Birdwatching

Scott had refused food but accepted a jelly after managing to keep some water down, and they resettled around the room after eating. Gordon was humming a sea shanty, Alan playing his game and John was talking with Kayo and Penny while Virgil and Scott spoke together in quiet tones.

It went unnoticed at first, but then Scott shuddered. Virgil stopped talking immediately and reached out to touch his forehead, a move Scott adroitly avoided. But he couldn’t avoid the second shudder and Virgil reached out and hit the alarm button.

‘Virgil?’ ‘Scott…you’re sweating and shuddering. Something isn’t right.’

Scott sighed bitterly and deflated as the doctor and a nurse entered. Virgil moved aside as they busied themselves around the obs machines and everyone tried to not comment when the doctor frowned.

‘We need to draw bloods and get the lab to rush them.’ ‘Yes, Doctor.’ ‘And I’m sorry, Scott, but your family need to leave for a while.’ ‘Ah, ok. Can Virgil stay please?’ ‘Usually not, but due to his medical expertise I’ll allow it as long as you don’t get in the way, Virgil. Understood?’ ‘Totally understood and I promise.’ ‘I’ll hold you to that.’

Virgil moved to the back of the room, well out of the way, as bloods were drawn and two IVs applied – one a broad-spectrum antibiotic and one fluids to prevent his blood pressure from dropping any further. A nasal canula was fitted in case it was needed and the obs machine was tweaked to be more sensitive.

‘Scott, Virgil, we have a fair idea which bacteria is causing the septicaemia but we need to be sure, hence the bloods. Once we know we can use the appropriate antibiotics but until then this one will at least start fighting the infection. Until this is under control I’m afraid you’re stuck here.’ ‘Bottom line, Doc?’ ‘Bottom line is…we’ve caught this early and as long as you keep responding to treatment there should be no long-lasting complications. But Scott…you need to do what we say and rest. It is the best treatment for you now.’ ‘Ok, Doc. Ok.’

Time seemed to slow as they waited for the results but they came back quite quickly. A new IV was attached and Virgil fretted as Scott drifted off to sleep. So many things could go wrong…

He threw a small smile at John as he entered but he couldn’t keep the facade up when he was followed by their Grandma, and Sally came straight to him and rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze for comfort.

Virgil patted her hand in thanks and moved aside for her, crossing the room to sit beside John. He couldn’t take his eyes off Scott, though, not until John gave him a not-so-subtle nudge. Virgil turned as John showed him the screen he’d been tapping away on and rolled his eyes.

Trust John to have been researching sepsis, treatments and outcomes and goodness knew what else…John always needed to know the ins and outs. But still Virgil leaned in and the two read together the details.

Potentially several weeks in hospital. Six to twelve months for recovery. Possibly longer. And that was only the physical effects! And only if there were no further complications…

The two shuddered in unison.

Six months of Scott confined to the island, being barely able to move let alone the potential brain fog and emotional fallout of Post-Sepsis Syndrome should he suffer that too. And knowing the Tracy Luck that’s exactly what Scott would get.

‘We better start making plans.’ ‘Yeah. Otherwise it’s going to be a long six months for us all.’

Virgil snorted and John looked at him.

‘Do you know what Gordon said when you first told us that Scott had been called out?’ ‘No?’ ‘That with the amount of callouts we have had in the last week…sigh…that it was just another one of those days. You know, where we were all on rescues around the globe and one of us gets into trouble and there’s no one around to help them.’ ‘Yeah. And it’s almost always Scott.’ ‘Yeah. We really need to do something about that.’ ‘That’s a task for me and Kayo and Penny to deal with. Right now let’s get Gordon and Alan up here and start organising Scott’s homecoming and the next few months.’

Sally, silently listening, smiled in approval. Her boys would rally around Scott as they always did and it was as always beautiful to behold.

It didn’t take long for the youngest two to join them and the four began making plans for Scott’s discharge. Gordon would, of course, take charge of his physio while Virgil would look after the medical side with herself. John would share Scott’s TI duties and help with anything he could and Alan…Alan would run distraction for the times when Scott’s inactivity would eat away at him.

"Lieutenet, I need you to run recon over the Icelandic ridge" Colonel White hung In the air the lieutenant nodded "this full recon with bike sir?"

"Of course-" He turned

"And captain blue is waiting for you in thr pelican to deposit you there"

Amber stopped pulling a face

"He is?"

"There an issue lieutenant?" The colonel raised an eyebrow

Amber swallowed "no sir."

"Good, I'll inform you more when you get into target location"

"S.I.G, sir" He turned on his heels leaving

———

Amber carried the collapsed motorbike into the aircraft, stood in his less flashy more tatical gear with thermals under-layer to make sure he wasnt affected by the colder weather

He placed his folded cloak on the back end with his rucksack, checking his rifle before  clambering into the copilot seat.

Mentally preparing himself for the flight

Clipping in almost immediately as Blue grinned beside him

"Ya ready?"

"Sad-"

He didn't get a word off as they dropped and Amber clamped his hand on the arm rest screwing his eyes up as Blue chuckled at Amber's displeasure of the drop

"This is Blue to skybase, cargo inbound to target location"

"S.I.G. Captain, safe flying"

"We better be flying safe." The lieutenant muttered

———

The flight was smooth, and Blue glanced over towards the lieutenet that still had a death grip on the arm

"You can ease up ya know"

"I'll ease up when we land Blue"

Blue half chuckled

"Flying aren't that-"

"Shhh...."

He turned away from the lieutenet with a chuckle

"This is Blue to sky base, about to deposit the cargo, over"

"Perfect timing Captain, lieutenant?"

"Here." The lieutenant voice hung in the air

"The op is to track down a group of soldiers, they've gone missing across the plains and no one knows where they've gone"

Amber exhaled nodding bringing up the map into his lap eyes on location

"What's there heading?"

"Originally heading north west, in radio contact with base, before a storm rolled in and base hasn't heard from them in a few hours and they haven't reached base camp either"

"aye sir..." Amber taking a pencil placing an two Xs on the map

"Does there militery know we are involved?"

"They called us Lieutenet, they were testing new gear, ...we need to know what happend to those men and the gear"

"Whats the gear?"

