusiastic hug he'd ever experienced.
A woman who had been waiting on the other side of the door launched herself at him from across the room and latched onto him, her arms locking around his neck as she clung tightly, her head donking against his helmet in her haste.
"Oh my gods, I can't believe you guys actually came. Thank you! Thank you so much," she babbled, bouncing a little in her excitement.
John, shocked by this unexpected greeting, could do nothing more than awkwardly pat her shoulder. "Erm… you're welcome."
"Oh! Oh!" She let go quickly, her face flaming as she realised that she had just thrown herself at a complete stranger. "I'm so sorry." She stepped back awkwardly, trying to put some distance between them.
"It's fine, really," John assured her as he pulled off his helmet and brushed the hair back from his face that had fallen forward.
Selene gasped so hard she choked, her eyes widening as she got her first full view of her rescuer. Wow, he was handsome. He was tanned a light golden brown that set off his pale blond hair, which had settled into a becoming curl that just kissed his forehead, to perfection.
"Are you okay?" John asked as he reached out a hand to steady her.
Selene's choking had become an inelegant coughing fit as she tried to control her spasming throat. "Yeah, I'm good," she wheezed out as she waved away his concern. "Just swallowed a speck of dust, that's all. Sorry."
"You sure?"
"Totally," she promised, unable to stop a goofy smile from forming when his blue gaze met her own. He smiled reassuringly back at her, the action making two small dimples bloom into life at the corners of his mouth that she couldn't help but stare at for a second.
His looks, his kind eyes, that smile, the dimples, the whole package combined into a one-two punch to the gut that had left her feeling a little winded. Never had she felt so instantly attracted, so drawn, to a stranger before.
"Are you really sure you're alright?" he asked again, concern lacing his voice, which had a deep, midwestern accent that seemed to roll off his tongue in a sensual wave. Honestly, she could have listened to him all day even if he was doing nothing but reading the weather forecast. "You didn't hurt yourself when we clashed heads?"
He was still watching her closely like he was afraid she was about to faint.
"No, no, all good here," she rushed to assure him. She had to pull herself together and stop staring at him, it was bound to make him feel uncomfortable when he was here to rescue people, not her raging hormones.
"Then do you think you could show me the way to the control cabin?" he asked, nodding towards the door. "I should probably get to work."
"Sure!" she yelped, caught off guard once again. "Yeah, of course!" This was good, this was what she needed, a distraction from staring at him like he was a buffet. Without looking back she shot off ahead, calling to him over her shoulder. "Follow me."
Only when she had gotten a few steps ahead did John allow his smile to widen into a full-on grin. It looked like this rescue was going to be anything but dull if she had anything to do with it. There was something endearing about her that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but whatever it was piqued his interest enough that he hurried to catch up.
-x-
As they made their way through the stricken rocket John's keen eyes roamed the interior. It was quite small by Thunderbird Three's standards, but too big to have ever been a designated people carrier. In fact, he could tell that in its original incarnation, it had been used as a haulage vessel before it had been converted to allow it to accommodate passengers. The cargo areas were large, with separate sections all sealed by airtight doors, most likely so the ship would be able to safely transport different, possibly volatile, materials as needed. These areas were accessed by a long walkway that spanned the length of the ship straight down to the flight deck. Off of the corridor, he saw a door with a hand-scrawled sign that read 'toilet'. Only the best for these passengers, he thought.
The metal of the walls was covered in chipped and peeling paint, with a layer of dust covering most of the surfaces, something that shouldn't have been allowed in a vessel that operated with recycled air. The doors themselves were dented and scuffed, as were some of the walls. This was not a ship that had been taken care of, not that he'd expected any different after the state of the airlock.
The rocket itself was still hiccupping and shuddering like they were travelling down a dirt track in a car with no suspension and he could hear the engines whining as they strained to keep up with the speed that was demanded of them. The sooner he got to those controls the better.
His disbelief -and not a little anger- intensified the moment they stepped into the cabin.
"This is…" he continued to stare around him in awe at just how bad it was. Selene tipped her head to one side, regarding him patiently as she waited for him to continue. "A death trap," he finally finished, unable to find a better way to break the bad news.
"Oh."
"I'm surprised it even got off the ground," he admitted, poking gingerly at a bunch of ragged wires that were hanging in midair, origin unknown. When they didn't immediately spit out sparks or flames and the rocket didn't grind to a halt he dismissed them as unimportant and moved on.
"Okay," she said slowly, her arms crossing defensively over her chest. "But my question is, can you stop it from falling back down to it?"
"That I can do," he assured her.
He said it was such confidence -and not a trace of ego- that she instantly believed him. She took a deep breath, feeling her tight shoulders lower from around her ears as she relaxed a smidgen. This was why she had called, so someone with the right knowledge could get them out of trouble, and it looked like she'd been sent the perfect person.
