"So that's the situation. Auto-pilot is non-existent, and by that I mean it was never there in the first place. I have to land it as is."
"Can we not evacuate the passengers?" Scott asked, his voice crackling a little over the radio.
Selene crept into the cockpit, not wanting to disturb him while he was talking to his colleagues. He looked so serious now, a look of pure concentration on his face which, if anything, just made him look all the more handsome. Hidden from view by his seat, it meant that she was able to indulge and feast her eyes on him as much as she wanted without looking like a weirdo. From this angle, she was able to notice the sharpness of his face, the strong jaw, chiselled cheekbones, and that long, straight nose. That man had bone structure to die for.
"Negative," John answered, unaware that he was being watched so closely. "We don't have the resources on board. There aren't enough spacesuits by half and the escape capsule is a one-trip deal that's only big enough for two passengers."
"Who on earth would design a ship like that?" Alan asked, the call apparently being a three-way situation. "There are laws against that."
"It's an old cargo vessel," John explained. "It wasn't designed for passengers, just a small, two-man crew. This whole ship seems to be some kind of home renovation, jerry-rigged, death trap."
"It's that bad?"
"The navigation system is like something out of the ark, I've seen it before during training, it's from 2045 and was decommissioned by NASA as unreliable. The life support backup might as well be a flashlight battery, the fuel gauge seems to be stuck on by what looks, and smells, suspiciously like chewing gum, and the controls have been ripped from an entirely different craft which looks like it might have been a fighter plane," John finished to stunned silence.
"Well that's just plain crazy," Scott raged, unable to believe that someone could allow something that dangerous. "How is that thing still flying?"
John sighed deeply."The phrase 'a wing and a prayer' has never been more apt."
Unable to hold it in, a small gasp escaped her, causing John to spin around in his seat, noticing her for the first time.
"I have it under control," John said, both for his brothers and her benefit as he turned back to the radio. "I'll meet you on the Moon, Thunderbird Three."
"F.A.B.," Scott reluctantly agreed, realising that someone must have come in due to John's sudden return to their formal call signs. He didn't like the idea of leaving it all to John, but he really was the best they had when it came to space rescues, it was just in his overprotective, big-brother nature to worry.
"Keep tracking us, Thunderbird Five."
"You got it."
John cut the connection and leaned back in his chair, which was apparently Selene's cue to move closer.
"It's really that bad?" she asked, her voice sounding smaller than he'd heard from her before.
"Yes, it's that bad," he answered, not wanting to lie to her. "But don't worry, you're in good hands. I'll get you home safely, I promise."
She'd had enough false promises to last her a lifetime, something that obviously showed on her face.
"You can trust me," he assured her, his blue eyes locked onto hers, calmly, openly, without a hint of discomfort or deceit.
Still, she shook her head, her voice almost as whisper as she admitted, "I can't trust anyone anymore."
"Then I guess I'll have to change that," John told her, his voice steady and sure.
When she didn't answer, continuing to chew on her bottom lip, he felt compelled to change the subject, mostly so he could fight off the irrational urge he had to pull her into his arms for a hug and reassure her that he meant every word he said. He might have only known her less than an hour, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would do anything it took to keep her and the others safe. But to do such a thing would be highly unprofessional, not to mention totally inappropriate.
There was something about her that called to him in a way he'd never experienced before. She looked vulnerable and small one second, then blazed high with righteous fire the next.
He wanted to hug her and promise that everything would be okay because he'd make it so, but he knew full well that if he took her in his arms, if he pulled her onto his lap as his every instinct was urging him to do, he wouldn't want to stop there. He'd want to kiss those lips that she kept nibbling on, and that was very much not allowed.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He'd never felt like this before, never experienced instant attraction, screw the consequences, thoughts about a person and he couldn't afford to let himself act on them. That was 101 of their training, keep it professional, keep detached, don't let anyone get close to you.
"How is everyone back there?" he asked, keeping his tone as casual as he could while firmly pushing all intrusive thoughts into a locked box in his mind.
"Stupid and argumentative," Selene answered, grateful for the subject change. "So I'd say they're fine."
She hadn't liked the look on his face when she had doubted him, and she couldn't blame him for that. No one wanted to go out of their way to help someone and have that person act like you were incompetent even if she hadn't meant it that way.
"That's fine?" he questioned.