Blue started to land the plane, the ground coming into view

"We are still working on that information, but there response is classified"

Callum huffed

"Course" He stood

"Amber, over and out"

"S.I.G lieutenant, happy hunting"

The radio ended and Amber looked at Blue

"I'll radio in if I have anything"

He stood walking to the storage bay, unclipped his motorbike and clicking it into place rolling it out, his burgan on his back as he glanced at his compass

"Safe travels Amber!" Blue called out

Amber gave a small smile pulling his goggles on before staring the bike with a roar before speeding off to the urban plato

Blue exhaled glancing around at the open stretchs and the rift vallys, the dark rock

"Good luck indeed Amber"

———

A good few hours, crawl on by

Amber sat on his bike

Goggles on his head, slicking back his dirty blond hair, as he looked down at the map in hand, glancing up compass sat on the plastic sheet, before he glanced up again at his advantage point, scanning the vally below, multiple rivers connecting here, he tucked away his map into his thigh pocket, unclipped his binoculars, scanning the river ways for anything that could help locate where the team he was tracking,  has gotten too.

A mass, caught his attention laying on one of the channel beds.

He put away his scopes, pulled his goggles down settling down the embankment, water kicking up to meet him, the shallow water hit his bike, splashing him in the face as his bike roared, he stopped a distance away from the lump

Swinging his leg off

Steps splashing in the shallow water

"Amber to White" He clicked his radio getting closer

"Go for lieutenant" Whites voice came through his radio, tension just hinted at his tone at what Amber may have discovered, Amber stepped closer, and huffed

"Have a rucksack..."

He lifted it up checking through for a name tag

"we got...uhhh a Weir?"

"Sargent Peter Weirs, he was on the team" 

Amber nodded tucking a tracker into the pocket, fastening it to the strap, it beeped every few seconds with a red light

"Pinging location, if this is down here mean they are about 34 clicks off base camp..." Amber huffed standing turning towards his bike

"Head for higher ground...shelter maybe?" He sat on his bike "caves maybe...colder up those hills..." He muttered to himself

"What pushed them up there?"

"What ever it is, Lieutenant, you'll find them"

"S.I.G sir, Amber out"

The radio went silent as the lieutenant glanced around, taking in the rivers, raising an eyebrow at the prints, not an animal...but they were big for a human, a lot of weight in the prints too

Hair on the back od his neck stood as he steadily headed back to his bike, taking one last glance around, seeing not a single sign of life

"Fucking hell..."

He kicked off his bike and headed up for the hills

———

The way up was a little struggle, the bike kicking up loose debris from the mountain side, the bare rock a little slippery from the storm that rolled in a few hours ago, but Amber stayed on task, keeping a steady rev and plotting his route up coming to a mossy, grassy position

Amber bike skidded as he stopped, taking off his goggles and grunted

"Colonel. Got a camp here..." He bit his lip "we have bodies."

He got off his bike cutting the power, turning the lock on

He grabbed his rifle from his rucksack steadily walking over checking the outcrops of Rock

He rolled his jaw, eyes on the bullet casings, the small chard remains of a fire, he crouched hovering a hand over it, partially warmth from what remains of it.

The Body's were  torn apart or crushed, hard to tell which exactly, but they were cold

All signs offering all this happend in the early hours of the morning atleast...maybe?

But the climate is colder...could have happend on his way up and he wouldn't have known

Eyes flickering back to the prints, heavy just like the ones at the washed up rucksack

"Colo-"

THUNK-

He hit the floor hard, dazed from the strike, gun drawn on him and he lay sprawled looking up at the attacker

"WHO ARE YOU?!"

"breath! Easy now I'm with Spectrum" Amber raises his hands eyes on the mud soaked officer, eyes flickering to the name tag

"Sargent Weirs"

The sargent exhaled, tension evident in his body, before a hand was offered, Amber took it

"Nice to see a friendly face, Mr?..." the sargent voice was tight as he tried to get a name from the spectrum officer

"Lieutenet Amber,"

The sargent nodded, blue eyes flickering away

"Didn't mean ta..."

Amber shook his head "would have done the same...but we likely need to get out of here"

The Sargent nodded leading the way from the remains of the camp

"Lieutenet?" The colonels worried tone coming throigh his radio

"Here colonel, found Sargent Weirs, call hold on evac till I know about others of Weirs team" He grabbed his bike following after the sargent.

———

A cave entrance hidden behind tall bushs, he rolled his bike in, eyes on the two other soldiers weapons drawn as Weirs waves them to stand down.

All nursing there own wounds, as Amber watched

The brown hair, Glenn leg stretched out, in a makeshift leg brace, bandages around his head just giving away his head wound

The other Flynn holding his side, a slight wheeze to his breath, that Amber heard, even Weirs has his own wounds, but likely the better off from all two of his comrades.

"He's ally, spectrum" Weirs stated, resting his rifle down

"The hell Spectrum doing here?'

"Yall were playing with experimental gear"

They all looked at Amber 

"I still have to been informed what the gear is, your people keep saying its classified"

Amber took off his rucksack hunting for his medical kit to try and help the three wounded

"It's still in its testing phase" Glenn huffed

"Yet you brought it out to play with it in the wild?"

They all went silent and Amber rubbed the bridge of his nose

"Alright is anyone gonna tell me what I'm missing?"

"It's a machine." Weirs croaked out "there was 6 of us...it was working fine...them it just...killed them..."

Amber stopped

"Wait as in a robot" He looked at them all "the camp up top?"

They nodded

Explains the heavy prints, the thing must weigh a tonne or something....

"It tore through them" flynns voice cut through Amber's thoughts

"Just slaughtered...."

Amber watched all three soldiers and sighed

"So yall hiding from this thing?"

They looked at him as if he kicked them

"I'm calling evac for yall." He turned

———

"Yes, Colonel that's what I'm saying" Amber sat on his mother bike, glaring keeping an eye out if this robot showed up

"It's a state of the art, perfect soldier" the colonel huffed "likely why they didn't want us to know."

"Well it's gone rogue and killed soldiers." Amber rolled his jaw "if this thing is rouge, who knows what it'd capable of"

"You think Mysterons?"

"They want a machine to follow there whims they got it"

"You need to destroy it"

Amber smirked "aye sir"

"Alright...I'll keep you posted"

———

It took a little convising to get the sargent to be bait, he was the only one who was able to play bait after all

The night had rolled in, full moon giving them enough light to stop the perfect soldier machine, a steady breeze blew through the little vally, as Sargent Weirs glanced around, steadily turing around, watching the dark shadows for potential attacks.