"But I'm going to need your help," he continued as his eyes roamed the control panels.
She nodded eagerly, "Anything, although I don't know much, or indeed anything, about flying a rocket, so I can't guarantee that I'll be of much use."
There was that smile again, the one that flashed those adorable dimples of his. She felt her heart flutter, it should be a crime for someone to be that handsome.
"I just need you to keep your friends calm and out of my way," he said, bringing her attention back to the present. "Our operator said it sounded like a few of them were a little reluctant to call us and I don't want any trouble."
Don't worry, that won't be an issue," she said confidently.
"How so?"
Selene shrugged lightly and casually buffed her nails on her top before answering, "I left them in the passenger bay with instructions to look after the pilot and then I locked the door from the outside."
John lifted an eyebrow in silent question.
"Not my finest moment, granted," she said a little defensively, "but they were annoying me."
John kept right on staring at her.
"I'm not proud of it."
John shook his head, pressing his lips together to hold in the laugh that was threatening to escape.
"Okay, maybe I am a little proud," she admitted.
The sight of her little grin broke through John's control and he burst out laughing. The action lit up his face, somehow making him look younger, and more carefree. His laugh was one that her Nan would have called hearty, a genuine, honest reaction with a deep timber to it that made it impossible not to join in.
She looked away, stifling her giggles, before she was caught staring at him again. "So, you wanna save us now?"
"Right! Yes…" he cleared his throat, pulling himself together before continuing, "sorry."
He moved past her, his boots clumping on the floor, to awkwardly manoeuvre his spacesuit-clad self into the pilot's seat. His demeanour had changed in an instant, going from lighthearted to serious the moment he looked over the controls.
"This has about as much technology as a go-cart," he told her. "These crafts were designed to be flown by people with very little technical knowledge on how they work or training beyond basic space flight. I guess you could say these things are the equivalent of a semi-truck back on earth."
"In that case it shouldn't be a problem to get us to the Moon, right?" she asked, moving closer so she too could study the controls. Now that he was sitting behind them they seemed a lot less intimidating and confusing and she was able to focus on reading the words above some of the buttons and switches.
"No problem at all," he assured her as he removed his gloves and tucked them into his helmet which he'd placed carefully on the floor, then risked a glance over his shoulder when she let out a relieved sigh. "But you know I won't be leaving you there, right?" he asked, needing to make sure she understood. His job was to get them safe and get them back to earth. "We're taking you all back to earth with us."
When she didn't offer any form of protest he turned back to the instrument panel, flicked a few switches, pushed a few buttons and then took a firm hold of the controls. His hands were just as tanned as his face, with long but slender fingers that looked strong and capable and she knew instinctively that he wouldn't be a clumsy person. They were nice hands, ones that she found she quite liked looking at, so much so that it took a few seconds for his words to register.
"Wait a second, back to earth?" She shook her head in denial. "No! Why would you do that?"
"Because you're protestors and would be there illegally," he explained patiently, as one would an upset child. "As an organisation, we have a duty to help uphold the law."
"Excuse me?" she gasped, her face morphing from confused to angry. "Are you saying that we're the illegal ones in this situation?"
"Yes."
Still glaring she drew her shoulders back, straightening to her full height which he found quite impressive as she was rather tall for a lady. He was used to smaller women, the more delicate looking, shorter females, while she reminded him in an odd way of an Amazonian warrior, all flowing hair and prickled pride.
"The only ones doing anything illegal here are the ones who are out there stealing her resources in their selfish pursuit of wealth and power," she proclaimed grandly.
He knew he shouldn't be arguing with her, it was part of their training, never argue with or in any way distress a rescuee if they could help it. They weren't to get personally involved, just get in, get the job done and leave again. They knew that an angry or argumentative rescuee could quickly turn hostile, but he found that he wasn't worried about that here. He could tell, just from her previous actions, that she wouldn't be the kind to really give him any trouble. And, if he was being honest with himself, he was rather enjoying the verbal sparring they seemed to keep engaging in. With that thought in mind, he couldn't help himself from pushing her a little further, just to see what she would do.
"They aren't technically stealing," he argued, his eyes on the moon that was still a little way ahead of them, "they won the contract to mine for resources on the government's orders. They have all the rights here."
"A contract?" she all but yelled. "No one owns the Moon! She is a free spirit, ancient and wise. She has been there since the dawn of time and if we start treating her like we have our own planet, if we keep mining her, she'll soon be tapped out, depleted, dead as a doornail. Do you want that? Do you think that's right?"
John held his hands up in surrender. "I never said it was right," he pointed out. "I said it was legal. And to counteract that you have to find a legal way."