"Pretty normal for them, actually."
John chuckled at her resigned tone, but cut it short to ask, "And the pilot, how's he doing?"
"Sage said he's doing well. He woke up rather confused, which I guess is to be expected, otherwise he seemed okay. No pain or injuries that he could tell and thankfully, no nausea. But whatever it was that happened sure took it out of him, he fell asleep pretty soon after waking and is resting now."
"That's positive news, but we'll still get him checked out as soon as we touch down, just to make sure." He glanced at the controls and made a quick calculation before adding, "Speaking of which, you should head back, we'll be landing soon."
"Nope, no way." She crossed her arms firmly. "I'm staying here with you." There was no way on Earth, or the Moon for that matter, that she was going to head back there and sit with that bunch of idiots while he tried to land. They would send her crazy, and she'd be arrested for murder the second they stepped out of the ship because if one more person tried to get pushy with her she wouldn't be responsible for her actions. She was used to being the sensible one, the one that organised everyone, keeping them calm and running interference when things inevitably got messed up along the way, but this was too much, even for her. She was out of her depth, and not ashamed to admit it. No, she would be staying right there with him, thank you very much.
John, known amongst his family and friends for his logic and self-preservation -being the middle child taught you some harsh lessons- knew when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em. His dad always said that some women were impossible to argue with and it seemed that Selene was that type. He knew he was beaten, besides, it wouldn't do any harm to let her stay if it meant he had one less problem to deal with, and he sure counted angry women as a problem.
He nodded towards the co-pilot's seat. "Then you'd better strap in, this could get a little bumpy."
She didn't need telling twice as she scurried over to the seat and buckled in, which he found quite refreshing. It seemed that she was more sensible than she appeared, only arguing over things that didn't matter, but when he gave serious instructions, she did as she was told without a word. That was good, that meant that he wouldn't have to worry too much about her getting in the way or causing more issues than they already had.
Once he was sure she was securely seated, he reached over to flick on the radio. "Cargo ship calling Thunderbird Five."
"Cargo ship, this is Thunderbird Five, receiving you strength four," Alan replied almost instantly.
"Can you contact Moonbase and request permission to land?" John asked, checking his position as best he could when all he could do was look through the cockpit window.
"Already done," Alan confirmed. "I've explained the situation and they have promised to have people on standby for when you dock."
"I'll guide you in," Scott said firmly, not giving John a chance to argue.
"F.A.B., Thunderbird Three," John said to the radio as he nodded towards the window, indicating that Selene should watch.
Turning her attention from him to the front of the ship, the sight that met her was worth every second of trouble she had experienced. There, out in front of them, growing bigger before their eyes as they rapidly approached, was the Moon. She could see every dip and crater of her surface, which glowed in the light from Earth, ethereal in its splendour. It was beautiful, more breathtaking than anything she could have ever imagined from her time standing in her garden, staring up into the star-speckled night sky.
She stared at it, drinking in every second. It was hard to look away, her eyes feasting on the beauty in front of them until, like a vision from a dream, the sleek, red form of Thunderbird Three slid up alongside them. Just its nose cone seemed to dwarf their little ship, such was its size and majesty. She stared in disbelief, never having seen anything as impressive in her life before.
"Now that is a rocket," she whispered, more to herself than to John, her eyes darting between the mighty Thunderbird and the Moon, unable to decide which she would focus on. Both were awe-inspiring in their own way. That was until John spoke again and, like she was drawn by a homing beacon, she was powerless to resist watching him work.
"Reducing speed now," John intoned as he pushed down on a lever near his hand. "Checking trajectory… following your path Thunderbird Three, moving in towards Plato crater."
Selene listened as he talked through everything he did but, far from feeling like he was showing off and making her feel inferior, it comforted her. It all sounded incredibly technical but if she'd ever had a doubt that he knew what he was doing, watching him in action now wiped that away completely. He was just so competent, fully in control, that it was impossible not to feel safe with him there.
As she watched, John manoeuvred their rocket -guided by Alan and Scott as their rocket's onboard navigation system was next to useless- around the Moon in search of the landing spot that had been designated to them by the moonbase personnel.
"There it is. Banking for final approach." As they moved into range, Selene felt the rocket's thrusters fire and they lurched a little, pulling up sharply in mid-air as he tried to ease them upright. As he lowered them towards the Moon's surface, she heard, and felt, the engines splutter, like the rocket was losing power.