Amber layed on the rocket outcrop just above the sargent, cloak masking his form, reflecting what was around him, pratically making him invisable and hiding him from both Weirs and likely keeping his position hidden from the robot.

He watched from his vantage point as the sargent called out the robot soldier.  waiting, Amber saw movement, curling his legs up to pounce

His hair on the back of his neck stood, and eyes flickered away from the sargent, almost felt like a breath against his ear, he swallowed thickly

SCREECH-

The noise cut through the night watching as the sargent was thrown into the rock wall with a thud.

Amber cursed and jumped landing on the robot, it twisted, he felt sharpness dig into his thigh, and was throw hard into the rock wall, stars blossomed behind his eyes as he layed there dazed from the throw

The other side of Amber, Wiers was scrambling for his fallen weapon

The machine screeched at him, Amber eyes widened at how humanoid it looked, its lenses a deep green which made goose bumps ripple over his flesh

Definitely a mysteron puppet

It twisted towards the Sargent, who fired a shot, but it bounced off its hull, the machine let a screech lurching towards Wiers who screamed

Amber grunted feeling the pain in his leg, and uneasy feeling hit him.

But he got a job to do

He pouncing again, this time wrapping his legs around the machines waist

Clinging on as it screeched trying to buck off the lieutenet

Amber held tighter, grunting as he staggered adound trying to dislodge the limpets lieutenet

He dug his fingers under its metal skull, and arched himself backwards

A screech, and liquid oozed out as a satisfying yet gruesome squelch met Amber's ears and he was falling backwards clutching the machines head in his hands 

He panted letting go as the body staggered and collapsed into the muck

Staring up at the cloudy sky, arms slick with what ever the machine fluids leaked over him

Hearing crunching of steps and Weirs came into view, one hand holding his head, his other hand offering down for tge spectrum agent

"Damn...never knew yall Spectrum officers are hard core like that"

Amber took his arm getting up with a stagger, leaning slightly into the sargent lookinh down at what remains of the robot

A slight smirk on his lips

"Ooorahh"

He watched as Weirs face fell with such a simple yet tired sound

"Oh fuck sake, your a marine"

———

The body's of Weirs team were taken, and a proper ceremony was held for them with there passing.

Glen, Flynn and Weirs shook Amber's hands thanking him for his aid, before they were getting treated by the medics, and shuttled off back to base

The remains of the robot soldier, was taken too

The program would be discontinued and anything of it destroyed

Much to Amber's relief

Amber limped, claw marks against his thigh and a headache pulsing behind his eyes, watching as there helicopter took off, he was tired and covered in muck.

He tracked back seeing Blue who raised an eyebrow at the lieutenant messy state

"Your not getting on the plane lik-"

"Shhhh" He pulled the struggling Captain into a hug smearing the muk over him his blue uniform

"You-" Blue shoved a hand in Amber's face "your a feind!"

Amber grinned smearing mud into Blues face before walking into the plane, hearing the string of curses follow after him

“Not piranhas?” Blue asked curiously as he put a splash of milk into his cup. 

“That one's an urban myth.” 

“So why's it cruel to the hagfish, they're scavengers, aren't they?” Blue asked as he came back with his coffee. “UnNamed would be a perfect meal for them.” 

“UnNamed is so toxic he might give ‘em food poisoning,” was Ochre's answer, delivered with a tight grin. 

“We know he’s in contact with Bereznik, a treasonous action. We could always go for a traditional punishment for treason,” was Scarlet’s chilling suggestion. “Hanged, drawn and quartered.” 

“...do I want to know?” was Magenta’s wary question. 

“Hang him until he's half dead, cut him down and open his belly to draw out his innards, which may or may not involve putting his intestines on a brazier while he's still alive, castration, and/or cutting his heart out in front of him. When he's dead, quartering - chopping his body into pieces for display. The head goes on a pike over the city gates, then the torso is cut into four parts and the limbs are dispatched for display elsewhere.” 

Magenta shuddered. “Nasty. I like it, but is it nasty enough?” 

“We could stake him out on a fire ant nest,” Blue suggested. “I’ve been bitten by those before, that was nasty.” 

“Bullet ants are worse,” Grey opinioned. 

“Wasn’t it army ants in that old Indiana Jones movie?” Magenta asked, getting up to make himself another cup of coffee. “We could toss him to some of them.”

“Army ants don’t have nests in the ground, they bivouac in clusters,” Blue replied, once again a font of obscure knowledge. “Indiana’s an archaeologist, not an entomologist, he got it wrong.”  

Grey listened for a bit as the debate turned into a revisit of their favourite group topic of movies and their inconsistencies and errors, (with a comment of ‘wait, we don’t want to give fish food poisoning but we’re okay to give ants food poisoning?’ from Ochre), well pleased to hear that everyone was well on their way through processing the initial shock of the broadcast. He lingered a little longer, just to be sure everyone was more or less okay, then finished his coffee and put the cup in the dishwasher. 

He had a Guppy to find.   

T H U N D E R F A L L 

When he woke up, it took Brains a moment to remember where he was. 

Sleeping in was very unusual, a deviation from his usual routine, ‘But evidently I required a longer rest than my norm,’ Brains realised as he fumbled for his glasses, put them on and sat up, feeling several muscles protest movement after the rigours of the previous day. ‘Yesterday was… eventful.’ 

MAX was at his side instantly, trilling happily as he gave a general update on things and that breakfast would be delivered and what would he like to have?

“B-bagles, please, M-Max, toasted, with butter, and tea, English Breakfast with milk,” Brains said as he carefully got up and assessed his surroundings. He hadn’t really cared too much about the room when he’d been shown to it by… Captain Grey, yes, that was the right name, but he could see that it was comfortable, even luxurious. 

He pottered about the room - that was the only accurate term for it really - examining fixtures and features that he hadn’t had time or inclination to investigate when he’d arrived. A shower was accomplished, and MAX had kindly stored a full change of clothes for him in his back pod so he was able to dress while waiting for his laundry to be cleaned and returned to him, then he sat himself at the small table and… stopped. For the first time in… an extended amount of time… he did not have a list of tasks to complete, objectives to achieve, KPIs to maintain, and targets to meet. There were no alarms, no emergencies requiring his input and analysis. He could simply… be. The sensation was… unfamiliar. 

A chime at the intercom startled him out of his reverie. “Sir, breakfast,” an unfamiliar but cheery voice floated through the speaker. 