"Peaceful protest isn't illegal," she reminded him. "It's well within my rights as a citizen of Earth."
"The key word here being Earth," he said, returning his hands to the controls. "We're talking about the Moon, and while peaceful protest isn't illegal, being on the Moon without permission or a permit is. That is seen as trespassing and could come with a heavy sentence."
Selene stayed quiet for a few seconds, weighing it up everything he had said. It made sense that the world government would want to expand their authority and make laws in places where they should rightfully have no jurisdiction, but she didn't have to like it.
"So no protesting?"
"No protesting," John confirmed, although he was rather surprised she had given up so easily.
Selene studied him for a moment, then shook her head. "Nah, doesn't sound as effective to me. I think I'm gonna keep doing things my way."
Ah, there it was, she hadn't backed down, she had tried to re-route him. Well, that wasn't going to happen. "Then you're going to have to find a different way to do it," he told her firmly. "Because I won't be leaving you there."
Selene waved away his concern. "We'll talk about it later."
He located the button he needed, pushed it down and then slowly pulled back on a lever. The effect was instantaneous as the engines stopped straining and the rocket's ride smoothed out.
"There's nothing to talk about-" he continued to argue as if he hadn't just calmed a speeding rocket with a flick of his hand, but she cut him off.
Placing a finger on her lips she whispered, "Shhh, later."
John shook his head in disbelief. This girl looked sane, if a little eccentrically dressed in what his father would call 'dippy hippy;, looking like she'd be more at home in a festival field than on a rocket ship, but she had seemed sensible enough so far. Although he knew that looks could be deceiving. Maybe he should try a different tactic. "Is there anyone else I can talk to?"
"Of course," she cooed, smiling sweetly. "Do you want me to fetch Meadow, Cosmo, Sage, Rain or that Atlas guy that Cosmo brought with him?"
And now he was reassessing his stance on her sanity. He closed his eyes as if the action would wipe away the dream he was obviously experiencing. Unfortunately, when he opened them again she was still there and still watching him with that innocent expression, apparently waiting for his answer.
"You're not being serious," he stated, it wasn't even a question. She couldn't be.
She nodded. "Yep."
"And what's your name, Blossom Breeze?"
Her smile widened into a cheeky grin that his own lips itched to echo. There was something ridiculously enchanting about her, he'd never met anyone like her before and the urge to keep talking to her was strong.
"No, actually," she answered with a dramatic sigh he knew was faked, "my parents saw fit to name me Selene."
The smile that he had been fighting won the battle as he asked, "Like the moon goddess in Greek mythology?"
"That's the one, so you can see why I feel like it's my duty to protect her."
"And we're back to illegal activity."
Before she realised she was doing it, she had reached out a hand and ruffled his hair. "Stick with me and it could become a regular occurrence."
"That's not exactly a selling point," he pointed out as he absently twisted a dial on the controls.
"It's obvious we come from very different places."
John nodded, his focus on the controls as the rocket began to slow. "It seems we do."
Selene opened her mouth to continue her teasing, but the feel of the rocket slowing, the vibrations easing, was evident. "Hey! You did it!"
John shrugged. "Just doing my job."
"I know, but I'm very grateful that you're here to do it."
"It's nothing special," he said dismissively. "We just like to help people."
"Well it's special to me," she insisted, needing him to know. Unlike most people, he seemed to possess an ego the size of a walnut. "You know, since you're saving me from a horrific death."
Embarrassed by the compliment, John absently smoothed his ruffled hair back into place. This was a new one for him, he wasn't used to getting compliments, he was used to that honour going to his brothers. In his line of work he was usually the one taking the calls. After he had passed them on he would often stay on the line with the caller, reassuring them, talking to them, and keeping them updated on the progress of his brothers, but the minute his brothers got there he was forgotten about. Even with the last few rescues he had been an active part of, he had been playing second fiddle to Scott or Virgil. He didn't really mind it, it was all part of the job after all. But it was nice to be taking the lead for once, even if it did mean that he didn't have a clue how to respond.
He needed time to think, time to recover his composure. He cleared his throat and said the first thing that came to mind. "Sorry, I really need to concentrate right now."
Selene's smile dropped, her eyes shuttering like a blind had been drawn. He was right, she was standing there, chatting nonsense and distracting him, even to the point of touching him when she didn't even know him. How uncomfortable must she have made him feel? Why had she done that? Urghh, she could kick herself.
"Right, yes, of course, sorry," she backtracked. "I'll just… I'll go and check on my friends and leave you to it."
Not waiting for a response she hurried to the door, her face and neck flaming with embarrassment. But, if she had paused and looked back, she would have seen her International Rescue hero looking exactly the same. Both of them feeling a little hot under the collar, but neither of them really knowing why.