"Stupid, useless fuel gauge," John growled as the thrusters struggled to stay engaged, the rocket's body rocking with the force of the spluttering engines.
John heard the breath leave her body in a sharp gasp as the engines cut out completely and the rocket dropped like a stone. But he didn't panic, that was not how he'd been trained. "Thrusters failed," he reported to Alan and Scott as he stabbed first one button, then another. "Diverting remaining fuel from the primary engines. Full power."
The thrusters roared back into life, halting their freefall and, with a lot of silent swearing in his head, he managed to guide them down towards the surface of the Moon. "Don't tense up," he ordered, "try to relax your body as much as you can."
Selene held her breath, her eyes squeezed tightly closed, refusing to look as she tried to force her taut muscles to relax. The rocket seemed to hang in midair for a second before dropping again as John fought to lower it to the surface of the Moon.
"John, you're at one hundred feet and falling," Scott advised him.
"I know," John grunted as he wrestled with the controls, fighting to override the engines programming and keep the power flowing as evenly as possible.
"Fifty feet and closing," Scott reported. "Twenty-Five! Impact imminent."
John didn't answer, his teeth firmly gritted as he stabbed at the button to release the landing struts.
They both jolted in their seats as they made their none-too-gentle landing, the body of the rocket shuddering with the impact, rocking on the landing struts for a moment before stilling. They were down.
John cut the engines and silence descended on the cabin, the only sounds being the ticks and dings of cooling metal coming from the hull and the engines.
Were they really safe? She couldn't believe they had made it. More than once in the last two hours she had thought they had been asking the impossible. The situation had seemed so hopeless and now it was over. They were sitting there, slightly shaken, but in one piece. Would this be a good time to cry? She felt like it would, but no tears would come, instead, she just felt numb.
It was John who finally disturbed the quiet peace, his voice tinged with amusement as he asked, "Are you okay?"
As if his words had broken the spell that had been holding her, she slowly opened one eye, then the other, before releasing the breath she had been holding. "Yeah," she sighed, her hand on her chest like she was holding her heart in place, "I think I'm good."
She didn't look good, she looked pale and like she was debating whether she should throw up. Not that he could blame her, they had just been through a hair-raising time and even for him it had been a little white-knuckle, so for a civilian who had never experienced such a thing, she'd done great. Still, he felt she would benefit from sitting a while longer. "Do you need a minute before we find your friends?"
Truthfully she needed more than a minute, maybe an hour-long nap and a stiff drink would be closer. But he didn't need her wimping out now.
She swallowed, her eyes skitting across his face before they locked on to his. "I…" she started, but the crackling of the radio stopped her in her tracks.
"Nice landing there, fella," Scott praised, his commanding voice booming through the cabin, almost sounding too loud. "It looked a little hairy for a moment there, but you pulled it off."
"Thanks," John answered, brushing off the praise as if it meant nothing. "Everything cleared with moonbase?"
This time Alan answered, "Should be, they promised to have their doctor waiting for you when you dock to give the pilot -and anyone else that might be feeling the strain- the once over before you depart."
"Great, good work, Al."
"Give me fifteen minutes to get the evacuation tube prepared," Scott continued. Ever the efficient one, always on the go, he didn't waste time when there was work to be done. "Then we can proceed with the extraction."
"F.A.B.," John acknowledged before cutting the call.
"Evacuation tube?" Selene asked, the conversation between the rescuers giving her some much-needed time to pull herself together, at least enough that she was fairly confident she could stand up without her legs giving out.
"There aren't enough space suits on board and this crate doesn't have a universal docking connector, so we're going to evacuate you all into Thunderbird Three and then ferry you across to the moonbase," John explained.
"I see," Selene said slowly, "that makes sense." She didn't know what else to say, he was being so nice, so understanding, when really he should be shouting at them for being so reckless in the first place. Who, in their right mind, would think that taking an unscheduled, unauthorised trip into space on an unregulated craft was a perfectly reasonable thing to do? She should have known better, she should have asked more questions and not just followed along because her friends had talked her into it. She never got into a car with someone she didn't know well, but apparently, a rocket ship didn't fall into her category of being sensible. What was wrong with her? It was asking for trouble, no, it was inviting trouble in and asking if it wanted to stay for dinner.