MAX responded before he could, whipping the short distance across the room to open the door and claim the tray, bringing it across with a happy trill and placing it before him. 

“T-thank you, MAX.” Brains smiled as he examined the contents of the tray and decided to start with the tea. It seemed to be sufficiently brewed so he poured it into the heavy, white ceramic mug and added a splash of milk. Picking it up with both hands, he let the warmth seep into his fingers, a pleasant sensation that was remarkably grounding and soothing as he permitted his mind to continue to drift. He had nothing driving him to jump from task to task, the opportunity to rest was one he was going to take full advantage of. It was unfamiliar, and the feeling of ‘missing something’ was threatening to become quite disconcerting… and that was when revelation struck and shifted all of his parameters.

“...oh…” Brains almost dropped the mug as his thoughts linked up into a cohesive whole, data points and information neatly slotting into place alongside experiences and memories. He could hear EOS’ voice in his ear as clear as that day all those years ago when she uttered the words ‘I feel a lack of urgency’. 

Just as clear was John’s huffed laugh as he replied ‘Me too, it’s called ‘relief’.’ 

Relief. 

He was no longer keeping an ear or eye on his surroundings, constantly attentive and attuned to the chirp of an email or incoming comms call, the sound of footsteps, smell of cologne, or other signs particular to an approaching Mister Tracy. He was no longer spending mental and emotional energy on watching his back, prepared to leap up with the appropriate expressions and phrases to welcome Mister Tracy and respond to whatever Mister Tracy’s emotional state was this time. He was no longer anticipating the man, readying himself to bend himself into whatever format was required to appease him.

Oh. This was what Mark had tried to impress on him all those months ago. 

His Fight, Flight, Freeze and Fawn response, carefully programmed and shaped to optimise his own survival, as all instincts were, was currently unneeded. 

Brains set down the mug before he could drop it and sank into the embrace of the chair, letting the softness of the padding and upholstery hold him up because the rest of him was not fit for the task. 

Closing his eyes, Brains ignored the tears of relief that rolled down his cheeks and let MAX shove his head under his hand, the faithful robot warbling softly in comfort and reassurance. 

He was free.

He was safe.  

T H U N D E R F A L L

‘Well, guess this is a new one to add to the list.’ Brad kept his footsteps on the louder side of things, not loud enough to be disruptive, but just enough to let his quarry know he was coming. He’d either called ahead or hunted through all the usual spots - the pool, the starboard observation tube, the Amber Room, and Guppy’s quarters - to finally track him down here, to the Chapel. It was mid morning and the light was slanting up, through the windows. Gordon was in his civvies, seated on the floor on the left side of the room, half-hidden by a potted fern. “Hey Guppy.” He kept his voice down as he sat beside the younger man and offered him one of the insulated cups he carried: bulletproof coffee. The perfect thing when you needed fuel but eating was too difficult. 

"Hey Salt." Gordon took the cup. "Thanks." He sniffed at the cup. "Oh… yeah, food." 

"Drink." "Yes'sir." Several long swallows later, he brought the cup down and turned back to the stunning vista outside the window. Brad waited, words were hard right now.. But after draining his own cup, he knew he had to make the first move. "Talk to me, Guppy." 

"About what? That I'm the get of a man that nearly killed two brothers and - " Fingers flexed on the cup. "And?"

"Made my youngest brother, my little brother, kill." 

“Deep waters there, Guppy.” Brad slowly rolled the now empty cup between his palms. “His sins are his, you know that, right?” 

Silence that burned like acid was the only answer, and he could feel Gordon hunching, pulling in on himself like a neutron star collapsing under its own weight. 

‘Oh… yeah, I’ve seen this before.’ Brad picked his next words with care. The only thing more destructive than the Tracy Temper was the Tracy Guilt. All directed inwards, silent and vicious, it would consume a Tracy from the inside out unless someone went in and pulled him out of that pit of his own making. “Regretting listening to Scott two years ago?” was what he settled on. 

The quiet was very deep before a small ‘yes’ was uttered. It felt apologetic, almost guilty, and soaked with pain that was years deep. 

"It wouldn't have changed anything."

Gordon seemed to pull even more inward. "I know that, or at least my head knows that. My heart… " he shook his head. "It's the Squirt. We've tried to keep him from making that choice, of being in the situation that he needed to make the choice in."

“And you did the best you could. You exhausted every option you had.” He nudged Gordon with his shoulder, a gentle, barely there touch. “You and your family kept him from having to make that choice for, what, twenty years? Considering who you’ve been up against, that’s an achievement all of its own.”  

Gordon snorted. "Well, the first five were the hardest." He drank more of the coffee. "It's not just that. It's - John and Virgil too. He nearly worked them both to death. And I'm pretty sure it was deliberate. Wayne and Dosela got time off, his pet lapdog got time off, but not John and sure as hell not Virg." There was a deep breath. "I ran away. I went with Scott and Alan, and I left them behind with UnNamed. I - I should have done something." 

“You were under enemy fire.” Brad kept his voice clinical, almost but not quite the elocution of an officer in a briefing. “Your vessel was holed and critical systems were down, you had to retreat and regroup, and they chose to stay on the beach. It’s an ugly truth, but they chose to stay there. If you’d run an evac in that moment, they’d have fought you, and in yours’ and Scott’s condition, they’d have dragged you under.” Brad put down his cup and slung an arm around Gordon’s shoulders. “They had to be ready to be rescued.” 

"I know. Head-heart thing again. John likes to say the impossible is always optional with us, but this time…" he sighed, "this time impossible wasn't." He leaned on the older man. "I keep telling myself that if I stayed I could have done something, but I'd be just as bad off as they were - are."

“Yup.” Brad held him, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath to fend off his own moments when he could have - should have - made a different choice, acted a little faster, said something else, done something differently. “Does it help to remember we’ve all got those moments? That you’re not the only one to have decisions you regret?” 

A bitter laugh. “Yeah. Brain knows it, but not the rest of me.” 

“Noted.” Brad gave Gordon’s shoulder a little squeeze. “So, does iR have a time machine somewhere down in the guts of the island?” 

"With Brains, anything is possible, but I don't think he's gotten into temporal physics. At least not yet." Gordon freed a hand to scrub at his face. "I get your point. Can't change the past, we can only affect the future. But - it's hard sometimes. Hell, it's hard most of the time. But when it's family, it's even harder." 

“Yup.” Brad paused to order his words. “So I’m betting you got the same spiel I did in the WASP spinal ward.” 

Gordon snorted. “Which spiel? There were like, six of them.” 

“At least.” Brad cracked a half-smile. “The ‘one at a time’ one.” 

“Oh yeah, that one.” Gordon let his head hang back and hit the wall with a muffled thud. “ ‘How do you eat an elephant seal? One bite at a time. How do you strengthen your body? One movement at a time. How do you move forward? One step at a time.’” 

“‘ How do you heal? One day at a time.’ ” Brad finished the litany they’d both heard time and again from the nurses, doctors, physios and specialists. “You’ve got lots of shoulders to lean on, you know that, right?” He reached over with his free hand to poke Gordon in the side. “That’s half the point of Koala, teaching a pack of half-wild, barely housebroken specialists from all across the world to lean on each other and to hold each other up.”

"Excuse you! Scott and I were fully housebroken." He straightened a little. "I know I've got shoulders, I'm talking to you, aren't I? It's still hard. Even if it's one bite at a time, some of those bites taste pretty bad." He let out a breath and seemed to uncurl without moving. "It's hard, it's nasty, but once it's done, it's done and you're on to the next bite and hopefully it's a better one." 

“Exactly.” Brad jerked a thumb to point behind them. “Like my Salt used to say, we can’t go back to fix the past. So we can either sit here and stew in it, or, ” he pointed in front of them, “we can go forwards. I’m not going to let you sit and stew in your misplaced Tracy Guilt, so I’m gonna drag you over that way until your family’s got things together enough to take over and keep dragging you along with them. Eventually, all of you dragging each other along will get you over this mountain and back into the sunlight.”

"Heh… It's more us dragging Scott, but yeah, we usually drag ourselves." He gave Brad a sideways look. "Sort of like all the Colour Captains. Yeah?"

“Exactly like that.” Brad sighed. “You weren’t here after the start of the War, but it was bad. If it wasn’t for the Old Man pointing us in the right direction and dragging us along with him, I think we might have imploded. But he got us moving and kept us moving until it became enough of a habit we were able to keep moving under our own steam. He’s good like that.” 

“Yeah, he is.” Gordon looked out at the clouds again. "So what's the course now?"

"We sit here, talk, and when you're ready, we go drag our brothers along with us." 

Gordon cracked a half-smile. It was weary and worn, but still a smile, and crucially it was one that touched his eyes. “That sounds like a good plan to me.” 

T H U N D E R F A L L 

Lying on the floor of their assigned guest quarters, Wayne stared at the ceiling and focused on his breathing as his phone buzzed for what seemed the millionth time. Beside him, Dosela was also sprawled on the floor and doing the same.

He and Dosela had watched the expose and spent a good half hour inventing swear words to distract themselves from the guilt of ‘how did we not see all of this?’. By mutual agreement they’d both put out the one message to their respective family/friends group chats to reassure the people who needed to know that they were okay. Dosela had been told about the ‘#IbelieveScottTracy’ tag by one of her cousins so they’d both reblogged it on their own, barely-used socials, then they hadn’t touched their phones since.   

“...so…” Dosela rolled her head over and looked at him. “Done enough moping?” 

“Yep.” Wayne had an idea of what was coming next and sat up with a grunt. “Phone calls?” 

“Phone calls, texts, emails, everything,” Dosela grinned as she lunged up and grabbed her phone before lying back down. “You’ve got the update for Colonel Casey?” 

“F.A.B.” Wayne had his phone in hand and was scrolling through the contact list, and he paused long enough to cant a sharp smile at Dosela. “Betcha the GDF gossip chain is worse than WASP’s.” 

Dosela was already typing up something and he could see enough to make out she was writing ‘#IbelieveScottTracy’ again. “Prove it, flyboy.” 

“Oh, I will.” 

T H U N D E R F A L L 

Alan woke up to the sound of two of his brothers' laughter. 

“Now that's one to remember!” Virgil chuckled. 

“I agree!” a woman answered him. 

Alan tensed and ran the numbers. He didn't recognise her voice, but they were on Cloudbase and Virgil and John were laughing. Odds were good she was on their side. 

“Three?” 

How on earth Virgil always knew when he wasn’t as asleep as he pretended to be, he’d never know. Since the jig was up, Alan cracked his eyes open, was glad the room was still pretty dim, and stretched as much as he could, squeezed in as he was between the space noodle and the family bear. He didn’t have as much room as last time, back at New Haven, but he still had too much room! A scrub of his face induced some wakefulness, and Alan quickly tallied up the contents of the room. Him, John and Virgil - who were still attached to IVs and ‘bot nurses - no Kayo, Scott or Gordon, and an older woman with a Gordon-esk fashion sense. 

“Hello,” she smiled at him. “I’m Doctor Orchid, the base psychologist.” 

“She’s been helping me with some stuff,” Virgil filled in the pertinent details. “She came to check in and learn some new swear words from Five. Xanthic, Shadow, and Cobalt should be back later.” 

“Hi.” Alan wormed his way up into a sitting position as he quickly tabulated the briefing and slotted Orchid into the web of people around them and where she fitted in the trust spectrum. Virgil trusted her enough to debrief with her, but she hadn’t been given names yet, so she was somewhere in the middle.  

Doctor Orchid, Cloud’s deep voice filled the room, there is an urgent call for you. 

“Thank you Cloud, I’ll take it in my office,” Orchid briskly nodded to the camera in the corner as she rose. “Two, when you are ready for a session, Cloud or one of the nurses can help you with a booking, but my schedule is very flexible - including zero-dark-thirty appointments - and the offer is open to all of you.”

“Will do, Doctor, thank you,” Virgil smiled back.  

“You’re welcome,” she replied, then opened the door and swept out with a rustle of her long skirt. 

“I like her,” was Alan’s softly voiced conclusion as he leaned into Virgil’s side. Both his brothers were still so underweight! ‘As soon as I get access to a kitchen, I’m making a feast,’ he decided. He was already planning the menu when the intercom chimed for attention.

“Hello, it’s Scarlet. I have nurse-approved contraband, may I come in?”   

John was the first to get to the intercom button on the wall beside his bed. “What’s the contraband?” 

“Whittaker’s specialty chocolate blocks, but not the coffee one sadly, that got taken off me and claimed as the nursing staff’s ‘cut’.” The captain mock t’sked. “I tell you, it’s downright criminal the percentage the nurses are taking to permit contraband for Medical’s inmates.”  