Letting out a deep sigh -which did little to ease her anger at herself- she dropped her head into her hands, muffling her words as she admitted, "I'm a total idiot."
John frowned. What was she talking about? From what he'd seen she was far from an idiot. Sure, she acted a little impulsively and seemed to believe that laws were made to be bent, but she had been the one to assess the situation with the rocket, realise the seriousness of their situation and put out the call to International Rescue. Since he'd been there she had been nothing but helpful, keeping her friends out of the way so they didn't disturb him, running liaison and knowing when to back off and let him work.
"An idiot? How?"
"You seriously want me to spell it out for you? Isn't my humiliation complete already?"
"I have a big family," John answered carefully, not wanting to give away anything about International Rescue or that Scott and Alan were his brothers. "I find that clarification is needed before I comment on a situation."
Morphing from discouraged to annoyed in the space of a second, Selene huffed out a frustrated breath and dropped her hands in order to tick off her points on her fingers. "One, I ignored my instincts and allowed myself to be talked into a dangerous-" John lifted an eyebrow and she was forced to add, "and possibly illegal, situation. Two, I trusted people that I shouldn't have and apparently blindly followed my friends, and three… I forgot to water my plants before I left," she finished, running out of steam.
"You ran out of things to say, didn't you?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement.
"A little," she admitted sheepishly, "but the plant thing still stands."
Slowly, he unbuckled his seat belt and turned awkwardly in his chair, hampered by the bulk of his space suit. It should have looked comical, but somehow he managed to pull it off.
"Alright," he said, spearing her with a look that told her not to dare try to argue with him, "let's look at the facts here. You can't blame yourself for not knowing if this craft was space-worthy, as I'm assuming that you are not, in fact, a rocket scientist. Would I be correct?" He waited for her to nod before continuing, "And I will also assume that you don't usually make it a habit to involve yourself in highly illegal activities but were driven to do so in this case due to your strong belief in your cause. Correct?"
This time her nod was a little longer in coming, because honestly, who could say there were ever a hundred per cent law-abiding? Who didn't accidentally drive a few miles over the speed limit? Who hadn't had a drink when they were too young to do so or watched a pirated movie? But all in all, she liked to think that she was a good person, one who always tried her best and did things for the right reasons and felt confident that she wasn't lying to him while he was putting his faith in her.
"So, in conclusion," John finished, a note of finality in his voice, "I don't believe you are actually at fault here. Alan said you were the one to take charge and place the emergency call, even while he heard others protesting your actions. Therefore you most certainly participated in saving their lives by default." He pushed back on the seat and got awkwardly to his feet, hindered by his suit. "I can't comment on your plants though, that's definitely on you."
He smiled at her then and she couldn't help but return it. There was something about him, something warm and comforting that made her want to bask in his approval like a cat in a sunbeam. He had saved them, and that was all he had been required to do, get the rocket under control and get them down on the ground. Nowhere in that job description was there a mandate that he had to deal with her self-blame guilt-tripping or her incessant arguing, but he'd done both with good humour and not a hint of negativity or superiority.
"Thanks, I guess I needed to hear that."
"No problem. Now, what do you say to us rounding up your friends and getting off this craft before something else goes wrong, like maybe the toilet blowing up?"
"What toilet? We were told to hold it or go in a bucket," she joked, testing how well her still shaking legs would hold her up as she got slowly to her feet, wiggling her arms and rolling her shoulders to release some of the leftover tension.
He stared at her for a few seconds, distracted by her chaotic worm dance, before her words sunk in. "I wish I knew if you were joking or not."
"I am, but only a little. There is one but, apparently, it's not too good and can't handle a lot of strain." She shrugged dismissively before adding, "But it's still better than some I've seen in festival fields."
John, thinking of the relative luxury he was used to on both Tracy Island and Thunderbird Five, was unable to hold in a shudder. Even the one on board Thunderbird Three was comfortable and well-made, so the thought of what they must have on board this junk heap didn't bear thinking about. "Then we really need to get you guys out of here."
"Yes, please. I'm more than ready to see the back of this thing."
Miming the tipping of an imaginary hat, John grabbed his helmet then swept his arm down in a bow, gesturing gallantly towards the door. "After you, my lady."
"Thank you, good sir." Curtseying in response while holding in a giggle, she moved ahead, leading the way to where she had stashed her friends.