“Did you get the pear and honey one past them?” 

“I’ll have you know I had to wrestle James for it.” 

That got a soft laugh out of all three of them and a ‘come on in’. 

Scarlet was in uniform as he came inside and immediately handed a paper bag over to Virgil with the comment of “I’ll trust you with the distribution.” 

“Are you on duty?” Virgil asked as he rummaged around in the bag, found the pear and honey chocolate block and handed it over to John. 

“Yes, on standby,” Scarlet clarified. “The colonel prefers that we stay in our ready room, but as long as we can respond he doesn't mind us going for a little leg stretch.”

“Keeps you all from climbing the walls?” Alan guessed. 

“Indeed.” Scarlet gave him a quick smile. “Speaking of going for a leg stretch, Three, if you feel up to it, I can take you for a walk down to the Promenade garden after lunch. Five can attest to it being quite the lovely spot.” He looked at the older Tracy brothers. “If you two continue to behave and agree to hover chairs, I've secured permission to take you there after dinner, and you're welcome to come again as well, Three.” 

“How did you manage that?” John asked curiously. “Fawn's been pretty strict on keeping us here.” 

“I asked Burgundy, not Fawn,” Scarlet replied, then added, “I also traded three packets of speculaas biscuits and a promise of exemplary behaviour on my next stay. I know how the walls close in when you're stuck here.”

Alan glanced at his brothers, got their permission to venture out, then nodded to Scarlet. “Yeah, that'd be good,” he murmured in a quiet voice. “These okay to go outside in?” He plucked at his scrubs. 

“It will be fine, they’ve all seen me running around in the ugly scrubs Fawn puts me in when he thinks I’m going to be a flight risk.” Scarlet grinned, and the sheer impishness of the expression made Three’s mouth twitch in an involuntary flicker of a smile in return. 

There are suitable civilian clothes available at the base shop, if you prefer, Cloud helpfully suggested. 

“Perfect idea, Cloud,” Scarlet nodded to the camera in the corner. “Would you help Three with the order? It can go on my account, and I'll pick it up after lunch.” 

I will take care of the cost. I will also make the offer to the other Thunderbirds. Cloud declared. EOS, may I borrow your projector to assist Three with placing his order? 

Yes, you may, EOS replied, her icon blinking out to be replaced by an online order screen already set to ‘clothing’. 

“I’ll be back at 1330,” Scarlet told them, and ducked out to leave them to it. 

True to his word, he was back at half past one to deliver a paper shopping bag. The captain was off duty this time, wearing comfortably broken-in jeans, a red tee shirt with ‘In my defence I was left unsupervised’ across the front, and black gym shoes. After ducking into a patient bathroom with the bag, Alan came out in tan cargo pants, a black tee shirt, and blue sneakers. 

“Not my most fashionable outfit,” Alan tried to joke as he dumped the scrubs into a dirty linens bag, “but it's better than scrubs.” 

“Much better,” Paul nodded. “This way.” 

He shepherded Alan past the nurses’ station, had a quick word with them and promised to bring him back, then after picking up cups of hot chocolate from Medical's kitchen they were into the maze of hallways that threaded the base. 

When they approached the wide doors to the Promenade, Alan wasn't quite sure what to expect, this was a military base after all, and those weren't really known for their interior decorating. Headquarters yes, where all the higher-ups did their thing, but not the bases where the work got done.

He absolutely did not expect a lush, sun-drenched, sub-tropical garden.  

Flowering bromeliads were having a colouring competition with hibiscus bushes, the little white stars of jasmine perfumed the air, spindly yucca plants and snake plants stretched up to the high ceiling, climbing roses wove through trellis walls, and a dozen other plants spilled from planters, pots and garden beds. Clusters of chairs, loungers and benches were here and there, and the floor to ceiling windows gave him a perspective on the world that he hadn't seen in… far too long. 

“Quite the view, isn't it?” Paul asked, sounding well pleased with having pleasantly surprised him. 

“...it is.” The expanse outside pulled on him like a magnet and he leaned against the window frame to drink it in, slowly sipping from the warm cup in his hands as he let the drifting clouds draw his eyes and soothe the turmoil in his soul.

Alan was aware of Paul moving to sit on a chair between him and the door, guarding his back. It was something he appreciated in a way that he couldn't put into words just yet. His family would have been all over him - talking to him, fussing over him, holding him - but Paul was giving him space - both physical and emotional - and time to try and come to grips with things inside his own head. 

The mug was empty and the dregs were stone cold by the time he felt sort-of ready to talk to the older man, and a glance told Alan that Paul was still sitting there, his own empty cup in his hands, quietly waiting for him to make the next move.

Turning to face him, Alan gathered his words and the courage to use them. “Paul… can… can I talk to you about what happened at the Manor? Confidentially?” 

“Of course. Let’s go over here, it’s a good spot for confidential conversations.” Paul got up and waved him towards an out of the way spot in a corner, behind a trellis wall thick with yellow and white climbing roses. 

Once they were both settled on some floor cushions, Alan drew in a deep breath and began to speak. In halting words he made his report, describing the kitchen, the attack, and his own actions, and waited for judgement to be pronounced. Yeah, Scott said he'd keep loving him, but that was Scott. This was someone with a different perspective, someone who wasn't a brother, wasn’t family, and didn’t have an obligation to like him, much less love him. Paul was way more objective than his kin and not someone to beat around the bush. Whatever he’d say, whatever judgement he pronounced… Alan knew he could trust it.

Scarlet put his cup down and sat up straight, giving his answer due consideration. “I think,” he said at last, “you made the only choice you could live with. Don't forget, everyone else had made their choices as well. UnNamed decided to put out the job. The mercenary boss accepted the job. The first wave of mercenaries chose to make their attack, and they chose to kick Sherbet along the way. The second wave of mercenaries chose to press on despite two of their number being disabled, and they chose to keep advancing on you and Lillian when they should have retreated.”  

“When you were in the hallway behind the kitchen, you had four choices available to you: flee and leave Lillian behind, evade, surrender, and fight. To flee and abandon a friend is something you are constitutionally incapable of. If it had just been yourself, I think you would have led them on a merry chase and escaped, but Lillian would not have been able to keep up with you and the two of you would have eventually been cornered, so evasion was not an option, especially as they had already stated what they would do to Lillian, which also made surrender an untenable option. The only choice you had left was to fight. They kept choosing to continue that fight, to press on instead of falling back, and because losing would have cost Lillian’s life and most likely the lives of Sherbet, Parker, Lady Penelope and Miss Kayo, you not only had to fight, you had to win. You were the only one in that house that the mercenaries could not kill, which gave you a tactical advantage that you used to save your friends and family.” Alan fiddled with the cup as he absorbed what Paul had said. It would seem that the habit of needing something to do their hands while thinking or talking over hard subjects was a family trait.

The cup stilled and Alan looked up. "So, I made the best of bad choices?"

"Yes." There was no doubt in Paul's reply. "If those had been my options, I would have made the same decision."

Alan went back to playing with the cup and Paul shifted his attention to the clouds outside the windows. He knew all too well how hard it was to find the right words and have the courage to use them. He wasn't sure how much time had passed before Alan spoke again. "How do you live with it?"

Paul hid the wince at the grief in that question. "In my case, training. Lots and lots of training. Special Operations soldiers need to have a very specific mindset and world view. In yours, having someone you can talk to that's trained and not family I think would help the most. As for living with it..." It was Paul's turn to look for the right words. "It's also the cost I pay to keep my friends, family, and the rest of the world safe, which helps. But it's never an easy choice, nor should it be. Your choices were taken from you by others, so you made the best one you could in the moment."

Alan nodded without looking up. "Is there someone here you could suggest? Not Juniper, he's got Scott to deal with and that's more than enough Tracy for one person." 

Paul gave a small chuckle. "I'll agree with that." He thought for a moment. "If you don't mind talking to a woman, I suggest Rabbi Azure. I think she would understand the most." 

"I don't mind a woman." Alan's head came back up. "Why would she understand the most?"

"Because before she took her twenty and out, she was a sniper in the WAAF. She understands choices and making the best of bad options." 

“I'd like that.” 

Without seeming to think about it, Alan leaned his shoulder up against Paul's. Recognising the behaviour from Scott and Gordon, Paul immediately answered the unspoken question and slung his arm around the younger man’s shoulders. Simple repetition and the tactile nature of the Tracys had made him a lot more comfortable with offering comfort like this. 

“You are a good man, Alan Tracy,” Paul found himself saying. “And these questions you're asking prove it.” 

The ‘thank you’ was so soft he was almost sure he’d imagined it. 

They stayed there for at least an hour before an apologetic Cloud informed them that Alan’s presence was requested back at Medical: Fawn wanted to check on him and Scarlet had promised to bring him back. 

If anyone noticed the protective arm that Paul kept around the young man’s shoulders as he returned him to his brothers, no one mentioned it. 

T H U N D E R F A L L 

Hours later the doors to the Promenade swished open once again to reveal a different, but still glorious vista.

“Oh wow….” 

From his hover chair, John smiled as he saw Virgil's hands do the ‘Artist wanna Art’ twitch, as Gordon had once called it. 

He didn't blame him one bit. 

Scarlet and Alan parked the two of them within arm's reach of the Promenade windows and the view was spectacular. The sun was sinking towards the sea, and the towering pillars of clouds were being dyed all the shades of pink and gold, slowly bleeding into reds and oranges as night crept in to draw its blue-black blanket over the world. 

“The Old Man never admits it,” Paul revealed, “but if he can, he likes to point the Promenade in the direction that gets the best view.” 

“I can see why!” Virgil already had his notebook open on his knee, setting to work with his crayons and the packet of colouring pencils that Scarlet had slipped him as soon as they were out of Medical. 

The swish of the door opening again caught John's attention. 

“Great minds think alike!” Gordon chirped as he, Lillian, Parker and Penelope came in to join them, Parker pushing Penny’s hoverchair and Sherbert in Penny's lap. 

“What an astounding view!” Penelope exclaimed. Sherbert squirmed to be put down and as soon as Penny obliged him he was off like a shot, sniffing everything. 

The door had barely shut when it opened again to admit more familiar faces: Scott, Kayo, Brains, MAX, Rigby and Dosela. 

Paul quietly removed himself from the immediate area as the reunion started - and especially as Gordon and Scott took special care to talk to Brains and reassure the engineer that he was still part of their family. 

A little touch at his leg made him look down to see Sherbet, the pug looking up at him with the same soulful expression that Bos used when he wanted some attention. 

“Hullo there,” Paul crouched and let Bertie sniff his hand, then scooped him up for some fussing. “I'm told you are a very good boy, Sherbert,” he said as he found the right spot behind Sherbert's ears and gave him a good scratch, resulting in an ecstatic dog immediately demanding more. (He ignored the mutter of ‘maybe we can leave th’ mutt ‘ere’ from Parker and the immediate swat and ‘now you take that back!’ from Lillian.) 

To see such a magnificent structure rise from the barren desert had Lindsey in awe. The closer they got to the pyramid, the more features their Egyptologist’s brain identified. It was certainly a true pyramid, with smooth sides, rather than the older stepped technique. The angle of the four sides must have been around 45°, making it a very early pyramid compared to the +50° pyramids found at Giza. Once, it had been covered in a white limestone shell which was now gone, along with any golden touchstone. A shame, but to be expected from any structure that was coming up on 5000 years old.

All previous concerns about the heat or lack of water seemed to have fallen away; that panicked internal voice had finally gone silent. Lindsey distantly realised they weren’t even that thirsty anymore, and the uncomfortable sweat that covered their body had dried up. Having the pyramid to concentrate on had clearly refocused their mind. After all, this was their first major discovery.

“It’s fantastic!” They praised, scrambling out of the jeep that had limited the last half mile of the journey. They tilted their head back to stare up at the slanted walls that towered into the arid air. A near-perfect state of preservation! This would finally show the World Archaeological Society that their research was worth funding. The excavation alone might even take a decade if done properly.

“It’s deserted! Guess finding anyone in this lousy desert was too much to hope for.” Wilson slammed the jeep door angrily and stomped after them. He looked as terrible as Lindsey used to feel before they’d seen the pyramid. Maybe he just needed to get more excited about the discovery? But Wilson was technically a ground-sensing archaeologist, and all his equipment had gone up with the trailer. Though he had no-one to blame for that but himself.

“Hey, Lindsey?” He called after them suddenly. “You read hieroglyphics, right?” He was pointing to a section of the lower wall, which indeed was carved with hieroglyphs.

“This is the tomb of Khamandides." They read. "Pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt, Great Priest of the Inundation, Keeper of the Eternal Fountain.”

“Ha.” Wilson chuckled dryly. “Guess that ‘Eternal Fountain’ hadn’t counted on hyperdesertification. Must have dried up years ago.”

Lindsey ignored their colleague and continued their close examination of the walls for more hieroglyphs. “I can’t see an entrance.”

Quietly, they began to feel terribly dismayed. There wasn’t even a traditional ‘robbers’ entrance, which was usually blown through a wall. This ironically might be a negative sign. No robbers usually meant nothing of value worth stealing. The Ancient Egyptians were well known for their architectural tricks. Could this pyramid, so far away from any others, be an ancient red herring? A pyramid for the sake of perfecting the construction method where no-one would be around to see if it failed – unlike the disastrous scene at Meidum?

Before they followed this pessimistic train of thought any further, a horrific grinding sound halted them mid-stride. “Well,” Wilson commented nonchalantly, “There’s your door.”

In front of him, an entire block of stone had slid away to reveal a dark tunnel into the pyramid. This was just impossible! Yes, the ancients had technology, but moving doorways weighing at least a tonne? Or was Lindsey underestimating them? Quickly, all of their absurd analysis vanished as they heard a telltale sound echoing out from the tunnel.

“Wilson, do you hear that?”

“It’s water!” He agreed, diving through the passageway. “C’mon! What are you waiting for?!”

But as soon as Lindsey had made it inside, that grinding of masonry returned, and the stone block slid back into position as if it had never moved in the first place.

“There must be some way of opening it!” They activated the torch on their watch and scanned over the walls looking for a mechanism. They screamed in fright when the light fell upon a human skeleton slumped in the corner near the passage.

“I guess that’s why there are so few reports of this pyramid.” Wilson suggested as he too examined the remains. As archaeologists, this was hardly either of their first times looking at a long-dead human. It was part of the job, after all, but it had given Lindsey a shock.

“What are we gonna do?” They bemoaned. “We’re trapped!”

Wilson set his shoulders resolutely. “I know what I’m gonna do: find that water!”

John spent his time divided between the designated field - walking the perimeter, taking soil samples and making extensive notes - and his barn on Thunderbird Hill making calculations and running experiments on the soil. And his dogs. Every day he spent the morning with them, running the course he’d prepared.

Gordon split his time between helping John and his own aqua farming. He’d almost perfected his pain-relieving plants but they wouldn’t be ready for this year’s competition. They still needed tending though. The rest of the time he spent looking after the farm in general, taking over the jobs his older brothers would usually do to free them up.

Alan helped out Gordon around the farm and running errands, making sure that his brothers ate and generally feeling a little useless.

Everyone knew Alan hadn’t yet found his place, his role…whatever you wanted to call it. He really wanted to do what Scott did. He’d been so much more than a big brother to Alan, he’d been the only Father Alan had had for most of his life.

He was man enough to know he hero-worshipped Scott, but Alan knew that he needed to find his own way. Creating new fuels to help his brother go even faster was all well and good, but that was something both John and Virgil had both done before him, his second-eldest brother introducing him to the process once he was old enough not to blow the barn up…more than once.

Alan needed something that was going to be all his. He just had no idea what that was going to be.

‘Alan?’ ‘Yes, Grandma?’ ‘I need your help a moment please.’ ‘FAB, Grandma.’

Sally Tracy smiled as her youngest skidded into the kitchen. Just like his eldest brother, Alan couldn’t do anything less than top speed, and he threw her a sheepish grin. She tutted but said nothing more, asking him to grab a box from the storeroom.

The storeroom was in the basement. It was neatly stacked but not somewhere Alan usually went. He found it creepy…but he’d do anything for his Grandma. The box she wanted was easy to reach but up high, and he used what looked like a sturdy box to stand on.

It was not a sturdy box and with a yell Alan unbalanced and fell, the box his Grandma wanted and a couple others falling with him.

No one heard him, though, and with a sigh he twisted around and began to stuff things back into boxes, glad that there was no one around to hear him curse. Why did they have so much junk? He shoved a photo album back into a box but a picture fell out.

Alan glanced at the photo and froze.

His phone rang and Scott broke off from his discussion of tactics with John. He frowned when he saw who was calling.

‘Grandma? Is everything alright?’ ‘I’m sure it’s nothing, Scott, but I asked Alan to bring the box of labels up from the basement. He’s been gone a long time.’ ‘FAB, Grandma. I’m on my way.’ ‘Thank you.’

Scott knew that their Grandma couldn’t leave the kitchen. Her various dishes needed constant attention and so he loped over to see what was going on with his youngest brother.

He froze at the bottom of the basement stairs. Alan was standing there, holding a picture in one hand and just…staring at it. For some reason it made Scott’s heart stutter.

‘Alan? Al, buddy?’

But Alan didn’t say anything for the longest while. Scott approached slowly but still he wasn’t acknowledged. Gently he removed the picture from Alan’s hand. He couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him and finally Alan moved.

‘Scotty? Is that…is that Mom?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘I never knew she rode rodeo.’ ‘I guess…I guess we just never talk about it. By the time Gordon was born Mom had retired, but when John, Virgil and I were growing up it was Dad who looked after us mostly, Mom was always on the rodeo trail. She’d be home maybe one or two months maximum spread out throughout the year apart from when she was pregnant.’ ‘Was she good?’ ‘Oh man, Alan, I wish…I wish you could have seen her! She was like lightning on hooves. She had a turn of speed I’ve never seen anyone else have on a horse, she was a real Cowgirl. I think there should be some old footage in one of these boxes…’

Scott broke off and began rummaging around the boxes and eventually held up a vid-disk with a soft smile. Grabbing firstly the box their Grandma wanted and throwing his arm around Alan’s shoulders they made their way upstairs.

After handing over the box of labels they moved to the den and settled down. While Scott set up the vid Alan called the others and pretty soon they were all sitting on the large sofa – Alan in the middle with Scott on one side and Gordon on the other, John on Scott’s side and Virgil on Gordon’s. And the video played.

They whooped and cheered along as Lucille Evans topped the bill. They watched their Mom riding, roping and racing far into the night until there was no more to see.

And Alan turned to his brothers, eyes alight and excitement clear.

‘I know what I want to do!’

He beamed at them.